#ʰᵉᵃᵛᵉᶰˡʸ ᵈᵉᵐᵒᶰ ;; ic.

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Heads roll like marbles .

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The skeleton was not MISTAKEN. Though his eyes remained hidden from the world, they certainly did portray bloodthirst. Pulling the skeleton apart bone for bone was an enticing image. He wondered what sort of sound the ribs would make when they hit the ground. He'd feel less pleasure from killing this person than he USUALLY did from murder, because there would be no BLOOD involved.

There was no fear present in the skeleton, so it seemed he knew Doflamingo wasn't going to kill him. He even made a joke, poor though it was.

❝ Disappointed? Fu fu fu fu. ~ ❞ He chuckled. Ah, the skeleton had his logic backwards. It was not DOFLAMINGO who had missed out on - it was the world who had missed out on HIM. For the time being anyway. He was going to obtain immortality, so patience was a virtue he should learn to keep in his heart --- what heart --- . ❝ No, I feel no disappointment. History is only written by the victors, in the end. ❞ These "world changing events" that the skeleton spoke of... At some point, there would be NOBODY left to remember them. These events would mean even less because Doflamingo hadn't been there. And - in the end, the only one left to remember anything would be HIM.

"Yohoho, I thought you would be greedy like that." The skeleton laughed light-heartedly, leaning onto his cane. "Ah but I can see it in your eyes and body movement, the wish to pull me apart bone by bone... Though I guess that wouldn't be too hard considering I am made of just bones! Yohoho, skull joke!" He spun in place gleefully clicking his heels as he jumped back into position.

"Hoya, gratitude, you say?" Brook didn't hide his surprise. Though the short explanation after did clear things up quite a bit. "Oh, right, that does make sense. Luffy-san did take Kaido off of your hands. I am perplexed, however. I thought you would be quite disappointed since you are now left out of some very much world changing events." From what he heard from Law, the musician pieced Doflamingo in his mind as a thrill seeker, who gambled big to be at the center of the world with all its crazy events.

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Of course he doesn't discriminate. He kills people regardless of their sexuality.

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Bird song. He could tell them apart like you could voices of loved ones. This one was a blackbird. Hand held out. Fingers flexing in a beckon. Fresh berries in his palm. There was a brush of wings, and the small bird landed on his index finger. The touch like the lightest of caresses. Doflamingo watched it feed on the berries, looking at him with its round, brown eyes. His hand remained still in the air. As if he was holding something precious. The bird chirped at him. Then it leaped from his hand, and took flight. Off the balcony. Into the sky. He saw a single, tiny black feather be left behind. Slowly it danced down towards the city. Falling. Falling. His smile broke, and in that very moment, he felt sadness wash over him. A tidal wave of memories.

Of black feathers.

And it disappeared from his sight, just like the bird.

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Imagine having to resort to pick-up lines. He can't relate.

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Thinking about SPRING, and birds returning to Dressrosa and all of them immediately finding Doflamingo to land on his shoulders and arms, sing for him and receive his affection....

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It was mother's day. Gentle clouds floated across the sky like white island in the eternal blue. From the balcony where he was standing, he couldn't hear the lively buzz from the city. He could hear birds. Large sunflowers nodded their heads in the breeze, the field like a giant pool of gold.

He was not a sentimental person, but he was thinking about her today. Her pale sunshine hair, her deep warm eyes. The way her hands moved when she spoke. Her flower scent. How she smiled. Gently, yet somehow sorrowful. Like she'd known all along what would happen to them. A glimpse into the future.

She would've forgiven him. He knew that.

It's not your fault, Doffy. She would've said. She would've embraced him. Even though he had killed the rest of her family, she wouldn't hate him for it. She wouldn't even see him as a monster. He knew that, because she could NEVER see ANYONE that way.

He didn't need her forgiveness, because he had no regrets. She was the only one in his family who had died with love for him in her heart. It was sealed forever. A treasure buried for nobody to ever find. Not even him.

Whenever he thought of her, he remembered her death as clear as day. Clearer than the memories of her when she was alive and well. He remembered what it had felt like to take her hand. How cold she'd been. How she'd been unable to squeeze his hand when he tried to squeeze hers. He remembered not being able to do anything to help her. And, of course, he remembered that it had ALL been his father's fault.

