Yami, Life With
Okay, right off the bat: My friend Older Sister Pyro and I are having a sort of review contest. We're going to see who gets the most reviews. ^_^ I have confidence. But, of course, she has a GREAT sense of humor. . .so you might wanna check hers out.
It's Blood Red, a bedtime story by Yours Truly (in other words, Dilandau) based on Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.
So get reviewin'!
(Just so you know, this roughly page-long interlude where DS's Yami and Hikari argue is not the actual story! I won't mind if you skip to where the actual chapter one starts! Actually, I wouldn't know if you did or not!)
DragonSun's Hikari: Waaah! Don't yell at me so loud, Yami!!!!! WE ARE SHARING THE SAME EARS, DON'T FORGET!!!
DragonSun's Yami: YOU ARE A WEAK, PATHETIC, UN-DEMONIC HIKARI! I CANNOT BELIEVE WE MUST SHARE THE SAME BODY!
Hikari: I can't believe I let myself split my personality. *Holds ears*
Yami: You missed me! Admit it!
Hikari: Uh.no? I was longing for some male company, let's say. *looks at bewildered readers* My dark side is male. Yeah, I know it's strange, but I created him. Jeez. I feel like Dr. Jekyll.
Yami: Grrr!
Hikari: Don't forget, I split us, I can un-split us! Er. . .recombine us, that is!
Yami: GRRRR! BURN! DESTROY! LET ME OUT OF THIS CONSTRICTING FEMALE BODY!!
Hikari: *major sweatdrop* Ooooookay. . . *turns to readers again* At the moment, I do have control.
Yami: They can tell, baka! Just look at the horrible clothing you're wearing!!!!! I DID NOT WANT TO WEAR THE SKIRT!! I, AT LEAST, HAVE A BETTER SENSE OF FASHION THAN YOU DO!!!!!!!!
Hikari: *smiles sweetly. At the moment, she has on very tight jeans, a short, very colorful pleated skirt (in honor of Hitomi), very short black hair (also in honor of Hitomi) under a blue and white ski hat that makes her look like ghetto gone wrong, a red striped tank top, a black T-shirt over this, and a fuzzy PJ shirt with glittery stars and suns all over it, and pink slippers with bows on them that used to belong to her mother, but she stole them, not that you would care. . .)*
Hikari again: Look here, Mister Yami. Isn't short hair enough for you? I must endure the constant agony of being mistaken for a male because of you!
Yami: HALF OF YOU *IS* MALE, DAMMIT!
Hikari: That did *not* come out sounding right. Be nice to the readers, Yami! After all, they're reading and they didn't have to!
Yami: NO! I REFUSE!
Hikari: This is the constant struggle of Celena and Dilly. I'm more for the Merle/Dilly. . .but Merle would NOT make a good Hikari. ^_^ At the moment, however. . .
Disclaimer: We do not own Celena, Dilly, and what other Escaflowne plots/characters that may be used in this silly story. We also do not own the slight Yu-Gi-Oh! Yami/Hikari references, not to mention the constant use of the word 'aibou,' which means partner, but perhaps you already knew that. DS and her two personalities are just stupid. We would also like to say to what scant Allen-fans out there that we strongly dislike Allen *shudder* and are complete supporters of the Allen-bashing situation! So BE WARNED!! Also. . .this contains VERY strong language. . .it's rated pg-13 for a reason, ppl! ^_^ Funny. . .I just turned thirteen. Even funnier. . .I was eleven when I wrote the Rebel King and rated it pg-13. . .(the first story I ever wrote with swear words!) Hikari would also like to add that Yami has stolen her CD player and would like it back. . .
Yami: NEVER!!!!!!!
Hikari: Tsuki no mukou aoi searchlight kasanaru/totsuzen maiorita angel/sou kimi wa dare?/ima unmei no tobira ga hiraku/So just fall in love/munasawagi suru/kono shunkan wo/nogasanai/Don't stop, baby-
Yami: Okay, take it! JUST DON'T SING!!!
Hikari *glowers*: Just what do you have against Wada-san?!
Yami: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!! It's YOUR singing I don't like!!!
Chapter I It's a Personal Thing (A/N: The first part of this chapter actually happened with our author. . .only she did it in a more subtle way than perhaps assault. ^_^)
"So, Celena. . .could you please voice your inner thoughts. . .what you're feeling right now. . .what you're going through in your life. . .any difficulties, problems. . .?"
//I'm going to kill her. No, I'm going to burn her. Let me take over, aibou. I'm going to destroy her. Please!//
//No, Dilandau. We can't kill the guidance counselor.//
I can visualize my Yami now. He's sitting inside his mind-room, sulking, his savage red eyes burning with feral hatred. Arms folded. There's a vein popping somewhere near his temple and his fingers are itching to lock around Ms. Bouke's neck. And one of his eyes, probably the right one, is twitching.
At the moment, I am sitting in the guidance office, face to face with Ms. Bouke, who, in my opinion, is either a living version of Cruella de Vil or the devil in the flesh. She's going to marry the tenth grade earth science teacher this summer. I feel sorry for him. Who wouldn't? But they say love is blind. You know what I say? Whatever.
Why am I sitting in the guidance office? Because my Yami took control and threatened the orchestra instructor with extreme bodily harm, and then left me to take the consequences.
