#004 Impure
Sep. 22nd, 2006 04:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xfirefly9xTitle: Impure
Prompt: #004 Angels & devils; disguise/Wings stained with blood
Word Count: 187
Characters: Mal/Inara
Notes: Written for![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
30_angsts
Pain was etched achingly all over her delicate features. It was a pain that he thought he’d never see equal to from back in the days of war and destruction, of death. But here he was, years later, seeing the same soul wrenching emotion attacking the one he loved most.
She sobbed into his chest relentlessly and just by that simple gesture, he knew that she was broken. Whether she could be put back together he didn’t know, but he was willing to give up everything he was to return her to what he had lost. He would give anything for her, no matter how high or seemingly unreachable the cost.
Even if it meant giving his own life.
His angel, his one true love, had been wounded. She was no longer the pure beauty of innocence that she had once been, but rather a fallen image, a painted illusion that was steadily fading away into black nothingness. Her wings were stained with blood so thick it choked him at the thought.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. But it was life. It was impure.
Prompt: #004 Angels & devils; disguise/Wings stained with blood
Word Count: 187
Characters: Mal/Inara
Notes: Written for
30_angstsPain was etched achingly all over her delicate features. It was a pain that he thought he’d never see equal to from back in the days of war and destruction, of death. But here he was, years later, seeing the same soul wrenching emotion attacking the one he loved most.
She sobbed into his chest relentlessly and just by that simple gesture, he knew that she was broken. Whether she could be put back together he didn’t know, but he was willing to give up everything he was to return her to what he had lost. He would give anything for her, no matter how high or seemingly unreachable the cost.
Even if it meant giving his own life.
His angel, his one true love, had been wounded. She was no longer the pure beauty of innocence that she had once been, but rather a fallen image, a painted illusion that was steadily fading away into black nothingness. Her wings were stained with blood so thick it choked him at the thought.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. But it was life. It was impure.
