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rainbowfic2012-06-27 05:59 am
whatawaytoburn) wrote in rainbowfic2012-06-27 05:59 am
Quill Grey: God Composes, why shouldn't we?
Name: Charley
Story: And The Devil Makes Three
Colors: Quill Grey (God composes, why shouldn't we?)
Word Count: 612
Rating: PG
Warnings: taking advantage of a dying person, mind control
Summary: There is a reason Tristan has the perfect assistant.
He takes her in his arms, holds her close and whispers in her ear. “it’s all right,” he assures. “Everything is going to be all right.”
The girl in his arms stares up at him, watching with scared eyes and prayers on her lips. “I don’t want to die,” she whispers to him.
“You won’t,” he says, his tone calm and reassuring. “You won’t die here, I promise you.”
He kisses her gently after that, smearing her blood on his lips and wiping it away with his tongue. It’s fresh and tastes of copper and desperation.
~
Tristan smiles at his assistant, at the way she moves, the way she presents herself. She’s a beauty to behold and wickedly sharp. She is everything he could have wanted and more than that.
She is perfect.
“Sir,” she says. “You have a meeting soon. You should start to prepare.”
He nods, smiling at her. “Thank you my dear, I will in a moment. Come here though?”
She steps closer and he can see her shake just a little, her hands curling into fists and she sucks in a sharp breath of anticipation.
He kisses her gently, his tongue running over her bottom lip before he moves, sinking his teeth into her flesh and drawing blood. Not much, of course, just a few drops but it’s enough for him to do his work.
~
He crafts her like art, puts work into her mind, into her body, into everything she is. He creates her from the last breaths of the dying girl on the street and makes her into something beautiful. No, she’s not the girl she used to be but, in his opinion, she’s so much more.
He dresses her, combs out her hair, kisses her on the forehead and tells her she’s lovely. No one did that for her before he had, he saw it in her eyes. No one wanted anything to do with her.
Now though? Now she’s owne3d by someone who thinks she’s worth something, owned by someone who will take care of her and treat her as se deserves.
And fine, perhaps there is an exchange, perhaps she works for him but is that really so bad?
Tristan watches her as she walks away from him, her body swaying lightly as she does so. He thinks that, considering the world he’s given her, it’s a fair trade.
~
He knows she doesn’t remember who she is, the life she lead before she found him but it’s better that way. She didn’t deserve those memories and she’s better off without them, at least in his opinion.
Instead he agave her a different life, changed her memories and gave her beauty and happiness and order instead of broken chaos and tragedy. He gave her everything she ever wanted and it only took a bit of her blood, only a little faith in an angel.
And now? Now she’s happy, now she’s working for him and safe. She’s treated well and respected by those around her.
Somewhere, he knows that someone would think what he did was wrong, that crafting her into what he wants her to be is sick and strange and immoral, it’s just that he doesn’t care. If he can change the world, even in small ways with what he can do, if he can brighten the lives of his brother and the few stray people who matter to him, God be damned if he’s going to let the chance pass him by.
And after all, God composes, God creates and unfolds and structures the world. If he has the power and is able to take on the responsibility, why shouldn’t he?
Story: And The Devil Makes Three
Colors: Quill Grey (God composes, why shouldn't we?)
Word Count: 612
Rating: PG
Warnings: taking advantage of a dying person, mind control
Summary: There is a reason Tristan has the perfect assistant.
He takes her in his arms, holds her close and whispers in her ear. “it’s all right,” he assures. “Everything is going to be all right.”
The girl in his arms stares up at him, watching with scared eyes and prayers on her lips. “I don’t want to die,” she whispers to him.
“You won’t,” he says, his tone calm and reassuring. “You won’t die here, I promise you.”
He kisses her gently after that, smearing her blood on his lips and wiping it away with his tongue. It’s fresh and tastes of copper and desperation.
~
Tristan smiles at his assistant, at the way she moves, the way she presents herself. She’s a beauty to behold and wickedly sharp. She is everything he could have wanted and more than that.
She is perfect.
“Sir,” she says. “You have a meeting soon. You should start to prepare.”
He nods, smiling at her. “Thank you my dear, I will in a moment. Come here though?”
She steps closer and he can see her shake just a little, her hands curling into fists and she sucks in a sharp breath of anticipation.
He kisses her gently, his tongue running over her bottom lip before he moves, sinking his teeth into her flesh and drawing blood. Not much, of course, just a few drops but it’s enough for him to do his work.
~
He crafts her like art, puts work into her mind, into her body, into everything she is. He creates her from the last breaths of the dying girl on the street and makes her into something beautiful. No, she’s not the girl she used to be but, in his opinion, she’s so much more.
He dresses her, combs out her hair, kisses her on the forehead and tells her she’s lovely. No one did that for her before he had, he saw it in her eyes. No one wanted anything to do with her.
Now though? Now she’s owne3d by someone who thinks she’s worth something, owned by someone who will take care of her and treat her as se deserves.
And fine, perhaps there is an exchange, perhaps she works for him but is that really so bad?
Tristan watches her as she walks away from him, her body swaying lightly as she does so. He thinks that, considering the world he’s given her, it’s a fair trade.
~
He knows she doesn’t remember who she is, the life she lead before she found him but it’s better that way. She didn’t deserve those memories and she’s better off without them, at least in his opinion.
Instead he agave her a different life, changed her memories and gave her beauty and happiness and order instead of broken chaos and tragedy. He gave her everything she ever wanted and it only took a bit of her blood, only a little faith in an angel.
And now? Now she’s happy, now she’s working for him and safe. She’s treated well and respected by those around her.
Somewhere, he knows that someone would think what he did was wrong, that crafting her into what he wants her to be is sick and strange and immoral, it’s just that he doesn’t care. If he can change the world, even in small ways with what he can do, if he can brighten the lives of his brother and the few stray people who matter to him, God be damned if he’s going to let the chance pass him by.
And after all, God composes, God creates and unfolds and structures the world. If he has the power and is able to take on the responsibility, why shouldn’t he?
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