Notes: This bugger went through about three different stages of what I wanted it to be. I settled for this because it was too damn cute to throw out. That and Badou has always equaled Aquabats in my mind. YES. THANK YOU, MODS.
Word Count: 2369 ... Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.
Sound. Vibrations. These are his guiding tools. Well, often enough he spouts that it s the merciful hand of God that guides him. Keeping the faith and all that. But the in realistic scientific world it is the skill and craftsmanship of his eardrums that lead him to all the places he needs to get to inside the huge Cathedral entrusted to him. With a sort of grim twisted smile the Bishop nods to himself. Indeed the true holy mother is science Or is she unholy when she becomes deformed so ? A breathy chuckle and he continues his endless walk through the isles and pews, his keen ears guiding him through echolocation That is until the music started.
Loud and disturbingly happy it cut through the Cathedral s usual modest calm. The bouncing vibrations suddenly exploded, the visible lines that made up the boundaries of objects thickening, making it for a split second harder to tell just what was where. The sudden outburst of sound points out the sharp silhouette of Badou s smoking form, stark and clear as the spots that burn your eyes after looking at the sun for too long. At least it gives the Bishop a good target. The cane connects to (hollow) skull twice, once on each side. More punctuations of sound as Badou clutches his head and the stream of curses being. It s so loud Bishop barely hears the still lit cigarette hit the cobblestone floors, almost misses Haine (for no-one else is so practical in their quiet movements) bending down to pick up the roll of soldering tobacco, waiting for Badou to shut the hell up and go back to smoking (not so) quietly. With the air of the justified Bishop opens his ears to the litany to profane expressions.
What the fucking hell, Holy Man?! The echoing waves of Badou s raging voice reflect back his angry and wounded expression, eyebrows knit in exasperation. The Bishop s inner sadist gives a little innocent smile. Isn t there something in that big old book of yours that says hitting people is bad or some shit like that? I mean, what would Abraham do?
The bible does indeed have something to say about that, His voice is perfectly calm, if not a bit amused. I could directly quote, but that s a bit clich . The basic gist is that it s wrong Unless it s a heathen. There s almost a faint creaking sound as Haine smirks. Now turn down that racket. You ll wake up our Lord savior a few centuries to early As for Abraham Let s not go there, shall we?
But, as always, Badou isn t done with his banter yet.
But the music s fine! Jesus approved and all that! For his trouble the one eyed man receives two more hits.
Please, stop taking the Lord s name in vain, Badou. Sighing and shaking his head the blind Bishop turns back to his task of devoutly (pointlessly) walking about the Cathedral.
- - -
Nill had come to learn people s inner selves by their taste in music. In the homes she had been in before the men would more often than not crank their stereos to the sounds of heavy, illicit rock or the fast paced, greedy rhythms of rap. Whatever music they played always seemed so empty. There was no meaning behind the words screeched out of the speakers. For years the musical notes that shattered the silence that enveloped her were unwanted and unloved. It was Hell, not the fire and brimstone she read about in the early chapters of the Bible, but a Hell where the only sounds she heard were far more frightening than the quiet before the storm.
Always, that s what music was to her. Until Haine brought her to the Cathedral. She learned that music could be heavenly, blissful. That s when she learned that music was meant to be a tool for caring, for healing, for comfort. Brass and strings and the low, melancholy voices that reached out for any beam of light.
The two sides of music she learned about are the best definitions for good and evil she can think of. The two sides of what was left of humanity.
But now she hears a third kind of music. Bubbly, happy, yet the edge of candy coated insanity lingers in the undertone. And as she peered around one of the (manymanymany) stone walls the piece s clicked into place. Of course the music sounded that way. It s BADOU S music. The music plays on the same way he talks, he moves, even how he fights. Bounding, doubled over, spastic music.
Ever curious, Nill trotted out, clinging automatically to Haine s side. Soon she was not only drawn in by the loud music, but by the just as loud conversation. The usual greeting smile given Haine returned to verbally punching his partner.
Maybe the Bishop wouldn t mind your music if it wasn t so shitty. Drawled the albino in his customary monotone voice. Across from him, sitting backwards in the pew is ever twitchy Badou.
See, I like what you did there, The ginger sniffed out as he fumbled for another (horrid smelling, awful tasting) cigarette, his other hand flicking to fling back locks of his rock star length hair. Ya know, when you paused I thought you were gonna go with something classy. Badou paused to light his addiction, a plume of ghastly smoke swirling about his seemingly permanently bruised features. But, no. Gotta go back right to the gutter. Not nice to say shit like that in front of pretty girls, Haine. The smirk turned a fraction meaner, but not quite.
You re one to talk Haine mumbled and whapped the chain smoker upside the head, scattering locks of singed orange hair.
Badou bitched for a moment more. You re a grade-A comes in a can AND a tube asshole, you know that? Backing down from the fight for the moment being he leaned on his boom box. One green eye glinted as he fired off his last insult. I swear, you and the Bishop are related or some shit like that
Haine twitched his leather clad shoulders in a grimace, red eyes glaring murder. That was low, Badou.
Sue me.
I might.
Psh, you re just as poor as me.
While the partners further argued Nill investigated the hyper happy music, jangling guitar and tinkering keyboard sounds beckoning her closer. Her wide blue eyes looked over scratch and scrape on the obviously well loved music player, her little wings twitching in interest. The petite mute looked up just in time to see Badou grinning down at her, a wild, joyous gleam in his solitary eye.
See, Haine? He laughed and patted Nill s bowed head. She likes the music, don t ya, kiddo?
