• altschmerz
:::n. weariness with the same old issues that you've always had — the same boring flaws and anxieties you've been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago:::
– The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows –
Rated: T for kissing, smoking, sexual content, religious reference, implied (underaged?) sex, twincest, cursing, violence, death, and lyrics overuse :)
Summary: It's either he dies, or she dies, or both of them die. Over and over again. {What a sickening cycle.}
Author's Note: Stories based on Len and Rin's songs. The backgrounds are as canon as possible :)
I actually searched for the altschmerz word in the dictionary and… Well, funny enough, I found nothing. None whatsoever XD What the heck now? XD
Anyway, this fanfic has a theme word… But, (yes, there is a 'but' here. Hey don't look at me like that XD) I'm not gonna give you that… and you will have to read the whole thing to actually see it XD Not gonna give it here, nope, nuh-uh XD Weellllll, actually I was going to, but then Piri (God bless her :3) pointed out that the Japanese word I left there was actually wrong and in the end ultimately saved me from both humiliating myself and a grade that is lower than an A- :3
…
I seriously considered dropping this thing – like, not once, not twice, but everyday. Not even exaggerating… This has been lying in my document for a good four months and everytime I open the file I sigh. Then process to write yet another one-shot. Yeah. I'm weird like that XD
If you ask my opinion about this, this one-shot is one hell of a lengthy fanfic XD You may or may not even find different writing styles in the thing... Despite it being write by one person - yours truly here XD XD Oh, and it's pretty inconsistent too XD And from the first part to the third one, it's really child play XD The others are, well… decent, I guess? :3 Can only hope that things turn out OK in the end :3
Edit: Major changes in the last part, and the thing is cut into a two-shots instead of one huge, frustrating word vomit XD
Dedicated: This fanfic is dedicated to Nerumi H :3 Kelsey-san, if you are reading this, I just want to thank you for everything that if I even bothered to list out, those things would make a whole essay… Anyway, this thing is probably child play for you, but please please please bear with me :3 :3 It's a piece of crap, aahhh XD But at least it's a nice (at least I hope so… :3) piece of crap with ribbons and decorated paper… I hope? XD
Credits: All credits go to my impossibly awesome beta–reader, Piriluk :3 How I always managed to have wonderful beta–readers is beyond my comprehension… Maybe I'm just lucky? XD Piri–san, thank you :3
Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid. I don't even own the lyrics or this plot bunny DX Though, I do own my alternative universe :3 :3
Warning: This fiction describes people, places, events, or contains complete narrative works derived from imagination, and therefore Len and Rin's relationship in this is solely my interpretation. If you don't find it enjoyable, please kindly and quietly leave. Your noble action will be greatly appreciated. You have been warned.
物語は既に神と悪魔の手を離れて独り歩き
The Story has already left the hands of God and the Devil, and it's walking on its own.
– MA in Capriccio Farce
"The serpent deceived me, and I ate."
Bible had said so, forever deemed her as the Original Sinner, naively fooled by the snake.
What it didn't say, is that Eve had fallen for the Devil. Hard.
That was the truth behind everything. She disregarded God, disregarded her husband, and indulged in delicious, forbidden (poisonous, poisonous, poisonous) affair. A sicksicksick little secret. And if this was wrong, then who wanted to be right again?
"I think— I think when it's all over, it just comes back in flashes, you know? It's like a kaleidoscope of memories, but it just all comes back."
"And... crazy thing is, I don't know if I'm ever gonna feel that way again. But I don't know if I should. I knew his world moved too fast and burned too bright."
"But I just thought... How can the devil be pulling you towards someone who looks... so much like an angel when he smiles at you? Maybe he knew that, when he saw me."
Spiraling down and down and down, the forbidden fruit led their (her?) way out of the Garden. The Devil smirked, a hint of triumph gleamed wickedly on thin lips.
He had the last laugh on God. (Desire will always overrule morality, he had proved it, rubbed it in God's face, an evidence that could never be deleted, a shame on everything.) And what's the point, anyway? What did the snake gain from giving the girl an apple? He got to spit on God. Got to laugh in the Almighty's face as he smirked and smiled and laughed and laughed and laughed."Desire will always win over what's right. Always."
But was it...fair? To take down this sweet little Goddess in the process of trying to break away at God's unbreakable armor?
(What he would never say, however, is that he had fallen just as hard for the miss Péché Originel.)
Wise words proposed that every story is a love story. And this was no exception.
