The theme was "the moon." The challenge was making the drabble about neither Muraki, nor Tsuzuki. The beta was Rune.

Muraki claimed all of the moon: dark and full and hunter's. The quarter was the gleam of his eye, half the edge of his smile, slivered his knife. It was infuriating, and yet Hisoka could not stop the associations. In the night, he felt the weight of Muraki's regard.

Rain was Tsuzuki's, close and gentle and sad. Sun was Tsuzuki's, warm and overbright, full of smiles. Snow was Tsuzuki's, soft and hushed and touched with despair.

Hisoka thought of autumn leaves against a cloudy twilight sky. Thought of windchimes and gurgling water and a flashing sword.

That much was his.

~END~