cineri gloria sera est
Summary: AU It was a simple exchange: a life for a soul. When Amaimon meets Shiemi Moriyama, a frail girl with a weakening heart, he offers her a deal in the form of an unbreakable contract. She is given a chance, at a price. And now, they must live with the consequences. Amaimon/Shiemi
A/N: I know XD I have too many Blue Exorcist plot bunnies but this one won't go away :P Hope this idea seems entertaining enough, anyway.
Genre: Romance, Horror, Tragedy
Disclaimer: I do not own Blue Exorcist
Chapter 1- "Lorum ipsum"
(sorrow itself)
.
.
She is dying.
It is in the very air around her, the stench of death that curls itself around the sleeping girl in heavy tendrils. Beneath the calming chamomile and thyme, there is the harsh scent of disinfectants, strong enough to burn his nose.
The green-haired demon slowly makes his way through the second-story window, pointed boots making soft footfalls against the white tile. He reaches out for her, long dark nails nearly at her throat (he can imagine his hands crushing her trachea), but stills.
Everything is too bright for the demon, even the dim glow of her platinum hair under the single fluorescent light of the hospital room. It burns under his eyelids, beneath the cerulean blue and slanted pupils. The light acts like a barrier against him, leaving the King of Earth to hide himself in the dark corners of the room.
He listens to the dull beeps of the monitor beside her, the green lines rising up and down despite the ever-present weakness of her heart. The lines rise up slowly, only to quickly dip down; an obvious sign of her disease.
Amaimon does not know what drew him to the sick girl who continued to fight. Perhaps it is the sorrowful burden that she carried with a smile. Sadness is not uncommon for patients of the hospital; it is a place for those without hope (without life). He had seen many curse their own existence, curse their family, their beliefs, inevitably falling prey to the terror that is Death. She hadn't.
The light wasn't just physical; he had seen her smile, bright and cheerful, to every nurse and doctor. He had heard their whispers of disbelief for the girl who hadn't seen the outside of a hospital in nearly five years. Yet, she continued to push forward, despite knowing her heart would eventually refuse to beat. To one day stop and shudder to a premature end.
Taking a hesitant step forward (the light hurts—burns his skin), he brushes his hand along the plastic guardrail of the bed. He jostles the IV drip slightly with the edge of his tattered coat, tired eyes ghosting over her sleeping form.
Pale, almost translucent skin (he is reminded of a time where he plucked off the diaphanous wings of a butterfly) peaks from under the equally pallid bed sheets, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, betraying the true nature of her heart. Turning to the monitor, he sees a spike in her heart rate, realizing that she was, in fact, awake.
Blonde eyelashes flutter open in a mix of fear and curiosity. She does not dare to move (dare to breath) as the stranger comes into focus, revealing an unnatural shade of green hair. Immediately, she can tell he is different. Emerald bores into cerulean until it feels as though a century has passed. Pink lips part to speak, hesitant, even cautious, given the circumstances.
"You've… visited me before, haven't you? I know you."
He finds no reason to lie. Nodding, he brings a clawed finger to his mouth, biting against the darkened nail. She shifts uncomfortably under his icy gaze, eyes darting to her lap. Clutching the sheets tightly, she speaks again, voice softer, warmer this time.
"I am Shiemi Moriyama. Who are you?"
The King of Earth goes to speak only to quickly dart under her bed, finding just enough space under the cot before the door opens. A friendly-looking nurse goes to check on Shiemi one final time, surprised to find the girl awake. She nods at the nurse, allowing for her to turn off the only light in the room.
A sliver of light spills in through the tiny window to her right and the bottom of the door, leaving the room nearly bathed in darkness. She can hear shuffling as the demon makes his way from under the bed, eyes shining in the dimness of the room.
"I am Amaimon." He says simply, returning to his unusually close proximity to the sick girl. He is drawn once again to her weak form, unsure of whether it is her soul or appearance that stirs… something inside of him.
Instead, he bites his nail again, eyes darting to the window. He can see the dim glow of the moon, crescent-shaped as it is obscured by a dark cloud.
"Are you a ghost, Amaimon?" She questions. It is a logical inference, given her surroundings and the pallor of his skin. It glows under the light of the moon, almost ethereal. She is convinced that her hand would run straight through his form, like water against her fingertips.
He shakes his head. "I am a demon. The King of Earth." There is no hesitance in his words, no doubt or excitement. Nothing. Just emptiness. The words ring hollow in her ears and she understands that she should be frightened (there's a demon in her hospital room—she should be crying, screaming, begging for her life), but finds a small smile tugging at her lips.
The boy (Amaimon—she corrects in her head) gives a curious stare but does not speak, head tipped towards the moon. Silence passes until he turns towards her again in a cold (dead, inhuman, evil, her mind supplies) gaze.
"You're dying." It is said with little inflection, although there is a spark of something (interest, curiosity, hunger—the last thought leaves a shiver down her spine) in his otherwise lifeless eyes.
She laughs. It is bell-like, sweet, melodious, like chimes teased in a gentle gust of wind. There is genuine mirth in her eyes at his statement, enough that it leaves the demon confused.
"S-sorry! You're just the first one to tell me that. I mean, my doctors keep talking about miracles but the word death never leaves their mouths." Eventually, her laughter stops, a somberness taking over her fragile form.
Like a candle in a storm…
"Are you afraid?" He is genuinely curious. He had seen Death, caused it on multiple occasions (bathed in rivulets of crimson), but never has he feared it. Life was a cycle; a circle of rebirth punctuated by the stealing of bodies and souls.
She shakes her head. "No. I've lived knowing I will eventually die. But…" She trailed off, fingers once again finding purchase in the heavy sheets.
Biting her lip, she continues, emerald orbs cast to her lap. "I've known it… but, even if it's only for a little while, I would like to live. Not attached to an IV, but to go to school and make friends and…" She can't believe she is saying this to a stranger (a demon, of all things) but his presence has never felt dangerous.
The girl had felt him in the creases of her periphery long ago, a walking shadow that observed without a word. It was a comfort, really. She had always felt like he was a good listener. And now that the embodiment of that shadow was in front of her (living, breathing, cold) there was no fear.
"Do you really want to live?" He questions, head cocked to the side.
Shiemi nods. For a moment she sees a flash of fangs in a crooked grin (there is a sudden chill and she shivers, despite the window being tightly shut) as the demon holds out a hand.
"I can give you a new heart… at a price." The coldness presses against her again as she reaches towards him, broken heart beating frantically.
(she knows it is a trap—knows what he wants, knows what will happen, but—)
"I accept." She is surprised that her voice does not waver in the slightest.
With those words a flurry of wind erupts from under his feet, room bathed in an emerald glow. She stares speechlessly, caught in a whirlwind of light and sounds.
"Repeat after me… Hodie morimur. Cras renascuntur. Terra contra regem vivere. Do tibi anima mea. Cineri gloria sera est."
The words do not feel foreign on her tongue or in her mind as she repeats. The room spins in a flash of dark green until she feels herself falling—drowning in darkness.
"The contract has been made. All I need is your blood." There is a pinprick of pain on her index finger as he holds her hand (his fingers are cold— ice). Crimson drops onto the pentagram until the star turns red, sparks erupting from the floor.
Then, there is silence.
"Today we die. Tomorrow we are reborn. Contract with the king of Earth, to live. I give you my soul. Glory paid to ashes come too late."
A/N: Sorry for the shortness of the prologue; I hope you liked it regardless! I apologize if the latin's off; I used google translator so I wouldn't be surprised ^^'
Review?
-Isis