They were both abandoned. Out of Eden, out of Paradise. The original sins were sealed away safely in another being – another Eve (Another corrupted woman, another wicked nymph, another, there is always another.)
But that just wasn't enough. Wasn't enough of a punishment (revenge, payback…) for God to be satisfied, for the serpent and Eve to suffer, for the shame he deemed unforgivable.
They were reborn. A pair of immortal twins. To watch, to hate, to be humiliated by each other. (Just like their nasty humiliation directed at the Creator.)
Levia and Behemo. A cross–dressing male and a grumpy female. (They were called gods, how ironic.)
Yet, despite their fate, their path, everything, they still found it in themselves to dwell deeper and deeper in their salvation.
And then they got tired of this life. Never ending, repeating over and over and over again.
(They said repetition is maddening.)
They wanted a part, a piece of that same sweetsinfulsickening fruit, a piece of redemption.
Pursuing relentlessly for a chance. Wrecking havoc. Threatening. Doing anything to be reborn again, as mortals.
A pair of twins. Hansel and Gretel.
He took note of her face lit up dimly by pale moonlight; crimson colour trickling from the base of her hairline, dyeing pure gold tresses a sickening maroon shade. Maroon, he grimly thought, didn't suit her. It was far too dark and too unfitting to her cheerful attitude and her bright–colored clothes – albeit tattered and dirtied, no doubt from all the running in the forest. Her feet slapped the dried ground, harmonizing with his own pace perfectly. Dry, stiff dead leaves crunched beneath their feet; the sound harsh and listless.
The boy shoved away branches sticking out, clearing a small walking path. Their sharp ends pricked at his skin, scratching small annoying cuts, and he barely acknowledged the injuries adding up.
The weak grip on the hem of his shirt made him turn and look his twin in the eyes.
Her lips were pulled up in a small smile, an attempt to look happy – which was futile, because he could already detect the crystalline unshed tears glowing on her eyelashes, threatening to break out at any moment.
"Hansel? Are we lost?"
He could always lie to her and say everything was alright, that he had the situation under control. But somehow, looking at her face – her trying to be brave – Hansel couldn't find it in himself to lie.
"Yes."
The boy had already prepared himself for any reaction his twin might give – a wail, a sob, disbelief, silence, everything. Comforting words had even been sorted out, readied on the tip of his tongue.
Instead, Gretel tilted her little head. Ocean–spray eyes stared at him with a determined look – a look he didn't expect from her, last of all when she was on the verge of bursting into tears.
"Is it because mother and father abandoned us?"
Silence was the only answer he could provide. But it was enough for her to come to a conclusion anyway.
She didn't say anything, opting to follow her brother obediently. Their labored breathing was the only sound that filled the air. Around his neck, a glass bottle glowed gently; golden moonlight clearing away blinding darkness, allowing the two to make out their way. Black and white colours mixed and blended together, creating a perfect picture of madness.
A pregnant pause, a brief hesitation, and then her voice broke out.
"Hey... does that mean she is the– the –" Gretel fumbled with her words, trying to find something accurate to verbalize her thoughts. The boy looked at her, waiting patiently. Finally, she gave up, "– bad woman, you know, in the stories? With dark magic and eating children?"
There it was. The weird determined gleam in her eyes, the one Hansel wasn't accustomed to. Gretel looked strange. Really strange.
The girl didn't say specifically who 'she' was, but a pronoun was enough for him to acknowledge who his twin referred to.
The first thing came to his mind was the word 'witch'.
At first, his mind couldn't wrap around the concept – it seemed foreign and strange and just plain impossible – wasn't Mother the one who took care of them? The one who gave birth to them? Their own flesh and blood?
But no mother was cruel and cold–hearted enough to abandon her own children. And he had seen his mother – no, not his mother anymore; from now on, he would stop considering her as his parent at midnights – saying weird words, brewing some liquids in the oven. His twin was asleep, peacefully unaware of the activity. Had it not been for his sudden thirst, Hansel would never have known it too. At first, he had thought it was a hallucination, created by his sleepy mind and half–lidded eyes, but after the fifth time coming upon the same scene, his suspicions were confirmed. Their mother was a witch.
He hadn't given the piece of information much thought, but now it came back to him again, under new light. Harsh truth and bitterness slapped him hard.
She must be a witch – and not a good one. A wicked one. And a witch, in every story he had read, would be killed.
