Her lovely one

I don't own Vocaloids or Super Smash brothers! If you are wondering why I'm talking about Vocaloids, look up 'Luka the Tailor Shop on Enbizaka.' in google. It's very good but unappreciated! Good for mild horror and music!

I tried a new style of writing today, it was hard but I like it and enjoy writing it

Okay, read on!

She should be happy, she is a fine lady. She is a bit rough on the edges her fine patterned features, but she is a fine lady no less. She is the talk of all the residents of the small town for her obvious beauty, good attitude and fine skill. She owns one of the most successful tailoring shops in the little area and she loves her job. She goes and makes some of the most fabulous creations and whether for combat or for dresses; one will always go to her in the Tailor Shop on Enbizaka.

However, that is not what her mind dwells on.

The first time she sees him she knows he's the one. She has never met anyone else that makes her stomach lurch, her busty chest seem too tight to breathe, her heart flutter with the simple, raw need to be near him. His gentle gaze, his strong eyes, his delicate fluffy wings. He's the one made for her. She can't stand not seeing him for a moment.

This is what her mother told her about when she was a small child; as she taught her to carefully cut out and sew together the swathes of silk and cotton together in perfect unison, her gentle, soft voice drifting barely over the rustle of fragile silk and the snip of those sharp twin bladed scissors. She taught her about love, about how one day she would have her own lovely one, about how that lovely one would love her best, hold her safe, and never let her go. Her own lovely one...

She had liked those stories. And now at last she had found him. Her own lovely one.

She loves him and loves him, but he's always away, never coming home to her as she labors over her work, constantly snipping and sewing the cold, lonely nights away. She sharpens her scissors as she sobs silently because she knows it cuts the fabric better. After all, she has work to do...

And there are always other women with him.

She's always caught glimpses of them, giggling away while wearing long, flowing dresses that she had created. She hates them, despises them, loathes them for luring her lovely one away from her, but she can tolerate it. After all, she always has her work to do.

But she gets tired when she sees the woman in the brilliant pink dress clutch at her lovely one's arm and coax a large smile from his face. It is nowhere special or romantic, just the peaceful main street. Who is that woman next to her lovely one?

She's right here. And he never even looks at her the way he is smiling at that woman.

Perhaps that woman has something she doesn't? The way the pink dress sets off the woman's long elegant blonde hair, that curved in ways her straight yellow hair could never, certainly could hold some charm for certain people of male persuasion.

She can't see him like this. Not with that strange woman who looked like a princess from a fairytale; so she turns and leaves to go back to her shop and work. She is quick to start and make the fine robe when she returns: scissors in one hand and the material in the other. Tears fell down her cheeks as she cuts so fine against the beautiful patterned fabric. She wants her lovely one to come back to her instead of being with this new woman. He has to come back to her instead of being with this new woman.

(So with a few quick slashes and hushed screams she has her pink dress back, more scarlet and stained than any of her previous beautiful creations.)

It's strange; her scissors feel a bit different in her hand today. She's not sure why; the blades were a bit blunt and had seemed to almost stick together, but she simply shrugged and sharpened her treasured possessions as she has done for many a year.

The usually quiet neighborhood stirs with unease; a body of a woman (surrounded by red, red, red) had been found beneath the bridge, but she doesn't care, not with this new girl, with a gold belt with a beautiful triangular symbol on it, wrapped around her waist, smoothing down the messy brown hair of her lovely one and patting him on the head. This one is different from the woman in the pink ball-gown; she has long, flowing brown tresses and eyes as blue as shining sapphires that that belt sets off just perfectly. Her purple and white clothes also give her a regal feel to her like the last woman. They are at the bridge where she often sees her lovely one with the blonde woman in her pink dress. The girl he is with is pretty; the belt on the girl matches perfectly.

Is that what he likes?

She sobs as she runs once again back into her lovely tailor shop on Enbizaka. She is going to concentrate on her work; she is quick to start and fix the stylish belt, scissors in one hand and the material in the other. Tears fell down her cheeks as she cuts so fine against the beautiful patterned fabric. She wants her lovely one to come back to her instead of being with this new woman. He has to come back to her instead of being with this new woman. She will deal with it like before.

(This time she takes great care with her scissors; nothing must mar the beauty of her golden belt. It's not so hard; it's like cutting out patterns on silk except this time it's on flesh. And when she tries on the pink dress with the golden belts, she's a fierce blonde beauty in her mirror.)

Everyone in her shop seems so troubled today; it seems another body (gold and red blended together so perfectly that it was hard to tell the two colors apart anymore) has been found. Another crime. But she doesn't care; her lovely one has an extremely young girl hanging off of his arm, and he's tucking a lovely pink hairpin into the girl's brown hair.

What is he doing? Isn't she much too young for him? You are very indiscriminate aren't you my lovely one?

She sobs as she sits in her lovely shop on Enbizaka. She is going to concentrate on her work, she is quick to start and repair the pretty hairpin, scissors in one hand and the material in the other. Tears fell down her cheeks as she cuts so fine. She wants her lovely one to come back to her instead of being with this new girl. He has to come back to her instead of being with this new girl. She will deal with it like before. It is no big drama. Soon her lovely one will come back to her.

(Everyone has always said that she has an eye for color and designs, and she agrees as she looks at the gorgeous arrangement of gold and red in front of her. The only thing that surpasses it is the gleaming pink stained red hairpin in her hand.)

Were her scissors always this red? Did she always have to sharpen them so often? Did fabric always feel so strange between them? She doesn't remember, and every time she tries to collect her thoughts she hears the terrified murmurs of her customers who speak in hushed words of a third girl (so young, so young) found brutally murdered. She works hard again. A few of her neighbors offer to accompany her around for protection, because who knows who this vicious killer could go after next?

She waves them off. Her lovely one still has not bothered to visit her; she's grown tired of waiting around, and so she has decided to go visit him. She opens her closet and draws on the lovely (stained) pink dress, ties the brilliantly gold (with tiny flecks of what could be red) belt around her waist, and draws her long blonde hair up with a (gleaming) pink hair pin to seal it in a bun and looks in her mirror. She looks pretty now, the type of girl he likes. Isn't she beautiful? She walks out to the bridge (like the nights before) to wait for him.

He turns and pulls on a strained smile, "Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you," he says politely, as if to a stranger.

She sobs as she nears him. She is going to concentrate on her work, she is quick to start and repair the damage done, sharp red painted scissors in one hand and him in the other. Tears fell down her cheeks as she cuts so fine. She wants her lovely one to come back to her instead of being so forgetful. He has to come back to her instead of being so forgetful. She will deal with it like before. It is no big drama. Soon her lovely one will come back to her whether he wanted to or not.

(She loves all of her creations, the works of art she created from her scissors and thread, and this is no exception. Her lovely one is now truly the loveliest work of art she has ever seen or made.)

The neighborhood is terrified; a family of four has been killed. Windows are shuttered and barred shut, doors have chains and bolts all securely fastened, and no one dares to walk outside without a furtive glance behind them, but she doesn't care.

Her lovely one is with her now, even if he was so rude to her yesterday. She fondly caresses his beautiful (cold) cheek and brushes the strands of hair away from his loving (blank) eyes.

She holds his head tightly in her arms (ignoring the blood dripping onto her dress; she hasn't bothered to change), secure in the knowledge that now she can hold her lovely one to her and never let go.

Okay, understand this was sorta in Samus' PoV and she wants Pit. So she sees him with his wife Peach and two daughters Zelda and Nana. She kills them and talks to him... Pit is not cheating on Samus because he has no idea who she is. So she... sorta insane but you get it right?

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