Categories > Anime/Manga > Weiss Kreuz > Perspective
Perspective
0 reviewsWhat is, isn't. What isn't, is. Who really even knows which way is up or down? [30_angsts - Schuldich x Aya-chan]
0Unrated
Title: Perspective
Author: Grasshopper (A.K.A. The Undertaker's Muse)
Rated: PG-13
Series: 30_angsts
Warnings: Het, light angst, insanity (of sorts), implied groping.
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz
Spoilers: Nothing specific, unless you count Aya-chan's existence.
Pairings: Schuldich x Fujimiya Aya
Summary: What is, isn't. What isn't, is. Who really even knows which way is up or down?
Author's Notes: I don't quite know if I got the point across that I wanted to in this fic. Basically, this is Aya-chan while still in a coma, with a certain telepath tagging along and...well, being himself.
Disclaimer: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiß. All that the Grassy lays claim to is the plot.
(21.) Lost Memories (~touching the illusion)
The days were long here.
Long. So long. So very, very long.
One day stretched into the next became today became yesterday... Time never mattered; it was now, it is then. Same, all the same, only time changes and moments become hours become days become now.
An everlasting loop, only the play list shuffles without real change.
Nothing ever changed, unless she - and she was positive she was female - roamed the area. She moved and shifted and wanted to sleep, but she was thinking too much. Too many thoughts that she couldn't remember.
A muddled reflection and the glimpse of shocking long hair. Too bad there were no mirrors around, it'd be interesting to know what she looked like.
Sometimes, she could almost remember before... Before, before, before.
Before here, if there ever even had been. Some days - minutes, moments, seconds - she thinks there was, but up one ceiling and across one staircase and she didn't remember remembering. Except for the times she did.
The occasional flash of...something...caught her attention and she stopped in her tracks.
A split-second - or maybe half an hour - later, the image of violet eyes entered her mind, then was promptly shoved away.
If she couldn't even see herself, why should she see anyone else?
A silky laugh, the rumbled purr of soft murmurs... A heavy - nonexistent - weight akin to arms encircled her form. Warm, dry pressure met her cheek and she stared at everything around her.
Her hell.
Her eternity.
Her love.
Her hate.
Her sandcastle.
Her paradise.
Nothing and no one - not even those seemingly nonexistent - could take this one last area surrounding them. She was the princess here.
This was her world and without others, everything worked smoothly, allowing her time to play. The phantom arms around her tightened, caressing firm, supple flesh that was entirely too sensitive to be real.
No one would take this away from her.
The End
Author: Grasshopper (A.K.A. The Undertaker's Muse)
Rated: PG-13
Series: 30_angsts
Warnings: Het, light angst, insanity (of sorts), implied groping.
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz
Spoilers: Nothing specific, unless you count Aya-chan's existence.
Pairings: Schuldich x Fujimiya Aya
Summary: What is, isn't. What isn't, is. Who really even knows which way is up or down?
Author's Notes: I don't quite know if I got the point across that I wanted to in this fic. Basically, this is Aya-chan while still in a coma, with a certain telepath tagging along and...well, being himself.
Disclaimer: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiß. All that the Grassy lays claim to is the plot.
(21.) Lost Memories (~touching the illusion)
The days were long here.
Long. So long. So very, very long.
One day stretched into the next became today became yesterday... Time never mattered; it was now, it is then. Same, all the same, only time changes and moments become hours become days become now.
An everlasting loop, only the play list shuffles without real change.
Nothing ever changed, unless she - and she was positive she was female - roamed the area. She moved and shifted and wanted to sleep, but she was thinking too much. Too many thoughts that she couldn't remember.
A muddled reflection and the glimpse of shocking long hair. Too bad there were no mirrors around, it'd be interesting to know what she looked like.
Sometimes, she could almost remember before... Before, before, before.
Before here, if there ever even had been. Some days - minutes, moments, seconds - she thinks there was, but up one ceiling and across one staircase and she didn't remember remembering. Except for the times she did.
The occasional flash of...something...caught her attention and she stopped in her tracks.
A split-second - or maybe half an hour - later, the image of violet eyes entered her mind, then was promptly shoved away.
If she couldn't even see herself, why should she see anyone else?
A silky laugh, the rumbled purr of soft murmurs... A heavy - nonexistent - weight akin to arms encircled her form. Warm, dry pressure met her cheek and she stared at everything around her.
Her hell.
Her eternity.
Her love.
Her hate.
Her sandcastle.
Her paradise.
Nothing and no one - not even those seemingly nonexistent - could take this one last area surrounding them. She was the princess here.
This was her world and without others, everything worked smoothly, allowing her time to play. The phantom arms around her tightened, caressing firm, supple flesh that was entirely too sensitive to be real.
No one would take this away from her.
The End
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