I have no beta, so all mistakes are of my own fault. I apologize if they are distracting, feel free to point them out to me and I will fix them as soon as possible. I edit my stories frequently, so I should be able to take care of it pretty soon :)
-Story Start-
Maybe she should go. To mourn him proper, as she had Allen. Sometimes she'd try. She'd start to put on her shoes, or she'd make it half way out the door. But every time something stopped her, like invisible chains were pulling her back. She could swear she felt their grip around her gut, and her throat, the dread that lingered despite the horror being past and the tears that just refused to rise. But that little apartment they'd rented, the one that still had three days paid, it called to her, to let the scratchy, patched blankets envelope her in the cold, drafty room. And so she would sink into them, each stitch on the fabric scratching against her like a knife, but at the same time offering warmth. Warmth... was it December already?
Unknown to her, a big, broad smiling man is standing at that grave, the one that's calls are just that much colder than the empty temporary embrace that ties her down. He lets out a small sort of chuckle and a tear rolls down his face. It was okay. He'd be seeing her soon, he guessed.
From the right angle, he disappears on the next gust of wind.
-1-1-1-
A short woman with wavy red hair makes her way down the crowded streets of Lisbon. A long, white trench coat flaps unbuttoned behind her, a small red messenger style bag hung over her shoulder to match the ribbon around her neck. Among the well tanned and dark haired men and women that flowed around her she stood out to stay the least, but she kept along with a head held proud and an elegant posture as though she didn't notice- and, more importantly, as though she weren't lost. She wondered exactly where she had taken the wrong turn. Was it just a ways back, or had it been at the very beginning of her trip? ...Or had they all been wrong?
Maybe she should ask for directions, she toyed, looking up at the stray cloud looming over her, staining the otherwise clear blue sky. Well, maybe not. It was such a beautiful day, who really cared if she was a little late anyway? She certainly didn- why were her feet no longer on land?
She groaned under the water, attempting pitifully to doggy paddle her way out. In her walking through her mind, she had failed to remember she was walking in real life as well, in addition to the fact that this walking was along a line of peers. She'd absently stepped straight off a dock. Suddenly she remembered the sheets of music within her bag, and with a few colorful words had switched from barely staying afloat with free hands, to struggling fiercely to keep her bag out of the water with on arm, and her mouth above it with the other.
"Help please!' She called, hoping someone was nearby. She could be alright, but it was either her or her bag, and she'd rather not have to make that choice. "I'd appreciate it!"
She was just beginning to think she would have to abandon her bag in order to get to shore when she felt herself being plucked from the water by the collar of her coat. She felt strangely akin to a kitten grabbed by the scruff off its neck.
"Divertir-se, menina*?" Rumbled a low, amused voice. She cracked open her previously squeezed tight eyes. In front of her was a finely dressed man with the same dark look as the rest of people she had passed that day, but set on far more handsome features than that of most men she saw, well, anywhere. And she'd been just about anywhere. She met his dark brown eyes and broad grin with her own silver ones and and an awkward smile.
"Eu nao falo portugues*."
He snorted as he lowered her feet the sturdy wooden dock she had walked off of just moments ago. "Obviously."
"Oh," She smiled and sighed in relief. "You speak English! Great- I can thank you then, so um, yeah. Thanks- wait, I know this- obrigada!"
"Sem problemas," he said, continuing to smile. Abruptly he glanced around for a moment then look back at her again with a confused expression. She followed in suit, and for the first time noticed some of the girls glaring at her as they passed by. She guessed that's what he was confused about, in particular one or two who were, in fact, frozen to the spot.
"Vicious looking aren't they?" She said raising an eyebrow. Adding to her own new-found confusion he didn't respond, instead staring at her intently with a furrowed brow. Suddenly he flopped back over to some form of amusement, now with a sinister touch.
"Just who are you, menina?"
"A concert pianist?"
"Aah," he made a small noise of understanding. "Tell me, menina, what is your name?"
"Allen," she supplied, struggling a bit to keep her polite smile in place. This man may have saved her and her music, but her was creeping her out here. Staring her down like he knew something she didn't. "Allen Walker."