//I did not,// he says vaguely. I can tell he's still thinking about death and destruction and whatnot by his dreamy tone of voice.
//You did too, and you know it.// I'm angry enough to be brave. Of all my Yami's offenses, forcing me to threaten my beloved cello teacher was perhaps the most sinister of occurrences. And tragic.
//Did not,// he growls, in this low, very menacing whisper he has. He's trying to intimidate me. He's been trying to intimidate me from day one. Day one. . .exactly when did I get stuck with this guy, again?
Oh, right. When my brother when on an archaeological dig with his history class in Egypt, and brought me back this old relic. Personally, I can't believe why they chose *Allen* to go with him. But back to my pendant.
It's an old ankh on a leather thong. Recently, I've connected the ankh to a chain instead of the thong, to keep my Yami from throwing it out the window and escaping to his glorious and destructive freedom. The world is much safer when he's not on the loose. Allen bought my unusual necklace at a bazaar. No, not a bazaar. A 'bizarre.' Some creepy peddler guy with glowing pale eyes was shoving it at him and wouldn't stop hounding him until he purchased it. Allen thought I'd like it. I can say right now that I certainly didn't know the moment I tried it on, life as I knew it would be completely whirled upside-down.
I came down the next day after my birthday party with the black eye Dilly gave me and told Allen I hit my head on the window pane.
//Did too,// my mental self snaps right back at him. I'm furious. He's ruined my chances at becoming a great musician.
It's a daily battle. We argue over everything. There's only one thing I think we agree about-my older brother Allen needs to get a life. And a haircut.
//Bitch,// mutters my Yami. He's lost this battle, but he wasn't about to go down without a long and tedious fight.
I grab the pendant and give it a very, very hard squeeze, and get the satisfying //ARGGH!!! BITCH!!!// that results.
"Celena?"
Where am I again. . .? Oh, that's right. In the office of the psycho counselor, trying to explain why I grabbed the orchestra instructor by the collar and threatened her with much pain. I give the pendant another angry pinch and hear a howl of indignity. (//DAMMIT, YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!//)
"Uh. . .I'm just feeling very. . .uh. . .frustrated. . ."
Exactly what else was I supposed to say? I have a psychotic pyro for an alternate ego, Ms. Bouke. He's the frustrated one and he wants to get me expelled. Or sent to an asylum for nutcases. Or both.
//No, I want to KILL this bitch! I want to burn, torture, destroy, mutilate, burn, burn, burn, burn-//
//No, Yami.// This time, I clutch the ankh and scrape it with my nails. He knows I have power over him.
A stream of extremely foul Gaean oaths meets my ears. I've only learned what one of them means so far. After that little lesson, I don't even want to know about the rest.
YAMIv.s.HIKARI
It's interesting. My life, that is. My life with Yami. With Dilandau. If you could call it a life. I like to call it the Eternal Battle of Good and Evil, to give it a little dramatic flair.
I'm standing in front of my mirror on a Saturday morning. Apparently the Astons (primarily Mr. Aston and his daughter, Millerna) are coming over for lunch. Allen can't cook. I can't cook. I'm never letting my Yami near fire for as long as I live, whether he can cook or not. So, in reality, the Astons are coming over thinking that they will eat lunch here. They're also thinking that Allen's a great cook-a total lie, of course. You don't want to know the injustices I have to suffer as he tries to figure out how to work the microwave. I can safely call my brother a dumb blond, seeing that I myself am more silver-haired. However, they-meaning the Astons, of course-will be ushered without much courtesy to the nearest restaurant, where Allen will impress them by paying for whatever we eat.
It's a good thing Allen's paying. I have no idea how much Mr. Aston can eat. Judging from his size, I'm guessing it's a lot.
I tried to strangle myself this morning. Better than having to face the meeting the Astons with a psychotic Yami in tow. Dilandau stopped me. He got rid of my makeshift rope and threatened me with total disembodiment if I ever tried to kill myself again.
If I'm going to go down, I'm taking him with me. It's that simple. You hear that, Dilly-pickle?
Right now, my Yami is sitting cross-legged on my bed, staring with the utmost dislike at the icky pink confection that my brother has decided I have to wear to the big lunch. Yami isn't actually there. In other words, if I went to shake him like I've been wanting to lately, my hands would go right through him.
He's right, of course. This disgusting, frilly pink excuse for a casual dress was not my idea. Allen figures it'll help boost the sweet little sister image if I do wear it. I don't have anything against Allen. He's my brother, and I love him very dearly, but-to make me wear *this*? There is definitely some sort of ancient evil happening here. I wonder if my Yami is the cause.
The lunch with the Astons. I'd rather refer to it as exactly that- It. Or, if you will, the lunch date from hell.
//Cursing, are we, aibou?//
I'm ignoring him, taunting silver smirk, red eyes and all. He can't do anything in this ethereal form he's taken on. Of course, there's always the chance he'd solidify to cause some real damage, as in the case of the orchestral disaster, but I'd like to think I have some control over his phase changes.
He's watching me now. I'll admit, his glare scares me. One moment, he wants to kill me. The next moment, he also wants to kill me. And the next moment. . .guess?. . .he again would like to kill me. Luckily, he can't, because if he kills me, he'll die too. I plan to use this as a last defense if it ever comes to that. At the moment, though, it doesn't look like he wants to kill me. It's more of an I'm-going-to-eat-you-alive-if- you-even-come-near-me thing. And then some.
