cephalothorax | Snippets✥

✣requiem

It begins in that little booth, sitting opposite Neon Nostrade. His eyes moving over her prophecy, taking in the words, digesting them, his heart stops, his eyes are filled, and he doesn't try to stop them from spilling over. He won't hide his loss - won't dishonor Uvogin that way. A beat, and images rush into his head - a blow to the gut, a message sent to the others. Bounty Hunters falling like dominoes - too easy to be interesting, but exhilarating even so. He leaves droplets of blood to draw in the strongest of those who aren't Zoldycks, wipes the blood away to ensure only that one can sense it. Pens like projectiles, and the air is like water, and his fish are feeding as he stands over the city and listens to their music. In his mind a simple echo, his own words - Personally, I believe in ghosts. And that's why I'll do as he would have wanted. Go wild.

And then-- crash, a explosion like drumbeats, a gunshots like thunder. Fire for lightning, and the screams are the chorus.

Dear Uvo... can you hear us? We are playing requiem for you.

He orchestrates the chaos with the music around him, and the moon looking down, and the wind on his face.