"Hn. Perhaps I shall be seeing you around, Allen Walker." He says, laughing as he walks away, disappearing into the crowds of people like she could not. The girls continued to glare, but went on about there business. -Who the hell had she just talked to?
-2-2-2-
"What'cha thinking about, Tyki?" Road asked, swinging Lero around in circles, much to his distress and her amusement. "You seem distracted."
"Hn?" He looked over from the window he had been staring out of. "Sorry. Just ran into someone interesting while I was out today."
"Hm? Interesting how?" She paused in swinging Lero for a moment.
"I believe she may be one of us..." he trailed looking unfocused again. "Her presence was familiar, but I can't place it. Similar to ours, but I don't know which memory for some reason."
"Ah..." Road abandoned the poor umbrella to the ground now. "That is interesting. Good job, Tyki~! I'll inform Millenie immediately!"
"Oh!" He called to her, just before she could skip out the door. "I did speak with her some. She's some sort of pianist, probably in town for a concert. She said her name was Allen Walker."
The other noah smiled a curling, slow smile, the only thing visible in the shadow of the door. "Thank you, Tyki."
She paused as an akuma passed by the door just as she closed it."Hey," she called it over.
"Yes, mistress?" It questioned obediently.
"I need you to go out and find all the local piano concerts for the next month. Try to find one by the musician 'Allen Walker'."
"As you command, mistress." It obeyed without question. She watched at it floated away, unable to keep the smile off her face. Finally, their 14th would return!
-2-2-2-
"Eeh," the redheaded woman pouted, shuffling through her ticket sales. Just once she'd like to have a full house. Most of the people that did show up were some kind of women's rights supporter or another, all proud of their fellow woman going "out there" and finding work in a traditionally masculine profession. She'd rather people just came because they enjoyed the piano.
Unfortunately, the exact reason she attracted the women's suffrage communities was also the reason most people refused to attend. All in all, she found very few people actually attended hoping to find quality music. She loved proving there were more than political reasons to go to her concerts, but by the time word of mouth did spread enough for a decent revenue, it was almost always time to move on. Another town, probably another country. That was the good thing about piano, it spoke every language.
She herself spoke only two- her native French and her travel-gathered English. Much to her distress she had found early on that English was the far more universal of the two, and picked it up more out of necessity than actual desire to learn the language. From what she'd heard in snippets on the streets, she wouldn't mind learning Portuguese, though. She'd liked the sound of it.
"Miss?" A small blonde woman poked her head through the door of her shabby hotel room.
"Come in, Elivra." She acknowledged the sweet little receptionist. She had been lucky enough to find a hotel where some of the staff spoke English, though she had as hard a time understanding their Portuguese accents as they did he own French one.
"A last minute sale, miss," she handed her a small package. "The theatre manager dropped it off just minutes ago, I came by with it as soon as I was free."
"Thank you, Elivra," she smiled, taking the envelope.
"Apparently the buyers are pretty well off. The manager was practically giddy and he only gets half the tip they gave you. It must be a nice one."
"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. Her tickets were pretty cheap, and most of her attendees were lower-middle class at best. The girl just nodded and left as softly as she had arrived, leaving only a short "good luck" behind her. The redhead shrugged her shoulders, digging through the envelope expecting to find maybe around 15,000 escudo, still more than anything she'd ever gotten, but believable for an eccentric someone of the upper class. Instead, her jaw dropped at the cash in her hands. Ten million escudo.
Her mind ran through the different calculations of its equivalents in different currency.
Over 35,000 pounds.
She could eat for weeks. Clearly this was a mistake, she panicked. What if he got mad at her for stealing his money? She gasped at her own thoughts. What if he had her killled? Or put in prison? She clasped her hand to her heart. Without piano!
She blinked. No! She knew- she would simply find him after the performance and sort it out. yes, he would see that this was all a misunderstanding and they would both go about their lives as per usual.
All back to normal.
-2-2-2-
"This is it?" Road furrowed her brow at the dumpy little theatre before them. Now she saw why Tyki had insisted they dressed down- he himself had donned his mining garb. He knew that area of town, and it was about as shady as you could get without wondering into the red-light district.
