Character/Pairing: Yamamoto Takeshi, Chrome Dokuro.
Annoyed, she swung open the door. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, both hands rising to contain it.
Standing in the doorway, he grinned, a bar of chocolate dangling from his teeth. As this prevented him from speaking, he tipped his wide-tipped fedora hat. His tie was loosened, shirt disheveled and half-untucked from his pants - a flush high on his cheekbones.
She took it all in one glance.
He closed one eye sheepishly.
And was promptly nearly bowled over as she leapt at him in a crushing hug.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she whispered fiercely.
The chocolate slipped. His arms rose to catch her, eyes widening, “W-wait, are you crying?”
Drawing back, she thumped a hand upon his chest. He barely noticed, eyes wide as she continued with uncharacteristic anger, ” How dare you ask that, how do you think I’d feel, you disappearing for half a month or so - and then turning up like - like this!” and she jabbed her tiny hand at him, as if his mere existence was an offence.
Chrome, when mad, didn’t look particularly intimidating with her narrowed one eye and thin pouting lips drawn in a frown - but he knew otherwise. As she drew back fully to cross her arms, eyebrows raised in expectation; all he could say was -
“H-happy Valentine’s Day?”
Characters: Chrome Dokuro, Sasugawa Kyoko, Miura Haru, I-Pin, Bianchi.
The tip of a white shoe stepped out to the room, followed by a flowing trail of silk and lace. She had let down her long purple hair and a simple amethyst tear-shaped pendant hung from her lace collar to dangle between her delicate collarbones, slim shoulders laid bare.
But that was not the reason for the audible gasps that rang through the hallway.
“Chrome-chan!” both her bridemaids rushed up to her, eyes round ; Kyoko and and Haru half-held their mouths in surprise. “Y-your eye!”
The young woman only smiled at them. The third and youngest bridesmaid stepped after her, also smiling - I-pin, the maid-of-honour and only one not asked to step out for just a moment in the midst of her bridal preparations.
Chrome let out a laugh, quiet, serene, the sound of tinkling bells. “It’s only an illusion,” she tapped the side of her face, her eyes crinkling in mirth - both her eyes, two eyes of similar round shape, deepening purple shades and ringed irises. It looked odd, seeing her face so… full after all the years they’d known her with an eyepatch usually dominating the left half of her face.
The for today went unsaid, a single gold band glinting on her finger.
“You look beautiful,” the last member – beautiful, long-haired Bianchi - commented. She stepped off from the wall where she’d been leaning against to observe the action, and striding forward, touched her cheek with fondness.
Coming from the elder woman, whom she’d so admired, Chrome blushed. Her fingers were cool to the touch, in it she read the unspoken
He better be worth it.
It was a threat, it was protectiveness and she appreciated it all the more.
More reassuring than her own returning touch to the arm then were the soft smiles of both bride and groom later as, ceremony finished, they stepped out into the golden sunlight and falling flower-petals.
Hands twined together, there was only sheer bliss writ all over their features.
She can’t be a maiden without the Flower. -Cheza, wolves.
They do not make it obvious but there is a very tangible rift between them - or rather, “her” and “them.”
They are the wolves, she is the Flower Maiden - and with that simple fact, they become more and more distant.
They travel in a pack, fierce and strong, whilst she is small, fragile, fleeting, alone.
At their first meeting, there was awe but a sense of familiarity; and so they approached with easy cordiality and filial reassurance. One thoughtfully covered her with a fur coat, the other competed with sturdy bloom-coloured boots.
It flattered and pleased her, they were so welcoming, warm.
But as the journey went on, her beauty (their purpose) began to enamour them -
paradise - paradise - paradise -
and unconsciously they were pushed apart, so there were different names and specifications between them - the wolves and the Lunar Flower Maiden -
the key to Paradise -
They would not touch her, perhaps Kiba, maybe Tsume – but it was with reverence, when they wanted to protect that vital thing –
she will take us to Paradise –
When she cried, they sat and guarded and watched and became saddened. They would not, could not put an arm around her, comfort her, stop her tears: they did not think to. To them, there was an obvious line between them: status, order, a line not to be crossed. The Moon Maiden’s tears were not to be trifled with –
we will go to Paradise –
They wondered and were pained by the sadness of her cries – but she was higher than them and so they did not interfere, placing importance even on that.
They did not realize she had begun to regard them as family –
I’m not leaving her! –
For whom else would she sacrifice herself so freely and so lacking in hesitance as she walked straight into danger’s path, back into the hands of those who would so cruelly use her –
I’ll be waiting –
Blood staining the snow, a flower withered –
See you in Paradise –
Characters/Pairings: Suboshi, Miaka Yuki
He hates her voice, chattering non-stop, going on and on and on. It is high-pitched, shrill, with not one iota of calm or maturity -
as he steps forward, wobbling, bloody.
She’s no longer talking as she catches his fall, cushions his head in her lap; her sobs broken, dry and rasping - hiccupping horribly as if she’s choking in each breathe.
Now she’s whispering his name, again and again, chanting it desperately like a sacred mantra.
Closing his eyes, he decides - just this once, he likes it.
It’s still nothing compared to his brother’s flute, of course.
Characters/Pairings: Chrome Dokuro, Sawada Tsuna, I-pin and Lambo.
His face is pale, blood drained from it to highlight the very slight hollows beneath his straining eyes and the cheekbones finally emerging from rounded puppyfat. His voice is filled with mock-horror as he intones,
“This is a conspiracy.”
She can only shrug helplessly at the tenth mafia don, sticking safely to the shadows as two tiny kids – a growing Chinese assassin and Italian Mafioso but still – run circles around his seated body, screaming cheerfully as they continually wrap – restrain - him in ribbons, trailing the seemingly innocuous material behind them like little streamers.
His face, just before similarly disappearing beneath the coloured cloth, promises retaliation as soon as he’s free again.
Chrome decides to make herself scarce for the next few hours.
Characters/Pairings: Chrome Dokuro, Basil.
She is used to shades of mud, the most common of her nationality’s eyes – she an exception with her violent ones - so she is surprised to meet his. There are two of them – rather than Mukuro-sama’s singular one – and that broadens their intensity, coupled with the richness of their colour.
She compares them to the ocean, a casual thoughtless murmur slipping from her lips without realization - and he laughs, not of malice or mocking of her perhaps naiveté but a good-nature one, faintly surprised.
His eyes sparkle just so as the light hits them and she can tell he is very flattered by such an assessment.
She smiles back.