Carey, get out your cane...
Sep. 3rd, 2005 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheen"Let’s have a round for these freaks and these soldiers
A round for these friends of mine
Let’s have another round for the bright red devil
Who keeps me in this tourist town..."
...and if anyone can find me the Cyndi Lauper cover of this song, I will love them forever. My dad had it downloaded on one of our old computers awhile ago. It got nuked when the whole thing crashed, and I haven't been able to find it since. Which is a pity, because I actually like it more than the original--which is fine too, mind. And in the meantime has, against all reason, latched itself onto my new favorite pair of Bleach JADED LESBIANS.
Because that's what they are. (GIVE KIRA LOVE AND MEDICATION)
When it occurs to her she has the opportunity to ask, Ichimaru Gin’s young Vice-Captain steps into her path. He’s new and she barely knows his name, but here she is, having just nearly run into his chest.
“Oh!” She rests a hand on her collar, to steady herself. “Kira is it?”
“Vice-Captain Kira,” he corrects, standing stiffly.
“Aah congratulations.” She is distracted, peering past him. “I need to--”
“The Captain is busy right now.”
She looks back to him, a little startled by his tone and the flash in his eyes. It’s a dangerous look on such a gaunt, unhappy face.
Ichimaru Gin, by this point, has long since turned the corner.
“…nevermind,” she says, slowly. Her breath doesn't quite settle in her chest. She turns and walks away, the young Vice-Captain’s stare is sharp and on her back.
("I like ya," he said. "You're shiny."
"Stop that," she said, ducking her face, hiding it in her hair.
It was filthy and rank. He took a lock and lifted it. He held it up between his forefinger and thumb, bringing it close. He opened one eye.
He smiled, boyish and triumphant.
"Shiny," he said. "Real shiny. Said ya were, di'n't I?"
She blushed. She didn't know what else to do.)
“Oh, you’re here.”
In the bathhouse he snaps his back up. Holding the towel at one bony hip like a second skin, he whirls to face her, nostrils flared in defense and in annoyance and in quite a bit of alarm, too.
“This is the men’s side!”
“Is it today…?” She glances around with a lazy hum, combing hair back over her shoulder. “I thought yesterday it was…or was that the day before? I could have…hm.”
She frowns at him, in utter seriousness: “What day is it?”
“You don’t know.” His reply is a little amazed.
“I think I might have missed one.”
“How do you--” He yanks the towel so hard against him that it looks like it leaves a mark. “Nevermind. I don’t need to know. This is the men’s side, and this is terribly inappropriate, and you should probably—you wear that in the bath?”
He had noticed the gold chain around her neck, which had glinted when she pushed her hair back. “…yes,” she says, like it's mathematical fact. “It’s--”
He walks past her without waiting for the rest. “Have a nice day.”
(…he returned in the grey air of dawn. She woke up to find his white knees at eyelevel. He was grinning open mouthed. She could see, tiredly, the ugly bent of his teeth.
“Hey, hey,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
“I’m not sleeping now…”
“Pretend!”
“…okay.” So she shut her eyes and immediately he pinched her cheek. With his thin fingers he did it hard, and she cried out. “That hurts!”
When her eyes flew open, he was sitting back in the dirt and she realized he’d taken her hand and dropped something into it. It was cool and heavy and round.
“Thought y’might like it,” he said.
Slowly, she looked down….)
Somehow, he is still conscious when she leaps off the roof after him. His eyes, those deep set, pale eyes she has always thought looked so miserable flicker open as she approaches. The wall behind him has cracked, and pieces of it fall in his hair and across his shoulders as he lifts himself off with a wet sounding cough.
“Where has he gone.”
Kira says nothing, wetting his lips.
“What is he going to do.”
Kira’s eyes drift to Wabisuke, who has fallen a little ways from him. She presses the tip of Haineko to the hollow of his throat.
“Oh, no. Don’t do that.” To the glint of metal, he tips his head back very easily, swallowing. Her eyes don’t leave him. From the west comes a hot breeze, like the air off of a brush fire. “He didn’t say, did he…”
…and Kira Izuru’s eyes open wide, and that is when the transmission reaches them both. It tells them everything.
("...y'don't ask a lot of questions, do ya?"
"What?"
"You say things. Like 'you have a weird name' and 'you say funny things'. But ya don't ask things."
"I do!"
"So ask me."
"Ask you what?"
"Ask me why my eyes are red."
"Your eyes are red?"
"Yup. So ask me why."
"I don't want to."
"Boring!"
"That's not fair!"
"Boooring."
"...why are your eyes red."
"I dunno!")
“Oh god,” he says. “I think I’m going to die.”
“Here,” she answers, and brings the cup to his lips.
He starts with a “Thank you” but then as the liquid slides past his lips, he sputters. “This isn't water!”
“You wanted water?”
“It’s morning!”
“This helps too?”
“It’s morning I—nevermind. Nevermind. Who am I asking…” He groans and ducks away from the light. She shrugs and leans over him. His head is resting her lap; she slides her hand over his eyes, and brushes it up through his bangs.
“You know,” she says. “I don’t see why you wear it like this.”
“M...matsumoto-san?”
She pokes him, at the corner his squint. She runs her finger down, tracing the darker line under it. “I like your eyes.”
(By high noon his face and shoulders would be berry red. By evening it would peel. In the sunset, he pulled dead strips of it off cheeks.
“Sun’s got it in for me,” he said once, flicking it away.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not a bit.”
And he’d been lying, but he’d done it a little like a best friend, and so she’d believed him.)