Their mother must be someone else, and that tealette must have stolen them from her, he concluded.
"Yes," Hansel seethed quietly.
Her eyes glimmered.
Silence fell on them again.
Together, hand in hand, they followed the light to where it led – a house, a strikingly familiar one. Bright yellow light danced on their figures, illuminating the small, wooden house. A distinct fragrance soaked their nostrils, and Gretel hummed.
"That smells good..."
His suspicious mind snapped.
"Gretel, that is the witch's poison. She must be brewing it."
The girl covered her nose, and he nodded.
"Yep."
Quietly, they pushed open the wooden door. The cracking sound of old wood as they touched it was creepy – like there was something evil lurking in the dark corner, waiting, patiently waiting for them to fall prey in its trap.
The twins huddled closer together, drawing each other's warmth as reassurance that they were not alone, trying to make the fear go away.
Everything that happened next was a blur in his memory.
Hearing the telltale sound of door being opened, the witch turned to meet her unexpected guests. Her hand held a wooden spoon, still held up in the air in the middle of her action. Oh, but she would never be able to continue her work again, the boy thought viciously.
Her eyes widened in surprise as they met them.
In a flash, Gretel was next to the tealette. Her eyes trickled with childish joy and determination, and with a forceful shove, the adult's body was fully drowned by liquid heat.
He could still see the teal–coloured hair in the midst of bright orange as Eve desperately struggled to escape. Hansel wanted to vomit – what a hideous scene. The scent of burnt flesh and skin violently forced its way up his nose. How disgusting. Her head occasionally poked out, gasping for air, skin painted in different shades of red, black and brown.
Horrendous was the sight.
He never expected his twin to kick the witch in the head; an innocent, triumphant smile gracing her lips. A merry voice called out:
"Mother, I have defeated this witch! Please praise me!"
Ah, so she did share the same thought with him – that their mother was a different person.
An inhuman scream ripped from the woman's throat, and this time, his twin, without an ounce of hesitation, dropped her unfinished pot of poison – or whatever it was in that pot – on her head.
The face disappeared behind metal pot and gray ash.
The kids then smiled serenely. Their task was completed.
Footsteps landed after footsteps. The sound of something hit the floor and they heard the sound of shocked gasps could be heard evidently. Slowly, they turned around...
...And saw a blue–haired man.
The first word that came to their minds was "father", but the twins quickly corrected it. The witch wasn't their mother, so this shouldn't be their father either?
Yeah. That was the witch's henchman. It made sense.
He must be evil too. After all, he was acquainted with that witch. Evil deserved punishment.
With that thought in his head, Hansel smiled.
The man stumbled back, taking sharp notice of the malicious look in the child's eyes. "What?! I thought –" His sentence was cut short as a knife went deep in the left side of his chest.
Hansel took immense pleasure in seeing the man's utter disbelief, in his pain and suffering. The blade kept on hitting the same spot again and again, blue eyes watching as red blood rolled down, pooling on the floor. Cries soon turned into wails of anguish, and the boy calmly silenced him with a quick, sharp cut to the throat.
While doing so, the voice of Gretel called out for him.
"Hansel! Look!"
"Hm?"
His words trailed off.
There, in soft, gray ash, there was something glistening. Something mild, gentle, moving relentlessly. Something teal.
What...?
Drawing in a deep breath, the boy teetered closer towards the open oven, his steps shaky and the faded flame flickered merrily.
The sight made him want to throw up. Ignoring the woman's dead body, he focused, instead, on small dots of light. Instinctively, he waved his hand.
The dots immediately scattered away.
One flew in a purple flower. Another merged with a breeze. Mixed with the seeds. Reflected in a stone. Flowed in the spring. Disappeared in the soil. Clattered in the forest.
He watched them until they were away from his sight. Next to him, Gretel asked curiously.
"What were those?"
Hansel shrugged.
"Dunno. C'mon, let's get inside."
Two small frames joined hands together, slowly making their way out of the wooden house.
From the afar, God frowned. The sins were released, again, by the same sinners.
Everything comes with a price. Every action has to be judged, and every crime has to be punished.
And they were 'gods' no more, losing their immortality, following each other into the never–ending cycle of life. Death. Rebirth. Death. Rebirth.
They were family. They were lovers. They were strangers. Enemies. Acquaintances. They were each other's everything and nothing. They were one person and they were two completely different being. Two halves of a whole.
They stayed together till the end. They never met.
