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The GreySnow floated down from the steel clouds overcasting the sky, trailing along the feather soft breeze as it wisped between the marble tombs and made their gifted roses rustle, a few petals coming loose and falling onto the mound of earth that was freshly turned, though already covered in a healthy blanket of silvery white, a mere shade off of grey. The petals rested there, blood red on snow, resembling droplets of blood dripped from a mortal wound. At least, that was how they saw it. Midori green eyes, clear and bright in a world that seemed fuzzy and grey to their owner. He was gazing at the grave, as cold as the stone that marked its head, though clear of the snow that seemed to never endingly fall from the heavens.
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“…..” lifting his hand, the one once known as Mail Jeevas ghosted his hand over the tombstone. His only remaining tie to him. The one who’d befriended him all those years ago, drew him out of the shell he’d so stubbornly clung to to in hopes o
Cut You Down
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Waiting in the shadows of the alley, Matt cocked his feet up on the dash and lit another cigarette, watching for the tip to burn before inhaling. Bitter smoke clouded his lungs, flooding his nostrils as he blew two streams and tapped ash out the window. The specks nearly hit one of the black boots parked by his car, and he lazily glanced toward it, catching the dirty look being thrown his way by the owner, who was dressed head to toe in black. Black helmet and visor, black leather racing suit, thick, durable gloves. Even his soul seemed black, tainted by years of darkness and sins of the worst kind. Not that the redhead was one to judge. If anyone was going to hell in a hand basket, it was him. “Think they’ll throw me a party?”
“What?” Pushing up his visor, Mello looked at him with pale, aquamarine eyes. They were dilated, and, as usual, Matt suspected he was riding the high of a plan ready to be executed, A plan that was probably doomed to fail, but eve a