Post by Mina Crow on Apr 27, 2006 10:30:59 GMT 12
Let’s explain this. Today, 8:30am. I picked up Dancer and Axel and worked on a fan-fic text. This would possibly occur after Dancer was accepted (if she ever is... xD) by the Cigarettes, on the roof of Castle Smoke. Here it goes. I’d like some opinions…
Anne was standing on a box, her back to the exit of the roof. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, longing for someone who would never come.
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
She whipped her head around. Wrapped in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard Axel approaching. Anne cocked her head at him, frowning inquiringly. He took out a razor and started to flick it between his fingers.
“It’s him. Lucifer. Right?”
Her frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
The razor continued its flittering moves from finger to finger, and Axel didn’t look at her. Anne shrugged and turned her back to him, forcing the whistle of the blade to a corner of her mind. Then it stopped. With a sigh, she turned around again, crossing her arms over her chest. Axel was leaning against one of Reason’s shooting targets, a crooked grin crossing his face, hands shoved into his pockets. The girl raised an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
His smile wavered and faded. Axel being serious? What was going on?
“Anne – Dancer…”
“Keep it Anne. Dancer’s dead.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, but he dropped the subject. “Anne – it’s Lucifer. Seraphim.”
“What about him?” she snapped impatiently. “I know who Lucifer is.” The grin returned, and Anne puffed irritably.
“Do you? He’s not only our Master, but our friend. And I’ve noticed how you look at him.”
She shot him a dirty look. “He beat me. He let …Rattlesnake?… beat me. Okay, we helped each other at the Tower, but am I supposed to be his friend?” She waved her bandaged hand in his direction. “I blame this on Seraphim. Every bruise, every scream, every needle of pain. I relented my freedom, and he treated me like… like… like a Vampire would. Am I supposed to be grateful for it? I’m sorry, I’m not.”
Axel almost gaped. “I wasn’t talking about that, kiddo.”
Now Anne looked really puzzled. “I mean… What?” She turned her back to him again and walked to the edge of the terrace, staring at the city without really seeing it. Her hands gripped the ruined iron rail, rusted flakes falling away at her touch. Behind her, Axel shrugged.
“You like him.”
The rail creaked, and her knuckles turned white. When she finally looked back, Axel was gone.
Anne was standing on a box, her back to the exit of the roof. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, longing for someone who would never come.
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
She whipped her head around. Wrapped in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard Axel approaching. Anne cocked her head at him, frowning inquiringly. He took out a razor and started to flick it between his fingers.
“It’s him. Lucifer. Right?”
Her frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
The razor continued its flittering moves from finger to finger, and Axel didn’t look at her. Anne shrugged and turned her back to him, forcing the whistle of the blade to a corner of her mind. Then it stopped. With a sigh, she turned around again, crossing her arms over her chest. Axel was leaning against one of Reason’s shooting targets, a crooked grin crossing his face, hands shoved into his pockets. The girl raised an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
His smile wavered and faded. Axel being serious? What was going on?
“Anne – Dancer…”
“Keep it Anne. Dancer’s dead.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, but he dropped the subject. “Anne – it’s Lucifer. Seraphim.”
“What about him?” she snapped impatiently. “I know who Lucifer is.” The grin returned, and Anne puffed irritably.
“Do you? He’s not only our Master, but our friend. And I’ve noticed how you look at him.”
She shot him a dirty look. “He beat me. He let …Rattlesnake?… beat me. Okay, we helped each other at the Tower, but am I supposed to be his friend?” She waved her bandaged hand in his direction. “I blame this on Seraphim. Every bruise, every scream, every needle of pain. I relented my freedom, and he treated me like… like… like a Vampire would. Am I supposed to be grateful for it? I’m sorry, I’m not.”
Axel almost gaped. “I wasn’t talking about that, kiddo.”
Now Anne looked really puzzled. “I mean… What?” She turned her back to him again and walked to the edge of the terrace, staring at the city without really seeing it. Her hands gripped the ruined iron rail, rusted flakes falling away at her touch. Behind her, Axel shrugged.
“You like him.”
The rail creaked, and her knuckles turned white. When she finally looked back, Axel was gone.
