Pieces of You [Yaten]

[eleni]

He was here again. It seemed that since the last time, Kato Yukimura's detestation for the beach was beginning to fade away, slowly melting into the sand and dissipating into the air with each careful step he took to the one place he thought he would never visit again. But as much as he tried to convince himself that he was just experiencing another session of Acute Primitive Island Disaster Syndrome, and that there was no real need to leave his damp cave of a home, he found himself trudging towards the damn place, his foot occasionally giving the ground beneath a frustrated kick, sending crystal pieces of sand twirling like miniature ballerinas in the air. Sometimes the ballerinas would stop and shoot spontaneous arrows into his eyes, and he would snarl at them like a starving coyote to a ranger, but he would always end up letting them go - after all, death by sand fairies seemed to be a fail way of dying on an unknown island.

The spark was back, the spark named Nostalgia. It appeared rarely, but as time began to unfurl, and the more Yukimura began to take notice of his wild surroundings, it gradually came more often, sometimes even striking him five times a week. It was like a groupie stalking her favourite idol - she starts out nice, but ends up planting an irreversible bomb in his heart so that both he and she can die together. Only in Yukimura's case, he was the idol, and nostalgia was the groupie. Sweet.

The sun was setting the moment he arrived. Just like the last time, he let his legs weaken; they trembled quietly as he allowed his entire body to collapse right on the sand. But he pushed himself up with both hands, leaning back just a little - there was the view, and it was all his. He watched as the sun set, as it descended from all its glory to give the moon a chance to shine. He watched as it flashed its colours in one last attempt to show off its prime, the pinks, oranges, yellows, and purples lighting up the clouds, lighting up the sky like a technological show. The water glistened and shimmered, as if there lay an entire palace of diamonds beneath the waves - perhaps that's what they're for - they were there to guard a beautiful treasure.

A faint sense of warmth crept stealthily onto his skin, dying it a faint golden tint. The platinum-peach hue of the sand was now a pastel blend of vivid pink and yellow, with a tiny dash of orange sprinkled in the mixture. A soft tugging pulled at his lips, and he smiled. It was a temporary warmth, but it was enough - for now. He could have reached out and embraced it all if he wanted to, but he didn't - what if there was someone around, someone quiet? And what if - just what if - that someone was spying on him? He would definitely die of embarrassment if word got out that Kato Yukimura was mentally in another planet.

With that, he dug into his pocket, before pulling out his camera. It was half out of battery, but that didn't matter - there was not much he wanted to snap at, just the occasional scenery, if nature decided to bring in something nice for once. At that moment, as if on cue, a breeze flew by, followed by a stronger gush of wind, howling like a wolf before slamming right in his face. The camera dropped. Letting out a distressed huff, he rubbed at his face, ridding of as much sand as he could from his eyes, before opening them again and picking the digicam up. So much for just wanting a photo of a nice sunset.

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Word count: 639
Muse's outfit: in the centre
Listening to: Be, by Epik High

[YATEN MUDO]

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The sun was setting, painting the sky with it's purples and pinks. The sun cast its lovely golden glow. It was a wonderous site to behold, and the white hair girl stood near the water's edge, staring off into the distance.

It had happened again, and there was nothing she could do to stop it, it seemed. These period of blackouts were becoming too much for the girl. She didn't know what happened during those times, only that she would wake up in a much different place than from where she began, and she normally had a headache from hell. If only she knew how nearly literal that was...

She felt tears come to her red eyes, and she didn't feel the need to wipe them away with her hand. Everything here was so... miserable. She was miserable. It seemed she had traded one hell for another. The island was cruel-- large beasts, lightening fast creatures, storms from the sea... a witch. It left the girl just wondering if she should walk out into the sea, submerge herself in the riptide, and be done with it.

But each time she wanted to, she reminded herself that she needed to be strong. Things were horrible, yes, but they were better. And better was an improvement. It wasn't good, but it was still better. Yes, she had to keep going. She had for fifteen years... she could for a bit longer yet.