I hold the dress up against my body. I *am* wearing clothing, however. Just because Dilandau is my Yami, doesn't mean I'm about to let him see me naked.
Over my dead body. I just hope he doesn't take me at my word.
Maybe we could run away together, my Yami and I. Be bandits. Go kill people and burn buildings in some remote third-world country, far, far away from this hellhole. They wouldn't suspect sweet, kind little Celena. I'm not exactly the kill and burn type, but I learn quickly. And I'm sure my Yami would be more than happy to teach me.
Shit, shit, shit. Why do I have to wear this again? Oh, that's right. The lunch date from hell. Dilandau, who can hear just about everything I'm thinking, chuckles at my discomfort. Sadistic, maniacal bastard.
I sigh. "Close your eyes."
//No.// He's trying to be difficult. I take the pendant and start scraping my nails over it again. For some reason, this causes Dilandau much, much pain. Another defense. Unless he takes control of my body too.
He snarls, but shuts his eyes very obediently, rubbing his arm where a raw scratch has formed.
It's a quick change. My jeans and heavy blue sweater hit the carpet, and a second later, I'm drowning in pink silk. Or polyester. Or. . .whatever.
I wade through swathes of swishing material into my bathroom. Usually, I don't wear make-up. Today is not a usual day, however. Blue eye shadow. No mascara. My kind always smudges, for some odd reason. No blush. I want to look depressed. Pale and depressed. Somewhat otherworldly. Why don't we go for a punk look? I do have black lipstick somewhere. . .nah. Got to look normal. It's Allen's big day. But you have to wonder. . .exactly how can one look even partially sane in this. . .this *outfit* ?!
Dilandau's still sitting on the bed, laughing at me as I stumble.
"Don't forget, you're going to have to wear this later when I do," I say furiously.
He folds his arms and grumbles.
YAMIv.s.HIKARI
Okay. . .I am now. . .down the stairs. . .
No. . .now I'm going up the stairs again. And I'm marching. . .??? Look. . .my arms are swinging. . .yes, sir, I am indeed marching. . . //Yami, what the hell are you doing?!//
There's no reply. I try to force my left foot to stay on the ground, but it lifts. Ah, he's managed to take control again.
//Damn right, I have,// he says triumphantly. We're at the top of the stairs now. Involuntarily, my right foot lifts and I am propelled to the bathroom, tripping and sliding through pink material, grinding my teeth as Dilandau laughs in my mind.
The pink dress falls to the ground. I yell and make a grab for the pendant, but my arm isn't working. In fact, my hand is locking the door.
//What the--//
Okay. . .now the ribbon is coming out of my hair. It's falling to the ground, too, landing on the pink heap of the dress. I hope to the Sky God Dilandau hasn't yet noticed that we're standing in the bathroom wearing nothing but underclothes. Not only that, but a female's underclothes. He apparently hasn't. Our hand is lifting a tissue and the other is turning the faucet on. I'm watching myself in the mirror as the wet tissue lifts. There goes the blue eye shadow. . .and the lipstick. . .I'm bending down to pick some other clothing up, narrowly avoiding smashing my head on the sink corner. . .
//Yami, I don't want to look like a slut!! Or anything else remarkably slut-like. Whatever your Gaean word for slut is. Stop! Stop!//
He's still not listening. I think I'm dressed again, because we're moving outside of the bathroom, with the dress lying crumpled there like a dying rose. Unless, of course, Dilandau would make me walk around the house stark naked. I'm still grinding my teeth. At least I have control over my teeth.
We're going down the stairs again. . .aren't we. . .? And my hand is on the banister. . .oh, there's Allen.
"Celena?" Allen says, quirking his eyebrow in absolute disbelief. "What in the world are you wearing?!"
Good, I *am* wearing clothing. . .wait. . . .Wearing. . .someone tell me. . .what am I wearing. . .?
I look down. Okay. . .bare feet. We'll have to fix that. Jeans. Very, very, very, very tight jeans. And. . .a stomach baring tank that's. . .red. . .and says. . .uh. . .'F'. . .oh. ..no. . .no, wait, good, it's an 'I'. . .and then 'R'. . .I see. . .FIRE. Okay. So Dilandau's been shopping. Or stealing. At the moment, I figure it doesn't really matter. Oh. . .Uh-oh. . .I suddenly notice the two slashes across the jeans, about two inches lower on either side of where my legs meet the rest of my body. I'm wearing a silver chain, too. And why do I have the sneaking suspicion that my Yami has somehow managed to stick a patch across the back of the jeans that says "Kiss My Ass". . .?
Dilandau won't let me talk. Instead, I feel my mouth opening into a bitter smirk.
"What about the dress I bought you, Celena?" my brother says, reaching out towards me.
"Dammit, I hate pink!" Dilandau howls with my voice. Allen backs away, staring in bewilderment as Dilandau forces me to voice his ranting and my hands form fists. It is now that I realize I am also wearing a belt buckle around my neck above the pendant. No more Yu-Gi-Oh for him. To start rambling in a completely different direction, my Yami admires Kaiba but thinks he ought to be more maniacal, like Yami Malik or Yami Bakura. "I DON'T LIKE PINK! NO PINK!! IT'S THE MOST DISGUST-"
Somehow, I manage to grab the pendant and give it the hardest squeeze I can muster.
