Short chapter, but am trying to get a feel for the story. Those of you who
don't like alternate parings will most likely not like this one. This is
going to be the prequel as well as the end to Touched.
""-Speech ~~-Thoughts ***-Flashback
The Dreams In Which I'm Dying
Brown eyes met their own reflection, dark depths as emotionless as the glass that mirrored them. Pale hands, skin a shade shy of an albino's, guided the brush in deliberate strokes through black and red-layered hair. With a smirk, the merest tilt of dark red lips, she brushed mouth length strands of red, Vampire Red they called it, back from a childish face. Short strands mingled with their elbow length companions, silent witnesses to the clatter of plastic upon tile as the brush fell from small hands. Brown filtered into black as eyes widened, their light dimming with recollection.
*** White fell across her vision, coming to rest upon antique windows. Below in the City's streets halos formed around electric-light angels, waiting patiently upon metal stands for mornings light. In the chill air of winter's first snow, breathed words became solid as she watched their exchange. Her sister stood pausing on the buildings steps, snow mingling with black hair giving her an ethereal elegance. And below, on the sidewalk, vermilion hair stained the night. ~Kenshin and Tomoe~ she though admitting that, although the hardly approved of her sister's choice, they looked well together. Her mind caught and held the though as the first explosion broke the night. Snow caught the wind like feathers as she watched her sister fall, icy crystals floating through the air in a desperate attempt to escape the melting stain that spread out behind black hair. She watched amber eyes flash searching for danger as he fell into the pure white, searching franticly for life. ***
A single tear fell slowly, mixing with black liner and red shadow alike as it streaked down her powdered cheek. The single streak remained, drying in the night as she turned from the mirror. High shoes moved over the carpet, fingers playing at the dark red velvet that covered her. The dress was a simple one, sleeveless velvet with a high slit in the right side. They had never worn black to a funeral, she wore red and her lost sister wore pale blue. Their colors as different as their stature, as different as their families, for blood kin they never were. Children of a lost time, the ones that usually fell unnoticed through the cracks had found each other. Tomoe's elegant mannerisms and Chandra's willful command had made a perfect mix. Brown eyes closed, a second tear falling to mirror the first, leaving delicately streaked makeup to run below her eyes. Fingers twisted a silver Tragedy mask on her finger made broken by the loss of its sister, Comedy.
Steps lead through the rooms, leaving her alone at the door, alone with her duty to carry on in the end. Then the door was open and amber eyes met hers, waiting patiently with their emotions carefully walled away behind an empty front, much like her own. But hate was more powerful than sorrow, and brown eyes darkened as she fought not to let him hear the voices in her head. That would change everything. In silence they walked down hallways and steps, meeting the unnatural light that desecrated sorrow's spirit.
Blackout, the club they had built together, the place they had called home when the world fell apart, and now the most popular club in The City. And tonight it was closed, and waiting for the night's ceremony that would bid farewell to her sister. Tomoe's family had fought to have her body displayed at their church, to be buried with the family's plot, but that had never been her wish. They had planned this long ago, knowing that once the Oni became part of their lives that death would be an end result. But Tomoe should have lived, Chandra wanted to scream against fate and deny the truth as though wishing it would make it so. She took all the risks, keeping Tomoe in the shadows and safe. She was the one that should now lie in the glass coffin they were slowly approaching, the one who should be adorned with nightshade in death.
Black took over brown depths filtering through, as whispered words became screams. The bullet was meant for him, eyes focused on vermilion hair, she had found that much out when she had tracked down the killed. But now they were there, and she stood over the coffin, tears falling from emotionless black eyes to hit the flawless glass. She felt the words rise in her throat, not knowing their substance. It was the speech they used, tailored for each new loss, but still the same, their good bye. In front of her she watched faces, most of them the family that had been found and created over the years. With each face she remembered who they were, and were they had come from, until finally her eyes settled upon Kenshin. He wasn't listening either; he knew the words too well to bother hearing them again. Instead his eyes were distant, lost in the memories of a much happier time. The last words fell, and she knew it was over, steps leading her down the steps as silence filled the empty walls. Words were not to be her sister's tribute, revenge was. . .for there could be no redemption.
