Opus for a ritual death
By Akon-Dikaios
AU, mild shota (Kai's 21, Tyson's 10), shounen-ai (yes, there's nothing explicit **yet**-massive disappointed sighs are heard-), OOC's, and any other excesses I seem to fall upon while writing this thing. Flames are more than welcome, hey It's chilling here n' I lost my favourite hat so share some heat!!
AN: Originally thought for a SlamDunk fic, someone reviewed that I needed to make up my mind n' basically redo everything 'cause it sucked (that's my interpretation). So I finally got the guts to write again n' guess what, u get to read how I ruin Beyblade in one silly fic. Excited yet? * just a grasshopper is heard* -major sweat-drop- just go read the fic.
Blow the candles & make a wish 'cause it's your "Deathday"
The fire devoured everything, the flames reached out for the sky like the wings of a phoenix trying to take off. The old walls tumbled down one after one, soon there'll be nothing left. Not that anyone would notice, probably no one ever noticed the building before as it was already crumbling down. But someone did noticed and now he was standing in front of it, watching it falling apart with a sense of satisfaction and a smirk on his face. This was his work, holding such beauty that just a few would appreciate. Just like a few would appreciate the author, for his looks and attitude were wild like the fire he released right now.
'Good work Dranzer' he congratulated himself.
Taunt muscles relaxed, muscles that he so efficiently put into action every time he lit up a target, holding so much strength in its compact form, like a match that held the power to start an inferno if put correctly into use. Reason held no control over his actions, always instinct and nothing else, so dangerous for he could explode in any moment like nitro-glycerine.
The flames made the wood crack and the walls fall, and in the middle of all this he heard a sound that froze his blood keeping him from fleeing. An ear- piercing shriek, soon followed by many others formed a chorus of death and pain. The screams got louder by the minute, louder and higher like a string taken to its breaking point. He closed his eyes hearing the chorus of screams, the emotions washing over him, it was like the closing hymn of a mass. 'If this is a mass I must be the acolyte'. The thought brought a crooked grin to his face, no one better suited for the part, 'No salvation or resurrection, just the fire of baptism, that is what I bring you'. He was the embodiment of fire and its high priest.
They kept screaming, but in his mind they just sang the cannon. Hate dripping out of their voices, they all cried out for him, for his death. The night started to look up, it was primal, the feeling he got out of this, it called out for his deepest and darkest instincts. Punish him they sang, kill him, they demanded to heavens or to whoever wished to hear. He lost himself in the heat and the music that only he could hear, then everything fell silent when a lone figure made his way out of the flames.
The flames opened like curtains to let him pass unharmed. He looked at him from the window, or what remained of it. Yellow eyes met his red ones in challenge, seizing each other. 'Here comes the executioner, they called and you came'. He felt a little unnerved at how the fire reacted to this stranger, he wouldn't admit that in fact he was impressed. Even with his hair all spiked up the man managed to look all the more threateningly, demanding respect.
He kept on watching the show, and his smirk slowly turned into a frown . The frown turned into a snarl of rage, his hand reaching instinctively to his pocket where he kept his silver lighter, his fingers snapped it a few time eager to put it into use once again.
"You're late you know" he addressed the other man with insolence, pointing to the columns of smoke he flashed a proud smile "See that, those are them' The amber eyed man didn't honoured that with an answer, what only ticked him off more. "You're wasting your time, you won't succeed in killing me, what would be the use of it, it won't bring them back".
He yelled 'til his throat was sore, all the while feeling the vile of fright filling his mouth with each word he pronounced. And the man, the man simply stood there watching him with his cat-like eyes, nor accusing nor forgiving. The whole situation seemed unable to reach him.
Then the man smiled, it looked so natural for him to sport a smile on his face. He felt so out of place what with this smiling man that was for surely his doom, but strangely the smile seemed to calm him even when he knew his instinct of self-preservation should be going wild. He had no time to ponder this as his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he felt it.
Around him they all stood. The people he had just killed, their ashes lingering in the air, refusing to be taken away by the wind. He breathed them, but he wasn't devouring them as it should be, it was him who was the feast. The ashes mixed with his blood. Each breath pulled more of them into him. And all the while the stranger simply watched, the smile still in place his black air swaying softly, taking different shades with the light of the inferno that was dying out.
