- Tonight -
by Indrawn
chapter 1
l u p i n e
There's something about them, something that draws them closer with every meeting, every night.
reference
Episode 3: 'An Encircling Net! The Whole Student Body is the Enemy'.
Where the Demon in 'The Given Vase'/'Voice of the Noble' possesses Pakkyamlamao-sensei.
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A/N: My new project. :x So I thought, Jeanne and Sinbad really need new lines other than: 'This target is mine.', 'Don't get in my way.', and 'I won't let you interfere.', after feeling bored and recording down their dialogue in a couple of episodes. It is basically set parallel to occurrences in the anime. Chapters will more than likely be short, and set during/after their checkmates. Right now this holds higher priority over Sin & Virtue and Star-Cross'd Lovers.
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Like a wolf; beautiful, yet dangerously so.
She'd never been held in the jaws of an animal before. If so, she doubted that she'd still be alive enough to tell the tale. But she reckoned that this was probably the closest she'd ever get to experiencing the real thing, as she slipped back into consciousness and found herself being held.
His eyes were the first thing she noticed: blue, and somehow alluring, yet containing the cold, narrowed gaze of an animal.
The sensation of being held in an absolute stranger's arms felt so foreign that her body tensed instinctively. But he was warm, and she felt lightheaded, as though her strength had left her body. She forced herself to remain unmoving, hoping he hadn't yet discovered she had awoken, trying to gather her thoughts into some sort of comprehensible order.
Why was she in such a situation—?
But he must have noticed it, for he halted. "You almost got caught back there, Jeanne." His voice was low, unreadable.
-Oh. …Oh no.
No use trying to feign slumber, now. "Th' Demon?" she asked. Or, at least she tried to; her speech came out rather slurred, and waves of nausea passed through her stomach. She resisted heaving; throwing up over a stranger at this point didn't seem like such an appealing idea.
Strong arms carefully lowered her to her feet before they unhooked from around her slim shoulders. Jeanne stumbled ungracefully, trying to find her balance. "Demon?" she muttered again. Her head felt as though it was about to split in two.
"You mean this?" The speaker casually raised his black, gloved hand—
Oh, hell no.
—and between his fingers was a small pawn chess piece, the black marble gleaming almost ominously in the dim moonlight.
"You—no way-" Her eyes snapped up to his face, taking him in for the first time. The man was standing in a cavalier manner: one hand resting on his hip, the other now offhandedly tossing the chess piece in the air, catching it, and tossing it again. He slowly lifted his brow, regarding her as though amused by her confusion.
Her fists clenched, then relaxed. "Impossible," she said softly, suspiciously. "You can see—seal— Demons? Just who are you?"
His lips spread in a predatory grin, much like a wolf before it dives in for the kill.
She'd often been told the tale of Little Red Riding Hood during her childhood – an innocent bed-time story. Though she knew it well.
"Questions, questions," he drawled lazily. "You can easily see that I have succeeded in sealing this Demon, where you have failed." Jeanne's eyes flashed with hatred as he smoothly caught his chess piece from the air once more and held it to his eyes, as though inspecting it for dust. "I hope that answers your query." She bit back her retort; it wouldn't do to let him see and use her disconcertion to his advantage.
"As for who I am, I'm surprised you don't know," he continued. "My name is as well-known as yours with the authorities, Kaitou Jeanne." Jeanne grimaced at the emphasis on her name. The man looked up and caught sight of her expression, smile never wavering.
In the earliest known version of the fairy tale, Charles Perrault's, the tale of Red Riding Hood was much more sinister. The young girl was devoured by the wolf, and there the story ended. There was no 'happily ever after'.
Young and naïve, she had tugged on her mother's sleeve as she rose from her bed and asked, But why? Little Red Riding Hood didn't deserve to die. And her mother had smiled gently and replied, Darling, it is the moral of the story. One learns the danger of listening to strangers. Who does not know: those gentle wolves are of all creatures the most dangerous.
"You needn't make such a face at me, Jeanne." There was a trace of humour in his tone. "You were overpowered. I spared you from the Demon, and possible capture by police. May I remind you," he added dryly, "you fainted."
So that explained why her head was still steadily throbbing. "Thanks for pointing out the obvious," she snapped.
Since then, the tale had been appropriated for an infantile audience; a hunter was introduced to slay the wolf, and Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother had lived to see tomorrow. But the moral had remained: a warning guised beneath the fabrication.
Jeanne shot him a look of withering contempt. "And for your information, Mr Egoistic, I don't recall ever asking you to save me." On impulse she took two steps forward, closing the gap between them, and grabbed his left arm angrily.
At once he hissed, warningly- His calm demeanour had vanished. Something told her that she had just made a mistake.
Like a feral animal; wary and growling, standing its ground.
She felt a sudden chill run down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the cold of the night.
Then she felt something, something warm, trickle down her fingers.
"You're bleeding," she gasped, realising. Immediately she released his arm. He didn't make an attempt to answer. "Let me see it." It came out more as a demand than a request, and he responded with a cold stare. But despite that he complied, shrugging off his coat and holding out his arm stiffly.
Again she took hold of it, this time more gently, sliding up the torn sleeve of his shirt to inspect the wound. It ran nearly all the way up to his shoulder – long, but luckily shallow – although by the angle of the cut, it was apparent that he had gotten it while turning his body to shield her.
She frowned, but holding back the words on her tongue, Jeanne grabbed the bottom of her skirt and tore off a length and then proceeded to bind the red fabric around his arm. He never winced once, although it was obvious that the wound was painful.
The entire time her hands only grazed his skin once, and that one time she had flinched on instinct.
When the knot was tied she quickly took a step back. But he merely picked up his coat from the ground and eased it back on in one fluid motion, his eyes never leaving her.
He was the first to break the silence. "Why?"
Wild animals aren't used to human kindness.
Jeanne was aware that he was no longer trying to provoke her – just observing her with clear suspicion in his eye.
Treat them with compassion, and they won't know how to react.
"In return for saving me." She didn't like to think she owed him anything.
"You—" He paused. Jaw clenched, his eyes slightly narrowed. He appeared to be thinking; of what thoughts were running through his mind, she couldn't guess.
"Kaitou Sinbad," he said at last. "Remember that." Without a further word, he brushed past her and started to walk away.
His cloak rippled silently in the wind, and seemed to emit an ethereal glow in the moonlight. She briefly imagined the vision of a lithe, white wolf, muscles rippling beneath its sleek coat as it moved. She only looked away when he had disappeared into the distance, swallowed by darkness.
She glanced down to her fingers, still stained with his crimson blood. "Sinbad," she murmured.
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A/N: The characters are a little OOC – that was deliberate. I wanted this fic to be slightly more serious. Please drop a review. :)
7/March/2011; Believe it or not, I actually am still alive! I found the skeleton of this story and a half-written chapter 2 on my computer after one of you favourited this story today, and it seems like a shame that I never got further with it because I really did like the idea of this fic. You can check my profile page for more updates.