Salvation, Damnation
A/N: This was also written awhile ago (about the time the chapter about Clare fusing with Rafaela/Luciella and Priscilla came out), so yeah..
Disclaimer: Claymore is the property of Norihiro Yagi. This is a non-profit fanfic written for personal enjoyment.
It's not dark, but it's not light either.
It's not quiet, but it's not noisy.
It's not peaceful, but it's not chaotic.
It's her prison, but it's also her salvation.
It was salvation that came many years too late, but life had hardened her heart to the point that she was willing to take what she got. Many lives would now be spared, but to think of the lives before…
An old man on the ground, tending to his crops with his energetic grandchildren, laughing and running among the tall stalks of wheat…
A shadow, small and indiscernible at first, growing larger and more distinct…
A dark silhouette blotting out the sun, until the horn and the wings and the claws and teeth were finally visible, and they finally began running, but it was already too late…
A girl, her sister, her twin, enfolded around her own pain-wracked body, taking comfort as much as she was giving…
Clutched in her saviour's strong arms as they soared out the window, closely escaping shards of broken glass and splinters and debris…
A wonderful, glorious feeling of double awareness, of protecting her sister and cradling her like a newborn babe…
Pain flaring like a thousand white-hot needles, searing all the way down her arm and back up again, clouding her mind and fuelling the determination as her tormentor – her fellow trainee – gloated…
Blood stained walls, blood stained floor, blood stained bodies, blood stained axe, blood stained hands, blood stained daddy, blood stained monster, blood stained heart, blood stained memories…
A clash of steel against steel, again and again, as she struggled to piece her severed body back together, distracted by the tearing of skin and his cries of pain and that damned laughter…
Mum and dad running after them, telling to stop, wait, slow down; but she and her sister were so overjoyed, so filled with simple, exhilarating excitement, that their legs grew wings and their bodies lightened, carried along by their happiness like feathers floating on the breeze…
Whimpering in the dark, dank and cold dungeon cell, curling up against the only warmth she could reach as the pinpricks of pain became indistinguishable from the feel of trembling digits fisting against her grey top…
Screaming – in anger, pain, grief, loss, desperation, hatred; a primal cry so saturated with emotions it was rendered animalistic, the roar of a beast as it howled for blood…
Teresa, the warrior of the Faint Smile, the saviour, the adventurous trainee, the kindred spirit, the legend, the crying, lonely girl in a woman's body, a monster's body, the monster, the murderer, the target, the Youma that killed her daddy…
No!
Struggling, yet going nowhere; it frustrated her beyond measure, being trapped and immobile, like –
Shock, grief, awe; the beautiful yet monstrous form that hung in chains, the visible traces of a human body at the centre, the overwhelming features of a butterfly of death cocooning the face, arms, legs, chest, stomach…
The thought slipped away, to be replaced by another.
A maelstrom of memories and emotions swirled around her, in her, through her, practically yelling to be felt, remembered, experienced. It would be so simple to dive into the storm and be lost forever – to become one with the impressions and jewels of their minds and hearts.
They were her thoughts, yet they were Luciela's thoughts.
Her memories, yet also Rafaela's memories.
Her emotions, yet also Priscilla's emotions.
They were four, yet they were one.