My first fic posted! Blink and you'll miss the pairing at the end xD
I dont own. Anything. At all. Other than this keyboard and computer and other few choice things :P
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To the eyes of a three-year-old Lavi, being a bookman was everything he could ever want. Countless stories, all in his reach, while countless others just waiting to be written down, just around the corner.
To the eyes of a seven-year-old Lavi, being a bookman was everything he was taught to be. Standing next to his mentor, however, Lavi didn't dare write a single word. Lavi was only observing him record the numbers of casualties. He was only observing the events.
It wasn't until later that he let himself remember.
He remembered the chill, the bone cold emptiness that came with handling the information with such efficiency. It was clean with no strings attached, indifferent statements that simply told the facts. He remembered following the links on the page, watching and anticipating while countless bodies began to turn into corpses.
"You see, we aren't here to be compassionate, to pick a side. History is history. We're not here to help anyone."
He decided to remember that; they seemed like wise words, especially for someone as young as him.
To the eyes of a fourteen-year-old Lavi, being a bookman was everything he was, everything he stood for. Old enough to record by himself, Lavi once again found himself with death, after an endemic plague. Sifting through the bodies littering the ground and taking care not to get himself contaminated, he merely counted the bloodstained faces among the blood-soaked valley. He would have to record all the statistics, informing his mentor to add it to-
"Help…please…help"
But Lavi walked on.
It wasn't until later, after handing his mentor his report, that Lavi decided to secretly record something else.
'These words, they aren't as descriptive as they should be.'
To the eyes of a 17-year old Lavi, being a bookman was his choice.
After deciding that his worth was as great as the information he provided, Lavi began to record the events that few ever saw, let alone took part in. After being accepted into the order, he not only kept his past a secret. He also kept quiet on why he learned how to memorize things so well.
He learned the words he had been taught to use didn't convey everything, after all.
The words he decided on learning however, were a different matter. They were able to describe many things, even if they were of no use to a bookman.
They told of compassion, of fighting against the odds. They told of picking a side and gathering allies. They told of the joy of finding friendship, and the fear of losing someone held close.
They also held their secrets.
These secrets however were never to be recorded by Lavi under any means, for they weren't something he could see. They only whispered about silver hair and of another emotion, stronger than anything he remotely felt before.
To the eyes of a 18 year old Lavi, being a bookman wasn't everything he was anymore.
A/N-
Beta reader: IChangedMyPenname (who is my idol P)
This is my first fic. I'm sorry for any mistakes with the plot of D. Grayman and such. xD
Anyone spot the Laven? –cough cough-
Reviews are appreciated and thanks for reading!