'The bastard knew', he could only muster enough energy to feel indignation as the mind shattering pain claimed his body. Him the son of fire beaten by a pile of dust. 'They are killing me', he screamed in his mind, the pain in his chest unbearable, he was sure he would pass out any minute now. He couldn't fight them like this, when they were inside him taking over his body. They were becoming a part of him, fusing with him forming a new being. It was unnatural, it made him sick making him want to puke so badly. Maybe that way he could extract them, 'I'd have to throw up all my insides to do that!!' he retorted in his mind.
They claimed him as their own, reducing his existence to be a mere vehicle of their rage. He could hear them whispering in his ears, a hundred voices saying to him that they would continue on living even though he had cut the threats of life. Humiliated he acknowledge their victory, they held the upper hand over him, maybe he had killed them in body, but he was the one that was denied with a life of his own. They will be with him forever, and they meant it. Forever he will see himself with disgust, a good blow to his high-heightened ego, he'll wish for death and try hard to achieve it. A constant reminder of his crimes tattooed in every cell of his body. They might be caged inside him but he was the slave there.
Then it was over, he was panting, each breath burning his lungs, the chest pain just a bad memory, even the voices shut up. He looked back at the dark-haired man who still stood there in the ruins. The look he gave him was hard, and he understood. In that moment just the two of them existed, encapsulated in a moment , it was a mutual agreement. He was allowed to live and see another day just so he could feel the weight of his crimes over his shoulders, and the amber-eyed man was held by the deaths of his lost ones to not harm him even if his mind demanded the blood of the bastard. To let the him walk away was hard, but he caught himself in place, just as the man tumbled away, ignorant to the curse that he'll be sure to feel just as strong as the scorching flames that he was so fond of.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His body felt strange to himself, each movement made him cringe in pain. The man had just let him walk away, his eyes roamed his surroundings searching for him. He was sure he hadn't died by the fire, why, he could not say. He felt something at the back of his head, the feeling one gets when stared at. Turning his head he came face to face with a pair of blue eyes that stared at him, curious, horrified. 'Wimp' he already hated the owner wanting nothing to do with him. 'What's with the eyes?'. Looking closely he saw that the pair of frighten eyes complimented an equally frighten face, on a very small body. 'Just a kid, and for the looks of it a street rat'. He could launch himself at him and rip his eyes out, no one would miss him. The image made him smile, eager to bath in the toddlers fear and blood. But his body refused to move, his legs firmly attached to the ground that he could only stare back at the boy.
He saw his blue eyes going to the building and back at him, his lips were moving, but he was so preoccupied with his sudden immobility that he didn't understood the words that came out of the child's mouth. The kid spoke again, his voice a weak whisper that surpassed the noise of the building finally collapsing.
"The yelling..There was people in there" The kid made him realise the gravity of the situation, it wasn't an everyday thing that a bunch of people were cooked to death like wieners, unless you lived in his world. 'Yeah, so?'
The child's face contorted into a mask of shock as he fell shaking to the floor. The whole situation too much for him, having just witnessed a massacre.
Maybe because he was drop-dead tired, emotionally drained and what not, scared to death, not that he'd admit it of course, with a psycho avenger at his heels, he decided to spare the mongrel's life. Whatever it was, the moment he made the decision he felt himself win control over his body again.
'So you want the little shit alive, fine with me'. It seemed that from now on he'll have to consult his acts with his little crew of restless souls too stubborn to stay dead as they ought to. Taking a few bills out of his pocket he threw them at the boy, wanting to see the reaction it caused on his face. But the kid just trembled harder.
'They are alike', he thought, 'this boy and the amber-eyed man' He comes and rocks their world and they just stared at him. Enraged by the failure of the night he made his way slowly, still uncertain of the extent of control he held over his limbs. He had better things to worry about than a street rat, he had to leave the town as soon as possible, he could not go back to his life, 'even if it was a shitty one it was mine'. For better or for worse, his life had changed, it was time to change of scenery too, before those who lurked in the low circles were aware of the change in him. The people he treated normally were animals, if they got a hold of him in his condition he'll be in for hell. 'I'm not going to suffer that again' he made that a promise.
AN: I decided to put this thing back. A friend of mine wanted to read it, but since he's a poet n' a very deep character I was sure he'll totally hate it, so I decided to avoid his criticism at all cost, I thank my low self-esteem for that. Hey, I need a beta reader 'cuz my english is kinda rusty n' mainly to force me to save this story from being part of the endless pit of unfinished fics.
