[fic] wut? wut iz dis?
This could perhaps do with more editing. But yeah, I'm just tired. =A= So many things to do, omgwtf.
Oh ye, check out the comm, mate. ;D -> khr_fsooc
lol wth did I do. Whatever, 4am, not caring about how I talk right now. ._.
--
Title: Crystal Clear Ice
Pairing: 6918/1869 if you look hard enough.
--
After so many years of mutual existence, it seemed they had developed some strange sort of comraderie. While neither could call the other a friend and such words as ‘harmonious’ or ‘sane’ did not exist in any dictionary within ten miles radius, they functioned together with as much sync as the wheels of a clog without necessitating intensive care and the forces of an army.
Not for the first time, Mukuro wondered if he was going tame. The crushing, deep-rooted emotions seemed to seep from weary pores no longer wanting to follow the same formula. They sought for innovation of thought and so he had become inevitably latched to this Vongole child’s philosophy despite his valiant efforts to stop the taintment of his mind.
Those sweet words somehow found a hold in him, wiping from his awareness that ideals were mere fantasy and asserting that somehow this child’s dream had a possible future. Yet perhaps there was a part of him that was hoping for some good.
He wanted to trust in that.
It was odd to feel such a kind of relaxed happiness as they spilled out onto the frosted grounds, the miniscule ice crystals crunching under their feet as they compacted, crushed into the ground to leave behind a fleeting imprint of their presence. It was unbelievable enough they stood in each other’s presence without the insistent bubble of chaos that continually spilled over with abandon - the serenity of the snow seemed to lay a damper on even the most untouchable.
The end of a year seemed a cause for celebration - a reward for indefatigably facing the challenges of the past year and relentlessly battering them down until they were mere specks on the wavering horizon. Or a mere stain on the otherwise pristine marble. Such was the way matters were dealt with - diffusing the inexorable competent energy envy to that of the sun. Now was a time of relaxation, to set aside the churning thought plague and allow recuperation for greater burdens that were still mere trials for what would most certainly come.
Sure hands compacted the crystal shards of ice into firm balls, while inexpertly formed clumps of snow also materialised across the landscape like a slow rash, forming a small huddled group of snow figures. Loose articles of clothing and precisely or otherwise selected objects straggled over them in a freezing cold mockery of their true selves.
The pair that hovered furthest away did not appear to register the cold, scarfs slung around the more obese necks of creatures in their apparent likeness rising from the frozen ground in three perfect spheres. It seemed even the carnivore had tolerance enough to surrender his cold, yet constant, companions to provide arms for his immobile and much more kindly representation.
Mukuro smoothed the edges of the gravelly snow down as he added the final embellishment to the portrait of the tonfa-wielder, taking full advantage of their lack of concern over wasting resources to provide apt lemon slice eyes to a sour tempered representation. The small yellow bird alighted on the figure’s head welcomingly, like greeting an old friend.
He glanced back in his wily way to scrutinize the damage dealt to his own image with a critical eye; grapefruit slice mouth, a berry mix substitute for eyes, and the fronds of an amply endowed pineapple sprouting from the topmost sphere of snow as though it had braved such frigid conditions to grow out of season. A man with dark, ruffled hair lounged on the third round of snow which made the base with the patience of a thousand year old tree, even as his hands formed miniature doppelgangers with an agenda of their own, moving with quick intention.
Slate eyes caught the slanted look with more sense than sight, and a work-worn shovel penetrated a packed ball of snow with precision as the snowball’s trajectory perfect flight from the Japanese man’s hand would have carried it into Mukuro’s face as its final resting ground. It expanded like a bomb detonating, showering the two with flecks of frozen snow. Mukuro’s eyes are glacier cool as his eyebrows arch skyward as if to break the heavens; but as they share this long look, they both curve their lips upward into smiles of amusement and all that washes over them is the warmth of a affectionate sun on a fine summer’s day.
----
IDEK. There's something wrong with this. Especially the beginning of it.