A large gust swept up and made the girl gasp as her dress fluttered out and her hair was combed by the wind. It felt clensing, purifying somehow. She felt like for now, she could be at peace. Taking a step out, she waded into the shallowest waters, just letting the water wash over the tops of her feet. Perhaps she just needed to find the good things-- she used to be so good at it.

So what had changed? Was it the fact she was alone here now? Did she miss human company so much? She'd never really had friends, and she'd been on the worst terms possible with her family. What was there to miss so much? Nothing. So then why did she feel so down.

The thoughts continued to run through her head as she walked down the shoreline. It would be getting dark soon, and she knew that she should seek shelter before then, but something inside of her decided she didn't care so much about all of that.

She stopped when she saw a man with his camera. At first, she was worried about imposing on him, and she debated turning to leave...

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^{TAG - Kato
WORDS - 534
NOTES - wooo!
TUNES - notre dame de paris - god you made the world
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[eleni]

The sand was finally out of his eyes. They still stung, stung like hell, like the feeling one would get from applying face wash straight after crying. Likewise, tears sprung from his eyes; he shut his eyelids hard and fast, but they still managed to break away, slithering from beneath those lids, a drop tangling in the midst of his lashes. The tears scraped against his cheeks like sandpaper; soon enough, his skin, albeit damp, was charred a faint tinge of burning maroon. He could have stayed like that forever - well, not quite - more like a very long time, but when another strong gush of wind screamed right into his ear, his decision was changed in the span of a second.

He raised an arm and brought it to his face, quickly wiping away the sand-driven tears. Each wipe, however, brought forth a spread of wetness, and each spread scraped even harder at his skin. He bit his lower lip, resisting the urge to rip off his entire face; it was like his skin was about to peel off, as if he were a snake in shedding season. But, with much silent whimpering, he managed to open his eyes once more, letting out a relieved sigh when the pain did not return.

The sun was beginning to disappear. The sky darkened, the wind picked up more power. The pastel colours were fading away, the warmth splashing on Yukimura's feet was dimming faster and faster. The sea was losing its sparkles - did the sun steal away the diamonds in an act of despair? Well then, tough luck, Sunny - learn to be modest and don't do anything harsh against the moon. Yukimura huffed. Thanks to the sand, his chance of a perfect shot was gone; whatever he took from now on would be defective. But once again, the spark tugged at the back of his mind - who cares whether a random photo was not up to scratch? Photos - they could be solid proof of a formerly unknown island resting somewhere between Japan and.. well, whatever country was below his on a map. Maybe - just maybe - he would be able to leave this damn place and report the island to the government, then become a national celebrity, then make a motherload of money...

...Or maybe not. Perhaps it was just interest - he wasn't the best photographer in the world (not like he had any formal training either), but he didn't mind taking photos here and there, could do as he pleased when it came to recording certain memories down. Who knew - perhaps his family weren't as worried about him as he thought they were; perhaps everyone just thought he was taking a small holiday from the hustle and bustle of the city; perhaps he would somehow return to Hokkaido by the end of the week, his cousin would beg for photos and he would indeed have photos ready.

Beauty doesn't last long, so snap it as it's leaving, stop time with the device in your hands and capture motion with one click, the spark urged him. He gave in this time, raising the camera once more to seize the sun as it descended - only to pull back his finger before the click could be executed. He blinked, then squinted his eyes a little, just enough to make out the figure of... a girl, right? Right. And a white one at that too - no, not racial wise, just... literally white. For a while he considered shooing her aside - she was in the way, man! - but one more look at her goddamn sexy legs

[/i] and he knew that would be a stupid idea - there was a certain atmosphere surrounding her, as if she wrapped in an icy coat of winter while standing in the middle of summer.

...And with the attire she was clothed in, Yukimura felt a perverted urge to capture her with his camera too.

