[ everything feels right. everything is moving according to his strings, a perfectly bewitching theatre that he has orchestrated from start to end, a performance he's poured his very heart and soul into, a perfect, beautiful masterpiece of which the centrepiece is nazuna, still and pliant and ever so obedient, dancing to the haunting tune of a full orchestra, the way the music swells and fades hypnotically.
everything is perfect, everything is exquisite, a higher form of art that's incomprehensible to those unable to appreciate it.
except that nazuna's big, pink eyes are looking up at him, not with the adoration he expects, but hurt, sadness, fear, and-- ]
Ah, Nito-- [ his own voice sounds foreign in his ears, like it's dark, twisted, fond. ] --My perfect creation, my best masterpiece; [ nazuna's skin feels cold under his touch even as he cradles nazuna's head, like porcelain, something is wrongwrongwrong ] won't you return to me? You were mine first, after all.
[ a soft sigh, humourless and with an undercurrent of rage - why? - and he withdraws, lets nazuna's head drop, and nazuna falls to his knees like his strings have suddenly been cut.
broken, but beautiful.
if he had the choice, he would stop this. because everything feels wrong now, a grotesque imitation of the things he sees in his own memories, and never, he would never, why isn't he stopping-- even as he watches nazuna crash to the ground with an almost dispassionate look. even as his very instinct is to reach out and catch nazuna before he falls, before he breaks.
because shu is as trapped as nazuna is, at least until the dream-- no, this nightmare runs its course. ]
no subject
everything is perfect, everything is exquisite, a higher form of art that's incomprehensible to those unable to appreciate it.
except that nazuna's big, pink eyes are looking up at him, not with the adoration he expects, but hurt, sadness, fear, and-- ]
Ah, Nito-- [ his own voice sounds foreign in his ears, like it's dark, twisted, fond. ] --My perfect creation, my best masterpiece; [ nazuna's skin feels cold under his touch even as he cradles nazuna's head, like porcelain, something is wrongwrongwrong ] won't you return to me? You were mine first, after all.
[ a soft sigh, humourless and with an undercurrent of rage - why? - and he withdraws, lets nazuna's head drop, and nazuna falls to his knees like his strings have suddenly been cut.
broken, but beautiful.
if he had the choice, he would stop this. because everything feels wrong now, a grotesque imitation of the things he sees in his own memories, and never, he would never, why isn't he stopping-- even as he watches nazuna crash to the ground with an almost dispassionate look. even as his very instinct is to reach out and catch nazuna before he falls, before he breaks.
because shu is as trapped as nazuna is, at least until the dream-- no, this nightmare runs its course. ]