Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ The Hybrid's Guide to Miko Hunting ❯ Embers ( Chapter 9 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Pretty in Pink 
His hands are as red as her heart is white.
Anime/Manga: Crossover Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 10.29.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 368 | Visits: 516 | Status: Work In Progress
His hands are as red as her heart is white.
Anime/Manga: Crossover Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 10.29.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 368 | Visits: 516 | Status: Work In Progress
Eh, I’m in an abstract mood.
.
The Hybrid’s Guide to Miko Hunting
Embers
.
She finds him, a little black thing amongst the perishing snow. His silence is resolute, his gaze as old as his red eyes young. His little round face is dirty and stained, much as his hands. Her own gently sweep the little white webs from his hair, and she smiles at him.
But he spits and flickers, a little flame jumping and bounding over the ice. He frightens her, but she knows he only kills because he hurts.
Little hands, so warm and so red, push her away. He is wild and feral. No one touches him. When the sun rises, he is gone, and the earth is sodden with her tears and its own. On her own, she weeps for him. He is distant.
She thinks him dead, but he survives.
.
He is star-soaked now, roaming and killing. There are none who stand against him and none who stand with him. His heart, a beating black mass, is buried and forgotten.
She thinks of him often, of the boy who burned in the snow. She sees him in the ghost of a shadow, in the glimmer of ice sickles, in the little red mirrors that lay shattered over the earth. She thinks and remembers how small the world looked in his carmine orbs.
.
On the ice and the snow, the flames lick at the heavens. They crash and collide, a swirl of billowing blue and roiling red.
She can’t see his heart for the smoke, but smiles for him. He lives.
He shows her his hands, still stained with red. She cradles them, kisses them, washes them in the tender waves. He doesn’t push her away this time.
Eternities shift around them, but they pay no mind. She cherishes him until his hands are as white as her heart. Her own hands rest in the flame, but she pays no mind.
.
.
The Hybrid’s Guide to Miko Hunting
Embers
.
She finds him, a little black thing amongst the perishing snow. His silence is resolute, his gaze as old as his red eyes young. His little round face is dirty and stained, much as his hands. Her own gently sweep the little white webs from his hair, and she smiles at him.
But he spits and flickers, a little flame jumping and bounding over the ice. He frightens her, but she knows he only kills because he hurts.
Little hands, so warm and so red, push her away. He is wild and feral. No one touches him. When the sun rises, he is gone, and the earth is sodden with her tears and its own. On her own, she weeps for him. He is distant.
She thinks him dead, but he survives.
.
He is star-soaked now, roaming and killing. There are none who stand against him and none who stand with him. His heart, a beating black mass, is buried and forgotten.
She thinks of him often, of the boy who burned in the snow. She sees him in the ghost of a shadow, in the glimmer of ice sickles, in the little red mirrors that lay shattered over the earth. She thinks and remembers how small the world looked in his carmine orbs.
.
On the ice and the snow, the flames lick at the heavens. They crash and collide, a swirl of billowing blue and roiling red.
She can’t see his heart for the smoke, but smiles for him. He lives.
He shows her his hands, still stained with red. She cradles them, kisses them, washes them in the tender waves. He doesn’t push her away this time.
Eternities shift around them, but they pay no mind. She cherishes him until his hands are as white as her heart. Her own hands rest in the flame, but she pays no mind.
.