A round for these friends of mine
Let’s have another round for the bright red devil
Who keeps me in this tourist town..."
...and if anyone can find me the Cyndi Lauper cover of this song, I will love them forever. My dad had it downloaded on one of our old computers awhile ago. It got nuked when the whole thing crashed, and I haven't been able to find it since. Which is a pity, because I actually like it more than the original--which is fine too, mind. And in the meantime has, against all reason, latched itself onto my new favorite pair of Bleach JADED LESBIANS.
Because that's what they are. (GIVE KIRA LOVE AND MEDICATION)
When it occurs to her she has the opportunity to ask, Ichimaru Gin’s young Vice-Captain steps into her path. He’s new and she barely knows his name, but here she is, having just nearly run into his chest.
“Oh!” She rests a hand on her collar, to steady herself. “Kira is it?”
“Vice-Captain Kira,” he corrects, standing stiffly.
“Aah congratulations.” She is distracted, peering past him. “I need to--”
“The Captain is busy right now.”
She looks back to him, a little startled by his tone and the flash in his eyes. It’s a dangerous look on such a gaunt, unhappy face.
Ichimaru Gin, by this point, has long since turned the corner.
“…nevermind,” she says, slowly. Her breath doesn't quite settle in her chest. She turns and walks away, the young Vice-Captain’s stare is sharp and on her back.
("I like ya," he said. "You're shiny."
"Stop that," she said, ducking her face, hiding it in her hair.
It was filthy and rank. He took a lock and lifted it. He held it up between his forefinger and thumb, bringing it close. He opened one eye.
He smiled, boyish and triumphant.
"Shiny," he said. "Real shiny. Said ya were, di'n't I?"
She blushed. She didn't know what else to do.)
“Oh, you’re here.”
In the bathhouse he snaps his back up. Holding the towel at one bony hip like a second skin, he whirls to face her, nostrils flared in defense and in annoyance and in quite a bit of alarm, too.
“This is the men’s side!”
“Is it today…?” She glances around with a lazy hum, combing hair back over her shoulder. “I thought yesterday it was…or was that the day before? I could have…hm.”
She frowns at him, in utter seriousness: “What day is it?”
“You don’t know.” His reply is a little amazed.
“I think I might have missed one.”
“How do you--” He yanks the towel so hard against him that it looks like it leaves a mark. “Nevermind. I don’t need to know. This is the men’s side, and this is terribly inappropriate, and you should probably—you wear that in the bath?”
He had noticed the gold chain around her neck, which had glinted when she pushed her hair back. “…yes,” she says, like it's mathematical fact. “It’s--”
He walks past her without waiting for the rest. “Have a nice day.”
(…he returned in the grey air of dawn. She woke up to find his white knees at eyelevel. He was grinning open mouthed. She could see, tiredly, the ugly bent of his teeth.
“Hey, hey,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
“I’m not sleeping now…”
“Pretend!”
“…okay.” So she shut her eyes and immediately he pinched her cheek. With his thin fingers he did it hard, and she cried out. “That hurts!”
When her eyes flew open, he was sitting back in the dirt and she realized he’d taken her hand and dropped something into it. It was cool and heavy and round.
“Thought y’might like it,” he said.
Slowly, she looked down….)
Somehow, he is still conscious when she leaps off the roof after him. His eyes, those deep set, pale eyes she has always thought looked so miserable flicker open as she approaches. The wall behind him has cracked, and pieces of it fall in his hair and across his shoulders as he lifts himself off with a wet sounding cough.
“Where has he gone.”
Kira says nothing, wetting his lips.
“What is he going to do.”
Kira’s eyes drift to Wabisuke, who has fallen a little ways from him. She presses the tip of Haineko to the hollow of his throat.
“Oh, no. Don’t do that.” To the glint of metal, he tips his head back very easily, swallowing. Her eyes don’t leave him. From the west comes a hot breeze, like the air off of a brush fire. “He didn’t say, did he…”
…and Kira Izuru’s eyes open wide, and that is when the transmission reaches them both. It tells them everything.
("...y'don't ask a lot of questions, do ya?"
"What?"
"You say things. Like 'you have a weird name' and 'you say funny things'. But ya don't ask things."
"I do!"
"So ask me."
"Ask you what?"
"Ask me why my eyes are red."
"Your eyes are red?"
"Yup. So ask me why."
"I don't want to."
"Boring!"
"That's not fair!"
"Boooring."
"...why are your eyes red."
"I dunno!")
“Oh god,” he says. “I think I’m going to die.”
“Here,” she answers, and brings the cup to his lips.
He starts with a “Thank you” but then as the liquid slides past his lips, he sputters. “This isn't water!”
“You wanted water?”
“It’s morning!”
“This helps too?”
“It’s morning I—nevermind. Nevermind. Who am I asking…” He groans and ducks away from the light. She shrugs and leans over him. His head is resting her lap; she slides her hand over his eyes, and brushes it up through his bangs.
“You know,” she says. “I don’t see why you wear it like this.”
“M...matsumoto-san?”
She pokes him, at the corner his squint. She runs her finger down, tracing the darker line under it. “I like your eyes.”
(By high noon his face and shoulders would be berry red. By evening it would peel. In the sunset, he pulled dead strips of it off cheeks.
“Sun’s got it in for me,” he said once, flicking it away.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not a bit.”
And he’d been lying, but he’d done it a little like a best friend, and so she’d believed him.)
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-04 01:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-04 02:42 am (UTC)