"Er. . .sorry. . ." I say weakly. I wonder how strange this must sound to my brother. "I don't know what came over me. . ."
I try to scamper past him, but he grabs my wrist and jerks me back. In a deadly tone of voice I've probably never had him address me in before, he hisses, "You get back into that dress! Understand!?"
Dumbly, I nod as he releases my wrist. It's amazing how Allen can scare me more than the Yami I possess. I'm backing away now. Then I stop-
To my absolute horror, my hands are flying towards Allen's throat.
//I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!// Dilandau is yelling. //SHI NE!!!!!!!!!!!//
//No! Dilly, STOP!!!!//
//I'M GOING TO KILL HIM AND YOU WILL NOT STOP ME!!!!//
He has a point there, I realize, as I try to jerk my hands back and run away, but, to be theatrical, alas, I cannot.
//You can't kill our brother!!// I shriek at him, trying to get a good hold on his 'spirit' arm. Which I obviously can't, seeing that both my own hands have currently locked around my older brother's throat.
//Can I kill him and burn the place?//
//No.//
//Kill him and burn his dead body and steal--//
//NO, Dilandau!//
I can feel him starting to take over again. My hands are starting to tighten and Allen gives an odd choking noise. If I weren't about to strangle him, the situation might have been funny.
It's really very hard to struggle physically with an alternate ego that is somewhat more muscular than you are. Therefore, a mental battle would be in my favor. Abandoning everything, I jump into the darkened corridors of my mind and tackle him before he can do anything to my brother. He falls heavily and his head smashes into the ground.
//WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!//
//You can't kill our brother,// I repeat, breathing very hard after my mad mental dash.
//He touched you. . .// Dilly says angrily.
//He's my brother. He has a right to touch me.//
Dilandau rolls and pins me. I've forgotten just how powerful he is. In either a mental or physical conflict, he would win. In fact, he has won.
I glare at him. I was going to look the end in the eye until it came.
My Yami gets off me and pulls me up into a sitting position. This surprises me. I was expecting to get a fist planted in my face. Is he planning something more painful? Yes, probably.
//Aibou. . .// His voice has sunk to no louder than a very sensuous whisper. He's got the wrist Allen yanked in his hands, which are resting on his legs as he kneels. I wait for my arm to be snapped. Now he's looking at me. I'm drowning in red. Help me. . .I think I'm blushing. . .why am I blushing. . .? Yes, I'm blushing. . .Dilandau. . .
//Itai-Dilandau-// I stammer, trying to pull my wrist away from his iron grip. //You're hurting me!// This is not happening. I'm sitting in a corridor of my mind, with a Yami who's suddenly gone all 'nice' on me. In fact. . .my heart is definitely beating faster. . .I can hear it. . .echoing. . .badum badum badumbadumbadumbadum-
Yami's cupping my face with one hand and pulling me closer to him- warning bells are going off because somehow, just somehow, I don't think it's such a good idea to sit around with your suddenly too cute Yami inside one of your mind-rooms while you're strangling your older brother-
//Eep-Dilly--// I squeak. The only time I've had him this close to me is when he somehow managed to get drunk in solid phase and fainted dead with his head in my lap. I couldn't lift him, so I ended up falling asleep with him. I later dubbed that night the Battle of the Bedsheets. It's a complete tug of war thing with my Yami.
Yami's eyes narrow. I-I-I don't know if he's going to-to break my face-or-or. . .
"Celena!"
I come out of my trance, shocked back into my body, and find that my hands are still around Allen's throat, though they're limp, thank Ra. My head has fallen forward onto his shoulder. Allen removes them and gives me a very hard jerk as I slump over. I have to keep my Yami from jumping on him.
"S-sorry. . .Onii-sama. . ." I look deeply shaken, I know. But it's not because I just tried to strangle my only living relative. Allen gives me a look. In the back of my head, I hear my Yami's savage fuming and tell him to shut up.
Out loud.
. . .Oops?
My brother gives me another look of complete confusion. I think I've just grabbed my head. I also think I've just ruined our cover as the average high-school nerd.
//Dilly?// I say tentatively.
There's no answer, though the undercurrent of rants and swearing continues. He's probably plotting my brother's excruciating death. I'm trying to ignore him. I don't know what language my Yami speaks. I just understand him. I suppose he could speak whatever he wanted to whom ever he chose to speak to. Excuse me. I meant threaten. Or kill.
My feet are cold. The marble beneath my feet is cold, and therefore, my feet are also cold.
//Cold. Cold. Cold. Why the hell is my brother giving me such a weird look? Oh, that's right. I've just tried to strangle him, told the air to shut up, and then grabbed my own head in an attempt to get my Yami to go away.//
//Weakling,// my Yami spits, apparently completely recovered. I'm not recovered. My head is reeling and, for some reason, the room is walking around me in circles. I mumble for it to stop moving.
"Please go put the dress on, Celena," Allen says, watching me with concern.
I turn to go, slipping a little. But at that exact moment, the doorbell rings, signaling the end of the world.
Well? Please review. . .flames are accepted. . .any further suggestions for Allen-bashing would also be appreciated.
