Berri's Drabbles - Tumblr Posts

tw: violence, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking, alludes to psychotic break, not proofread (sorry :3)

It's a mess. A huge, disturbing mess. Crimson stains the walls, it soaks through your clothes, making it stick to your body uncomfortably. Your hair, usually combed back and styled perfectly into place, is an array of tangles, sticking up in all directions. Sweat slowly beads down your temple, your chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths.

Your eyes move across the room, taking in the damage you'd just dealt. A storm rages within you, your rampant bloodfest had done little to settle your inner turmoil. Your eyes settle on a lone figure, standing in the middle of the room, rigid and unmoving. Their head is tilted down, eyes locked on a singular form before them.

Your footsteps echo in the silent room, menacingly slow, though the figure does not turn their head, they don't acknowledge your presence. They stay rooted in place, their eyes never leaving the person in front of them. When you get close enough, you see the faint signs of life your poor victim still clings to. The unsteady rise and fall of their chest, their blood spilling from their wounds, pooling around their limp form.

Tilting your head ever so slightly, your eyes trail up their body, taking in the number of wounds, and the amount of blood being lost before you find yourself staring into deep, piercing pools of brown. His eyes. A pretty sight they were, pinning you in place with such an intensity it had your breath quickening. Taking him in, you realize just how handsome the poor man was.

Pale skin, tired eyes that bore into yours, a strong nose, sharp jaw, and soft-looking lips parted with his ragged breathing. His chest rises and falls slowly now, each ragged breath he takes looks as painful as the wounds all over his body. Narrowing your eyes, you lean over, reaching out to put the poor man out of his misery, when a strong hand reaches out and grips your wrist with enough force to break it.

"Don't touch him."

It's icy, the way he speaks to you. Like the coldest winter day you could ever imagine times ten. There's a singular emotion within his tone. Rage. It bubbles up in his gut and threatens to overflow when his eyes meet yours. His eyes...they were something else entirely. Bright blue eyes, ablaze with pure, raw emotion, locked on yours in a battle of sheer will.

"Get away."

It's amusing. The way he thinks he holds some sort of power over you. The way he thinks he can order you around. As if he was the one who destroyed the very ballroom you were standing in. It was amusing. Your wrist is still held captive in his crushing hold, his grip never faltering, as you finally open your mouth to speak.

"Why? What will you do if I touch him? If I don't go away? Will you kill me? I'm the only one who can save him at this point. Surely you must know that. You don't strike me as a stupid person." Tilting your head, you continue, fighting off the smug smile that threatens to give away how much you're enjoying this tormenting game you've forced these men to play.

"Or maybe you are stupid. Maybe you think you're the only one who can save him because you're so strong? Is that it? Is your ego so high that you have to send away the only being that could possibly save your...what is he? Your friend? Lover? Tell me. I'd love to waste more time and hear about why you think you hold power over the situation right now."

It's fascinating, the way his jaw clenches at your words, the way his eyes flash dangerously with emotion. His grip tightens around your wrist even more, and you can feel your wrist beginning to crack under his hold. "Shut up. Or I'll kill you where-"

Before he can finish his sentence, his friend manages to speak from below, his voice nothing but a raspy whisper. "Satoru...leave her be." Satoru. What a beautiful name for a beautiful creature. Now if you could get the name of his friend-

"Suguru, don't move. I'll get you out of here. Just stay still." Ah, Suguru. Your eyes flicker down to watch as Satoru drops to his knees beside his friend, his hands reaching out to touch him yet hesitating midair, unsure of himself. Suguru can only smile weakly, eyes flashing in pain as they meet yours, his mouth moving slowly as his words come out strained.

"Forgive his manners...he's always been passionate." How peculiar. Even at death's door, this man finds it in himself to apologize for his friend's behavior. To smile at you - the person responsible for the pain he's in. His behavior has your eyes narrowing, head tilting to the side slightly as you gaze back at him, your hand twitching at your side.

Satoru reaches out to gently brush stray hairs from his friend's face, shushing him and scolding him halfheartedly as crimson begins soaking through his pants. As you gaze down at the two of them, something about them piques your interest. A sort of lightbulb going off in your head, it makes your entire demeanor soften a small degree.