"Seems so," he shrugged, making his way to the door. "She wasn't exactly the most finely dressed of women when I ran into her."
When they stepped in the theatre the house was only half-full, and that was almost comforting judging by the sorts that seemed to be there. From Tyki's judgment, he was the only man there. He vaguely recalled the site had been used for women's rights protests in the past. It was odd, the girl hadn't seemed the type.
Well, he didn't know if he was right or wrong just yet but when the lights dimmed and that pretty little lady walked on stage it couldn't have mattered less. She must have taken time to buy something nice for shows, because unlike her barely passable navy skirt and possibly mens shirt from earlier this was of upper class quality, and neutral enough not to be stuck in any particular fashion era and get outdated. It was worth more than he guessed she could afford- it must have been a gift.
That didn't matter much to him though. What mattered was the dangerous, dangerous cut of the neckline on that gown, and the bustle-less skirt that draped around her just sheer enough he could swear he saw the shadowy outlines of her legs, well-shaped but too thin from periods of malnutrition. What mattered was that through the equally sheer little quarter sleeves, and the elbow-length white gloves, he could see markings similar to those on people he'd seen burnt from the mines all the way down her left arm. She was hiding something, and he had a feeling he wouldn't like it. He liked her though- he liked what he saw.
"Hi!" The girl smiled, waving at her humble crowd. A few encouraging whoups respond. She brushes back a curl escaped from her elaborate up-do. "I know you may not be expecting much- if I were in your positions I probably wouldn't either. But here I am, so hopefully you'll find you money's worth! Every piece I play will be one I have written myself, and copies of the sheet music ill be available for 100 escudo a song at the exit- you can't get them anywhere else!" She lowered herself to the bench in front of a small upright piano and turned her head to the audience. "With that said, let's make some magic, shall we?"
More whoops from the activists.
She didn't seem to hear them this time. Instead, she only closed her eyes, and melted into the notes. He couldn't believe what was happening. Every time the mood in a song changed he felt his emotions snap with it, like it was leading him along on a road he didn't know was there. At multiple moments he found himself practically grinning, or gripping the arm rests on his seat in anger. If Road felt anything at all, she didn't give any indication of it.
It went on like that for at east two hours before the real kicker came. He guessed it was the last song because she paused a deal longer before playing it, and she called out to the audience again for the first time since she started.
"Usually I make a new set of songs for each concert, but..." she shrugged. "I can't help but do this one every time."
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
"Then the boy went to sleep
And on or two embers left
In the ashes flared up in the shape of your beloved faced
And thousands of dreams spread over the land
Stars like silver eyes twinkling in the night
Your shining ones fell to the earth
And even though eons turn many prayers to dust
I will keep praying
Please love this child
And kiss the hand your holding..."
He brought up a hand to his cheek. Was he... crying? He looked over at Road again for explanation only to find that she was doing the same.
"I do believe," he raised an eyebrow, "that we have found another of us."
"You could say that," she smiled, wiping away some of the tears off her cheeks. "Let's go catch her before she leaves."
He nodded in agreement and rose, following her opposite the flow of the audience, down the aisles and up the stairs that led to the stage. They made it up just quick enough to see a wave of newly let down, wavy, red hair disappear through on of the backstage doors. He felt his footsteps quicken until he was walking even just a note faster than his companion. If her small giggle was anything to go by she didn't fail to notice, but she neglected to comment. He pushed through the door, not particularly caring if it slammed into the wall behind it. Well, it certainly didn't slam into a wall.
"Ow! Wha- dammit!" He froze. He recognized that voice. He peered around the corner of the door, only to see a certain watery eyed redhead.
"Oh, sorry!" He tried to charmingly grin it off.
"That's okay," the woman blinked away the last bit of tears swelling in her eyes and rubbed her left cheek where the door had left a red mark that would probably turn into a light bruise later. She looked up at him and suddenly a bulb seemed to go off in he mind. "Oh, are you the guy who gave the big tip?"
"Probably,"he shrugged, still feeling slightly guilty over the bruise.