""-Speech ~~-Thoughts ***-Flashback
The Dreams In Which I'm Dying
Brown eyes met their own reflection, dark depths as emotionless as the glass that mirrored them. Pale hands, skin a shade shy of an albino's, guided the brush in deliberate strokes through black and red-layered hair. With a smirk, the merest tilt of dark red lips, she brushed mouth length strands of red, Vampire Red they called it, back from a childish face. Short strands mingled with their elbow length companions, silent witnesses to the clatter of plastic upon tile as the brush fell from small hands. Brown filtered into black as eyes widened, their light dimming with recollection.
*** White fell across her vision, coming to rest upon antique windows. Below in the City's streets halos formed around electric-light angels, waiting patiently upon metal stands for mornings light. In the chill air of winter's first snow, breathed words became solid as she watched their exchange. Her sister stood pausing on the buildings steps, snow mingling with black hair giving her an ethereal elegance. And below, on the sidewalk, vermilion hair stained the night. ~Kenshin and Tomoe~ she though admitting that, although the hardly approved of her sister's choice, they looked well together. Her mind caught and held the though as the first explosion broke the night. Snow caught the wind like feathers as she watched her sister fall, icy crystals floating through the air in a desperate attempt to escape the melting stain that spread out behind black hair. She watched amber eyes flash searching for danger as he fell into the pure white, searching franticly for life. ***
A single tear fell slowly, mixing with black liner and red shadow alike as it streaked down her powdered cheek. The single streak remained, drying in the night as she turned from the mirror. High shoes moved over the carpet, fingers playing at the dark red velvet that covered her. The dress was a simple one, sleeveless velvet with a high slit in the right side. They had never worn black to a funeral, she wore red and her lost sister wore pale blue. Their colors as different as their stature, as different as their families, for blood kin they never were. Children of a lost time, the ones that usually fell unnoticed through the cracks had found each other. Tomoe's elegant mannerisms and Chandra's willful command had made a perfect mix. Brown eyes closed, a second tear falling to mirror the first, leaving delicately streaked makeup to run below her eyes. Fingers twisted a silver Tragedy mask on her finger made broken by the loss of its sister, Comedy.
Steps lead through the rooms, leaving her alone at the door, alone with her duty to carry on in the end. Then the door was open and amber eyes met hers, waiting patiently with their emotions carefully walled away behind an empty front, much like her own. But hate was more powerful than sorrow, and brown eyes darkened as she fought not to let him hear the voices in her head. That would change everything. In silence they walked down hallways and steps, meeting the unnatural light that desecrated sorrow's spirit.
Blackout, the club they had built together, the place they had called home when the world fell apart, and now the most popular club in The City. And tonight it was closed, and waiting for the night's ceremony that would bid farewell to her sister. Tomoe's family had fought to have her body displayed at their church, to be buried with the family's plot, but that had never been her wish. They had planned this long ago, knowing that once the Oni became part of their lives that death would be an end result. But Tomoe should have lived, Chandra wanted to scream against fate and deny the truth as though wishing it would make it so. She took all the risks, keeping Tomoe in the shadows and safe. She was the one that should now lie in the glass coffin they were slowly approaching, the one who should be adorned with nightshade in death.
Black took over brown depths filtering through, as whispered words became screams. The bullet was meant for him, eyes focused on vermilion hair, she had found that much out when she had tracked down the killed. But now they were there, and she stood over the coffin, tears falling from emotionless black eyes to hit the flawless glass. She felt the words rise in her throat, not knowing their substance. It was the speech they used, tailored for each new loss, but still the same, their good bye. In front of her she watched faces, most of them the family that had been found and created over the years. With each face she remembered who they were, and were they had come from, until finally her eyes settled upon Kenshin. He wasn't listening either; he knew the words too well to bother hearing them again. Instead his eyes were distant, lost in the memories of a much happier time. The last words fell, and she knew it was over, steps leading her down the steps as silence filled the empty walls. Words were not to be her sister's tribute, revenge was. . .for there could be no redemption.