A peaceful atmosphere was filling the chamber, wind coiling with delight around, whistling with each of its movements. A large old fashioned chandelier hung from the ceiling like the bejewelled corpse of a giant spider. The uncoordinated colours of the fake gems struggled to reflect the weak of the "parlour," partly because of the plastic had been so roughly cut and partly because they were coated with a thick layer of dust. It was about as tasteful as neon overcoat but thankfully not so bright. Twelve branches stretched out from the central base, every one's formerly silver colour now tarnished with a brown hue. At the ends of each arm was a small space, just the right size for a thin candle to slot into, although only one of the spaces was filled. The feeble glow of that singular candle did a measly job of lighting the room, instead the faint glow only illuminated the chandelier itself and a small section of the rotting ceiling.
A few steps were slowly reaching forward as a long, beautiful dress was falling down Illumi's body. It was white as snow,the velvet material carefully brushing against his skin, caressing the smooth surface. Its shoulders were glidy,lowering on his arms, flowing down in a wave of cloth, complimenting his body. It was one of the very rare times, he'd wear something as such. It wasn't necessarily because he wasn't comfortable with the way he was dressing, but because he considered himself a very ugly individual. Each time looking in the mirror, he would see someone else. Anything but him.
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Suddenly a low music started playing within the ballroom, then only, noticing the people surrounding him. Many, too many.
When the black haired flowed in dance, it was as if it were the only way his body truly knew how to speak. Verbally he was guarded, physically he would shrink and fade into the background no matter where he was;but the moment he let himself sway lovingly, that was another kind of freedom. To feel the movement was new breath for his whole and nourishment for a soul so tired. The assasin could dance until the sweat dripped to the polished wood and his reflection showed pink cheeks. After that sleep came easy and the dreams were of more twirls and leaps to the music that was part of his blood.
A soft hand slowly rested on his cheek as Hisoka had joined.
It came freely, the feeling of wellbeing, reminding him that maybe there was a purpose in life other than murder.
Note:
>i know it's short, but I found it a nice concept.
︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎~461 words
