To Drown in Sand

Cause two can keep a secret If one of them is dead

Shiny black shoes trimmed with ribbons and lace swing daintily under the white light of the flames. A soft melody is hummed as fluffy white hair bobs to its beat, long lashes fanning across pale cheeks that lack any warmth of color. The room is silent except for the humming and the sound of a page being turned every so often. Snowy lashes flutter open and spiraling pools of wine peer from under them at the lithe form dressed in reds and blacks.

Sephiroth sits quietly next to Karma as he reads an untitled book. The black leather bound pages have held his attention since Lady Carissimi left some hours ago and allowed them to stay out of the caskets for as long as they liked. Sephiroth had played with her when the mistress first left, allowing her to climb across his tall form like a trapeze and playing with his hair. He always indulged in her childish whims, smiling as she swung on an outstretched arm or wrapped herself in the floating joints of his tail. The ribbons that were tied around his horns were met with gentle smiles even as his hair got tangled in her messy attempts at a French braid. Even his shiny black boots with the impossibly high heels have flowers tucked between the laces.

Her own hair was now in a braided crown with black ribbons interwoven, the ends sticking out like a pair of rabbit ears on either side of her head. Long, deft fingers had carded through the fluffy locks in a calming manner that made the tiny guardian want to sit back and relax. So now she sat with the appearance of an angel in comfortable silence next to a demon. It would probably make for a good painting if someone were to see them: her sitting quietly in pristine white, resting and carefree as the ilk of the Devil sat nearby with a messy ponytail that did nothing to detract from his dark beauty while reading intently from a black book.

Oh how wrong would they be.

The silence and calm ticks on, a peaceful taint to the air as they simply sat there. The crisp sound of a page turned and the silence resumed. It was so quiet.

And peaceful.

And cozy.

And dull.

Sharp senses make everything too focused, too clear. Her eyes catch every detail as they wander idly. The gentle fall of loose strands of pink as they fell from a red ribbon. The shifting neon shades of magic around the solid slit of black in their gaze. The careful press of the pad of a finger against the sharp corner of a page to turn it. The perfectly kept tempo of the pulse moving across the smooth expanse of a throat.

Shhhhhhhk...

The page turns again.

Shhhhhhhk...

It's a sound that has a slight but still perfect waver in its motion.

Shhhhhhhk...

A curious glance shows it impossible to read from this angle.

Shhhhhhhk...

Black shoes sink into white carpet.

Shhhhhhhk...

The page has turned just as she has around the couch.

Shhhhhhhk...

Crimson eyes latch onto a stray curl at the nape of the neck as the distance closes with soundless footfalls.

Shhhhthump.

The book snaps shut and disappears into the void of Inventory.

Those neon eyes turn and watch with a secretive smile upon wordless lips.