By Akon-Dikaios
AU, mild shota (Kai's 21, Tyson's 10), shounen-ai (yes, there's nothing explicit **yet**-massive disappointed sighs are heard-), OOC's, and any other excesses I seem to fall upon while writing this thing. Flames are more than welcome, hey It's chilling here n' I lost my favourite hat so share some heat!!
AN: Originally thought for a SlamDunk fic, someone reviewed that I needed to make up my mind n' basically redo everything 'cause it sucked (that's my interpretation). So I finally got the guts to write again n' guess what, u get to read how I ruin Beyblade in one silly fic. Excited yet? * just a grasshopper is heard* -major sweat-drop- just go read the fic.
Blow the candles & make a wish 'cause it's your "Deathday"
The fire devoured everything, the flames reached out for the sky like the wings of a phoenix trying to take off. The old walls tumbled down one after one, soon there'll be nothing left. Not that anyone would notice, probably no one ever noticed the building before as it was already crumbling down. But someone did noticed and now he was standing in front of it, watching it falling apart with a sense of satisfaction and a smirk on his face. This was his work, holding such beauty that just a few would appreciate. Just like a few would appreciate the author, for his looks and attitude were wild like the fire he released right now.
'Good work Dranzer' he congratulated himself.
Taunt muscles relaxed, muscles that he so efficiently put into action every time he lit up a target, holding so much strength in its compact form, like a match that held the power to start an inferno if put correctly into use. Reason held no control over his actions, always instinct and nothing else, so dangerous for he could explode in any moment like nitro-glycerine.
The flames made the wood crack and the walls fall, and in the middle of all this he heard a sound that froze his blood keeping him from fleeing. An ear- piercing shriek, soon followed by many others formed a chorus of death and pain. The screams got louder by the minute, louder and higher like a string taken to its breaking point. He closed his eyes hearing the chorus of screams, the emotions washing over him, it was like the closing hymn of a mass. 'If this is a mass I must be the acolyte'. The thought brought a crooked grin to his face, no one better suited for the part, 'No salvation or resurrection, just the fire of baptism, that is what I bring you'. He was the embodiment of fire and its high priest.
They kept screaming, but in his mind they just sang the cannon. Hate dripping out of their voices, they all cried out for him, for his death. The night started to look up, it was primal, the feeling he got out of this, it called out for his deepest and darkest instincts. Punish him they sang, kill him, they demanded to heavens or to whoever wished to hear. He lost himself in the heat and the music that only he could hear, then everything fell silent when a lone figure made his way out of the flames.
The flames opened like curtains to let him pass unharmed. He looked at him from the window, or what remained of it. Yellow eyes met his red ones in challenge, seizing each other. 'Here comes the executioner, they called and you came'. He felt a little unnerved at how the fire reacted to this stranger, he wouldn't admit that in fact he was impressed. Even with his hair all spiked up the man managed to look all the more threateningly, demanding respect.
He kept on watching the show, and his smirk slowly turned into a frown . The frown turned into a snarl of rage, his hand reaching instinctively to his pocket where he kept his silver lighter, his fingers snapped it a few time eager to put it into use once again.
"You're late you know" he addressed the other man with insolence, pointing to the columns of smoke he flashed a proud smile "See that, those are them' The amber eyed man didn't honoured that with an answer, what only ticked him off more. "You're wasting your time, you won't succeed in killing me, what would be the use of it, it won't bring them back".
He yelled 'til his throat was sore, all the while feeling the vile of fright filling his mouth with each word he pronounced. And the man, the man simply stood there watching him with his cat-like eyes, nor accusing nor forgiving. The whole situation seemed unable to reach him.
Then the man smiled, it looked so natural for him to sport a smile on his face. He felt so out of place what with this smiling man that was for surely his doom, but strangely the smile seemed to calm him even when he knew his instinct of self-preservation should be going wild. He had no time to ponder this as his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he felt it.
Around him they all stood. The people he had just killed, their ashes lingering in the air, refusing to be taken away by the wind. He breathed them, but he wasn't devouring them as it should be, it was him who was the feast. The ashes mixed with his blood. Each breath pulled more of them into him. And all the while the stranger simply watched, the smile still in place his black air swaying softly, taking different shades with the light of the inferno that was dying out.