Yami: *cackles* BURN!!! *Hikari grabs the flamethrower and gives it back to a crying Dilandau, who immediately brightens and begins to chase Yami around in circles*
Okay, right off the bat: My friend Older Sister Pyro and I are having a sort of review contest. We're going to see who gets the most reviews. ^_^ I have confidence. But, of course, she has a GREAT sense of humor. . .so you might wanna check hers out.
It's Blood Red, a bedtime story by Yours Truly (in other words, Dilandau) based on Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.
So get reviewin'!
(Just so you know, this roughly page-long interlude where DS's Yami and Hikari argue is not the actual story! I won't mind if you skip to where the actual chapter one starts! Actually, I wouldn't know if you did or not!)
DragonSun's Hikari: Waaah! Don't yell at me so loud, Yami!!!!! WE ARE SHARING THE SAME EARS, DON'T FORGET!!!
DragonSun's Yami: YOU ARE A WEAK, PATHETIC, UN-DEMONIC HIKARI! I CANNOT BELIEVE WE MUST SHARE THE SAME BODY!
Hikari: I can't believe I let myself split my personality. *Holds ears*
Yami: You missed me! Admit it!
Hikari: Uh.no? I was longing for some male company, let's say. *looks at bewildered readers* My dark side is male. Yeah, I know it's strange, but I created him. Jeez. I feel like Dr. Jekyll.
Yami: Grrr!
Hikari: Don't forget, I split us, I can un-split us! Er. . .recombine us, that is!
Yami: GRRRR! BURN! DESTROY! LET ME OUT OF THIS CONSTRICTING FEMALE BODY!!
Hikari: *major sweatdrop* Ooooookay. . . *turns to readers again* At the moment, I do have control.
Yami: They can tell, baka! Just look at the horrible clothing you're wearing!!!!! I DID NOT WANT TO WEAR THE SKIRT!! I, AT LEAST, HAVE A BETTER SENSE OF FASHION THAN YOU DO!!!!!!!!
Hikari: *smiles sweetly. At the moment, she has on very tight jeans, a short, very colorful pleated skirt (in honor of Hitomi), very short black hair (also in honor of Hitomi) under a blue and white ski hat that makes her look like ghetto gone wrong, a red striped tank top, a black T-shirt over this, and a fuzzy PJ shirt with glittery stars and suns all over it, and pink slippers with bows on them that used to belong to her mother, but she stole them, not that you would care. . .)*
Hikari again: Look here, Mister Yami. Isn't short hair enough for you? I must endure the constant agony of being mistaken for a male because of you!
Yami: HALF OF YOU *IS* MALE, DAMMIT!
Hikari: That did *not* come out sounding right. Be nice to the readers, Yami! After all, they're reading and they didn't have to!
Yami: NO! I REFUSE!
Hikari: This is the constant struggle of Celena and Dilly. I'm more for the Merle/Dilly. . .but Merle would NOT make a good Hikari. ^_^ At the moment, however. . .
Disclaimer: We do not own Celena, Dilly, and what other Escaflowne plots/characters that may be used in this silly story. We also do not own the slight Yu-Gi-Oh! Yami/Hikari references, not to mention the constant use of the word 'aibou,' which means partner, but perhaps you already knew that. DS and her two personalities are just stupid. We would also like to say to what scant Allen-fans out there that we strongly dislike Allen *shudder* and are complete supporters of the Allen-bashing situation! So BE WARNED!! Also. . .this contains VERY strong language. . .it's rated pg-13 for a reason, ppl! ^_^ Funny. . .I just turned thirteen. Even funnier. . .I was eleven when I wrote the Rebel King and rated it pg-13. . .(the first story I ever wrote with swear words!) Hikari would also like to add that Yami has stolen her CD player and would like it back. . .
Yami: NEVER!!!!!!!
Hikari: Tsuki no mukou aoi searchlight kasanaru/totsuzen maiorita angel/sou kimi wa dare?/ima unmei no tobira ga hiraku/So just fall in love/munasawagi suru/kono shunkan wo/nogasanai/Don't stop, baby-
Yami: Okay, take it! JUST DON'T SING!!!
Hikari *glowers*: Just what do you have against Wada-san?!
Yami: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!! It's YOUR singing I don't like!!!
Chapter I It's a Personal Thing (A/N: The first part of this chapter actually happened with our author. . .only she did it in a more subtle way than perhaps assault. ^_^)
"So, Celena. . .could you please voice your inner thoughts. . .what you're feeling right now. . .what you're going through in your life. . .any difficulties, problems. . .?"
//I'm going to kill her. No, I'm going to burn her. Let me take over, aibou. I'm going to destroy her. Please!//
//No, Dilandau. We can't kill the guidance counselor.//
I can visualize my Yami now. He's sitting inside his mind-room, sulking, his savage red eyes burning with feral hatred. Arms folded. There's a vein popping somewhere near his temple and his fingers are itching to lock around Ms. Bouke's neck. And one of his eyes, probably the right one, is twitching.
At the moment, I am sitting in the guidance office, face to face with Ms. Bouke, who, in my opinion, is either a living version of Cruella de Vil or the devil in the flesh. She's going to marry the tenth grade earth science teacher this summer. I feel sorry for him. Who wouldn't? But they say love is blind. You know what I say? Whatever.
Why am I sitting in the guidance office? Because my Yami took control and threatened the orchestra instructor with extreme bodily harm, and then left me to take the consequences.
