Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Crimson Lullaby ❯ Crimson Lullaby ( One-Shot )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Author's Note: ...0.o I have no idea where this came from. Really. It depicts a scene of Farfarello from Weiss Kreuz torturing and killing a woman. Obviously doing a job for Schwartz though I have no idea who or why. Maybe I'll write more if people like it?

Farfarello: *Strides in licking his knives with a smirk on his face* This story hurts God!

...*sigh* Stay out of my head, you Irish psychopath.

Farfarello: *Eyes Nadare* Are you one of his angels? If I make you cry, then God will shed tears as well...*walks towards the writer cackling madly*

0.0! ...*An light bulb appears above her head* But if you make me happy, then God will be hurt even worse. One of his angels at the mercy at you, his most forsaken...

Farfarello: ...*smirks putting away his knives and winks his one eye* Together, we'll make God sob himself to sleep...

*Knows she's grinning far too widely* As long as you promise to keep away from my stories...*Giggles madly as Farfarello steps closer* Heh heh...maybe not...

[Written on Oct. 9, 2002]

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Weiss Kreuz. Just one psychotic muse by the name of Farf...
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"Crimson Lullaby"

The room is dark, and if you look hard enough, you can see shapeless shadows forever shifting in the gloom. I spend a lot of time cloaked in darkness, so I do have a habit of noticing these things.

In the middle of the dank room lays a body. It is not a surprise to me. In fact, I have been expecting it for the last few hours. A mind gains consciousness, and eyes open. Within a moment, I am moving. Mustn't let this chance get away. I tasted failure last time, and didn't fancy the bitter taste of it.

I straddle the body beneath me, wrapping one arm around my victim's throat. The pale skin is soft and silky, and without an Adam's apple. My lips shift, and I feel a smirk come over my mouth. It has been a while since I had female flesh under mine. Most, if not all, of the victims I have encountered have been men. I lower my head and lick the side of her neck, teeth glazing the skin lightly. Wouldn't want to scare her...at least not yet.

She whimpers rather loudly, and I find myself annoyed at the sound. Without warning, I grab a handful of her long black hair roughly and forcefully shove her face into the clement floor beneath us. The sweet metallic taste of blood enters the air, and I relish the aroma before raising her head to assess the damage. A scrape, nothing more.

Hot crimson liquid begins to drip down her face, and I move forward to sit on the small of her back. I bend over her and lick one side of her face completely clean. The blood is deliciously tainted with fear, and I slide my tongue over my lips eagerly. I like. It is not often I find things to my liking. I stand, turning the warm body beneath me over and rest on my knees over her stomach.

I lean down, capturing her mouth with my own. The women below me is passive at first, then as I delve my tongue into her, she bites my lower lip. Though I feel blood drip down my chin, pain in nowhere to be found. A gift, though sometimes a curse. At rare times, I am too far gone to realize how much blood I have lost.

The women's green eyes grow wide when she realizes I am in no pain whatsoever. I grin at her.

"You will help me hurt God..." Frantically she shakes her head, and tries to move but the drugs she has been given earlier allow her no such freedom. I cackle wickedly as I pull out one of my knives. "When Crawford wants someone erased, he leaves nothing to chance."

This does not put the woman at ease. Odd. Who wouldn't want to help me hurt God? (1)

Almost gently, I nuzzle her neck then I feel my lips quirk as I ram my knife deep in her chest. I push upwards until I feel the handle slick with hot liquid.

The woman beneath me quakes, and I watch gleefully as bubbles of blood push their way out of her suddenly ashen lips. Her body goes limp after what seems like an eternity. I slide off her, and kneel beside her head. I nudge closer, catching her dying gaze. Hatred springs to life in those depths, but it quickly fades as pain overcomes them.

Dying is not nearly as quick and neat as it is in the movies. In fact, it takes nearly seven minutes to make someone pass out from oxygen loss. And even then, they do not stay asleep long. In this case, I have pierced her heart. Within a moment, blood will stop pumping into the values of her vital organ.

Her breath hitches, and the eyes I am so closely observing grow cold. Devoid of life.

I am positive God is hurt. With a smug smile, I give my victim one last kiss than then stand.

Neutral eyes watch me from a corner, and I raise my hand, putting the bloodstained knife near my mouth. I lick the knife thoroughly, giggling as I see Crawford suppress a shudder. He pretends he doesn't fear me but I know better. He tolerates me only because I have my talent for feeling next to no pain, and no conscience whatsoever. In short, I am the perfect assassin.

"I see the pits of Hell in your eyes, Bradley Crawford. How will you feel when swimming in a lake of fire?" He offers me no reply as I walk out the door. My job was done successfully. I will receive no punishment. God is crying as his forsaken one lives in comfort.

"I won't be without company," He whispers softly.

THE END


(1) I don't think a lot of people would want to help him hurt God. Am I right?
*smirks* With the exception of me. In the right context, of course. *sweatdrops as the readers begin to stare* What?! Leave me alone already. Yeah, I've got a thing for Farfarello. So what? Nobody else wants him...