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Title: Seeing Red
Fandom: Soulcalibur
Characters: Raphael
Rating: PG-13 (violence)
Words: 300
Summary: Raphael makes a most unpleasant discovery.
A/N: Between SCII and III. Kinda-sorta written as a pre-Halloween treat.
---
The dining room table is awash in red. Fallen glasses roll over the polished wood surface, spilling their half-imbibed contents; shattered bottles scatter gleaming shards everywhere, the red wine pooling and dribbling onto the floor.
The serving girl, too, is a study in the color red. Her flaxen hair, freed from tightly wound ribbons, turns crimson as wine spreads to her still, sprawled form. It stains the sleeves covering her stiff outstretched arms, white cotton becoming pink. And her neck - oh, her neck is a veritable rose garden of reds, the girl's elegant, swan-like throat torn out and gushing thick, warm rivulets of blood.
Raphael Sorel, greeted by so vivid a display, finds he can only bring his hands to his lips, to muffle the gasp that escapes him.
"What - " he whispers, barely audible even to his own ears, "What is - what have..."
He is not sure what has happened. He remembers sitting here, alone, pouring glass after glass of the finest wines France has to offer; he remembers tossing them aside, for none were able to ease the feverish thirst that threatens to devour his mind.
He remembers watching the maid enter, and catching her disapproving glare just before she lowered her gaze as proper for one of her low station. He remembers feeling- no anger, strangely, only an overwhelming urge to be near her, to press his dry mouth to her soft, smooth neck-
Surreptitiously, Raphael laps at the red staining his hands. The sticky fluid coats his parched lips, the roof of his mouth; for one blissful moment the thirst that plagues him grows bearable.
When he realizes what is happening he tears his hands away in horror.
The maid, spread out upon the table, beckons.
Swallowing hard, Raphael leans down and tastes the red pool congealing in the hollow of her ruined throat.
Fandom: Soulcalibur
Characters: Raphael
Rating: PG-13 (violence)
Words: 300
Summary: Raphael makes a most unpleasant discovery.
A/N: Between SCII and III. Kinda-sorta written as a pre-Halloween treat.
---
The dining room table is awash in red. Fallen glasses roll over the polished wood surface, spilling their half-imbibed contents; shattered bottles scatter gleaming shards everywhere, the red wine pooling and dribbling onto the floor.
The serving girl, too, is a study in the color red. Her flaxen hair, freed from tightly wound ribbons, turns crimson as wine spreads to her still, sprawled form. It stains the sleeves covering her stiff outstretched arms, white cotton becoming pink. And her neck - oh, her neck is a veritable rose garden of reds, the girl's elegant, swan-like throat torn out and gushing thick, warm rivulets of blood.
Raphael Sorel, greeted by so vivid a display, finds he can only bring his hands to his lips, to muffle the gasp that escapes him.
"What - " he whispers, barely audible even to his own ears, "What is - what have..."
He is not sure what has happened. He remembers sitting here, alone, pouring glass after glass of the finest wines France has to offer; he remembers tossing them aside, for none were able to ease the feverish thirst that threatens to devour his mind.
He remembers watching the maid enter, and catching her disapproving glare just before she lowered her gaze as proper for one of her low station. He remembers feeling- no anger, strangely, only an overwhelming urge to be near her, to press his dry mouth to her soft, smooth neck-
Surreptitiously, Raphael laps at the red staining his hands. The sticky fluid coats his parched lips, the roof of his mouth; for one blissful moment the thirst that plagues him grows bearable.
When he realizes what is happening he tears his hands away in horror.
The maid, spread out upon the table, beckons.
Swallowing hard, Raphael leans down and tastes the red pool congealing in the hollow of her ruined throat.