Her feet were bleeding, and she was choking on her own hot, crimson blood; a fragile marionette that didn't stop dancing and singing until it broke into million shards.
The sight of her hurt him – physically and mentally. Summoning every last bit of energy left in his exhausted body, he yanked himself up. Blackness stained his vision, and his head felt like it was being cracked open. The idea of lying down had never seemed this tempting before – just one minute, one minute would hurt nobody...
Len wanted to scold himself for even having that kind of thought – she was so near, so near that he could even feel her existence tingling on his skin, so near that just over there – a little bit more and he could finally reach her, his unknown twin sister; the phantom being that he'd been missing all his life, despite never getting to see her in real person. How could he rest when everything was almost ended?
(Almost is the cruelest thing ever – and Len couldn't agree more.)
Footsteps. He could hear footsteps echoing on stony, blood–stained walls of this cave, drumming on his eardrums before it finally hit his delusional mind.
He could no longer hear her singing.
The thought frightened him for a moment, but the melodies continued just a second later; the gap so faint and short, bordering on the line of non–existence. Yet his sharp ears could pick out light gasp and small choking sound – Rin was out of breath, no doubt.
Frustration and desperation was infused in clear cerulean eyes, and he couldn't run to her fast enough.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Len was aware of red liquid trickling down his temple, coaxing the skin warm and sticky, and his nostrils could faintly make out the tangy, salty smell.
A faint, golden light streamed out from the unseen inside, the air practically ringing with magic – ancient, dark, cruel magic.
His eyes only trained out to see her. The girl so familiar, the girl sharing his same face – the one he'd never met but knew by heart, with such a beautiful, serene smile that burnt brightly in his mind every waking and sleeping moment. He'd never seen her in his life, but sure enough, that was his sister standing inches away from him.
Her hands spread out, almost like two wings ready to fly up any moment; long legs carved in a walking posture, standing on the tips of her toes. Pale white skin glowed in dim light. Golden tresses flowed down her slim back, white dress tainted with cuts and dirt –and even dried blood.
A faraway melody was still playing in his ears.
She didn't see him – but he saw her. Vulnerable and ethereal, exhausted and powerful. Her.
She was still dancing – her dress tattered, body stretched into graceful gestures, each pose stiff, but her movements were nimble. Her hand raised daintily, fingers waving in the air within a slow movement. Blue streaks spilled out, circles after circles, drawings and symbols slowly appeared with her touch.
She whispered an incantation in ancient language – something he couldn't really and harmonies filled the air. Her smile was still bright as he remembered, but this time, it was soaked in tears, sorrow and regret. A lone drop fell down, splashing against stony ground.
Then Rin collapsed down.
The silence, this time, was deafening.
Time seemed to have stopped. Len wanted to run at her place, but somehow, his body just became frozen and heavy, so heavy, weighing him down; his lips were chapped, throat dry, and every inch of his being just stood there, disobeying his mind. Horrible, wordless images ran frantically through his thoughts – and she can't be dead, can't be dead...
She lay there peacefully, almost as if sleeping.
He didn't know how, or when, or even why, but the next second, he was there next to her, his arms carrying her body. The boy flinched as he saw her up close for the first time; his eyes took notice in faint white scars adorning her skin, in crimson droplets running freely from her lips, and in her weight – so light, like a feather, ready to drift away at any moment.
He shook her body – all pleas and wishes inside him, he let all out in each action – pleading her not to go. He'd had her so close, so close, and he wouldn't lose her – not again...
Her pendant fell down, the clanking sound it made crushed his skull, effectively making his head buzz. All words stuck in his head, running around and around, syllables clawing his eardrums, letters forming incoherent sounds, enough to keep his mind drunk and unstable for the rest of his life...
All those thoughts he couldn't utter spilt out his eyes, radiating a dark colour of shadow, raining on her porcelain skin, swirling emotions finally letting out in wails afters wails.
Warmth was pressed on his skin, faint and almost like an illusion, but it was still there, still there, and his senses, in a desperate attempt, had picked up on it, leaning all his being into ghastly touch.
"Rin...?"
He had never been able to witness her smile this close before, and even though red blood stained it, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen...
"Len."
He repeated her name again, disbelief coloured his voice, his embrace tightened around her body, her name a mantra on his lips.
"Rin. Oh God, Rin, Rin, Rin..."
Then, to his utter surprise, she let out a strained smile.
"Len, you should go back."
