Of Crows and Doves
By: The Mad Hattress
Note/Disclaimer: Everything in italics is character thought. I own none of the Sailormoon characters, anybody with street nicknames besides Yaten, are real people and I got their permission to use them in this fanfic. This fic is based on real people and real events that took place in my life. Yaten in the starting is 14, and there are many age differences throughout this story. A few chapters in this fanfic generally aren't for anybody below at least 13, and I strongly recommend you read this with an open mind. THIS IS A REVISION. This version of Of Crows and Doves can be very different from the original version (duh). Those who read the old version know Yaten as "Lime Acid". However, in this version I very well changed it to my ORIGINAL NAME ("Oneshot") from back then. Don't be holding high standards. Right from the first line in this first chapter, it's different right off the bat. I decided that Of Crows and Doves will be my age years between 14 and 17, and Raven Dream will be from 17 up until 19 (The age I am now.)
Warnings: Alternate Universe | Homosexuality (Yuri) | Strong/Mild Language | Murder and Violence | Drug Abuse, Addiction, and Habituation
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"Whatever happened to the God you prayed to every night? You don't deserve it, Oneshot. You'll never deserve it. You'll never deserve a savior."
~Astaroth, 9.7.97
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Chapter 1 | ...And the Angels Abandon You
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"I'm leaving," Yaten shouted, her hair up into a sloppy ponytail.
"Where are you going?!" Yaten cringed to the harsh reply, the shrill sound of her mother's voice. She could simply imagine her mother's eyes - piercing green with the white tainted to the color of roses.
"I'm going out with a few friends, I'll be home later. I need a pack of cigarettes, mom, where'd you hide them this time?!" Yaten listened intently. She found there were just no voices except for those of news broadcasters on the television. "Mom!"
"They're in the cabinet below the sink!" Sighing, Yaten walked the short distance from the door to the cabinet and grabbed a pack from the thin, paper box that seemed durable enough. Without another word she walked out the door, slamming it behind her. She took in a breath of air; beginning to walk down the sidewalk of the city she had been accustom to. "Day one of age fourteen. Oh, how old I feel," she muttered. She rolled her eyes, just another year of hell.
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She stood impatiently outside the door. It was a Friday, her birthday, a party - half for her half for the hell of having one. She teethed her nails. Fourteen. She knew the person throwing it, but who knew who else could possibly be there. She looked around her - she had an odd paranoia while walking down the sidewalks with people sitting on benches waiting for the city bus, cigarette butts on the ground as well as gum and shreds of newspapers - a few people laughing in the distance. Homeless people every now and then looking for idiotic boys and girls that are looking for drugs - say they're dealers, take the money, and run. Red and black bandanas pointing out who was in what group. Police sirens going off a few times a day - such a close-minded city. She shook off the thought, and pounded on the door again, smiling as the door rattled and finally opened. Her green eyes pored into the eager, hazel-colored eyes of her friend.
"Kou! I'm glad you were allowed out of the house!" The sweet voice was enough to make anyone feel welcome - nobody would assume the poor girl had such bad habits. Yaten made a face.
"The topic is depressing, let's move on." Yaten stepped around the girl who had dark skin like nearly 95% of the rest of the city, and a slim figure, not tall yet not too short.
"That's always a point," she said as she turned around after Yaten closed the door - music consuming nearly everybody - the air reeking of a smell crossed between potent vodka, whiskey, and an odd, distinct reek of marijuana.
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Yaten forced herself to smile, though uncomfortable. Too many hugs, too many kisses, too much alcohol, too many cigarettes. Too many empty souls drifting about with a façade to make them seem a little more alive. Her green eyes fell on a girl who sat there, a vial in her hand, mirror on her lap, a razor gracing her necklace. She appeared older, her patent leather boots rising to her knees, run and torn stockings over her thighs, her skirt a little too high, her shirt clinging to her body. Her perfectly straight raven hair trailing her back and veiling her small shoulders. Purple, shorter bangs framed her flawless face. She sucked on her lip ring and narrowed her eyes at Yaten, her powder white face seeming to glow*. Yaten fought her way through the crowd of people; something seemed all too deranged. Too corrupted and unbalanced.
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Everybody had left - the girl who seemed like a obstructed angel included. Yaten moaned and rolled over on the couch, her sobriety coming back to her. "Head throbbing?"
"No, Tasha." Yaten quickly made a glance to the clock. It was already one in the morning, and she was too sore to move.
"Need pills?" Tasha was merely responded to with silence. She sighed in frustration. "Asprin?"
"No. My head is fine. Your light is just blinding me."
"Ah. Sucks for you." Yaten sighed. Tasha continued looking around, her eyes landing on a man who stood there, impatiently tapping his fingers on the wall. Tasha's face became secretive and suspicious, glancing back at her silver haired friend. "Yaten, you might wanna le-"
"She doesn't have to." Yaten looked up from her position on the pillow. She frowned. "As matter of fact, I'd prefer if she doesn't leave." Tasha glanced at Yaten.
"All right. Whatever." Tasha dug through her pocket, pulling out six dollars. The nameless man dug through his pocket and pulled out a tiny bag with three white pills.
"You asked for Ritalin, I got you Ritalin - and you bothered to doubt me." Tasha grabbed the pills, and handed her dealer the money.
"But it took you long enough." He narrowed his eyes.
"I could just pry those pills off of you if you don't start learning to shut your mouth - I don't care if I'd shoot you in the head to get them back either. I think you're the idiot - you should've saved the six bucks, got another ten, and got a vial of yay for a little more fun than what you're getting with that shit." He gestured to the pills in her hand.
"Sorry," she muttered. All the while Yaten's facial expression never broke. Her frown matched the anger flaring in her eyes.
"Who do you think you are?"
"Excuse me?" The dealer turned around to face Yaten, and as he saw her - he smiled shamelessly. "Oh, I forgot. You have no experience - no wonder you're angry." Yaten clenched the pillow, her fists shaking. "What do you think," he said slowly, glancing at Tasha who began to violently shake her head. "About drugs? Other than those beautiful lies they grace you with in poor excuses of school systems?" Yaten had no reply. She never did particularly listen in health, drug, and sexual education and supposedly it was all a lie of 'you're going to die if you take this.' He smirked and perked his eyebrows. "About... heroin..."
"Nothing," Yaten muttered.
"Wanna try it?" Yaten bit her lip and Tasha stopped shaking her head, staring at Yaten. "It won't harm you," he said - he knew he was lying through his teeth. "You can try it once. If you don't like it, don't take it again," he said. He knew everything he was saying was a nemesis to the truth - and Yaten was oblivious.
Yaten said nothing for a few moments, glancing at Tasha who was giving her a pitiful look. She wanted to say no, she knew the look on her only true friend's face was one of a danger warning, but she had heard from a few people how good it was. "Does it make you forget a lot of things?"
"Depends how much you take, and what you wanna forget." Yaten stared down at her hands. She ignored the nagging feeling in her stomach of nervousness.
"I'll try it. One time can't hurt. Things can always be mentally and physically erased."
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*#1.) Remember this girl as I had described. She does have a role, and quite an important one in RD. She is not to be forgotten; otherwise you'll be left in the dark in RD for a few particular chapters.