//I did not,// he says vaguely. I can tell he's still thinking about death and destruction and whatnot by his dreamy tone of voice.
//You did too, and you know it.// I'm angry enough to be brave. Of all my Yami's offenses, forcing me to threaten my beloved cello teacher was perhaps the most sinister of occurrences. And tragic.
//Did not,// he growls, in this low, very menacing whisper he has. He's trying to intimidate me. He's been trying to intimidate me from day one. Day one. . .exactly when did I get stuck with this guy, again?
Oh, right. When my brother when on an archaeological dig with his history class in Egypt, and brought me back this old relic. Personally, I can't believe why they chose *Allen* to go with him. But back to my pendant.
It's an old ankh on a leather thong. Recently, I've connected the ankh to a chain instead of the thong, to keep my Yami from throwing it out the window and escaping to his glorious and destructive freedom. The world is much safer when he's not on the loose. Allen bought my unusual necklace at a bazaar. No, not a bazaar. A 'bizarre.' Some creepy peddler guy with glowing pale eyes was shoving it at him and wouldn't stop hounding him until he purchased it. Allen thought I'd like it. I can say right now that I certainly didn't know the moment I tried it on, life as I knew it would be completely whirled upside-down.
I came down the next day after my birthday party with the black eye Dilly gave me and told Allen I hit my head on the window pane.
//Did too,// my mental self snaps right back at him. I'm furious. He's ruined my chances at becoming a great musician.
It's a daily battle. We argue over everything. There's only one thing I think we agree about-my older brother Allen needs to get a life. And a haircut.
//Bitch,// mutters my Yami. He's lost this battle, but he wasn't about to go down without a long and tedious fight.
I grab the pendant and give it a very, very hard squeeze, and get the satisfying //ARGGH!!! BITCH!!!// that results.
"Celena?"
Where am I again. . .? Oh, that's right. In the office of the psycho counselor, trying to explain why I grabbed the orchestra instructor by the collar and threatened her with much pain. I give the pendant another angry pinch and hear a howl of indignity. (//DAMMIT, YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!//)
"Uh. . .I'm just feeling very. . .uh. . .frustrated. . ."
Exactly what else was I supposed to say? I have a psychotic pyro for an alternate ego, Ms. Bouke. He's the frustrated one and he wants to get me expelled. Or sent to an asylum for nutcases. Or both.
//No, I want to KILL this bitch! I want to burn, torture, destroy, mutilate, burn, burn, burn, burn-//
//No, Yami.// This time, I clutch the ankh and scrape it with my nails. He knows I have power over him.
A stream of extremely foul Gaean oaths meets my ears. I've only learned what one of them means so far. After that little lesson, I don't even want to know about the rest.
YAMIv.s.HIKARI
It's interesting. My life, that is. My life with Yami. With Dilandau. If you could call it a life. I like to call it the Eternal Battle of Good and Evil, to give it a little dramatic flair.
I'm standing in front of my mirror on a Saturday morning. Apparently the Astons (primarily Mr. Aston and his daughter, Millerna) are coming over for lunch. Allen can't cook. I can't cook. I'm never letting my Yami near fire for as long as I live, whether he can cook or not. So, in reality, the Astons are coming over thinking that they will eat lunch here. They're also thinking that Allen's a great cook-a total lie, of course. You don't want to know the injustices I have to suffer as he tries to figure out how to work the microwave. I can safely call my brother a dumb blond, seeing that I myself am more silver-haired. However, they-meaning the Astons, of course-will be ushered without much courtesy to the nearest restaurant, where Allen will impress them by paying for whatever we eat.
It's a good thing Allen's paying. I have no idea how much Mr. Aston can eat. Judging from his size, I'm guessing it's a lot.
I tried to strangle myself this morning. Better than having to face the meeting the Astons with a psychotic Yami in tow. Dilandau stopped me. He got rid of my makeshift rope and threatened me with total disembodiment if I ever tried to kill myself again.
If I'm going to go down, I'm taking him with me. It's that simple. You hear that, Dilly-pickle?
Right now, my Yami is sitting cross-legged on my bed, staring with the utmost dislike at the icky pink confection that my brother has decided I have to wear to the big lunch. Yami isn't actually there. In other words, if I went to shake him like I've been wanting to lately, my hands would go right through him.
He's right, of course. This disgusting, frilly pink excuse for a casual dress was not my idea. Allen figures it'll help boost the sweet little sister image if I do wear it. I don't have anything against Allen. He's my brother, and I love him very dearly, but-to make me wear *this*? There is definitely some sort of ancient evil happening here. I wonder if my Yami is the cause.
The lunch with the Astons. I'd rather refer to it as exactly that- It. Or, if you will, the lunch date from hell.
//Cursing, are we, aibou?//
I'm ignoring him, taunting silver smirk, red eyes and all. He can't do anything in this ethereal form he's taken on. Of course, there's always the chance he'd solidify to cause some real damage, as in the case of the orchestral disaster, but I'd like to think I have some control over his phase changes.
He's watching me now. I'll admit, his glare scares me. One moment, he wants to kill me. The next moment, he also wants to kill me. And the next moment. . .guess?. . .he again would like to kill me. Luckily, he can't, because if he kills me, he'll die too. I plan to use this as a last defense if it ever comes to that. At the moment, though, it doesn't look like he wants to kill me. It's more of an I'm-going-to-eat-you-alive-if- you-even-come-near-me thing. And then some.