"Why?" He couldn't understand it. Why?
She said nothing, and instead let her fingers intertwine with his calloused ones.
His voice trembled.
"You... are free to go. Rin... Come home. Our mother misses you so much..."
Her hand gripped his tighter, but she provided no answers. Blonde bangs covered her eyes, giving away no expression. (Half of him wondered if she chose this hairstyle just for the sake of its curtailing effect.
Then again, she didn't have any reason to hide her emotions. )
"I miss you so much."
Her head tilted, and Len thought for a moment that he'd caught a brief look of her red–rimmed eyes; of a crystalline drop forming in the corner of one azure eye, before her face schooled into a tight smile.
"I.. really appreciate your concern. But I... I have unfinished business here."
He looked at her like she'd lost her mind. She probably had. His expression was laced with obvious surprise. Ignoring it, she continued.
His eyes flared up dangerously, and she swallowed the 'yes' that had been on the tip of her tongue. He shook her shoulder again, this time with such vigor that it hurt.
"What are you talking about, Rin? Can you actually hear your words?"
The smile she offered didn't waver, but her eyes did.
"Yes. I'm certain about my decision."
He had been the one keeping her afloat, her anchor in this madness that was her life. The small spark of hope that cheered her up, the sanity that her mind should have lost a long time ago. Her hope.
She was the hope of this world, the priestess had told her a long time ago, when she was still a toddler. And Len was her hope. The only thing kept her standing. Her dream and portal to the real world outside, to everything she had missed, to open her eyes and let she know that there isn't only darkness and pain. A companion. Her morphine.
Shadow loomed over their exhausted figures, and they looked up, staring at golden eyes. Black slits narrowed. When the creature opened its mouth, he could make out sharp fangs that should be able to easily end his life, yellowed with the flow of time and tinted red from blood of many people – knights, Divas. He knew the newest, brightest on that ivory surface was his friends' lives; splashing vividly before finally, finally being stuck there for centuries and centuries more.
Just how many lives had been ended by it?
Huge feet dragged themselves toward the twins. His eyesight could make out the line of a tail, swinging heavily behind the dragon's back, chest heaving in a steady rhythm. Up, down, up, down; aged scales adorned burgundy skin shimmied in his vision.
Closer. The distance between them was now down to meters, but he was paralysed, too caught up in the dragon's appearance to move. It radiated a power that drowned him, frightened him.
A sharp hiss was drawled out, and the sheer power of that sound made him want to crawl away.
His hand deftly reached out toward his belt – intending to draw out the sword, only to be stop by a much softer hand of Rin.
"Don't. I will sing for it. The dragon likes songs."
Run was the underlying meaning, and they both knew it.
His voice croaked out – even words seemed to be forced out his already–damaged vocal chords – "Why don't you go with me?"
"I want to save this world," was the answer she gave.
His hand squeezed hers.
Silence.
"They abandoned you to this life, Rin. They don't deserve to be saved."
She shook her head.
"You don't understand it, Len. This world... You belong in this world."
His jaws clenched. And what about you?
Her eyes softened.
A louder hiss was released, and the dragon looked anything but peaceful. Large eyes consumed by anger; animalistic instincts to destroy when disturbed splashed over golden surface.
Something in those cerulean eyes snapped. His eyes set in determination as he spoke, with such authority that allowed no rooms for argument.
"I will stay with you."
She didn't realize she was crying until his fingers gently ran over her cheeks and a wet sensation tickled her skin.
Closing her eyes, they let everything out, every emotions pent up inside flowed in the familiar song.
Her hand found its way down to his. A light squeeze. A little upward turn of supple lips.
He returned it with a light smirk – at least this way he had his wish fulfilled. Even so, he barely – just barely – dared to hope that he would see her again. Her breath hitched, lips parted open, words forever lingered on her tongue–
She was the girl everyone loved: A bright nymph with greater magic than anyone ever imagined; a nice little girl, not once had she disobeyed the elders; a good sister to toddlers and infants; a humble being, never acting arrogant. She was everything one could possibly ask for. He had been watching her ever since the beginning.
There she was, standing in the woods, waving her hands enthusiastically at him, her smile reaching from ear to ear. With her bouncing gesture and an all–too–happy expression, the girl could pass as a child herself.
Sunny tresses draped down her slender neck, some loose strands falling down – curving in at the end, barely tugged by her ethnical scarf.
"Come on, brother!"