- - - - - - - -

Word count: 670
Music: Gather Roses, by ScReW
Notes: Pedo post is pedo D:[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[YATEN MUDO]

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She felt as if she had been waiting forever when he finally noticed her. It struck her then, as her red eyes locked on his that she hadn't turned to walk away. Something had kept her standing there, gazing at him for the past few moments. Internally she was kicking herself. She wasn't a very social person by nature, even back home in Japan. So what made her think that here was going to be any different? She was awkward socially, not the most charming girl-- she wasn't rude, hell she wasn't even blunt. She was shy, so painfully so that it caused her to stammer and keep her eyes locked on the ground when she tried to speak.

Yes, it was a official. She should have walked away when she had the chance. But there was no sense in complaining about it now. He had noticed her, and judging from his facial expression, he wasn't too happy about her presence. At least, that was her impression. She wasn't good at reading people, and her intuition was off. Lately, she'd been trying not to trust it. It was telling her that complete strangers were safe (like that man she'd woken up beside in the cave) or that she shouldn't be concerned with passing out. Maybe she was getting used to the phenomenon... but that didn't mean she should be comfortable with it. Passing out was serious, especially when it meant life or death like on this island.

"S-sorry.... I-I... I didn't mean to intrude,"

[/b] she said in her softest voice possible. The girl looked very much akin to a scared bunny-- well, in the sense she was cute and a little frightened, that is. She didn't actually have any rabbit-like features. In fact, if anything, she looked angelic with her white skin, white dress, and white hair. She was just missing a pair of wings, and her red eyes stood out quite vibrantly against her skintone.

She suffered from a type of albinism and would have been extra sensitive to the sun if not for the daimon inhabiting her body. Her eyesight also was not poor-- nothing much more had been affected like it should have been due to Lucifer's presence. Their souls have perfectly merged, a fact unbeknownst to the young girl who had no clue that she was sharing her body with another creature. Speaking of, Lucifer was growing increasingly frustrated with the young girl's attitude.When was she going to get it through her thick head?

Lucifer patiently waited for the day that Yaten would wake up and realize she was there. It would be a great day, for finally she'd be able to work with the girl to protect her. But Yaten kept getting herself into situations she needed protection from... and Lucifer was getting a bit tired of always having to come to the rescue, especially when all of this was preventable. Still, she had to lay dormant for now. Last time she forced her way out, the girl had a terrible headache the entirity of the next day.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

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^{TAG - Kato
WORDS - 534
NOTES - wooo!
TUNES - notre dame de paris - god you made the world
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[eleni]

"She was Lo, plain Lo... standing four feet ten in one sock..."

Such a quote made its way to Kato Yukimura's head as he continued to observe the girl, taking note of the paper-whiteness of her skin, the crimson of her eyes. Albino, he quickly judged, but he let it slide - only idiots would judge a book by its cover. He could not stop, though - the staring. He was captivated; he found a faintly irritating charm about her, ivory appeal emitting from her waxen silhouette, allure seeping out in the form of silken ropes slowly caressing his neck, beckoning him closer to her, closer, closer -

No, stop. He had taken one step towards her, but that was enough. He could feel it already - the rush of his blood as it circulated in a fevered circus, the wild pounding of his heart in the pace of war drums. There was an all-too familiar sensation somewhere near his thighs, and it didn't help at all when it began to rise, rise, rise - passing his stomach, his chest, creeping, crawling, slithering up to his neck - a place as sensitive as Lolita itself and at least five times more damned.

"Look at this tangle of thorns," was all he could murmur to himself in his accented English; anything to distract himself from pedophillic feelings. He closed his eyes, shutting them tightly, nearly tearing away his own flesh just to block out all sinful thoughts - and he almost missed the girl's voice. Soft, quivering; it chimed out, it clinged and clanged, it vibrated against air, against vocal molecules, darting here and there, high and low, top and bottom. Perhaps it held fear, cradled apprehension like a weak child - Lola in slacks, Dolly at school.

And perhaps he was responsible for that.

"Hey," his voice came out soft as well, didn't want to scare her even more. "Hey, uh, you weren't - you weren't... intruding."