Warily the faux angel nodded her head and Haine grunted something, but resigned to being quiet. However, Badou had the opposite reaction. The unbelievably scrawny man hopped out of the pew, pulling Nill along with him into the open isle, laughing all the while. Haine rose in his seat slightly, eyebrow raised. In a flutter of lace and ribbons and shiny little shoes the patron saint of Dogs landed, eyes wide and questioning.
To the surprise of all Badou mocked a bow, an offer of a dance. Nill s pretty little mouth opened in silent laughter and she too bowed, accepting with a huge grin. It wasn t like any dance she had expected from (the-wild-grinning-mandog) Badou, he carefully spun her, picked her up and wove her through the air and moved with a sort of practiced grace. But that was only for the first song. By the third song they had become much less formal, simply swaying any which way they felt like, both man and girl s long hair becoming tangled and wild from jumping about. From the wooden bench Haine watched, like an amused guard dog, enjoying seeing his little charge being so free, but still fiercely protective.
And as if on cue the one eyed man and the mute jumped on him, tugging the albino to join their insane child s dance. This was easier said than done. When Haine refused to so much as BREATHE three puppy eyes looked back up at him. When that didn t work they tried teasing him. Well, Badou had to do all the teasing while Nill nodded her encouragement. Eventually man and girl worked up a system for shoving their unwilling dance partner to and fro, Badou having to duck a few blows to his person. At some point it dissolved into a game of musical tag, with random dance moves incorporated into the routine, Nill and Badou moving in near perfect synchronicity. Haine could only wonder how in the hell they did it.
Time dissolved into something not dictated by the clock, but by the length of the CD tracks. At last Haine gave in a broke into a feral grin, twisting his body just as madly as Badou and Nill. All in her short and troubled life span, the little mute was sure she had never been this happy before (not even when Haine her hero came to save her and gave her a safe place to exist). Pure, true happiness. If the church s music was for healing, and the bad music for hurting, then this third kind of music was for the wild abandon of joy, for remaking childhoods long lost. Nill then decided that she very much liked this music, even toyed with the thought of asking (writing a request) Badou if she could borrow the CD. The Game went on and on, until wide eyed (one eye to convey all those emotions) Badou spun on the stereo.
'Cause Willy don't got an eye Willy don't got an eye He lost it on the Fourth of July He don't got an eye Willy don't got an eye Willy don't got an eye Things will never be the same 'cause Willy's on his way
A Converse shoed foot (and for the first time Nill noticed that the dancing man s shoes are two different colors, one bright dulled pink, the other highlighter yellow) kicked at the music box and the song switched to something higher pitched, and somehow jazzier A song that didn t seem to be talking to Badou directly. The ginger man huffed, squaring his boney shoulders.
Bitch, don t talk to me Told ya that last time, I ll tell ya again.
Behind him Haine smirked, pale cheeks tinged a light pink from all his running about, his already scattered hair even more of a mess. Nill fluttered happily at his side, dress long discarded for a spare t-shirt of Haine s (two bullet holes never sewed up served to make room for her wings) and a pair of pants Naoto never picked up, better clothes for running around in.
What s the matter, Badou? The albino shooter s usual drawl was tinged by a sort of feral giddiness granted by the games of chase (and the excitement of the dog trapped in his spine). Having a lover s spat ? I didn t know you were so pathetic you have to start dating your electronics.
Ah, shut the hell up, man! One scarred hand lashed to smack the smart-aleck leather clad freak. Haine quickly dogged and jumped out of reach, starting back up the chase.
Round and round and round they went, hollering and swearing, boundless as the Lost Boys from Never Never Land. Pushing, sliding they made their way around the Cathedral. Tired and out of breath Nill sat down and watched with a smile (older than her fourteen years, a knowing smile) as the two (boys) men swore at each other until Badou tripped, orange and white hair swirling down to the ground. On the ground they rolled and tumbled, yapping barks of laughter and curses like drunken dogs fighting for dominance. By the time they got to the center isle Badou was on top cackling madly, Haine growling under him. Things might have progressed into something embarrassing and not fit for church
They might have, if Naoto didn t choose that moment to open the creaking front door of the Cathedral. With razor sharp precision she automatically assessed the scene, blaring music, silent giggling girl, wound up men and all. Two thin eyebrows raised slowly, an amused smirk on her face.
Is this a bad time ?
Haine s growling reached a new, darker level and he shoved Badou off, causing the ginger to yelp and flounder in his large coat. Cold blood red eyes glared into steely grey brown eyes, electric hate crackling in the air. Minutely Rammstiner shrugs, turning to leave the scene.
Nah, it was cool , Sneering he looked back over his raised shoulder. That is, until YOU showed up.
Into his spare room the albino disappeared, leaving behind a stifling awkward air. The swordswoman at the door sighed (shooting a glare at the albino s closed door) and walked over to her silent companion, giving the beaming girl a kiss on top of the head as greeting. Sorry for crashing your party, Nill.
The mute girl shrugged and used a few hand gestures trying to say Don t worry, he mostly started it . Naoto nodded and looked down at the stereo with a stifled smile. Then, from the ground came a smoker s cough. Badou grinned up at the girls, dull sparkle in his eye giving off the warning he was about to throw in his two cents.
Oh, don t worry about Haine, Hands floated through the air in vague gestures. He ll settle down by the time you two go on honeymoon. Naoto bristled and Nill covered her mouth with her hands to suppress a breathy giggle. Badou hefted himself up and took a few steps back from the pissed off swordswoman. Also , He pointed at Naoto s lower region with a smirk. Nice teddy bear panties.
Yells of anger and fear cut through the air and Nill turned the music to cover the sounds. Her clear blue eyes watched in amusement as the wild boy and woman did their own game of musical chase. In the end, Nill got to keep the CD (Badou was too traumatized to even hear it without having violent flashbacks). Now, from time to time, two kinds of music were played in the Cathedral.