The boy – her brother – sighed, but his feet moved along nonetheless, mumbling all the way.
"Seriously, you –" He kicked a small branch poking out near his head, "– stupid –" brushed his pale bangs away from dampened forehead, "– good–for–nothing –" scolded at a small squirrel, succeeding in scaring the innocent animal away, "– rule–breaking –" shuffled his feet, purposefully crashed against fallen leaves, "– minx. How did you end up being the holder anyway?"
As if on cue, said girl spun around, eyeing him disapprovingly. In silent skyline, the sound of her clicking her tongue reverberated throughout the woods, tangling itself in crispy material.
"A lot of people will beg to differ your statement, Luné." A scold settled on her face, but he seemed to be unwavered by it. In fact, the only reaction she got from him was a sheepish smile.
"You know I don't mean it like that."
Despite her effort and struggle to remain straight–faced, a smile fought its way across her pink lips, replacing the glare.
"Whatever."
She knew he could never refuse her, and the thought alone would always bring a smile to her face – even during the darkest times.
Sunlight poured down, bathing that smile in glistening, smooth dust. Her eyes twinkled – the aureate colour shimmered like always – happiness he could hear as she hummed softly, skipping around.
He rolled his eyes. It wasn't common that the Solane (yes, she was unique enough and equally well–known to be referred with a 'the' in front of her name) was all riled up to the point where she would act so childish. Given her rather calm and mature mannerism, it was rare enough.
It was no secret that he would always follow her. Not because he was forced to or anything – even though the Elders did say Luné had to protect her – but rather because it was his instinct. She was, and would forever stay his little twin sister; the fragile girl who almost died in a fight being chased by everyone.
Witch, they'd called her, as she'd accidentally unleashed her power. She didn't know why or how to control it, which only fueled the villagers' fear and anger more.
If it hadn't been for his... abilities, it would have been too late for her.
In addition, there was something else – something he couldn't quite put his finger on. As if it was set in his mind ever since the day he was born – and he couldn't quite explain it – but it only took one look at her to decide that he wanted to protect her.
That thought was strange, but not uncomfortable. In fact, people said it was the sibling bond they shared. (And it was special, it was different from normal siblings' relationship, he mused with unhidden pride.)
When they were six, the Elders announced that Rin was the chosen one. The new sun goddess, the twins were told, with powerful magic to keep their village safe; able to control nature, giving people an advantage with agriculture, planting and watering. The weather was always nice – courtesy of Solane's doing. Of course, people's behaviour toward her changed immediately – saccharine and honeyed praises instead of harsh words, smiles and respect replaced scoffs and scolds.
Clouds shaped like soft pillows glided slowly across the sky, curling into white fluffballs. Spears of dawn light drenched the farthest corners with its golden magic, and there was sweet aroma lingering in the air; flowers and morning dew he could smell, cleansing the cold and husky smell of night. Malachite–green grass continued endlessly toward the horizon, and the breeze teased his golden hair gently, brushing its fingers through her silky tresses.
He must have let some of his amazement slip into his facial expression, because immediately, his twin grinned triumphantly:
"See! I told you so!"
The boy refrained from pointing out that technically, she had said nothing about this besides urging him to come.
His eyes settled into a worried expression instead.
"You know the Elders forbid everyone from going here."
His twin flashed a grin that was positively mischievous. "They probably want to keep this place to themselves."
He stared at her with an unimpressed look. "That is probably the most unconvincing reason I've ever heard."
She waved her hand dismissively.
"Do you see any reasons why we should even consider coming back?"
Her smile flashed again; bright, cheerful, lively. For a moment, his head ached at brief images of Solane lying listlessly on harsh soil, blood spilling out and bruises adorning her skin, clothes trampled and tattered. He was reminded, again, why he would do anything to make her smile.
(His world darkened and soul died a little bit every time she was unhappy – he was just a selfish being, doing everything for his sake rather than hers, after all; he needed her in his life just as much as every villager, if not more, to dull this emptiness and heal the constant want in him, so ready to swallow him whole.)
He would keep her like that. Always.
"...No."
Her smile widened.
"Then come on!"
What a sight to behold – her, the beloved innocent girl who never set a foot against the rules – now broke them herself, he mused.
