Categories > Anime/Manga > Pet Shop of Horrors
Anything You Can Do
0 reviewsAnything you can do father, so can I. And I do things so much better.
0Unrated
D stood by the bed, hands clasped and head bowed, waist length hair covering his face. His son lay on the bed, sleeping the sleep of the drugged. Ditto for a certain gold eyed father curled up in babbit form against the child's throat.
The violet eyed kami was shaking, eyes wet, lips curled into a beautiful smile. It had been so long since he'd seen his son, and the only way he could see him was to skulk around like a thief in the night. How odd.
He moved to the incense burner on the bedside table, checking that enough was left to keep his son under a while longer, then sat on the edge of the bed. It was an opportunity he needed to take; an opportunity to study his son's face, to see how his son looked when he wasn't angry, to straighten and smooth short black hair, to tsk in disgust at Q-chan and how comfortably it cuddled up to his son's throat.
Long white hands moved from the child's hair to the babbit, plucking it up by the wings and dangling it before his face. His son stirred slightly, presumably because his neck was cold, then rolled away and was still. The creature chirped, half waking.
"Really father," he scolded softly, smirking. "Of all the forms you could have taken, you chose the most ridiculous and ignoble one available to you." He tilted his head, one finger pressed against lips painted a shade darker than his eyes. His smile could have frozen hell. "But I suppose you thought we wouldn't expect it of you."
D balanced the babbit on the palm of his hand, studying it as though working out in his mind how the creature fit together. Much as he had at University in fact; looking at things and then awing (most of) the other students by being able to understand how it worked.
Finally, he smiled.
His son stirred again, a frown creasing his forehead - one soothed away by a light, paternal kiss, similar to the one then bestowed upon Q-chan.
"And father? I expected it of you. And I can do anything you can. Naturally, though, I can do it better - which is why you abandoned me and stole off with my child, isn't it?"
D placed his other hand over the babbit and /pressed/.
Ground.
Squeezed delicate, strong as steel hands together, biting through his bottom lip to muffle a scream as his father erupted into light and greenery and myths, scorching around and through him, burning with raw energy, wrapping over and around like child like ivy - or chains - or -
*
D - Count D, youngest of that name, owner of a pet shop in China Town, LA - jerked up, one hand flying to his throat, the other to his heart as he sobbed for breath, shuddering and tear-stained.
Q-chan bobbed around him, stroking his hair, pressing tiny babbit kisses against his face, chirping frantically. D grabbed at him, held him up so he could ascertain that yes, he was real, and yes, he was alive, then cradled the tiny thing to him, slowly calming.
The babbit chirped, less frantic now, more worried and slightly squashed.
"It's nothing," D whispered reassuringly. "Just a - Just a dream." Tea. He needed tea, and a nice cake. Plenty of sugar to chase away the nightmare.
The kami rose from the bed on the second attempt and padded barefoot to the parlour, not noticing the dust and ashes of dead roses around his bed.
The violet eyed kami was shaking, eyes wet, lips curled into a beautiful smile. It had been so long since he'd seen his son, and the only way he could see him was to skulk around like a thief in the night. How odd.
He moved to the incense burner on the bedside table, checking that enough was left to keep his son under a while longer, then sat on the edge of the bed. It was an opportunity he needed to take; an opportunity to study his son's face, to see how his son looked when he wasn't angry, to straighten and smooth short black hair, to tsk in disgust at Q-chan and how comfortably it cuddled up to his son's throat.
Long white hands moved from the child's hair to the babbit, plucking it up by the wings and dangling it before his face. His son stirred slightly, presumably because his neck was cold, then rolled away and was still. The creature chirped, half waking.
"Really father," he scolded softly, smirking. "Of all the forms you could have taken, you chose the most ridiculous and ignoble one available to you." He tilted his head, one finger pressed against lips painted a shade darker than his eyes. His smile could have frozen hell. "But I suppose you thought we wouldn't expect it of you."
D balanced the babbit on the palm of his hand, studying it as though working out in his mind how the creature fit together. Much as he had at University in fact; looking at things and then awing (most of) the other students by being able to understand how it worked.
Finally, he smiled.
His son stirred again, a frown creasing his forehead - one soothed away by a light, paternal kiss, similar to the one then bestowed upon Q-chan.
"And father? I expected it of you. And I can do anything you can. Naturally, though, I can do it better - which is why you abandoned me and stole off with my child, isn't it?"
D placed his other hand over the babbit and /pressed/.
Ground.
Squeezed delicate, strong as steel hands together, biting through his bottom lip to muffle a scream as his father erupted into light and greenery and myths, scorching around and through him, burning with raw energy, wrapping over and around like child like ivy - or chains - or -
*
D - Count D, youngest of that name, owner of a pet shop in China Town, LA - jerked up, one hand flying to his throat, the other to his heart as he sobbed for breath, shuddering and tear-stained.
Q-chan bobbed around him, stroking his hair, pressing tiny babbit kisses against his face, chirping frantically. D grabbed at him, held him up so he could ascertain that yes, he was real, and yes, he was alive, then cradled the tiny thing to him, slowly calming.
The babbit chirped, less frantic now, more worried and slightly squashed.
"It's nothing," D whispered reassuringly. "Just a - Just a dream." Tea. He needed tea, and a nice cake. Plenty of sugar to chase away the nightmare.
The kami rose from the bed on the second attempt and padded barefoot to the parlour, not noticing the dust and ashes of dead roses around his bed.
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