Can I just say something? Fanfiction.net sucks ass. I'm sorry, but
seriously. It took me what, about five hours just to download this story
onto it? No wonder people are going to other sources. This one sucks.
Anyway...I don't own c.c.s at all. Clamp does. But I do own the other
characters.
This story is very dark, very eve, and has alot of character death. Mainly just a few characters. it takes place a little while after the Empty Card does its crap. Enjoy.
"Come to me
we never be apart
the sun you see is me
no more pain
no memories remain
now you can play with me
So love me now
you are the one
I give you all
the stars I see
the rain is gone
no pain is here
my heart I beg you
all your love
come to me
we never be apart
the sun you see is me
no more pain
no memories remain
now you can play all the games with me"
yuki kajiura
' secret game '
Year of the Tiger, 1506
Just off of future Tokyo
December 30th
The Terria Amino Mansion
The silence was deafening. The room was darkened and cold. The ceiling was high and the floor was clean; despite the small pile of old bodily fluids executed from out through the mouth, or a few little dribbles of blood. First there came rage, then sorrow, then the Master in a chair with a glass of strong alcohol.. he used to drink this terrible tasting shit. But it made all of his pains slowly wither away, into a state of mind where his sight was blurred badly, only seeing colors of things, and his thoughts were disoriented.
His face was long and thin, narrow, cheeks sunken in from lack of food for the last five days, ever since his death. **Clow, you old fool, did you not see your own end coming? You and your inevitable ability to see the future, you, you rejected me.**
Bitter thoughts of hate flooded through the male witches mind, long, silken black strands of hair, somewhat waved like the wind on a cold autumn day, hung freely about his face, tickling the thin flesh and licking at his thin limbs. Five days ago the man had died. Five days ago. it seemed like years ago. And for five days he had not moved, unless bouts of sickness from horror and anguish washed over him, sending him towards the bathroom at a speedy pace, or whenever nature called to him. His eyes were sore from silent tears, his naturally demonic red eyes now laid with scarlet upon the whites of those eyes, making them unfit for this world, hollow and gaunt. Empty.
He wished he could have done something. He wished the young, yet old man would have told him something about his death. He could have performed a charm to protect him. Yet the man kept him from it. He wanted death. he didn't want to live forever.
**Then my own death shall follow in the shadow of his. Before the night ifs over, my body shall be at rest with his**, his mind thought, his head hung upon an arch of that long, slender pale column that made up his neck, the blue veins and withered muscles easy protruding through the nearly transparent flesh. He knew he was a disgusting, grotesque sight for anyone. That he was something people wanted to keep away from. His ribs stuck out in odd angles, his spine defined heavily, each and every ripple of bone. His fingers were thin and his hands were long, his forearms seemed to be spun out of glass; so delicate like a woman's, and a lot more graceful, something a conjurer would have.
But goddamn did he hate himself. He was so weak. He couldn't handle the mental pain of him being gone. He wanted release from the pain of living, a knothole out from this life. Was there anything beyond it? **I want to fall, not fly. I want to breath my last breathe knowing I have slaughtered myself. I am not weak because of this. I am strong. I will suffer the pain. The be at peace.**
He almost laughed to himself and quickly drained away the contents o the long necked bottle he had been finishing off for some time now, and let the bottle slip from his hand. it shattered against the floor with such a deafening effect upon the cavernous room, this large space, the first sound in days. Well, the first sound of something non-living. In his grief, he had taken to pleasuring himself quite a few times, trying to kill the pain with mind numbing pleasure. It didn't work. He merely ordered the mess cleaned up time and time again, before returning to pain. And now he was rather sore from him exertions, from this morning.
A shard of glass cut into his hand, and the pain seemed to knock him away, He didn't jump nor flinch, but he did look at his cut and bleeding ring finger, the little shard sticking out like a cruel thorn. And despite himself, he grinned. **That's how it must be done. They wont find my body until the first defrost of spring. By then, it will be far to late. I will be gone, away. And the pain will be gone. All gone...**
The thoughts made his heart skip and panic within his thin chest behind that feeble ribcage of his, but still he stood. These thoughts were enough to terrifiy someone, but he felt strangly disconnected when he retreived a little golden knife he had upon a far off counter. It wasn't unnatural for a male witch to have a dagger of some sort. To be used during spells of such. But he tucked it into the inside chest pocket of histhick, long and flowing robes, to hide his thin and frightful complextion. it was enoiugh to even scare his equally dark and sadistic gaurdians; one a dark angel, much like a demon, with wings of a bat. And the other was the looks of a hellhound, with glistening black eyes and a jaw strong enouigh to snap human bones in half. They had stayed away from him.
**Love...love Clow, I loved him**. his mind said slowly, while his tall, thin form tettered towards the large window, one that led out upon a tiny balcony. There were other larger windows in the room, since he so very much enjoyed light, on a good day. But the curtains were drawn upon those windows, and the light was sealed away, never to be seen by him again. For now, he hated it with everything he hld within his soul.