His eyes followed her form; a petite figure wrapped in neutral–coloured clothes. A light breeze brushed sunlit locks, caressing her fair skin. She was already far from him – her hand extending toward his direction, an excited expression etched across her face, the white bow bouncing enthusiastically on top of golden locks – the white woolen embroidery reminded him too much of fluffy clouds. She smiled and laughed and twirled around, arms winded out like two smooth wings. Knitted cloth and a pleated skirt flapped lightly as golden light poured down, basking Solane and Lune in a soft sensation; streams of yellow colour dotting and mixing in sakura trees before finally resting on their shoulders.
A stubborn, skeptical part of him constantly repeated that there must be a reason why they were banned from going there – but the larger, ignorant part pushed it back, shoved it in a dark corner.
And for a moment, everything was perfect. Unblemished, raw happiness and sunshine, and just them, alone together.
Entering his sight unexpectedly, he could vaguely make out the harsh, black outline of a feather. He couldn't really figure out what was happening until the matter was set in front of his eyes, clear and intimidating, and frustratingly real, and the boy just knew somehow that this would be her – his – their downfall. A memory he would regret forever for solely its existence – why did I even let her here how can I protect her what can I do –
Bleak blackness and sharp yellow teeth, luminous blue eyes gleamed at the pair. Instinctively, he ran toward her, using his body as a shield to cover. He was trained, after all, for situations like this.
Drawing the dagger out of it holder – the Elders were opposed to his choice of weapon, but Luné was nothing, if not a hard–head – the boy wasted no time in attacking. No unnecessary movement, just sharp and straight to the point. They must be really proud of him had they known how much his technique had improved.
The bird merely spared him a glance; surprisingly sharp feathers whipped across his face as his feet carried him off foliage covered ground, the sheer strength in that act sending him flying. His back slammed into a tree, and he could feel himself sliding down, pushed face first into dry ground. A howl, a rush of pain.
Or maybe they would just punish him for defying the rules, he dryly grumbled. That, or for him being too weak. He couldn't really decide – and it wasn't like it was important at the time anyway. His sole focus should be on Solane, and how to get out of this alive.
She extended her hand to that beast, a look of sympathy shining in her blue orbs, and he looked at her like she had gone crazy. She probably had anyway.
To his surprise, that thing halted to a stop. Shining eyes stared down at her, concentrating. With stiff posture, it glared at the small figure standing on the cliff with a welcoming hand and a calculating look washed over big orbs – something, something so familiar, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.
A treble clef.
A rusty, black treble clef dangled teasingly, merging with inky smoothness.
Memory is the scariest thing, they said, and he couldn't quite understand what they meant back then – until now.
Blue hair instead of ink–laced feathers, deep cerulean eyes twinkled with laughter and mirth replaced blue, listless orbs. Everything was different, different, different; a human being instead of grim reaper, two incredibly contrasting beings. Like chalk and cheese, one would say.
Different, different, save for the treble clef dangling there.
(Their brother had disappeared too long ago – Lune wouldn't've really believed it if someone had told him that this creature was Kaito.)
Silly girl, what have they told you about grim reaper?
He could only stand there, watching her, with an uneasy feeling that she was somehow walking into her own grave – eyes bright with blind trust and sympathy for that bird, like it was just a harmless little puppy.
(The problem with her, apparently, was that she was too kind and naive, and believed in second chances. She splashed colours – yellow and blue and red and green and every single color ever discovered – sunshine and rainbow filling her vision.)
Blink. Once. Twice.
Calloused fingers reached out, carefully running up and down huge wings – his breath stuck in his clamped throat, sticky and dry, and he waited –
She didn't seem to acknowledge those claws – sharp, dangerous, and very, very close to her throat – ready to snap that slender neck at any second.
They are creatures created by darkness, in the depth of Abyss.
Her palm clasped around the wings, so tight that he could see her outstretched hand whiten considerably.
They are cursed; carrying death on their wings as they venture. A horrible fate shall bestow upon their victims – those innocent beings, unfortunate enough to be found by grim reapers.
Her eyes shone brightly with the golden sunlight, silver moon and shiny white clouds – she brimmed with hope and faith and trust, an easy target to hunt.
And the ones, with souls tainted by blackened darkness, shall suffer the same, never–ending fate.
She glared at him – a strict, warning gleam. Don't interfere.
Magic flashed. He was used to the sight – her usual mantra, stroking hand here and there, soothing words flowing from her lips.
They bring something deadly with their arrival – an inevitability, no one has ever escaped from this tragic fate – they represented sinners and disgrace, corruption and mortal sins that destroyed charity,
A proud look
A lying tongue
Hands that shed innocent blood
A heart that devised wicked plots
Feet that are swift to run into mischief
A deceitful witness that uttereth lies
Him that soweth discord among brethren.