He set the camera down, turning it off in the process, shoving it back into his pocket. Then he looked at her again, blinking quickly at her eyes, her hair, her legs. And he wondered. She looked like it - not just attire-wise, but even a simpleton could see that she was quite possible Asian - preferably Japanese, he found himself subconsciously hoping, anomie beginning to break through the barriers of Ego and Morality. Well, there was only one way of finding - one safe way, at least - by simply asking, striking up a conversational, one that intends no harm from a grown man to a girl-child; pure, airy, trustworthy.

"Excuse me, but -" he paused, a little unsure on how to string his thoughts into a perfect thread of words. "Are you Japanese?"

You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.

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Word count: 490
Notes: Lolita - greatest pedo novel to quote for pedo posts.

[YATEN MUDO]

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Pushing a long lock of hair behind her ear, the girl watched the man as he told her that she wasn't intruding. That was a relief. She hadn't met a friendly face on the island. Well, aside from that one girl, but she didn't know her name- she'd gotten an incredible headache and had passed out just moments after going into the forest with her.

Yaten smiled as he striked up an innocent conversation. Perhaps she was too naiive- perhaps she didn't think that the man whose arms she had woken up in was innocent and yet this man was. She didn't have good judgement.

Never did, and never would.

"Ah, yes. I am Japanese," she spoke it flawlessly to him, too unsure in her English to really speak it unless forced to (aka. meeting someone who wasn't Japanese and couldn't speak it.) She shuffled her sandaled feet before looked back up at the I/S. She was really at a loss of what to say after that. She wasn't good in social situations.

"Do you know how you got here? What this island is? I haven't been able to meet anyone to talk to and... and I'm kind of scared," she was almost shaking in nervousness as she spoke to him, her red eyes were filling with tears. She was just so lonely here on this island. At least in Japan, even if she didn't have friends, she didn't fear strangers so much... she feared them, but not so much.

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^{TAG - Kato
WORDS - 300ish sorry D:
NOTES - whee for posting spree!
TUNES - notre dame de paris - god you made the world
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[eleni]

She was definitely Lola in slacks, Dolly at school.

She was a porcelain doll, skin of bone china white, hair of ivory silk. Yukimura continued to stare at her, never once tearing his eyes from hers - not even when tears started springing from them, rushing like mad, feverish rapids in her crimson orbs, dragons tumbling up and under loops of slimy scales. He watched for it, anticipated it - the drop, drop of water, salt water dripping like saliva cascading down the throat of a broken mermaid, clinging onto a bush of fragile branches - eyelashes, to put it simply, eyelashes that lashed at snow white skin.

And then she was shaking, like an oyster stuck in the middle of a winter wonderland.

"Hey," he finally managed to say to her. "Hey, don't cry, don't - ..." his voice trailed away. Here he was, with absolutely no experience in comforting <i>children</i>, and he was telling her not to cry.

Pretty stupid, wasn't he? She was different, he had to remind himself, much different from all the weepings girls back in Hokkaido, the girls who clung to his shirt, his trousers, even his <i>skin</i> while their tears gushed out in searing hots and burns; they did not cry from fear - rather, they cried from bliss. <i>Pleasure.</i>

Well, there was nothing pleasurable about this goddamn island, nothing at all.

"Look," he said again. "Cry all you want, it helps. About this island - this - well, eto..." Eyes closed as a sigh broke out, twirling a little before dissipating into the air. "I don't know where we are." His answer was short and honest, pretty much to the point - not that this made him feel any better, and he doubted the girl had much comfort from such a respond. It hurt his ego too, hurt it a lot, painted white prayers over his heart in thick layers, then stabbed him right in the back with the same hard brush. He wanted to help, believe it or not, and when the chance came, he couldn't do it - he couldn't even stop a kid from sobbing, damn it!

But that didn't stop him from quietly belting out his next words:

"I fell off a helicopter and somehow survived, if this makes sense at all."

Then the sigh was back - condensed, broke free, evaporated: "You can talk to me, I've got plenty of time."

He nearly smirked at the bitterness trickling down his tongue; each syllable shattered to the sandy ground like shards of green glass.

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Word count: 429
Notes: tipsy post is tipsy.