WARNINGS: Insanity, implied rape, blood and general dark-ness.
Summary : When he tore into his King, he sang a screaming sonata. IchiHichi
A/N: Yo peeps! This is DARK!!! SUPER DARK!!!! As in, OMG THIS IS SO DARK AND RAAAAAPE!!!! It's very dark.
I needed more angst in my archive. Heh…
The thing that inspired this: "Hearing one's thoughts can either be a curse or a blessing. It depends who is your safeguard."
sleep he sang to me,
In dreams he came,
The voice which calls to me,
And speaks my name,
And though I dream again,
For all I find,
The Phantom of the Opera I despair,
Is inside my mind."
---The Phantom of the Opera, Nightwish
wisest choice in this insane world: Beware the Beast but enjoy the
feast he offers."
--- The Beauty of the Beast, Nightwish
King's thoughts were like an open book.
Scrawled upon the opaque and translucent glass of the countless windows, towering skyscrapers etched with bloodied, crying cracks, and soft smooth depressions. Each window, each skyscraper, each scratched mark was King's thoughts recorded, bared for all to see.
The King thought he was so smart, keeping his thoughts locked away like this, keeping his bronze eyes tempered to prevent others from seeing past them into the messed up inner world within, crumbling and clawed beyond recognition.
King forgot his loyal Horse, though, the one who trailed black nailed fingers over deep and shallow grooves and read the messages and garbled half words for what they were.
He dipped just under his King's consciousness, moving beneath the King's skin, devouring the King's incomplete and vicious thoughts and clawing them onto the skyscrapers with Zangetsu and his fingernails. Sometimes He continues to etch them even when pale skin had torn and blood stained the walls and windows in some morbid parody of ink.
He read and devoured the thoughts, laughing at some and snarling at others, clawing at the ruined crumbling walls of the skyscrapers and cracked glass of the windows, running out of space.
I hate them.
That thought appeared a lot, subconsciously. King would be horrified if he knew what he really thought beneath those cliché and sickening speeches of protecting. He was just as dirty and insane as He was. That's why He clawed the thoughts on the buildings, to show his King.
I hate myself.
He disliked this thought; those ones were always etched shallow, almost invisible.
I hate everything.
Hate was good for his King. The King would cut everything down quicker; the King's heart would wither and disintegrate; it made it all the more sweeter when the Mask broke for the final time.
This made him laugh.
It was only a matter of time. King was falling apart at the seams. A building collapsed in an echoing roar, a distant scream resounding in the vast expanse of the derelict inner world. He couldn't stop the grin stretching his alabaster face.
I can't be…I'm not like this!
The sky split open, carmine rain pelting the decaying buildings, the clawed messages drowned beneath the merciless flood. He turned round, golden eyes smouldering when they landed on the trembling form of his King.
King was at breaking point, bronze eyes splintering under the pressure. The King, with blank eyes, stared at the stained incarnadine hands in confusion as He walked forwards, distorted laughter overlapping the roars of buildings collapsing.
Cool black nailed fingers brushed the blood from his King's face, the windows shattering and razor sharp shards slicing through the droplets of blood. A gaping hole opened up in the ebony sky above.
I'm not Him!
"Silly, silly King." He murmured, grasping the King's trembling hands and pulling the redhead to him, cool blood stained lips pressing teasingly against the King's ear, soft perverse whispers embedding in his King's mind. "Do you see all the thoughts I recorded? All those are yours."
Denial. The King choked and struggled weakly, the sky's shell cracking ominously. "N-No! They're not! They're yours! I'm not like this!"
"King…" Golden irises burning with hellfire, surrounded by daunting pitch black oblivion, flared with sadistic amusement, cool alabaster hands grasping the side of King's face.
The sky shattered, sounding oddly like glass when the King's final grip slipped, bronze eyes dulling as blood stained hands grasped desperately onto the Hollow. He smiled, nails tearing angry welts down the King's cheek.
"Sing for me…"
When the Hollow tore into his King, dominating the broken Shinigami, the King sang a screaming sonata.
A/N: Whoa. Dark or what?
Blame Phantom of the Opera and Beauty of the Beast for this ONESHOT. I felt a need to do a dark one since most of my oneshots were pretty light.
I still need to finish Remnants…