I hold the dress up against my body. I *am* wearing clothing, however. Just because Dilandau is my Yami, doesn't mean I'm about to let him see me naked.
Over my dead body. I just hope he doesn't take me at my word.
Maybe we could run away together, my Yami and I. Be bandits. Go kill people and burn buildings in some remote third-world country, far, far away from this hellhole. They wouldn't suspect sweet, kind little Celena. I'm not exactly the kill and burn type, but I learn quickly. And I'm sure my Yami would be more than happy to teach me.
Shit, shit, shit. Why do I have to wear this again? Oh, that's right. The lunch date from hell. Dilandau, who can hear just about everything I'm thinking, chuckles at my discomfort. Sadistic, maniacal bastard.
I sigh. "Close your eyes."
//No.// He's trying to be difficult. I take the pendant and start scraping my nails over it again. For some reason, this causes Dilandau much, much pain. Another defense. Unless he takes control of my body too.
He snarls, but shuts his eyes very obediently, rubbing his arm where a raw scratch has formed.
It's a quick change. My jeans and heavy blue sweater hit the carpet, and a second later, I'm drowning in pink silk. Or polyester. Or. . .whatever.
I wade through swathes of swishing material into my bathroom. Usually, I don't wear make-up. Today is not a usual day, however. Blue eye shadow. No mascara. My kind always smudges, for some odd reason. No blush. I want to look depressed. Pale and depressed. Somewhat otherworldly. Why don't we go for a punk look? I do have black lipstick somewhere. . .nah. Got to look normal. It's Allen's big day. But you have to wonder. . .exactly how can one look even partially sane in this. . .this *outfit* ?!
Dilandau's still sitting on the bed, laughing at me as I stumble.
"Don't forget, you're going to have to wear this later when I do," I say furiously.
He folds his arms and grumbles.
YAMIv.s.HIKARI
Okay. . .I am now. . .down the stairs. . .
No. . .now I'm going up the stairs again. And I'm marching. . .??? Look. . .my arms are swinging. . .yes, sir, I am indeed marching. . . //Yami, what the hell are you doing?!//
There's no reply. I try to force my left foot to stay on the ground, but it lifts. Ah, he's managed to take control again.
//Damn right, I have,// he says triumphantly. We're at the top of the stairs now. Involuntarily, my right foot lifts and I am propelled to the bathroom, tripping and sliding through pink material, grinding my teeth as Dilandau laughs in my mind.
The pink dress falls to the ground. I yell and make a grab for the pendant, but my arm isn't working. In fact, my hand is locking the door.
//What the--//
Okay. . .now the ribbon is coming out of my hair. It's falling to the ground, too, landing on the pink heap of the dress. I hope to the Sky God Dilandau hasn't yet noticed that we're standing in the bathroom wearing nothing but underclothes. Not only that, but a female's underclothes. He apparently hasn't. Our hand is lifting a tissue and the other is turning the faucet on. I'm watching myself in the mirror as the wet tissue lifts. There goes the blue eye shadow. . .and the lipstick. . .I'm bending down to pick some other clothing up, narrowly avoiding smashing my head on the sink corner. . .
//Yami, I don't want to look like a slut!! Or anything else remarkably slut-like. Whatever your Gaean word for slut is. Stop! Stop!//
He's still not listening. I think I'm dressed again, because we're moving outside of the bathroom, with the dress lying crumpled there like a dying rose. Unless, of course, Dilandau would make me walk around the house stark naked. I'm still grinding my teeth. At least I have control over my teeth.
We're going down the stairs again. . .aren't we. . .? And my hand is on the banister. . .oh, there's Allen.
"Celena?" Allen says, quirking his eyebrow in absolute disbelief. "What in the world are you wearing?!"
Good, I *am* wearing clothing. . .wait. . . .Wearing. . .someone tell me. . .what am I wearing. . .?
I look down. Okay. . .bare feet. We'll have to fix that. Jeans. Very, very, very, very tight jeans. And. . .a stomach baring tank that's. . .red. . .and says. . .uh. . .'F'. . .oh. ..no. . .no, wait, good, it's an 'I'. . .and then 'R'. . .I see. . .FIRE. Okay. So Dilandau's been shopping. Or stealing. At the moment, I figure it doesn't really matter. Oh. . .Uh-oh. . .I suddenly notice the two slashes across the jeans, about two inches lower on either side of where my legs meet the rest of my body. I'm wearing a silver chain, too. And why do I have the sneaking suspicion that my Yami has somehow managed to stick a patch across the back of the jeans that says "Kiss My Ass". . .?
Dilandau won't let me talk. Instead, I feel my mouth opening into a bitter smirk.
"What about the dress I bought you, Celena?" my brother says, reaching out towards me.
"Dammit, I hate pink!" Dilandau howls with my voice. Allen backs away, staring in bewilderment as Dilandau forces me to voice his ranting and my hands form fists. It is now that I realize I am also wearing a belt buckle around my neck above the pendant. No more Yu-Gi-Oh for him. To start rambling in a completely different direction, my Yami admires Kaiba but thinks he ought to be more maniacal, like Yami Malik or Yami Bakura. "I DON'T LIKE PINK! NO PINK!! IT'S THE MOST DISGUST-"
Somehow, I manage to grab the pendant and give it the hardest squeeze I can muster.
