My first Sabriel fic, so be nice! Disclaimer: I don't own.
You watch him. That boy. The tall one. The one with the legs-which-go-on-forever and the sweet smile with the dimples. The one with the messy brown hair which he's constantly pushing back from his face and the hazel-brown eyes-which-have-seen-too-much. The ones which you're pretty sure you would drown in if he looked at you for long enough.
You're almost certain that he's 'important' somehow – that he's the key to the end of the world, or something – but you can't see why that matters, because he's laughing. With his head thrown back and his long, white throat exposed. And all you can do is stare.
To say that you're kind of annoyed with your brothers might just be the understatement of at least the past few millennia. Because they're hurting him. They're chasing him – they're after his soul, or his body, or something, but you don't care which because either way, it's hurting him. Stupid angels –even if they don't appreciate the beauty of his body (which they would be blind not to) they must see the beauty of his soul. And you've never seen one so bright, have you? Or so tortured. It's incandescent in its beauty, and the colours! But it's hurting. Everything he's suffered in his so-short-and-yet-too-long life is carved into his soul, branded there, marring the perfection, but only adding to the beauty.
And all it makes you want to do is hold him. To wrap him in your strong embrace, enfold him in your ink-dark wings and protect him. But you can't. because you're stupid and weak and Michael told you not to. So you satisfy yourself with simply watching him, watching over him, and weeping.
Thoughts would be good – tell me if I should stop writing Sabriel!