"Arms of an Angel"
--by Lady Hankosha
Song by Sarah MacLachlan
-'--,-'-@
She was beautiful. Her short brown hair had stayed short, but now it held a shade of lustrous sable. Her cheeks had slimmed, her eyebrows become more refined, her lips were fuller-although they kept their sultry pout that was so…endearing. Sexy. Her shoulders and waist had become more sharply defined to cope with her added inches, and her body had filled out until her somewhat sharp figure was softened by curves. She'd lost that funny, backwater accent that came with so many years lived in her small town, and now her voice contained a subtle hint of the city, picked up in the years she'd been living with him. Brown doe eyes were still full of mischief, but the fire was tempered by a seriousness that came with a certain sense of responsibility; more importantly, they'd lost their innocence.
He would be quite proud of her if there were room for that right now.
"I don't know what to expect from you anymore! You're not even around most of the time-I hardly see you!"
Reno's green eyes locked on hers, so full of womanhood and righteous anger. He saw her step back, moving against the pedestrians around them. Moving away in rage and disgust at him.
"I don't know why I even keep you around. You're no fun, you've got no life--and you're not useful anymore." The words were as bitter as hate and fear in his mouth, rolling along his tongue as he matched her retreat with a sneaking foot.
Eyebrows drew up over her eyes, a sudden change taking place within them. Pity, perhaps, but he didn't want to see that--at all. "God dammit. Reno, people aren't tools!"
And then she was gone.
He felt his chest shuddering as the people moved on. Well, that's over with. In his mind he knew that it wasn't good enough, but it would do.
"Mommy, why's he such a jerk!?"
He whirled at the sound of the piping, feminine voice. Knew who was the subject of such an innocent question.
"Shh, honey, it's none of our business," the mother told her, eyes darting worriedly to his face. What did she think he would do, kill the kid? Stupid.
"But mommy, he's so funny-looking and she's really pretty! Why didn't she--"
"Darling, really!" A tug later and the child and mother were permanently gone in the crowd. He'd likely never see either again.
So there was nothing to do but turn around and go home.
…It's funny how children really get to you.
-'--,-'-@
So he did what he always would, after the deafening pound of adrenaline cleared from his heart and he realized what he'd done--he headed for the bar. Headed to the one thing that made him lose his body for even minutes at a time…although he paid for it with the hangover the next morning, in a bed somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
The one he chose was fairly empty, although the evening was dawning into darkness and most of these places were quite populated. It was rare to find someone who didn't have troubles, and alcohol and company were cheaper than drugs. Finding a stool for himself, he drew out his wallet and spread a fistful of gil on the table in front of him. Some quieted as they observed his wealth, quick to realize whom he must work for--must've worked for. That whole business was long dead, buried in the rubble that destroyed most of the city. Smashed in glass with the beam of prophetic light that killed the man who ran it all-religions had flown into being because of that destruction. The bartender was smart enough to figure that out as quick as everyone else, and brought him his money's worth.
He was well and truly flying by his nineteenth, perhaps flighty from the drink--perhaps from the lightening of his wallet. Leaning dangerously back, he rested his drink on one knee and considered the people around him.
The bar was fuller by now, and the counter was actually crowded--but that wasn't what interested him. Far more entrancing was the creature beside him, a work of long legs and slippery blonde hair. She noticed his attention and grinned back, the flashing lights playing blue, green and red tag across her skin. Stretched out a pale-fingered hand to him in an offer, and he reached to snatch it before it dropped into oblivion.
A flash of face beyond her shoulder caught his attention as he moved, though. An arched eyebrow, twisted dark lips, narrowed eyes…disgust. She was staring at him in disgust, not trying to figure out who he was as much as what he was doing. What is wrong with you, her eyes were telling him, that you have to go running after women who have nothing to offer? Nothing but their bodies, nothing of their souls--what is it?
And he paused. She turned back to her drink, hair falling to shadow her face again. The moment was gone--but he couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't do something he'd done so many times that it wasn't even tradition, just instinct.
The blonde's smile slid, skin crinkling off a snake, and disappeared with a nasty sense that left that bitter taste in his mouth. What was it again--fear? Hate? She shrugged as if to tell him that she wouldn't be waiting on him, and with a flick of her hair she was veiled as well. Gone.
He'd probably never see either again.
"Mommy, why's he such a jerk!?"
"Darling, really!"
Moving out of the lights and darkness on light feet, into the guttered street…he knew that flying feeling was from his wallet.
Because he wasn't drunk anymore.
Funny, though, he could see the stars through a jagged scar in the metal pizza above him. Couldn't see those before Meteor.
-'--,-'-@
Author's Note: All right, this most definately isn't a finished story. However, I won't keep posting the next chapters unless I get four or more reviews. =3 Let's hope that does something.