Disclaimer: I do not own Slayers. If I did, you would see a lot more of this.
Author's Note: this is a response to a challenge that I decided to take up. Hopefully I don't get maimed for my twisted and gruesome point of view. To see the challenge (and to make this whole thing a bit clearer) visit:
http (semicolin, slash, slash) www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net (slash) s (slash) 2283699 (slash) 1 (slash)
Watching For-never
A one-shot by Tanwen-Whitefire
Absolutely nothing permeated the silence of the main hall of the house. A fine layer of dust coated everything in the room. It had been quite unused for the past few years. Nothing disturbed the room from its slumber.
Taka-taka
A lie. The knocking at the door had been periodically disturbing the quiet for the last ten minutes or so. A bug scuttled across the floor, startled by the knock. He was out of place in this clean home. Everything was perfectly in place. Everything, but, it was almost as if it were a ghost house. Everything was perfect, but no one was there to live it.
Taka-taka
No response from the dead room. Finally, giving up all hopes of the woman he was seeking answering her door, a tall, slim, dark and mysterious man opened the door, tentatively. To leave him waiting on the doorstep was so unlike the woman he had grown to know. The door creaked open, and he craned his neck in the doorway, violet eyes seeking any sign of the ryuzoku in her home. There was nothing, except for the flawless arrangement of everything. He narrowed his open eyes at the room. The dust… there should not have been so much dust… something had changed while he had been away.
"Promise me you'll come back?" she pleaded, azure eyes begging.
"I try to make a point of not making promises I can't keep." he smiled bitterly.
"Could you promise, please? Even if it is false hope, I may need it…" she trailed off, almost lost
to the waking world, though neither knew how short her time would be at that point.
"Fine. I promise to return. Eventually" he resignedly.
She turned to him, and for the last time really looked at him, her eyes were still open windows into her soul. "I love you, you know."
He looked at her with sad eyes. "I'm sorry." He spoke the truth. He had always made a point of telling the truth. For, not knowing anything was surely better than believing lies.
A solitary tear slid down her cheek. "I understand." She held her head high, dignity still somewhat intact. "You'll be going now?" she turned away, trying to hide the pain that showed through her eyes.
"Yes."
He stepped slowly and quietly in her home, searching for the golden haired woman. Although he did his best to not disturb the tomb-like atmosphere, even the stealthiest master of trickery could not help dust stirring in his wake. He saw that the kitchen was a bit disturbed. There was an old teapot sitting on the counter, with two pink teacups sitting next to it, as if she had been expecting company.
But, who knew how long ago that was? All was covered in a mantle of dust. She may have been expecting him to come by years ago, and had left the tea out for him. Or, maybe, she had developed a second personality to keep her company in the years he had been gone. He chuckled at the thought. He could just imagine his little dragon talking to herself over a cup of tea.
A tall woman, with hair the colour of flax sat at her dining room table, her eyes clear. Free from her waking nightmares, and deluded visions. She had cleaned her entire house today, in case he returned, like he had promised. It was perfect. Everything was spotless, and in it's proper place. She doubted the place had been that clean since she had first moved in.
She gazed out her dining room window, searching for the first signs of his return. The clopping of horses hooves maybe. His slow and deliberate footfall. A knock on the door. Nothing. Absolutely nothing disturbed the silence, except for the ticking of the clock, and her slow sips of tea.
Slowly but surely, her eyes clouded over, and she began to see something that wasn't there. Her reality was fleeting, like a dream. No one could tell whether she was awake or dreaming. Her visions were real enough though. For her, anyway.
A childlike voice sang in her head, to a tune that didn't exist. The voice didn't belong to her. 'Don't cut across the street, young girl! Run down and you're sure to find what you're looking for sooner!' it repeated in her head, and in the waking world, the woman began to sing along.
She walked over to the counter in a trance and pulled out a knife. She stared at the sharp blade for a minute. Then, she stared at her own pale a soft flesh on the underside of her arms. It looked so easy to cut, she longed to see if it would really be so simple.
'Don't cut across the street young girl, run down, and you're sure to find what you're looking for.' She smiled a wicked smile.
The man carefully made his way to the upstairs of the home, he knew she would surely be there. He could sense her. But, something seemed… off, somehow. And, the aura traces were old. Very old. But, as he approached what had been her room, he could feel her life force dwindling on the other side of the door. He began to panic.
The woman had spent the last few months holed up in her room. She never left, and no one ever came. She hadn't woken since the last time she had 'fallen asleep'. She still gripped the knife in her hand.
She stared like an empty shell at her marred arms. Blood still dripped from her most recent marking. She sat like a child, blood on her face, leaning against the wall. She was tired. She lifted the knife again, staring at its reflective surface. "You cut so well…" she spoke to the knife. She started to count the marks on her arms.
"Forty nine. That's how long. Forty-nine weeks…" she smiled with half lidded eyes. "Forty-nine…almost a year… heh…they're right you know…cutting across hasn't done anyone much good, has it?" the empty smile, devoid of life never left her face. She continued her conversation with the knife, she didn't even hear the knocking on the door below.
"Maybe… I should run down the street?"
She placed the knife below her hand, near a major vein, and put pressure on the handle, breaking her fragile skin in a whole new way.
The man could smell blood. He broke down the door; it had been locked. The room was in total disorder. The bed hadn't been made in what was probably a year, and there was old blood on the walls. Clothing was strewn about everywhere, crumpled and bloodied. Gods there was a lot of blood.
But, none of that held any consequence for him. Was caught his attention, was a golden haired beauty lying on the floor, in what seemed like a lake of her own blood. "oh god…" he uttered to whoever was listening. "Please don't let that be her…"
He rushed to her side, and grabbed her shoulders, and looked into her eyes, trying to find what remained of the woman who had waited so long for him. Nothing. Her eyes led to no where. They were dead. She had lost too much blood. Far too much. He hugged her dead body close to him, and squeezed his eyes closed, trying to keep the tears that should not have been there at bay, in vain. The tears got past his eyelids, and poured down his cheeks and face.
"Oh, Filia, Filia, Filia… why?" he asked the woman, whom he knew could never provide him with any answers.
Above, far above, farther than any eyes could see, be they human, ryuzoku or mazoku, but closer than time, a spirit girl watched. She smiled sweetly. 'Because I couldn't live without you, Xellos -my love. You know that. I'm crazy for you…'
She looked away 'I can watch no more' and allowed her soul to dissolve. Finally, Filia Ul Copt was at peace with the universe.
When the reporter asked him about Filia, Xellos was unsure how to answer. "She and I were best friends, in a way." Was all he could muster, but there was so much more he wanted to say. It was a pathetic summation of their complex relationship.
He closed his eyes, and walked away. Pasted his mask onto his face, he tried to convince himself he was ready for anything. As he left her funeral, he turned his face towards the heavens. 'If you're out there Filia, I love you too. I'm sorry…'
But the spirit girl could watch no more.
A/N: In case you didn't understand (I definitely would not have. I'm stupid that way) filia went mad. She actually went insane, and unfortunately, turned self-destructive. I don't support this kind of behavior. (I think it's the stupidest thing anyone could do; apart from smoking. No offense meant to anyone out there). This story is about her descent into madness.