'The bastard knew', he could only muster enough energy to feel indignation as the mind shattering pain claimed his body. Him the son of fire beaten by a pile of dust. 'They are killing me', he screamed in his mind, the pain in his chest unbearable, he was sure he would pass out any minute now. He couldn't fight them like this, when they were inside him taking over his body. They were becoming a part of him, fusing with him forming a new being. It was unnatural, it made him sick making him want to puke so badly. Maybe that way he could extract them, 'I'd have to throw up all my insides to do that!!' he retorted in his mind.
They claimed him as their own, reducing his existence to be a mere vehicle of their rage. He could hear them whispering in his ears, a hundred voices saying to him that they would continue on living even though he had cut the threats of life. Humiliated he acknowledge their victory, they held the upper hand over him, maybe he had killed them in body, but he was the one that was denied with a life of his own. They will be with him forever, and they meant it. Forever he will see himself with disgust, a good blow to his high-heightened ego, he'll wish for death and try hard to achieve it. A constant reminder of his crimes tattooed in every cell of his body. They might be caged inside him but he was the slave there.
Then it was over, he was panting, each breath burning his lungs, the chest pain just a bad memory, even the voices shut up. He looked back at the dark-haired man who still stood there in the ruins. The look he gave him was hard, and he understood. In that moment just the two of them existed, encapsulated in a moment , it was a mutual agreement. He was allowed to live and see another day just so he could feel the weight of his crimes over his shoulders, and the amber-eyed man was held by the deaths of his lost ones to not harm him even if his mind demanded the blood of the bastard. To let the him walk away was hard, but he caught himself in place, just as the man tumbled away, ignorant to the curse that he'll be sure to feel just as strong as the scorching flames that he was so fond of.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His body felt strange to himself, each movement made him cringe in pain. The man had just let him walk away, his eyes roamed his surroundings searching for him. He was sure he hadn't died by the fire, why, he could not say. He felt something at the back of his head, the feeling one gets when stared at. Turning his head he came face to face with a pair of blue eyes that stared at him, curious, horrified. 'Wimp' he already hated the owner wanting nothing to do with him. 'What's with the eyes?'. Looking closely he saw that the pair of frighten eyes complimented an equally frighten face, on a very small body. 'Just a kid, and for the looks of it a street rat'. He could launch himself at him and rip his eyes out, no one would miss him. The image made him smile, eager to bath in the toddlers fear and blood. But his body refused to move, his legs firmly attached to the ground that he could only stare back at the boy.
He saw his blue eyes going to the building and back at him, his lips were moving, but he was so preoccupied with his sudden immobility that he didn't understood the words that came out of the child's mouth. The kid spoke again, his voice a weak whisper that surpassed the noise of the building finally collapsing.
"The yelling..There was people in there" The kid made him realise the gravity of the situation, it wasn't an everyday thing that a bunch of people were cooked to death like wieners, unless you lived in his world. 'Yeah, so?'
The child's face contorted into a mask of shock as he fell shaking to the floor. The whole situation too much for him, having just witnessed a massacre.
Maybe because he was drop-dead tired, emotionally drained and what not, scared to death, not that he'd admit it of course, with a psycho avenger at his heels, he decided to spare the mongrel's life. Whatever it was, the moment he made the decision he felt himself win control over his body again.
'So you want the little shit alive, fine with me'. It seemed that from now on he'll have to consult his acts with his little crew of restless souls too stubborn to stay dead as they ought to. Taking a few bills out of his pocket he threw them at the boy, wanting to see the reaction it caused on his face. But the kid just trembled harder.
'They are alike', he thought, 'this boy and the amber-eyed man' He comes and rocks their world and they just stared at him. Enraged by the failure of the night he made his way slowly, still uncertain of the extent of control he held over his limbs. He had better things to worry about than a street rat, he had to leave the town as soon as possible, he could not go back to his life, 'even if it was a shitty one it was mine'. For better or for worse, his life had changed, it was time to change of scenery too, before those who lurked in the low circles were aware of the change in him. The people he treated normally were animals, if they got a hold of him in his condition he'll be in for hell. 'I'm not going to suffer that again' he made that a promise.
AN: I decided to put this thing back. A friend of mine wanted to read it, but since he's a poet n' a very deep character I was sure he'll totally hate it, so I decided to avoid his criticism at all cost, I thank my low self-esteem for that. Hey, I need a beta reader 'cuz my english is kinda rusty n' mainly to force me to save this story from being part of the endless pit of unfinished fics.