Doflamingo didn't often bother thinking about who deserved, or didn't deserve to die. But if there was one man who deserved it - it was Homing. Doflamingo would kill him again and again. Back then, he'd done it not out of hatred, but he knew that if he was to do it again, that would be the emotion behind it. He had decided that he'd forgiven his father, because he'd paid with his life. But - was that really true? Could forgiveness be obtained so easily?

He brushed a hand over his short hair, as if to push it back like he'd used to do when it had been longer, all those years ago. He didn't want to think about his father. He wasn't worthy of occupying his mind.

He brought his thoughts back to his mother. He wished he remembered more about her before they'd left Heaven. He wondered what her favorite flowers had been. He'd like to grow them in his garden. What about her favorite colour? Were any of the walls in the palace painted in that shade? What kind of music would she want him to play? And what - if anything - would she want him to say to her?

He would never know the answers to any of this.

The view from the balcony was beautiful.

He liked to believe she would've thought so too.

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Just his usual fantasy about killing Sengoku very slowly.

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His hands were trembling. They hadn't stopped shaking since he lifted the gun. Lifted it and pointed it towards his own blood. The sadness he felt was one he knew he would never experience again. This was HEARTBREAK. They thought he was heartless, but he was not. He had a heart. It wasn't missing. It still wasn't missing. Now it was just gone. Buried in the snow somewhere on the winter island Doflamingo would never return to. He hadn't even watched life escape his brother's body. Hadn't watched his eyes close or his chest stop rising. He wondered how long he'd kept breathing with his injuries. How painful it had been to have his lungs fill with blood. How red the snow had gotten. If his lips were blue now. If his skin took on the same colour as the snow. White. Dead.

Doflamingo flexed his fingers, as if to command them to stop shaking. His pulse was rapid. It wasn't adrenaline. It was anxiety. His brother's death wasn't what hurt him the most. That part was the natural result of the other's action. What hurt him was the betrayal. A betrayal Doflamingo had REFUSED to see coming. He'd suspected it all along. Known that there was a good chance Rocinante was giving information to the marines. But he'd --- He'd been so happy to have him by his side again. He'd been willing to put his crew's safety - and his own safety - at risk just to have him there.

When Rocinante returned, that had been the first time Doflamingo had imagined someone standing beside him. The ONE PERSON he would spare. He wanted to kill everyone. Everyone. But not him. He had NEVER wanted to kill him. So why ---

He clenched his fist. Clenched his jaw.

WHY had Rocinante made him kill him? It was the ultimate hurt. Nothing Doflamingo had gone through in his life had been more painful. That's what happened when you had your heart ripped from your chest. He was never.

Ever.

Going to love anyone again.

That too was something he almost - almost mourned.

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Bird song in the evening.

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MISSED YOU

❝ Fu fu fu fu. ~ They always do. ❞

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❝ I disagree. ❞ He would bestow upon her his opinion. Doflamingo didn't always state his thoughts, because it mattered little to him what opinion others thought he held. However, he did enjoy this type of philosophical debate. ❝ The foolish can neither hide nor run. ❞ That was what MADE a foolish person after all. The inability to see the situation. To stand there with their misplaced believes and then be cut down. Bravery, they called it. In a romantic sense, he could appreciate it. Not as much as he appreciated the sight of their blood when it was spilled of course. Red and thick and dripping.

Always lying, even to oneself.

She told him, and made it clear that she was leaving. That was fine. Doflamingo wasn't going to stop her.

Indeed, he was a LIAR. He lied and lied and lied. But not to himself. Never that. To himself, he would speak the truth. Because the truth was beautiful. He had nothing but sweetness to speak to himself. Promises of what he would accomplish. Where he would go. Lie to himself? Why would he?

She could tell something changes. The subtle shift of his attention, as though her words had snipped invisible strings trying to thread into the edges of her shadow. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, that her words had been misinterpreted so. Spared the frustration of his extended company - even now, lingering near him stirred cryptic instincts that slumbered for decades hence. Amalthea's mannerisms remain just toeing the line of dismissive, the turn of her head and the way her eyes peered elsewhere telling enough.

