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31_days2005-08-31 10:58 pm
of-carabas.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-08-31 10:58 pm
[August 31] [Seimaden] Heartless
Title: Heartless
Day/Theme: August 31/Tell me, beloved rarity / tell me, rare love / where are you now?
Series: Seimaden
Pairing: Rauresu/Eris (or Laures/Alice, or however the official version has decided to spell it)
Rating: PG
In a human, wickedness is feared, reviled, shunned - and, if you are in a position of power, respected. Grudgingly. Unwillingly, to be sure. But respected nonetheless. A bloodthirsty prince is still a prince, still to be obeyed - perhaps even more so than the weak-hearted rulers who had come before him. On the battlefield, he is a hero, applauded, commended; perhaps almost loved, if they didn't fear him as much as they praised him.
In the court, the praise is hollow, a thin disguise for whispered rumors, averted eyes. In battle, he is a hero, if a vicious one. In polite circles, however, he is dangerous. In power, and therefore to be flattered, but too cold to risk getting close to. He cuts through the swirling circles of society as though he still wore the bloodstains of the battlefield.
It is only in private quarters, in empty hallways and secluded gardens, that he is something almost like a man. It is in the arms of a childhood friend and a smile that masks nothing that he is free of the fear that surrounds him. And that, oh, that is the most beautiful thing of all - the beauty of her face, her form, it is nothing to the beauty of those eyes that can look on him without fear. No hatred. No revulsion. And no ambition, no calculating cruelty. She is a girl who can face down wolves without becoming a wolf herself, and to this beast in man's form this is truly wondrous.
For one who is heartless, the rarest thing of all is one who sees in him a heart.
He does not mourn her. To mourn her would be to say farewell, to admit that she is truly gone - it would be to admit defeat. And this bloodstained prince of the battlefield has never been one to accept defeat so easily.
In a demon, wickedness is embraced, if still feared. It is a tool, a way to gain the power he needs to search the world over, to search all of eternity, to find the only girl who could see that wickedness grown deeper and strengthened by the passing years, by the loss of whatever soul he had - yet feel no fear. In the long nights, it is a silent prayer from one who has forgotten how to pray, if he ever knew: Let her not fear me, even now. Not her. Please, not her.
Day/Theme: August 31/Tell me, beloved rarity / tell me, rare love / where are you now?
Series: Seimaden
Pairing: Rauresu/Eris (or Laures/Alice, or however the official version has decided to spell it)
Rating: PG
In a human, wickedness is feared, reviled, shunned - and, if you are in a position of power, respected. Grudgingly. Unwillingly, to be sure. But respected nonetheless. A bloodthirsty prince is still a prince, still to be obeyed - perhaps even more so than the weak-hearted rulers who had come before him. On the battlefield, he is a hero, applauded, commended; perhaps almost loved, if they didn't fear him as much as they praised him.
In the court, the praise is hollow, a thin disguise for whispered rumors, averted eyes. In battle, he is a hero, if a vicious one. In polite circles, however, he is dangerous. In power, and therefore to be flattered, but too cold to risk getting close to. He cuts through the swirling circles of society as though he still wore the bloodstains of the battlefield.
It is only in private quarters, in empty hallways and secluded gardens, that he is something almost like a man. It is in the arms of a childhood friend and a smile that masks nothing that he is free of the fear that surrounds him. And that, oh, that is the most beautiful thing of all - the beauty of her face, her form, it is nothing to the beauty of those eyes that can look on him without fear. No hatred. No revulsion. And no ambition, no calculating cruelty. She is a girl who can face down wolves without becoming a wolf herself, and to this beast in man's form this is truly wondrous.
For one who is heartless, the rarest thing of all is one who sees in him a heart.
He does not mourn her. To mourn her would be to say farewell, to admit that she is truly gone - it would be to admit defeat. And this bloodstained prince of the battlefield has never been one to accept defeat so easily.
In a demon, wickedness is embraced, if still feared. It is a tool, a way to gain the power he needs to search the world over, to search all of eternity, to find the only girl who could see that wickedness grown deeper and strengthened by the passing years, by the loss of whatever soul he had - yet feel no fear. In the long nights, it is a silent prayer from one who has forgotten how to pray, if he ever knew: Let her not fear me, even now. Not her. Please, not her.