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finite_farfalla) wrote2010-06-08 11:51 pm
[Fic] Frozen Flowers - D.Gray-man
Title: Frozen Flowers
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Characters/Pairings: Cross/Maria
Rating: PG
Lenght: Short
Theme: a longing pervades the world, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
31_days
“This glaring hue… is not my color,” she said to him.
“Really?” Cross hitched his eyebrows. “A diva should wear the color that matches her dignity. It looks good on you.”
Maria ran her hand down the red silk he brandished. The cool fabric glinted weak silver under the light.
She imagined a Chinese dress, embroidered with golden dragon and purple gentians, fringed by yellow brocade on the sleeves, slit high at one side of her legs.
She imagined a Victorian dress, sewed to match her figure, embroidered with little roses at the bodice, every petals studded with a pearl, draped by snowy muslin of the same hue.
She imagined dresses so beautiful that a queen wouldn’t be ashamed seen in them.
Maria shook her head.
“It’s not my color,” she repeated.
***
Red looked good on sallow skin. The color made it slightly less dead.
He chose her red silk, red gauze, red muslin, red velvet, with only a touch of dark color –a red so dark that it looked nearly black.
He chose her reds that reminded him of the time when she was alive; reds that complimented her figure as no other color could: pale skin, red lips, green eyes, and dark locks.
It gave Cross no satisfaction. The beauty—still, eternal, dead—was nowhere near the grace of the child-woman in peasant’s drab blue that he had seen years ago. With grime in her locks, soot on her face, she had sung the most divine Ave Maria for the most banal audience.
He had found her and trained her; had meandered in his journey again and again, reluctant to bring her to the face of Black Order. Surely, those old men didn’t-–never—deserve her.
He was a connoisseur -–of both beauty and wine. Something as sappy as love would have to wait a very long time—if not eternal—to find his name on its board. But, it bled into him all the same, tentative and transient. Then, it burst into nothing before he had the chance to acknowledge its damning existence.
It was frustrating, at most. He mourned and regret. But never --never, he had once sworn, would he lose himself to longing.
Yet it was what he found himself doing. In time like this. In the witching hour between sunrise and black night. It was regret, at first. Always regret. Then regret segued into mourning. Then a tapestries of reasons and what ifs flew over his mind, like flock of ravens, cawing over dead bodies --and they refused to pause, to consider his black, black heart. They mercilessly picked him free of the mask of reasons, letting the paroxysm of longing burst forth.
Body was only flesh --as denotative as it could be. It meant nothing after what he had seen inside--the peasant girl in drab blue, looking as dignified as a queen--left.
It wasn't fair.
But really, who he was to question fairness? There wouldn't be akuma if there was a scrap of fairness in this world --the Earl would be sitting on his majestic chair in the deepest of hell, unable to come up and damn the lambs of God; kids would act like kids normally would and there'd be no more killing machine in the name of Order.
The Noah --hell, the Noah wouldn't choose a helpless brat as its avatar.
And, this whole sentimental business wouldn't be such a pain to him.
Sentimentality evoked his appalling side. Someone would have a merry day seeing him like this --and perhaps bring about the whole town to gawk at him in the process.
If someone said it was okay to be fucking human to his face--damn that Tiedoll--he would kill, really. And paid hell.
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(Anonymous) 2010-06-08 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)The flow was a bit jarring near the end, but I could easily ignore it. :)
You have beautiful writing style. Keep it up.
xoxo
xchopxshueyx
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And this... This is just... I... I'm not sure I can find the words. Just... The beginning was so perfect, this is so close to how I imagine Maria, and... Then the paragraph about love sneaking its way into Cross's heart and the paragraph about nothing being fair. And the line about Allen and the 14th! I just... I love all of this so much that words can't express it. Just...
It's so Cross that it hurts.
I love you SO MUCH for writing this.
♥
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And that is as coherent a comment as I could give.
*shot*
No, really. It was really beautifully tragic, for the lack of a better word. :D
Cross/Maria always intrigued me and this was just so beautifully written <333
And I'm really sorry but I have no more words to say other than "I love this! <3"
Gotta lov the style ^___^
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Its about time my nose detacts Cross!angst
Cross depression is ... letmommahhugyouokay? Without a precise writing his mourn could turn into soap opera, but it isn't. It's beautifully written, emitting so much CrossAngst my heart keeps ponding*ya kalo ga ponding, mateeek dong saya/bricked*.
This short is very nice, Farf. Go write another one!X3
Re: Its about time my nose detacts Cross!angst
Re: Its about time my nose detacts Cross!angst