Satoru must sense the slight shift in the ballroom, because he lifts his head to look at your, eyes still a raging storm of emotion, yet there's something else in his blue orbs. A silent plea, a desperate question in his gaze that you recognize even before he opens his mouth. "Help him."

It brings a smile to your face, watching the man before you struggle to contain his emotions, yet wear his heart on his sleeve at the same time. You don't know what exactly comes over you - perhaps it's the drink you'd had or the way you crave to have power beyond imaginable - but you find yourself placing a hand on Suguru's chest, a faint light of gold flashing briefly before you pull back, watching as his eyes drift shut.

Satoru's eyes widen, staring down at his friend's limp form, clenching his jaw as tears fill his beautiful eyes. His head whips towards you, fist raising only to be caught in yours, a bored expression on your features - yet your eyes flash dangerously. "Pick him up. I suggest you follow me quickly; I can only keep him stable for so long." Spinning on your heel, you make your way towards the exit, stepping over the bodies that litter the once pristine ballroom floor, expecting him to follow.

Your eyes flicker over the faces of your old coworkers, lingering on the few you called 'friends'. Such friends they turned out to be, pathetic dolls used by the higher-ups. It was unfortunate that you had to kill everyone here, but seeing as you couldn't get to the root of your rage, you believe this was compensation enough. For now, anyways.

Though, it surprised you to have survivors, as you never had any before. You wondered just how they had survived, it was amazing really. Your power knew no bounds, it coursed through your veins unrestrained. Untamed. Wild. Recklessly. Ironically enough, those were the same words that had been thrown at you by the higher ups. Unrestrained, untamed, wild, reckless. Like you were an animal.

An animal made for slaughter. In their eyes, every single sorcerer was meant for this cruel game of life and death. Though, most sorcerers met their demise much too early, as you'd learned throughout your career - if you could even call it that. You'd driven yourself mad, crazed with the images that plagued your mind day and night. You had no rest, no solace, no safe haven to separate your work life from your personal one. Everything was merged into a hazy blur.

Grueling mission after grueling mission, you'd been pushed to the brink. Your emotions had spilled over the crystal you'd barely managed to keep from overflowing. It was a bloodbath, much like the one you had created tonight, yet this one had casualties beyond what most sorcerers had witnessed. You were a lost cause; nobody could reach you through the fog and walls you had put up to shield yourself from the outside world.

You were supposed to be getting treated, get a break at the very least, or that's what you'd been told. It'd been by complete accident that you'd found out the truth - that your fate had been determined by the higher-ups. You were meant to be executed; the bigger blow was that you would die at the hands of the very people you fought every day to protect. The people you called your friends. That had truly been your final straw, and you'd fled that very night.

You'd been on the run ever since, evading the sorcerers who'd been searching for you Up until a few months ago, when they'd given up on finding you. You'd plotted your revenge for weeks, finding the perfect opportunity to execute your plan of mass murder. A party for the higher-ups or something along those lines. You hadn't paid much attention to the details, driven solely by the satisfaction of giving just a sliver of the pain you'd felt back to the very people who'd dealt it to you.

Only to find out those people, those bastards, weren't even going to attend. It was just a party of acknowledgement, a show of appreciation to the animals who tormented you for years. You'd been outraged when you'd realized, your emotions bubbling up from deep within you until everything exploded. Now, however, as you glance over your shoulder, spotting Satoru striding after you with Suguru nestled safely in his arms, you wonder if maybe everything truly did work out in the end.

And when Satoru's eyes meet yours, his flashing with emotion - raw, untamed, wild, unrestrained emotion - you don't wonder anymore. You know. You know that everything worked out in your favor, because you can see it. That same crazed look in his beautiful eyes, the look you wore for months during your line of work. It's there, perhaps not as strong as yours, but you know it's there. Buried deep down within him.

Glancing down at Suguru, watching his chest rise and fall slowly, you wonder just what exactly would push Satoru into the same madness you fell into.

Perhaps you can give him a nudge in the right direction.

Tonight.