[drabble] [princess tutu] Vitae

[bromantic.livejournal.com]

The mingling, a soft subtle breath under his skin, like the melding of skins, of bones and souls (what is the cask? what is the body? are we even real? how silly, sill silly, silly, fairytales and dust in your fingernails) as you dip your fingers around his throat. You squeeze.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

He gasps.

You pause.

He looks at you, his eyelids still heavy from sleep, the warm brown lingering underneath, stewing, swirling, the legends of a prince, the stories just there, waiting, waiting, waiting. She could kill him. Those eyes would close, the last thing he will ever see is her, her, his angel, his dream, his dying light.

"Rue...?" he questions, not moving, not questioning.

She closes his eyes with her finger and cries quietly.