Twelve signs | By : Fel5 Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > General Views: 5131 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Hya
everybody, and back again with yet another story, this time starring-Seto Kaiba.
Yes, you read well, the stuck-up, multi-million ass from Domino City will be
protagonist in this little fluff tale. Have fun!^^
Disclaimer:
I don�t own anything, neither the Yugi-oh! characters, or the poetry. First
belong to Takahashi Kazuki, latter to Sir William Shakespeare, whom I very much
admire(sigh!).
Summary: Somebody
keeps sending Seto love letters, in a manner of speaking-but who could it be?
Reviews: He,
as always, the more, the merrier�^^
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Twelve signs
When he received
the first letter, he thought, it was just another haiku from one of his countless admirers.
He couldn�t
count the fanpost he received (mostly from heiresses or wealthy ladies, which were looking for a rich husband for either their daughters or themselves),
praising his beauty, genius, business skills and what not more.
This one,
however, was..different.
First of
all, it wasn�t a haiku, but a sonet, originally written by Shakespeare, and penned down in the most acrybic, beautiful handwriting he had ever encountered.
The kanji
were so delicate, they seemed like pieces of woven silk, rather than simple inked callygraphy.
Second, the
poem was less a praise, than an advise:
From
fairest creatures we desire increase,
That
thereby beauty�s rose might never die,
But as
the riper should by time decease,
His
tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou
contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed�st
thy light�s flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a
famine where abundance lies,
Thy self
thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou art
now the world�s fresh ornament,
And only
ald ald to the gaudy spring,
Within
thine own bud buriest thy content,
And
tender churl mak�st waste in niggarding.
Pity the
world, or else this glutton be,
To eat
the world�s due, by the grave and thee.
/p>
He let the
expensive, hand-made paper glide through his fingers, reading the poem over and
over again.
The letter
contained nothing else, no �beloved� admired�, �dearest� or similar endearing
names, no explanation, no �sincerely�, �love�, �yours forever� or any other
greetings.
Only those
disturbingly fitting lines of poetry.
Whoever
chose this poem, knew him on a level, he himself rarely tread on.
He smirked.
Finally, a
secret admirer who displayed some sense of style and originality.
Seto
couldn�t wait to find out, who this person was.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++:p><:p>
Well, I
hope, I got you hooked-yes, I admit, I did eat too much sugar, whe I
wrote this..how did you know?
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