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[FIC] GW: Demons
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cozzybob, because she once said she wanted to read something gory and non-pairing from me. Hope this fills the criteria? ^^
Demons
Character/Pairing: Zechs
Rating: PG-13
Words: 412
Summary: Zechs, and his first encounter with death.
Blood, Zechs thinks, smells of metal.
He can feel the stickiness of it on his feet, even though it was covered by inches of polished leather and cotton. He can smell the blood, thick and cloying, dancing around his nostril and penetrating into his brain. If he just sticks out his tongue, Zechs muses, he can probably taste the blood. Red stains his vision, splattered all over a grey pavement, crimson heat pooling around a cooling body.
His hands aren’t shaking, his gun was held steady between slim fingers. His legs aren’t trembling, they’re steady, steady and unmoving and he’s not going to break down right now. So what if this is the first man he had shot? It wasn’t the first man he had killed, far from it.
But it is different, somehow. It was different in that this man has a face and Zechs can imagine his family, perhaps a wife and daughters? Sons? Does this man’s daughter look like Zechs’s little sister? Does his son look like Mill…Zechs? He has blonde hair, blonde hair streaked with grey and red and black and gods, is blood supposed to congeal this fast?
His heartbeat is roaring within his ears and he can’t hear anything else. The commander is shouting an order, he should listen to it. He should listen to orders and get away from this body that used to be a man who possibly had a wife and a son and a daughter. He should get away right now, stop thinking about the blood and there’s a hole in his chest.
I made that hole.
Zechs doesn’t know how he managed to move again, half-running, half-stumbling, towards the helicopter taking them back to headquarters. His eyes are wide, blue stark against a pale face, black sunglasses contrasting with his ash-white lips. He trips over himself, shaking hands holding the snub-nose pistol in his hand like a vice. Metal cuts into his hands, but there is no blood, and so he is fine.
The mission isn’t supposed to go this way. Nobody is supposed to die. Nobody. The man’s death at your hands, your own hands was a fluke, something that shouldn’t have happened but did anyway. It shouldn’t have happened, and so it didn’t. It didn’t happen.
I didn’t kill a man face to face. I didn’t.
I didn’t.
At night, huddled in his dorm and curled up in his bed Zechs dreams of blood and a monster with white-blonde hair.
End
cozzybob, because she once said she wanted to read something gory and non-pairing from me. Hope this fills the criteria? ^^Demons
Character/Pairing: Zechs
Rating: PG-13
Words: 412
Summary: Zechs, and his first encounter with death.
Blood, Zechs thinks, smells of metal.
He can feel the stickiness of it on his feet, even though it was covered by inches of polished leather and cotton. He can smell the blood, thick and cloying, dancing around his nostril and penetrating into his brain. If he just sticks out his tongue, Zechs muses, he can probably taste the blood. Red stains his vision, splattered all over a grey pavement, crimson heat pooling around a cooling body.
His hands aren’t shaking, his gun was held steady between slim fingers. His legs aren’t trembling, they’re steady, steady and unmoving and he’s not going to break down right now. So what if this is the first man he had shot? It wasn’t the first man he had killed, far from it.
But it is different, somehow. It was different in that this man has a face and Zechs can imagine his family, perhaps a wife and daughters? Sons? Does this man’s daughter look like Zechs’s little sister? Does his son look like Mill…Zechs? He has blonde hair, blonde hair streaked with grey and red and black and gods, is blood supposed to congeal this fast?
His heartbeat is roaring within his ears and he can’t hear anything else. The commander is shouting an order, he should listen to it. He should listen to orders and get away from this body that used to be a man who possibly had a wife and a son and a daughter. He should get away right now, stop thinking about the blood and there’s a hole in his chest.
I made that hole.
Zechs doesn’t know how he managed to move again, half-running, half-stumbling, towards the helicopter taking them back to headquarters. His eyes are wide, blue stark against a pale face, black sunglasses contrasting with his ash-white lips. He trips over himself, shaking hands holding the snub-nose pistol in his hand like a vice. Metal cuts into his hands, but there is no blood, and so he is fine.
The mission isn’t supposed to go this way. Nobody is supposed to die. Nobody. The man’s death at your hands, your own hands was a fluke, something that shouldn’t have happened but did anyway. It shouldn’t have happened, and so it didn’t. It didn’t happen.
I didn’t kill a man face to face. I didn’t.
I didn’t.
At night, huddled in his dorm and curled up in his bed Zechs dreams of blood and a monster with white-blonde hair.
End
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Hughes/Roy is love. MUCH LOVE. And I am a bad, bad person for not writing them. XD
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After Treize comforts him and washes the damn blood away, and then give him a red uniform to serve as a reminder and I think too much about this yes.no subject
But what about the comfort sex? Dude, there has to be comfort sex!no subject
Zechs is around... 14 in this. UNDERAGED, YO. Therefore no comfort sex. Not yet, anyway. Ahahaha? XDno subject
Okay, underaged comfort sex bad. We'll wait until he's legal ^_~no subject
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Thank you!
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I needed to be cheered up. Especially after reading the news. You cheered me up. Nothing like Zechs and gore and perfect angst and omg those were daddy issues and *squealie*
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! Seriously. Thank you. You have no idea how happy you made me. Bad day, bad week, oh god I really needed this. Thank you so much. Thanks! *incoherent*
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The news? You mean the one on Bush? ... Yes, I can see how people needs cheering up after that. Being proactive is all fine and good, damnit, but. BUT NOT WHEN MAKING WAR. YOU DO NOT MAKE THE FIRST MOVE IN WAR BECAUSE IF YOU DO, YOU FRICKKING START THE DAMN WAR.
-cough-
The daddy-issues came all by themselves, but it fits Zechs to the tee and I'm so glad I cheered you up! ^^ -hugs-
YOU'RE WELCOME, YOU'RE WELCOME! -hugs again- Incoherency means my job is done! XD
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Your nonexistant talent owns my talented soul! xD
Yes, I meant the thing on Bush. Is that not the worst thing he could have done? Is that not insane? We have an idiot on office. *hates*
Thank you so much. Thank you! Thank you! *tackles harder*
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He's... fucked up in the head. Mister, people are glad you're bein proactive, BUT NOT LIKE THIS, DAMNIT. It's as if he wants to quit the office and take the whole country down with him. WTF, BUSH.
I'm not from America, and therefore I console you for being an American citizen. The stupidity from there, from the world in general, is rising. WHERE IS DARWIN WHEN YOU NEED HIM, DAMNIT.
-glomphugs back- You're still welcome! ^^
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I'll love to see anything you write. ^^
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