Reborn! fanfic: There Is No Carnival Left
Title: There Is No Carnival Left
Author: lifelink
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters: Chrome, Kyoko
Rating: PG-13
Words: 372
Summary: The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. Chrome and where she stands now, in Kyoko's arms. What is she if not needed.
Notes: For Tarot. Because I fail at creepy things. Set in a world after Mukuro leaves Chrome.
There is blood clinging to the edges of Chrome's hair, harsh and dried into tiny cracks like festival sugar candy, and Kyoko's fingers catch in it much like an after thought as she brushes the strands away. The lilac colour of it is wavering vaguely in the half light, casting darkness upon itself like shadow theatre tricks, as if not quite sure what it should be (as if she isn't quite sure what she is anymore, if not part of a whole then must she be just some broken off piece?)
Kyoko's steady hands lead her away from the door frame, bid her to unclasp her fingers from the deep stains in her uniform, take her to some place where the harsh cold of the ground can't seep into clothes as infection. Chrome lets her skirt fall, lets her buttons unfasten, lets her boots stack neatly against the far wall, until she is just standing there, naked for her eye patch and the blood and the way her lips still curled like like flowers towards the sun (or the way shadows worked, dark and mailable and ever present.)
Water runs in rivets down Chrome's body, washing away all the dirt, washing away all her purpose and she has to hold on to herself, hold on to this empty body, just to make sure she's all there (Because it's just hers now, and she knew it would happen, but she can't help wish it never had, can't help but wish--) and then Kyoko is speaking again, things Chrome can't hear over her heart tones and the way these illusions have become so natural.
Kyoko pulls her against her chest, soft and forgiving and nothing like what Chrome has become accustomed, but no less true. And Chrome knows that this won't last, because what does any more? But the moment is here and Kyoko's breath is warm against her hair and Chrome just killed a man on an order, let her trident run through his flesh, tear his eyes to warm jelly, just to know she still had a place to belong.
The water is still pale red where it catches her hair and coats Kyoko's chest when Chrome leans in.
She smiles.
Author: lifelink
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters: Chrome, Kyoko
Rating: PG-13
Words: 372
Summary: The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. Chrome and where she stands now, in Kyoko's arms. What is she if not needed.
Notes: For Tarot. Because I fail at creepy things. Set in a world after Mukuro leaves Chrome.
There is blood clinging to the edges of Chrome's hair, harsh and dried into tiny cracks like festival sugar candy, and Kyoko's fingers catch in it much like an after thought as she brushes the strands away. The lilac colour of it is wavering vaguely in the half light, casting darkness upon itself like shadow theatre tricks, as if not quite sure what it should be (as if she isn't quite sure what she is anymore, if not part of a whole then must she be just some broken off piece?)
Kyoko's steady hands lead her away from the door frame, bid her to unclasp her fingers from the deep stains in her uniform, take her to some place where the harsh cold of the ground can't seep into clothes as infection. Chrome lets her skirt fall, lets her buttons unfasten, lets her boots stack neatly against the far wall, until she is just standing there, naked for her eye patch and the blood and the way her lips still curled like like flowers towards the sun (or the way shadows worked, dark and mailable and ever present.)
Water runs in rivets down Chrome's body, washing away all the dirt, washing away all her purpose and she has to hold on to herself, hold on to this empty body, just to make sure she's all there (Because it's just hers now, and she knew it would happen, but she can't help wish it never had, can't help but wish--) and then Kyoko is speaking again, things Chrome can't hear over her heart tones and the way these illusions have become so natural.
Kyoko pulls her against her chest, soft and forgiving and nothing like what Chrome has become accustomed, but no less true. And Chrome knows that this won't last, because what does any more? But the moment is here and Kyoko's breath is warm against her hair and Chrome just killed a man on an order, let her trident run through his flesh, tear his eyes to warm jelly, just to know she still had a place to belong.
The water is still pale red where it catches her hair and coats Kyoko's chest when Chrome leans in.
She smiles.