Not that she is not aware. She is never unwary, never dares relinquish the keen awareness of her sixth sense. The lanky blonde King is not someone she'd dare be relaxed around. "I suppose it was too bold to ask such a thing," the concession is aloof yet polite, "even the foolish know to hide the worst parts of themselves from prying eyes and silver tongues." Lest the jagged edges be pulled and carved open further, spilling the viscera of secrets for hungry hands and teeth.

She doesnt apologize for the question or for her curiosity though. "Always hiding, always lying, even to oneself." The words a muted, trilling song as the slyph-like woman with moonlit hair started to float away from him.

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Feathers like thorns.

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Happy birthday to Trebol! Of course the family is celebrating with a huge party!

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He's in a GOOD mood.

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Oh, Mihawk knew more about him than he'd thought. It was not common knowledge that Doflamingo was a former Tenryūbito. It wasn't like it was a secret he guarded, but it wasn't something he outright DISPLAYED either. His heritage was one of the reasons why he had so much influence over the World Government. He wondered how Mihawk had found out. Clearly, the other was FAR more interested in him than he let on. Why else would he have researched him?

There were only something like --- two years? Between them. Doflamingo didn't go around remembering everyone's age, since it made no difference to him. He would become immortal. Everyone else would die. Mihawk included. He highly doubted Mihawk had gone around killing people as a toddler. Still, nothing was impossible. Perhaps you needed to start that young if you were going to become the World's Greatest Swordsman. He didn't comment. Didn't argue. These details weren't important to him, and he was not in competition with the other. Doflamingo wasn't in competition with anyone. Such a thing was impossible, when everyone was beneath him.

❝ Fu fu fu fu fu! ~ This is already a BATTLEFIELD. We could kill everyone here. ❞ He gestured to the view before them. ❝ I never suggested I should teach you how to kill. You are more than capable of that already. But you should enjoy it. Blood is ENTERTAINMENT! ❞ His grin was wide. Sharp teeth showing. ❝ The weak don't get to decide how they die. We could decide it for them right here and now. ❞ What a fun team activity, no? To go on a rampage here. He would love to see Mihawk's pretty golden eyes filled with bloodlust. See his clothes painted with blood splatter. Doflamingo could close off the whole area with his strings, and make sure nobody escaped. Nobody would even have to know who'd committed the massacre. That was the sort of power and influence Doflamingo had.

Mihawk's eyes narrowed at the oversized pink bird in human form just a little bit. Doflamingo wasn't entirely wrong about the whole situation. The swordsman had killed in the past --- he wasn't called Marine Hunter for nothing. Hunting the rats down and killing them was textbook definition of killing for sport, so really, he wasn't any better than his esteemed Shichibukai colleague. He also had no illusions about it, and he would be the first one to confirm that he indeed killed for sport back in the day. Now, however, things were different. He only disposed of idiots when he had to, which more often than not was when one or the other cocky bastard thought he could take him on in a duel.

He lie if he said Doflamingo was wrong. He wasn't. Mihawk every so often found himself toying with the idea of cutting down one or the other Marine who made snide remarks on his account because they thought he couldn't do anything about it. Fools, the lot of them. While he knew that heeding to Doflamingo's advice went against all reason, what was the worst thing the Marines could do if he really let loose and decimated a dozen or two of them ---- would they fire him? The thought alone had him smirk a little.

❝ I don't need the likes of you to teach me how to kill. I did that while you were still waddling around in diapers, living your lush life in Mary Geoise. ❞ It wasn't as if Mihawk was any younger, being only two years older than the other. He did, however, start out very young and had to make a name for himself unlike Doflamingo, who had it easy to be a member of the Celestial Dragons.

❝ Your offer, however, is still tempting. It reminds me of the good old days before all this, ❞ the swordsman continued. The days when he did kill for sport, the days he sometimes wanted to relive. It was only a matter of time when they would disband the Shichibukai and put them on the wanted list once more. Quite frankly, he was growing tired of the Marines and their little games. ❝ It sounds like you already have something in mind. ❞