Unaffected by her surroundings, she gazed on. The incanation continued without interruption, the smile never left her lips. He watched with sick fascination as her skin gradually paled, thin veins on bony arms pulsating loudly. He stood helplessly, unable to do anything about the situation but watch her – but what good will mere observing bring?
They represent every evil…
A satisfied expression washed over her, and bright eyes watched as the bird transformed completely. Pure, white, unblemished.
Her hands caressed its wings, a feathery touch. Despite everything, the smile –
(– that goddamned smile –)
– vivid and lovely as ever, as if nothing had happened, and she was –
(– destroyed, shattered; her soul smeared with blackness, scars running deep and blood dropping loudly –)
– colorful and perfect; a prism of colours blending together rhythmically. He couldn't tell where one colour ended and another began – a patch of golden light swirling and dancing gleefully.
White wings spread out with a grateful look, and the now white bird, in its own way, bowed its head. Goodbye, it said gleefully with a thankful blink of big eyes, goodbye.
The girl titled her head, giving him a slight smirk.
"Luné…?"
See? I am fine, I am still here.
His matching smile slipped away as he spotted them. Other reapers – not one, not two, but too many to count. They were marching their ways toward them – toward her – black wings flapping hastily.
(Behind them, the sun was hidden – surrounded by feathers and ash and smoke.)
"Solane, run!"
But she didn't run, she didn't hide. She stared back at him in confusion; an honest confusion that etched in her raised eyebrows, like there was something so obvious, but he couldn't see it –
I'm fine – see, see?
Couldn't she see it? See them? Couldn't she see her own future – smeared with darkness and tainted until she was stripped of her magic, thrown in a dark corner of oblivion and hatred, and bits and pieces of her?
She couldn't.
She saw lives that could be saved. She saw second chance.
Embracing them all, taking their darkness away – because everyone deserves a chance to begin again, right?
(No. No. Nonononononono. No. They don't. Not when you have to be the one paying.)
He stared at her instead as she inhaled. Hard and shallow, coughing up blood and light and everything. He watched in horror as her hand went limp and petite body fell down.
His feet hurt and his mind screamed. Everything spun so fast that left became right and right became left; spinning and wavering and rotating so fast he couldn't see anything. Wind hissed sharply in his ears, friction burning his exposed skin – cutting into white bones. The coldness sunk in slowly, poisonously.
They hit the ground with a deafening crash – injured and broken and very much dead.
Her words vibrated – shaky, scared and –
She was tainted by hatred, anger, evil and death.
Drossel – Solane – Rin – Eve – were all the same. She didn't change – not one bit. Her hair was still kept in long, silken waves. Still a choker on her slender neck, embedded with the blue gemstone. Blue frilly dress and a crown placed powerfully on her head, crimson sitting innocently among golden mass.
Ah, so she still kept that rose. One he gave her a long time ago, when they were both children and the only thing that mattered was who got the last cookie.
The pointy tip rested mockingly on black velvet, hovering just above the beating muscle inside his chest.
"Do you have any defense?"
(Yes.)
"No," he breathed, light–hearted and carefree. It seemed like he hadn't grown up at all; still stuck as a little boy who snickered mischievously when their prank successfully pissed someone off, smiled affectionately at her with his hands full of roses – her favourite flower.
How dare he remained like that when he'd forced her to leave her childhood and be rushed into maturity? Especially after he had assassinated the king and queen – their parents – with his own hands?
A part of her still stubbornly held on after all the years – the part that now, more than ever, begged to differ from the harsh truth – Letzel, gentle, loving Letzel, never killed a fly. How could he even yield a blade, let alone skillfully decapitate someone?
As always, he proved her wrong.
Parts of her blasted everywhere. They moved too fast, burnt too bright, and everything about the old Drossel withered away, wind scattering gray ash into nothingness. Hatred froze in sapphire eyes, gleaming with a thirst for blood he had never seen in her before.
Silver pierced through his heart.
He smiled. His hands found themselves around her waist, bringing her closer – and the sword dipped down more and more, ripping his heart apart. She watched with wide eyes. The stubborn part sobbed.
Crimson rose petals marred his skin. Letzel coughed. Red blood merged into black cloth, almost invisible to her eyes.
"I–"
Colors drained out.