"Er. . .sorry. . ." I say weakly. I wonder how strange this must sound to my brother. "I don't know what came over me. . ."
I try to scamper past him, but he grabs my wrist and jerks me back. In a deadly tone of voice I've probably never had him address me in before, he hisses, "You get back into that dress! Understand!?"
Dumbly, I nod as he releases my wrist. It's amazing how Allen can scare me more than the Yami I possess. I'm backing away now. Then I stop-
To my absolute horror, my hands are flying towards Allen's throat.
//I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!// Dilandau is yelling. //SHI NE!!!!!!!!!!!//
//No! Dilly, STOP!!!!//
//I'M GOING TO KILL HIM AND YOU WILL NOT STOP ME!!!!//
He has a point there, I realize, as I try to jerk my hands back and run away, but, to be theatrical, alas, I cannot.
//You can't kill our brother!!// I shriek at him, trying to get a good hold on his 'spirit' arm. Which I obviously can't, seeing that both my own hands have currently locked around my older brother's throat.
//Can I kill him and burn the place?//
//No.//
//Kill him and burn his dead body and steal--//
//NO, Dilandau!//
I can feel him starting to take over again. My hands are starting to tighten and Allen gives an odd choking noise. If I weren't about to strangle him, the situation might have been funny.
It's really very hard to struggle physically with an alternate ego that is somewhat more muscular than you are. Therefore, a mental battle would be in my favor. Abandoning everything, I jump into the darkened corridors of my mind and tackle him before he can do anything to my brother. He falls heavily and his head smashes into the ground.
//WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!//
//You can't kill our brother,// I repeat, breathing very hard after my mad mental dash.
//He touched you. . .// Dilly says angrily.
//He's my brother. He has a right to touch me.//
Dilandau rolls and pins me. I've forgotten just how powerful he is. In either a mental or physical conflict, he would win. In fact, he has won.
I glare at him. I was going to look the end in the eye until it came.
My Yami gets off me and pulls me up into a sitting position. This surprises me. I was expecting to get a fist planted in my face. Is he planning something more painful? Yes, probably.
//Aibou. . .// His voice has sunk to no louder than a very sensuous whisper. He's got the wrist Allen yanked in his hands, which are resting on his legs as he kneels. I wait for my arm to be snapped. Now he's looking at me. I'm drowning in red. Help me. . .I think I'm blushing. . .why am I blushing. . .? Yes, I'm blushing. . .Dilandau. . .
//Itai-Dilandau-// I stammer, trying to pull my wrist away from his iron grip. //You're hurting me!// This is not happening. I'm sitting in a corridor of my mind, with a Yami who's suddenly gone all 'nice' on me. In fact. . .my heart is definitely beating faster. . .I can hear it. . .echoing. . .badum badum badumbadumbadumbadum-
Yami's cupping my face with one hand and pulling me closer to him- warning bells are going off because somehow, just somehow, I don't think it's such a good idea to sit around with your suddenly too cute Yami inside one of your mind-rooms while you're strangling your older brother-
//Eep-Dilly--// I squeak. The only time I've had him this close to me is when he somehow managed to get drunk in solid phase and fainted dead with his head in my lap. I couldn't lift him, so I ended up falling asleep with him. I later dubbed that night the Battle of the Bedsheets. It's a complete tug of war thing with my Yami.
Yami's eyes narrow. I-I-I don't know if he's going to-to break my face-or-or. . .
"Celena!"
I come out of my trance, shocked back into my body, and find that my hands are still around Allen's throat, though they're limp, thank Ra. My head has fallen forward onto his shoulder. Allen removes them and gives me a very hard jerk as I slump over. I have to keep my Yami from jumping on him.
"S-sorry. . .Onii-sama. . ." I look deeply shaken, I know. But it's not because I just tried to strangle my only living relative. Allen gives me a look. In the back of my head, I hear my Yami's savage fuming and tell him to shut up.
Out loud.
. . .Oops?
My brother gives me another look of complete confusion. I think I've just grabbed my head. I also think I've just ruined our cover as the average high-school nerd.
//Dilly?// I say tentatively.
There's no answer, though the undercurrent of rants and swearing continues. He's probably plotting my brother's excruciating death. I'm trying to ignore him. I don't know what language my Yami speaks. I just understand him. I suppose he could speak whatever he wanted to whom ever he chose to speak to. Excuse me. I meant threaten. Or kill.
My feet are cold. The marble beneath my feet is cold, and therefore, my feet are also cold.
//Cold. Cold. Cold. Why the hell is my brother giving me such a weird look? Oh, that's right. I've just tried to strangle him, told the air to shut up, and then grabbed my own head in an attempt to get my Yami to go away.//
//Weakling,// my Yami spits, apparently completely recovered. I'm not recovered. My head is reeling and, for some reason, the room is walking around me in circles. I mumble for it to stop moving.
"Please go put the dress on, Celena," Allen says, watching me with concern.
I turn to go, slipping a little. But at that exact moment, the doorbell rings, signaling the end of the world.
Well? Please review. . .flames are accepted. . .any further suggestions for Allen-bashing would also be appreciated.
Yami: *cackles* BURN!!! *Hikari grabs the flamethrower and gives it back to a crying Dilandau, who immediately brightens and begins to chase Yami around in circles*