• Arundhati Vasanth

Hidden, Seeking

/Find me./

.

(Red memories.)

.

The red in her eye glints in the silver of his blade, maniacal and the warning of pure danger. The danger is in the way she grins too, red stained lips parted wide into a sneer, expression victorious long before the real fight has even begun.


There's not an ounce of fear in her, not a drop of hesitation in the mind that has been brainwashed only to kill. If she wins or not, she has nothing to lose; there's nothing at stake– except her life. But that's worthless even in her own eyes, only an insignificant cog in the grand, ruthless system that has already been set into motion.

.

(Red blood.)

.

With every clash of her pistol against his blade, she's inherently mocking him; condescending as if she /knows/ they're both souls cut from the same cloth, from the same dirty fabric of lies that's stained with blood and burnt by passion.


Slaves, they both are; slaves to the world above them, but each having sworn loyalty to a different master. Ah, it's a pity really– how if, had their circumstances been any different, they'd have been scheming /together/, not /against/ each other.


But they're tragic characters in a cruel tale, and no matter how alike they are, fate will never write them a happy ending. Souls both equally inked bloody with sins, they're destined to carry the guilt and fight forever, inevitably bound to suffer.

.

(Red eye.)

.

And so they fight, metal clanging against metal in the backdrop of a burning city. The screams and wails are phantom echoes; the moon is an ominous beacon painted the same colour as the flames. They fight, murderous rage bubbling in their veins, hate lying bare in both their eyes.


Inevitably they fight and inevitably they suffer; good against bad, cop against assassin. Red flows into red, camellia petals, and blood and silk; burning, overflowing. The atmosphere is enveloped by the stench of smoke and scorched flesh; the air thick with thirst for blood and vengeance.


Ah, such a delicate, beautiful waltz, all for such a miserable end!

.

(Red dress.)

.

Tsubaki laughs, suddenly, hysterical and loud, absolute insanity sparkling in her only eye when she looks at him. Right then, as the chilling sound cuts through the night and pistol meets sword, Ren looks into dangerous red and finds himself slipping, falling down a spiral of familiarity that knocks the breath right out his lungs.


And it comes rushing, bursting, flooding over: the sounds of a girl's airy laugh, the creak of the un-oiled hinges of a swing, a ring of golden plastic.

.

(Red flames.)

.

Suddenly, he feels his heart grow cold.

.

(Red flower.)

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/Who am I searching for?/


[Based off the "Karakuri卍Burst (からくり卍ばーすと)" PV by Hitoshizuku-P, Yama∆

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