"I assume it was a mistake- who am I kidding, I know it was a mistake. So here, take it. It was never mine to start with." She smiled and held out an envelope, presumably with the tip inside. "And let's not have anymore misunderstandings."
"I'm afraid you are under many misunderstandings, menina, even if you do not realize it."
"Am I?" her smile faltered a bit. "Well, let me at least get rid of this one. You need it. Use it on your... is that your sister?" She looked at Road.
"Niece," he corrected before she could say anything for herself. "And we don't need it. You won't need it either, if only you'd be so kind as to accompany us to see a... friend... of ours."
Her smile left her face completely now. Instead she folded her arms over her chest, favoring her right. Up close he noticed the apparent burn to her left arm was even worse. "Last time I got a proposal from an audience member it was in person and he was wearing half a broken wine bottle as a hat. It was less creepy."
He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. Exactly what kind of gigs had she been playing before this? He hoped this wasn't upscale for her. "This is no proposal, menina. Rather a... job offer. Regarding your... god-given talents in regards to musical instruments."
"You mean piano?" She questioned innocently enough, though something in the way her voice wavered let him know he had struck a delicate nerve.
Road pushed her way up in front of him. "Why? Do you play other instruments?"
"A few, I guess..." she took a step back.
"A few as in all of them?"
The redhead froze. "What do you know about that?"
She held out her hand. "Come with us and we can show you."
She seemed to consider it for a moment before her face began to contort in a horrified expression not unlike the ones the noah had seen on the faces of people they were about to kill. "Are you the people who were chasing Mana?"
Road's eye widened as though something had struck her in the face. "...Mana?"
"And why do you look so familiar?" She dropped the envelope, money now forgotten. "Mana was always running- always saying not to be sad, or the earl would show up. Do you work for him- who is he?" She took back another step.
"Do you really believe you can escape us, menina?" The Portuguese man asked as though the thought were amusing.
She only ran as an answer. Who were these people- she moved enough, why would they have found her? She'd only been there a day- what did they want with her anyways? Mana was dead- dead, just like Allen! She lifted up her skirt to her knees, attempting to run faster.
"Ah-ah~" she heard an amused tone just before a sharp pain in her left arm. The man had only grabbed her wrist, but bolts of pain were already traveling throughout the length of the arm, like it was unraveling.
"No, stop," she cried now, "whatever you're doing, stop!" She attempted to bite back a sob.
He only gazed fascinatedly at the arm, now spreading apart like feathers. He pulled off the glove to reveal the green cross embedded in the back of her hand, the only part of her arm still solid. "Fascinating..." he murmured under his breath. Road was now peering over at it too, having taken her own sweet time to catch up.
"A parasitic innocence?"
He tsked. "Naughty girl. It simply won't do." He looked to Road. "Should I remove it?"
"Not without the earl's permission, no." She looked up at the pained face of their new 14th, feeling a bit sorry for the turmoil. "You look so much like your mother..."
"You... know her?" The girl seemed on the verge of passing out from the pain at this point but the comment still managed to pique her interest.
If there was a response, it was lost to her as she unwillingly surrendered to the darkness that comes with a lack of consciousness, and the nightmares that follow.
-End Chapter-
AN: Tyki and Allen are, in my opinion, the hardest -man characters to write. Considering this, in retrospect, this may not be the best story for me to write. C'est la vie- I shall go on. FOR THE GENDERBENDS!
On a side note, who else is TOTALLY FUCKING SYKED ABOUT HOSHINO'S INSTAGRAM ANNOUNCEMENT THAT THE REST OF THE SERIES IS IN WRITING
AND HER PICTURES OF STORY BOARS SHE'S WORKING ON
THERE WAS SO MUCH TYKI AND WISELY IN THOSE STORY BOARDS
GIVE THEM TO ME NOOOOOW.
Portuguese Translations:
Devertir-se, menina?- Having fun, girl?
Eu nao falo portugues- I don't speak Portuguese
Obrigada- Thank you, feminine (obrigado for men)
Sem problemas- No problem
10 million escudo- Roughly equivalent to 50 thousand USD ($50,000)