A jacket, a dress-shirt, and a jacquet (or so I was told these things are called). They are all lovely. Also, I look like a drag king when I wear them, and if not that, then I look like someone who works in the casino. A few details should clear that, though.
That being said, I was inspired to write by a weiss kreuz fic. The first few lines of 3 chapters inspired me, though it is rather different than the actual fic. It is not terribly well-written, and I don't really like it, but it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It is an alternate ending to what could have happened between Skia and Cain. I rather like the emotion-less Skia, though. And no, this will not really happen, this just amused me for a while.
Another Ending (AU)
The court frowned at him. They had never encountered anyone without papers. They hadn’t been able to find information on him anywhere. They found the man—who gave himself different names every time—spoke 7 languages fluently, without an accent.
They didn’t know what to do with him.
The judge asked him again, warily. ‘What is your name?’
‘Sir, please, we ask you one more time to give us your real name.’
Cain smirked and looked at the ceiling. ‘Truth is all that would dare pass my lips; truly, my name is Judas.’
Finally, the judge gave up all hope of getting a sensible answer out of the –obviously insane—man before him. ‘It does not matter what name you give us. You will be given a death sentence in any case for killing 3 people.’
‘The holy three...’
The judge shook his head and ordered to have him locked away again. He would be executed in a week.
Cain sighed and looked around his cell. It was really small, he mused. He’d seen smaller rooms, though.
He heard steps in the hallway, steps that sounded achingly familiar. The people in Southern-Korea didn’t have legs long enough for strides like this. Strides that made you think that the person who made them was so confident..
The door opened and Skia walked in, flanked by two guards. They thought he was pretty, Cain knew this. He sat up slowly, stretching to show off some of his stomach.
Skia was dressed in a suit and wore a long white lab coat.
‘I’ve come to take some of your blood, if you could roll up your sleeves it would be terribly helpful,’ Skia said, without an emotion on his face.
Cain did so, wondering what Skia was up to. He’d last seen him a month ago, when he had left. He wondered why Skia came to visit him now, while he rolled up his sleeve.
It’s so pathetic, seeing you locked up like this. What drove you to this?
Cain smiled softly, treasuring the feel of Skia’s hands on his arm, binding the arm in so a vein would be more openly visible, and the feel of his voice on his mind.
I couldn’t forget you. They all looked like you. I miss you.
Still expressionless, Skia gently put the needle in and drew some blood. It is of your own doing. Too bad you won’t live to profit of this lesson.
Cain blanked. Skia stood up and put his things away again.
Goodbye Cain. All I can say is that I’m sorry all this work I’ve done on you will have been for naught.
And he walked away, leaving Cain to his own devices.
He was glad he’d been able to see Cain before his obligatory haircut. It would get in the way when he’d be electrocuted. He liked Cain’s hair, enjoyed the feel of it as it slid through his hands when they made love.
No, that was Cain’s voice speaking. They’d never made love. It was ridiculous, that the man had honestly thought that. Skia was sure he had taught him never to trust anyone, to never open up. Ridiculous.
Cain didn’t feel a lot anymore after Skia’s visit. Didn’t feel a lot of the people putting the paste on him to better guide the electric shocks that would torment his body. Didn’t eel a lot of those people strapping him up in the chair that would be burdened with his dead body in a short while.
He could feel the people hate him from the tribunes. They wondered how he could have done what he done, those terrible deeds. They hated him all.
But or one, he noticed. He searched or that one person, curious. He felt…
Amusement, apparently. Skia smirked at him, locking their eyes together for a few precious moments, and then shook his head and turned away, leaving Cain to die.
It was all Cain could see before he died, while the electric shocks ran through his body like snakes: his lover’s smile was burned into his mind for the short while he still had to him, the smirk that told him they wouldn’t meet up again, and that all his words had been lies.