Title: Not the sun
Author: CI
Rated: T
Summary: They are called Jasdebi. How the twins became who they are. One-shot.
I have a thing for twins, and these two are high on my list.
Disclaim for DGM, claim the story.
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When Jasdebi was twelve she had an occurring problem which could be identified as a split personality. She was suffering from this condition since she was young but it was seemingly unnoticeable to outsiders.
One day Jasdebi's mother finds her in her room with a knife in her hand. The golden haired girl was clenching the blade, its edge cutting into her palm.
"I can't feel my hand." She says and with that her mother started to cry. The child had the most beautiful golden hair and just recently started to talk in the third person. Now it was this, her child was suffering and she wondered why.
When Jasdebi was born it had been raining fiercely which was strange considering the dry days prior. As her daughter was born the sun immediately shone through the clouds with her cry. Since then the mother was sure her child was a gift, truly God's child. Jasdebi's locks were of a divine gold, like the sun itself, something her mother cherished. Jasdebi was told of her significance by her mother often, but never really understood.
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After that day Jasdebi was taken to the hospital where she underwent treatment. She talked to herself frequently, to the doctor's dismay and fright. She lashed out to the ones who tried to consol her and the strangers who tried to treat her. Her mother grew weak as she watched her daughter's condition grow worse. Why this child?
"This place isn't good at all. Let's break out." Jasdebi mumbled to herself.
"We'll kill those bastards."
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By the third day, the two identities were known as Jasdero and Debitto. Debitto was more aggressive, with her demeanor responsible for the screaming, cursing and death threats. Jasdero was more or less like the original self, the one her mother loved. Jasdero was more considerate and thoughtful and was subject to much of Debitto's discontent. When the mother would watch her daughter scream to herself in that dark room her fears increased.
By the fourth day, crosses are formed on the child's forehead and start to bleed. The talking grew louder often followed by mutterings and periods of silence. Jasdebi held herself throughout the process and grew noticeably paler in the dark room. At one point her mother attempted to enter the room but Jasdebi would worsen and curse and scream terrible things.
On the fifth day Jasdebi's hair started to turn black and her skin seemed to seep in the shadows of the room. Her mother failed to visit this time.
When the sixth day came about the one called Jasdebi was visited by her mother for the last time. The child was oddly quiet when her mother walked in.
"Who are you?" The mother said. "You are not my child with the golden hair, the child of God."
Jasdebi began to tear afterwards. Her mother then told her that she was leaving her there. Jasdebi held herself tighter and muttered to her mother a rhyme that rang in her head; like something of a nursery tale in song.
"What does it mean? Didn't you tell it to us?" Jasdebi looked over to her mother's retreating form.
Her mother was silent. Indeed she had told the fable to her daughter as a bed time story. But it was just a story, nothing of significance.
"Wait, before you go. . ." Jasdebi started. The woman did a double take before turning around to take a last glance at the child.
The mother gasped audibly as the child stood. Jasdebi, with hair too dark and a smile too wide, spoke in an unfamiliar tone.
"We'll kill you."
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When the door opened again two people walked out. One with golden hair and one like a shadow of a raven. The bleeding had stopped from their heads, but instead blood soaked their hands and clothes.
"I always hated that stupid woman."
"She's dead now."
The one with golden hair and blank eyes looked down solemnly.
"Jasdero, are you sad because of that woman?" Debitto asked.
". . ."
"All we have is each other and ourselves."
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When the memories of Noah are completely revived Jasdero finds herself in the room of her childhood. The blade is still in a drawer like she remembers and she takes it and squeezes tight. With a twitch Debitto rushes in, kicking the door down in the process.
They are Jasdebi and bonded to that fact.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Debitto's hand is bleeding and she points a finger.
"Debitto, I can feel this." Jasdero refers to her hand before threading a tendril of her golden hair through bony fingers. "But I always thought that a child of God couldn't feel pain."
Debitto places her arms akimbo and sticks out her tongue with annoyance.
"Jasdero, you talk too much."
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When they first meet Rhode and the Earl Debitto is the first to speak. Her tone is of an aggressive politeness, toned down from the constant cursing and death threats. Jasdero is of a softer tone than Debitto as she repeats key sentences. Jasdero's lips are fresh with blood as she constantly licks them off. The wires are a bit awkward but are freshly sewn and cool to her tongue. They had agreed not to talk about their past anymore. Their mother had told them that they were God's child, blessed and therefore couldn't feel pain.
But she was wrong,
"Name's Debitto---"
"---Jasdero."
"Together we're Jasdebi."
They were Noahs.