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(all i can do now, it seems, is drabble.)
216 words because i'm too lazy to get this to a nice round number this late. may or may not be the start of something longer. post-SCIV.
This was not what Raphael expected.
Siegfried knelt before him, Requiem laid at his feet, neck exposed in offering. His face was smooth, unworried, his mouth a long, firm line, eyes blank and dull as stone.
Raphael drew his rapier and pressed the tip against Siegfried's jugular. The man didn't flinch, didn't blink, even as his breath misted the sword's cool tempered steel.
What had he expected? An army, perhaps, bearing armor adorned with Wolfkrone's seal, and this man - his nemesis - at its head, ready to bury the last remnant of his final, cruelest sin?
Certainly Raphael had not considered this...supplication. This surrender. Nor had he thought how unsatisfactory such an act would be.
Raphael's grip on Flambert's hilt tightened, until his hand ached from the strain. Siegfried stared up at him, silent, unreadable; and yet there was something in the slight part of Siegfried's lips, the sweet curve of his throat, that seemed to speak of an eagerness -
Raphael threw his sword to the ground.
"You bastard," he hissed, "you would take even the joy of your death from me -"
He turned away, leaving Siegfried alone and kneeling before the looming darkness of his castle.
And when the night's silence was broken by Siegfried's frustrated wail, he found himself smiling.
216 words because i'm too lazy to get this to a nice round number this late. may or may not be the start of something longer. post-SCIV.
This was not what Raphael expected.
Siegfried knelt before him, Requiem laid at his feet, neck exposed in offering. His face was smooth, unworried, his mouth a long, firm line, eyes blank and dull as stone.
Raphael drew his rapier and pressed the tip against Siegfried's jugular. The man didn't flinch, didn't blink, even as his breath misted the sword's cool tempered steel.
What had he expected? An army, perhaps, bearing armor adorned with Wolfkrone's seal, and this man - his nemesis - at its head, ready to bury the last remnant of his final, cruelest sin?
Certainly Raphael had not considered this...supplication. This surrender. Nor had he thought how unsatisfactory such an act would be.
Raphael's grip on Flambert's hilt tightened, until his hand ached from the strain. Siegfried stared up at him, silent, unreadable; and yet there was something in the slight part of Siegfried's lips, the sweet curve of his throat, that seemed to speak of an eagerness -
Raphael threw his sword to the ground.
"You bastard," he hissed, "you would take even the joy of your death from me -"
He turned away, leaving Siegfried alone and kneeling before the looming darkness of his castle.
And when the night's silence was broken by Siegfried's frustrated wail, he found himself smiling.
