DN -- Flowers
Title: Flowers
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Character: Misa
Rating: G
Word Count: 281
Warnings: none
Summary: Misa Misa goes to the park.
Author's Note: I believe that Misa-haters are jealous of her cuteness, her clothes, her incredible tenacity, and the fact that she gets to make out with Light. Honestly.
FLOWERS
Misa Amane’s various embellishments tinkled like breaking glass. Silver chains jingled, jewelry clinked, and layered bangles hopped with every sprightly step, her heels clicking on the sidewalk until she reached the grass, which muffled the sound. Bent blades unfolded again in her wake, rising slowly as if to watch her go.
She trekked up a low hill and sat cross-legged in the sun, pleated skirt whispering over fishnet stockings, never thinking about how many potential passerby might catch a glimpse of her bright red underwear. She didn’t even notice the possibility of the thing, because Misa’s world wasn’t like that.
It was better that way.
Her black-lacquered nails glinted in the warm sunlight as she reached out, fingers closing around the frail stem of a daisy with its face raised to the sky. She plucked it from its berth, the feeble, half-curled roots sliding free of the moist earth, and looked down at the bright buttery center and the dainty curvature of cloud-colored petals.
She pulled one of those petals off and dropped it to the grass.
“He loves me,” she murmured. She tore at another. “He loves me not.”
He did… he didn’t… he did… he…
The daisy had only six petals to offer. It looked almost apologetic, cradled in her hand, the center naked and forlorn now, bereft of all of its petal-friends.
Some part of her had known. Some part of her had always known.
Misa set the stem down among the fallen petals. Then she extended her hand again, eyes on a new prize, and pulled up a dandelion. Holding its wildly fuzzy head just beyond her lips, she closed her eyes, made a wish, and blew.
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Character: Misa
Rating: G
Word Count: 281
Warnings: none
Summary: Misa Misa goes to the park.
Author's Note: I believe that Misa-haters are jealous of her cuteness, her clothes, her incredible tenacity, and the fact that she gets to make out with Light. Honestly.
FLOWERS
Misa Amane’s various embellishments tinkled like breaking glass. Silver chains jingled, jewelry clinked, and layered bangles hopped with every sprightly step, her heels clicking on the sidewalk until she reached the grass, which muffled the sound. Bent blades unfolded again in her wake, rising slowly as if to watch her go.
She trekked up a low hill and sat cross-legged in the sun, pleated skirt whispering over fishnet stockings, never thinking about how many potential passerby might catch a glimpse of her bright red underwear. She didn’t even notice the possibility of the thing, because Misa’s world wasn’t like that.
It was better that way.
Her black-lacquered nails glinted in the warm sunlight as she reached out, fingers closing around the frail stem of a daisy with its face raised to the sky. She plucked it from its berth, the feeble, half-curled roots sliding free of the moist earth, and looked down at the bright buttery center and the dainty curvature of cloud-colored petals.
She pulled one of those petals off and dropped it to the grass.
“He loves me,” she murmured. She tore at another. “He loves me not.”
He did… he didn’t… he did… he…
The daisy had only six petals to offer. It looked almost apologetic, cradled in her hand, the center naked and forlorn now, bereft of all of its petal-friends.
Some part of her had known. Some part of her had always known.
Misa set the stem down among the fallen petals. Then she extended her hand again, eyes on a new prize, and pulled up a dandelion. Holding its wildly fuzzy head just beyond her lips, she closed her eyes, made a wish, and blew.