Don't ask about the title, I don't know either.
Oh ye, check out the comm, mate. ;D -> khr_fsooc
lol wth did I do. Whatever, 4am, not caring about how I talk right now. ._.
--
Title: Crystal Clear Ice
Pairing: 6918/1869 if you look hard enough.
--
After so many years of mutual existence, it seemed they had developed some strange sort of comraderie. While neither could call the other a friend and such words as ‘harmonious’ or ‘sane’ did not exist in any dictionary within ten miles radius, they functioned together with as much sync as the wheels of a clog without necessitating intensive care and the forces of an army.
Not for the first time, Mukuro wondered if he was going tame. The crushing, deep-rooted emotions seemed to seep from weary pores no longer wanting to follow the same formula. They sought for innovation of thought and so he had become inevitably latched to this Vongole child’s philosophy despite his valiant efforts to stop the taintment of his mind.
Those sweet words somehow found a hold in him, wiping from his awareness that ideals were mere fantasy and asserting that somehow this child’s dream had a possible future. Yet perhaps there was a part of him that was hoping for some good.
He wanted to trust in that.
It was odd to feel such a kind of relaxed happiness as they spilled out onto the frosted grounds, the miniscule ice crystals crunching under their feet as they compacted, crushed into the ground to leave behind a fleeting imprint of their presence. It was unbelievable enough they stood in each other’s presence without the insistent bubble of chaos that continually spilled over with abandon - the serenity of the snow seemed to lay a damper on even the most untouchable.
The end of a year seemed a cause for celebration - a reward for indefatigably facing the challenges of the past year and relentlessly battering them down until they were mere specks on the wavering horizon. Or a mere stain on the otherwise pristine marble. Such was the way matters were dealt with - diffusing the inexorable competent energy envy to that of the sun. Now was a time of relaxation, to set aside the churning thought plague and allow recuperation for greater burdens that were still mere trials for what would most certainly come.
Sure hands compacted the crystal shards of ice into firm balls, while inexpertly formed clumps of snow also materialised across the landscape like a slow rash, forming a small huddled group of snow figures. Loose articles of clothing and precisely or otherwise selected objects straggled over them in a freezing cold mockery of their true selves.
The pair that hovered furthest away did not appear to register the cold, scarfs slung around the more obese necks of creatures in their apparent likeness rising from the frozen ground in three perfect spheres. It seemed even the carnivore had tolerance enough to surrender his cold, yet constant, companions to provide arms for his immobile and much more kindly representation.
Mukuro smoothed the edges of the gravelly snow down as he added the final embellishment to the portrait of the tonfa-wielder, taking full advantage of their lack of concern over wasting resources to provide apt lemon slice eyes to a sour tempered representation. The small yellow bird alighted on the figure’s head welcomingly, like greeting an old friend.
He glanced back in his wily way to scrutinize the damage dealt to his own image with a critical eye; grapefruit slice mouth, a berry mix substitute for eyes, and the fronds of an amply endowed pineapple sprouting from the topmost sphere of snow as though it had braved such frigid conditions to grow out of season. A man with dark, ruffled hair lounged on the third round of snow which made the base with the patience of a thousand year old tree, even as his hands formed miniature doppelgangers with an agenda of their own, moving with quick intention.
Slate eyes caught the slanted look with more sense than sight, and a work-worn shovel penetrated a packed ball of snow with precision as the snowball’s trajectory perfect flight from the Japanese man’s hand would have carried it into Mukuro’s face as its final resting ground. It expanded like a bomb detonating, showering the two with flecks of frozen snow. Mukuro’s eyes are glacier cool as his eyebrows arch skyward as if to break the heavens; but as they share this long look, they both curve their lips upward into smiles of amusement and all that washes over them is the warmth of a affectionate sun on a fine summer’s day.
----
IDEK. There's something wrong with this. Especially the beginning of it.
Don't ask about the title, I don't know either.