Warnings/notes : ? + Schuldich (kind of), ? pov, slightly weird, third pov after *****
Disclaimer : I don't own Weiss Kreuz.
written at 14th july 2003, by Misura
He looks hot tonight.
Of course he always does and always will, but tonight he has made an effort for the effect.
I don't know which word would do justice to him now.
His red, silken hair flows down his shoulder like a fiery waterfall.
His trousers are skin-tight, begging you to try and peel them off him.
His shirt hangs open a bit at the top, showing off his muscled, creamy chest.
No one would be able to resist them, no one would even want to try.
He could have anyone.
When he enters a room, he draws all eyes, causing conversations to come to an abrupt ending.
Because the first thing people do when they see him is stare at him, amazed at their luck that someone as divinely beautiful as he walks in, breathing the same air they do.
He is the fallen angel, angelic but far from innocent.
Innocence is over-rated anyway ; isn't it much more interesting to sin?
Especially if the Angel of Guilt himself invites you to it?
His eyes may show you a glimpse of his soul sometimes, if you're fortunate. Or unfortunate, depending on how you think about it.
Yes, his skin is soft as silk to the touch, and a spotless alabaster white.
Yes, his hair too will flow through your hands like liquid fire that doesn't burn.
But his eyes ... ah, his eyes will tell you he's not simply a pretty toy on offer.
They will tell you you'd be a fool to mess with him or his.
In the end though, the danger only adds to the attraction, doesn't it?
Admit it, you too would beg on your knees if you thought it would gain you a moment of his attention, a chance at being noticed by him.
As he swings his hips just a little bit, it makes you want him.
Does he want you too, even if it is for only one dance?
Do you have the courage to ask him?
Or will you spend the evening waiting, hoping, praying ... watching?
Will you return home, hopelessly in lust with him, desperate that you may never set eyes on him again for the rest of your life, that you've had your one chance at paradise and let it go?
He won't care either way.
He is Schuldich, Guilty.
He is the angel of fire, the fallen one.
He is beauty personified.
"Are you done admiring yourself in the mirror yet?" Nagi inquired archly.
Schuldich pouted. "Don't you know it's incredibly *rude* to walk in on someone without as much as a knock on the door? Not to mention annoying."
"Yes, I know that all too well, Schuldich. You do it with me all the time, remember? Besides, I *did* knock before I entered." Nagi snarled.
"I'm sure you did." Schuldich snorted.
"Crawford's getting impatient." Nagi warned him, relying on the Oracle's influence to achieve what his apparently couldn't.
"No one here appreciates me!" Schuldich whined.
"Nope. Poor you."
Schuldich sighed, taking a last look at his reflection. Throwing it a kiss, he turned to the door.
"Oh, very well then. Let's go. Wouldn't want to keep Brad waiting now, would we?"
"You're a freak, you know that?" Nagi looked at him in disgust.
Schuldich merely grinned. "It's all part of my charm, chibi. One day, when you're a bit more grown up, ask Brad about those dreams he keeps having about me."
"Very funny." Nagi replied in a tone that indicated the opposite.