It seems that I have way more narrative kinks than actual kinks... therefore...
Broody: Your story begins with reincarnation. In an ivy-covered tower there is a darkly Byronic anti-hero who has an unnatural hair color. The protagonist experiences things like a dramatic death scene and a complicated caper plot. It finally ends with physically impossible stunts. (I got this on the first try too!) (I am also stealing a little from Rachel's Broody)
He woke up in the alley, disoriented and alone. A sliver of moon peeked out from behind dark clouds, and his silver hair whipped across his face, thanks to the icy wind.
"Wait.. no... I'm here to help you!" he remembered saying to a woman with a scarred eye.
Except he hadn't; he'd been sent there to kill her. But in order to do so, he'd had to learn her habits, her haunts. He'd had to anticipate every move she made, every thought she had. And he found she was as good as he was, if not better.
"You shouldn't have drank the coffee," she said as she smiled coldly down at him. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you following me?"
"You're so beautiful..." he said as he died in her arms.
He had to find her. She was still in danger from the people who had hired him. He staggered to his feet and surveyed the streets from the cover of darkness.
The world had changed: spindly glass towers tearing the sky, cars screeching through the air above.
Still, he knew she was somehow still in this new world, and that he had to find her -- no matter how many lifetimes it would take.
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Broody: Your story begins with reincarnation. In an ivy-covered tower there is a darkly Byronic anti-hero who has an unnatural hair color. The protagonist experiences things like a dramatic death scene and a complicated caper plot. It finally ends with physically impossible stunts. (I got this on the first try too!) (I am also stealing a little from Rachel's Broody)
He woke up in the alley, disoriented and alone. A sliver of moon peeked out from behind dark clouds, and his silver hair whipped across his face, thanks to the icy wind.
"Wait.. no... I'm here to help you!" he remembered saying to a woman with a scarred eye.
Except he hadn't; he'd been sent there to kill her. But in order to do so, he'd had to learn her habits, her haunts. He'd had to anticipate every move she made, every thought she had. And he found she was as good as he was, if not better.
"You shouldn't have drank the coffee," she said as she smiled coldly down at him. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you following me?"
"You're so beautiful..." he said as he died in her arms.
He had to find her. She was still in danger from the people who had hired him. He staggered to his feet and surveyed the streets from the cover of darkness.
The world had changed: spindly glass towers tearing the sky, cars screeching through the air above.
Still, he knew she was somehow still in this new world, and that he had to find her -- no matter how many lifetimes it would take.