Categories > Anime/Manga > X > Like a Fine Red Wine
Like a Fine Red Wine
0 reviewsHe rolled the bit of blood on his tongue with the casual contemplation of a connoisseur trying a new vintage
2Ambiance
Disclaimer- dont own. no profit made
He rolled the bit of blood on his tongue with the casual contemplation of a connoisseur trying a new vintage, picking out a slight case of anemia, a touch of nicotine and a wash of cheap alcohol. He studied the personality, all the flaws and quirks, of his prey, an almost pleasant look on his face. Such a useful fluid, blood. It let him know just how decadently desperate his little Subaru was, how wonderfully close to breaking.
Seishiro brushed his finger daintily against the thigh of his pants, pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and flipped open a lighter with an almost jaunty attitude. Playing with Subaru, his precious Subaru, always improved his mood.
Everything touched the boy so. It was beautiful. It was enlightening. It was perfect.
And he was jealous.
Somewhere along the way he had started to miss the little things, the little laughs, blushes, and touches; the little things in life that made it live.
Being around Subaru was a jolt of color, a shock of emotion. It was uncomfortable and it was wonderful.
Seishiro inhaled a particularly deep lungful of smoke, reveling in the way it tingled on his tongue, deftly burned through his lungs. Smoothly lethal. Just like he was.
It settled nerves slightly jostled, as they always were by thoughts of Subaru. Of Subaru's easy smile and quick blush. Ghosts of a child he had managed to kill. Only ghosts. He hunted toughened, angry prey now, keeping just one step behind as he hunted, one step ahead when Subaru took to the track. A little bit of a dance, a little entertainment.
The taste of Subaru's blood finally completely masked by bitter cigarette smoke, Seishiro started to walk, one hand casually in his pocket, only his eyes betraying the importance of the movement.
One day Subaru would understand the irony of their situation, the killer stalking something he couldn't hope to kill. Someday. But until then...
Seishiro caught sight of another bit of blood on the pavement and bent low, extending a finger to sample, to identify, to taste...
He rolled the bit of blood on his tongue with the casual contemplation of a connoisseur trying a new vintage, picking out a slight case of anemia, a touch of nicotine and a wash of cheap alcohol. He studied the personality, all the flaws and quirks, of his prey, an almost pleasant look on his face. Such a useful fluid, blood. It let him know just how decadently desperate his little Subaru was, how wonderfully close to breaking.
Seishiro brushed his finger daintily against the thigh of his pants, pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and flipped open a lighter with an almost jaunty attitude. Playing with Subaru, his precious Subaru, always improved his mood.
Everything touched the boy so. It was beautiful. It was enlightening. It was perfect.
And he was jealous.
Somewhere along the way he had started to miss the little things, the little laughs, blushes, and touches; the little things in life that made it live.
Being around Subaru was a jolt of color, a shock of emotion. It was uncomfortable and it was wonderful.
Seishiro inhaled a particularly deep lungful of smoke, reveling in the way it tingled on his tongue, deftly burned through his lungs. Smoothly lethal. Just like he was.
It settled nerves slightly jostled, as they always were by thoughts of Subaru. Of Subaru's easy smile and quick blush. Ghosts of a child he had managed to kill. Only ghosts. He hunted toughened, angry prey now, keeping just one step behind as he hunted, one step ahead when Subaru took to the track. A little bit of a dance, a little entertainment.
The taste of Subaru's blood finally completely masked by bitter cigarette smoke, Seishiro started to walk, one hand casually in his pocket, only his eyes betraying the importance of the movement.
One day Subaru would understand the irony of their situation, the killer stalking something he couldn't hope to kill. Someday. But until then...
Seishiro caught sight of another bit of blood on the pavement and bent low, extending a finger to sample, to identify, to taste...
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