author's note: this was written as a sort of... experiment. i was trying to see what i could do with the writing style, and i really wanted to try a sort-of jealous Namine. plus, i felt kind of guilty about not having any stories up.
yeah, i know this might seem a little... i don't know; not-canon? i'm sorry about that.
abstract
Her dress is white and the walls are white and the canvas is white but what's lurking outside of the door isn't. Mostly.
Namine has been staring at the picture for how long now? With all of it's pretty colors that went so well together, like BLUE EYES and BLONDE hair, GREEN eyes and RED hair, BLACK glove-clad fingers entwined together, but it couldn't, couldn't be finished. She doesn't know what was missing.
Art, to her, is like talking; and an incomplete painting that she's worked so hard on but doesn't know how to finish it is like opening your mouth to speak but nothing comes out so no one knows you exist. Not that she does anyway.
She raises the paintbrush again, inches away from the formerly white canvas (she has never realized it but technically everything in her room could be painted on but that would make her impure and innocence was all she had left. everyone knows color doesn't show up in darkness) and hesitates. One wrong stroke and the entire painting could be ruined, which was far, far worse. Wasted effort was one of the things Namine imagined she could hate.
The door behind her opens and a nobody slides in. she turns to face it, offering it a small smile. 'Hello, what are you doing here,' she asks, pretending that if it could answer it would say something nice to her, unlike the organization members who only use her and leave her over and over again. The nobody doesn't answer, just looks at her, smooth body slowly wiggling to an unheard rhythm. Namine wonders why they can't stay still.
Sighing, she straightens up and prepares to turn around when a portal opens up to her left and a cloaked figure steps out. Namine knows who it is even before the lightning bolt hits the nobody dead on and it explodes, dark red blood and guts splattering all over everything, her dress, the walls, the canvas. She blinks as she feels a drop of blood hit her face, under the corner of her left eye, and another drop splatters on her lips.
'Sorry,' Larxene was not sorry at all. 'I don't know how that one got loose.'
Namine wipes off her lips and turns back around to face her picture. But something is different. The canvas was now stained with blood, transforming pretty green eyes into a demonic red and completely obscuring the blonde's smile. The spaces on the picture that were still white were small and spread apart.
Larxene comes up behind her and places her hands on Namine's waist. 'It looks pretty,' she murmurs against the back of the other girl's neck.
'Not pretty. beautiful.' Namine stops herself from responding.
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