He was oddly relaxed when he pushed the doors open, allowing them to breeze open from a light wind that had gathered in this snowy time of the month. He gathered a deep breath iwthin his bosom and slowly stepped up onto the ledge, his light form wavering for a few moments in the wind. He'd tried this before...but he had never stepped off of the ledge without any magical assistance. His heart was beating so rapidly and powerful, that it ached. It burn. It wqas painful...Oh god..
**I have to do this...I cant stay here like this..alone...without him...I wondow how long it will take for me to finall die. I've been bleeding inside so long...I just want to die...**
Either way now, he was dead. He was born with a sort of illness, an internal bleeding, something that wasn't serious until now. His grief had irsen it to a point that, any day now.. He tipped his head back slowly and exelled a deep, slow breathe, before he rose one foot off of the ledge and stepped off...
The fall did not last for long.
The sickening snap of weak vertebrea slamming against the ground came, his head wiplashing up off of the ground before cracking down against it, easily cutting through the thiick layer of snow. Amazingly, though, he lived. He had lived the fall. But his waistline down was numb...He tried moving his legs, wiggling his toes, anything...nothing. That part of his body just wouldn't respond to him at all. Silently, more tears flowed from his scarlet eyes, his teeth gritting together tightly so that the muscle in the corner of his jaw leapt. a little whimper escaping him. He was dying. But very slowly.
Shaking, his pale hand reached into his robes and withdrew the long, venmous little dagger and without any sign of pause of hesitation, he slammed the long bladree into his chest, slashing through his weak heart. Blood instantly flowed from the wound thickly, his body shuddering from the effect of his own selfless attack upon himself. There was more pain from before. There was more of an endless ache in his body and stunned feel of his limbs...then he started to feel more and more disconnected. His mind blanked and his body numbed, like his legs had done, and a little grin found its way upon his thin lips again, despite the cold sweat that poured out fro the corner of his brow, and the feel of a terrible dread yanking to him at the back of his mind. He was floating.
**So...this is how it feels...to finally be free. To finally be...gone from the pain. Oh Gods, I hope I get to...see Clow. I dont want to have to be...trapped within this world..I..just want..I want to be with him...Oh, time to go.**
The snow whirled as the wind blew hard, swirling around, the sky smearing with the color of grey clouds, and the faint sparkle of stars behind the misty clouds, thicker ones coming on in the distance, hinting of an oncoming snowstorm. But for Terria, the end didn't take long.
--== Sweet dreams, my prince, may flights of devils wing yout to your final resting place.==--
This story is very dark, very eve, and has alot of character death. Mainly just a few characters. it takes place a little while after the Empty Card does its crap. Enjoy.
"Come to me
we never be apart
the sun you see is me
no more pain
no memories remain
now you can play with me
So love me now
you are the one
I give you all
the stars I see
the rain is gone
no pain is here
my heart I beg you
all your love
come to me
we never be apart
the sun you see is me
no more pain
no memories remain
now you can play all the games with me"
yuki kajiura
' secret game '
Year of the Tiger, 1506
Just off of future Tokyo
December 30th
The Terria Amino Mansion
The silence was deafening. The room was darkened and cold. The ceiling was high and the floor was clean; despite the small pile of old bodily fluids executed from out through the mouth, or a few little dribbles of blood. First there came rage, then sorrow, then the Master in a chair with a glass of strong alcohol.. he used to drink this terrible tasting shit. But it made all of his pains slowly wither away, into a state of mind where his sight was blurred badly, only seeing colors of things, and his thoughts were disoriented.
His face was long and thin, narrow, cheeks sunken in from lack of food for the last five days, ever since his death. **Clow, you old fool, did you not see your own end coming? You and your inevitable ability to see the future, you, you rejected me.**
Bitter thoughts of hate flooded through the male witches mind, long, silken black strands of hair, somewhat waved like the wind on a cold autumn day, hung freely about his face, tickling the thin flesh and licking at his thin limbs. Five days ago the man had died. Five days ago. it seemed like years ago. And for five days he had not moved, unless bouts of sickness from horror and anguish washed over him, sending him towards the bathroom at a speedy pace, or whenever nature called to him. His eyes were sore from silent tears, his naturally demonic red eyes now laid with scarlet upon the whites of those eyes, making them unfit for this world, hollow and gaunt. Empty.
He wished he could have done something. He wished the young, yet old man would have told him something about his death. He could have performed a charm to protect him. Yet the man kept him from it. He wanted death. he didn't want to live forever.
**Then my own death shall follow in the shadow of his. Before the night ifs over, my body shall be at rest with his**, his mind thought, his head hung upon an arch of that long, slender pale column that made up his neck, the blue veins and withered muscles easy protruding through the nearly transparent flesh. He knew he was a disgusting, grotesque sight for anyone. That he was something people wanted to keep away from. His ribs stuck out in odd angles, his spine defined heavily, each and every ripple of bone. His fingers were thin and his hands were long, his forearms seemed to be spun out of glass; so delicate like a woman's, and a lot more graceful, something a conjurer would have.
But goddamn did he hate himself. He was so weak. He couldn't handle the mental pain of him being gone. He wanted release from the pain of living, a knothole out from this life. Was there anything beyond it? **I want to fall, not fly. I want to breath my last breathe knowing I have slaughtered myself. I am not weak because of this. I am strong. I will suffer the pain. The be at peace.**
He almost laughed to himself and quickly drained away the contents o the long necked bottle he had been finishing off for some time now, and let the bottle slip from his hand. it shattered against the floor with such a deafening effect upon the cavernous room, this large space, the first sound in days. Well, the first sound of something non-living. In his grief, he had taken to pleasuring himself quite a few times, trying to kill the pain with mind numbing pleasure. It didn't work. He merely ordered the mess cleaned up time and time again, before returning to pain. And now he was rather sore from him exertions, from this morning.
A shard of glass cut into his hand, and the pain seemed to knock him away, He didn't jump nor flinch, but he did look at his cut and bleeding ring finger, the little shard sticking out like a cruel thorn. And despite himself, he grinned. **That's how it must be done. They wont find my body until the first defrost of spring. By then, it will be far to late. I will be gone, away. And the pain will be gone. All gone...**
The thoughts made his heart skip and panic within his thin chest behind that feeble ribcage of his, but still he stood. These thoughts were enough to terrifiy someone, but he felt strangly disconnected when he retreived a little golden knife he had upon a far off counter. It wasn't unnatural for a male witch to have a dagger of some sort. To be used during spells of such. But he tucked it into the inside chest pocket of histhick, long and flowing robes, to hide his thin and frightful complextion. it was enoiugh to even scare his equally dark and sadistic gaurdians; one a dark angel, much like a demon, with wings of a bat. And the other was the looks of a hellhound, with glistening black eyes and a jaw strong enouigh to snap human bones in half. They had stayed away from him.
**Love...love Clow, I loved him**. his mind said slowly, while his tall, thin form tettered towards the large window, one that led out upon a tiny balcony. There were other larger windows in the room, since he so very much enjoyed light, on a good day. But the curtains were drawn upon those windows, and the light was sealed away, never to be seen by him again. For now, he hated it with everything he hld within his soul.
He was oddly relaxed when he pushed the doors open, allowing them to breeze open from a light wind that had gathered in this snowy time of the month. He gathered a deep breath iwthin his bosom and slowly stepped up onto the ledge, his light form wavering for a few moments in the wind. He'd tried this before...but he had never stepped off of the ledge without any magical assistance. His heart was beating so rapidly and powerful, that it ached. It burn. It wqas painful...Oh god..
**I have to do this...I cant stay here like this..alone...without him...I wondow how long it will take for me to finall die. I've been bleeding inside so long...I just want to die...**
Either way now, he was dead. He was born with a sort of illness, an internal bleeding, something that wasn't serious until now. His grief had irsen it to a point that, any day now.. He tipped his head back slowly and exelled a deep, slow breathe, before he rose one foot off of the ledge and stepped off...
The fall did not last for long.
The sickening snap of weak vertebrea slamming against the ground came, his head wiplashing up off of the ground before cracking down against it, easily cutting through the thiick layer of snow. Amazingly, though, he lived. He had lived the fall. But his waistline down was numb...He tried moving his legs, wiggling his toes, anything...nothing. That part of his body just wouldn't respond to him at all. Silently, more tears flowed from his scarlet eyes, his teeth gritting together tightly so that the muscle in the corner of his jaw leapt. a little whimper escaping him. He was dying. But very slowly.
Shaking, his pale hand reached into his robes and withdrew the long, venmous little dagger and without any sign of pause of hesitation, he slammed the long bladree into his chest, slashing through his weak heart. Blood instantly flowed from the wound thickly, his body shuddering from the effect of his own selfless attack upon himself. There was more pain from before. There was more of an endless ache in his body and stunned feel of his limbs...then he started to feel more and more disconnected. His mind blanked and his body numbed, like his legs had done, and a little grin found its way upon his thin lips again, despite the cold sweat that poured out fro the corner of his brow, and the feel of a terrible dread yanking to him at the back of his mind. He was floating.
**So...this is how it feels...to finally be free. To finally be...gone from the pain. Oh Gods, I hope I get to...see Clow. I dont want to have to be...trapped within this world..I..just want..I want to be with him...Oh, time to go.**
The snow whirled as the wind blew hard, swirling around, the sky smearing with the color of grey clouds, and the faint sparkle of stars behind the misty clouds, thicker ones coming on in the distance, hinting of an oncoming snowstorm. But for Terria, the end didn't take long.
--== Sweet dreams, my prince, may flights of devils wing yout to your final resting place.==--