Chapter 1: Awakening
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-oh in any shape or form. I do own the plotline though...I don't think this has been done before, so please don't copy my idea!
A/N-I have written chapter 4 for In The Eye Of The Beholder. I just can't be bothered to type it up. ^__^;;
A/N2- ~italics~ *bold*
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Glowing sapphire eyes snapped open and the creature sucked in its breath sharply. That was a mistake. It started to choke, lungs that had ceased working over fifteen years ago screaming.
The figure tried to sit up and was rewarded with a loud bang. It blinked, puzzled. Shouldn't that have hurt? It tried to shift but was restrained with walls on all sides, the silk smooth and musky.
Suddenly it heard a noise, and its ears pricked up.
"Cecelia, my love, I miss you so much. It seems not a day since you died, yet its already been fifteen years. Why did you have to leave me? It could have worked, I swear. I didn't mean to do it! I miss you so much..." The voice trailed off, and collapsed into sobs.
The creature drifted off into thought. Cecelia? Who was that? It sifted back through its memories, not finding much. A dark figure, claiming to heal her. Why? It remembered something sharp, sharp and silver. Sorrow, and lots of red. Everywhere! It realised that it was female, that it was supposed to feel pain. It heard footsteps, receding slowly. They were dulled, as if her hearing was failing her. Realisation hit her! Her mind was clouding over. She couldn't breathe!
She began to panic, scrabbling at the wooden box that enclosed her. ~Have...to...get...out!~ She started kicking and pushing, hitting the lid of her prison. It all seemed in vain, until she heard a crack. She renewed her efforts, adrenaline coursing through her system. She *had* to leave this place!
With a sickening crunch the lid gave, and she burst free, soil seeping into her tomb. She fought through layers of mud and roots and was rewarded by the tang of fresh air. She lay on the ground, panting, as the night overwhelmed her senses. The sky was midnight black, and cloudless, a silver moon glowing alongside the stars. Crickets chirped and owls hooted, taking refuge among the trees, afraid of this mysterious stranger.
A smell seeped into her delicate nose, and she sat up looking for the source. There! A bouquet of pale pink roses sat by her resting place. She picked them up clumsily, and ran her fingers over the soft petals.
She stood up and bumped into something solid. Turning awkwardly, hampered by the ruins of her prison, she looked at the offending object.
A large white stone, made out of marble. It was an angel! She gazed at the beautiful statue, revelling in its loveliness. There was a picture of a young woman on the front, golden haired and blue eyed, a rosy blush tinting her pallid cheeks.
All thoughts were wiped from her mind and her gaze wandered down, towards the bottom of the figure. Writing! She struggled to read the carvings, her brain just awakening from its long sleep.
Cecelia Pegasus, born 1964, died 1988. Beloved wife and friend. May her soul rest in peace.
Cecelia. That name was ~very~ familiar. Her musings were halted when she felt something cold against her collarbone. She lifted it to her eyes. A locket! She scrambled to open the catch, stiff fingers working. Maybe this would tell her who she was!
The catch flipped, and she peered inside. There was a picture of a silver haired man, but for all that he seemed young, and happy. Next to her was a woman, the one she'd seen on the statue. The woman gazed out of the picture, smiling softly.
It hit her with sickening clarity, and the little colour she had drained from her face. ~She~ was that woman! But who was the man?
Another thought pervaded her mind-space. She was...dead? But how could that be? She was standing right there, on the very solid ground.
Unless...
She fell to the floor in a dead faint.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Her eyes fluttered open as her vision blurred and slid into focus. A face drifted in-front of her.
"Mike, the woman's awake!" He grinned at her unpleasantly as his friend sauntered over.
"What shall we do with you, beautiful?"
"I would like to leave, please." She made to sit up, slightly dizzy. Her vision was sliding in and out of focus. What was wrong with her? She was finding it difficult to breathe.
Her efforts fell short as the man pushed her back to the ground. "You're not going anywhere, precious." He gave her a predatory smile.
"Who...are...you?" She fought to get the words out. Her tongue felt thick and swollen.
"My name? You don't need to know that, my sweet." His hand travelled down to her crotch.
"What...are...you...doing?" She looked at him, confused and frightened.
"You are going to make me a very happy man." He began to lift the skirt of her tattered white dress as he clamped his mouth on hers. Her eyes fluttered wide open and it hit her. He was trying to rape her!
Calling on strength she didn't know she possessed, she pulled her mouth away from his, hissing. He hurriedly withdrew his hand, startled.
"Ooh, Kitty's got claws!" Sang his friend gleefully. Cecelia was not listening.
She was staring at a large, pulsing vein on his neck. What was it called? Oh yes, the jugular vein. She watched it pulse, the stream of blue blood moving under the drunken pallor of his skin. Entranced, she reached out to rub it, but he moved away.
"Eh, see 'ere woman, what d'you think yer doin'?" He lapsed into his native dialect, much different from his previous cultured tones.
Something clicked in Cecelia's brain, and before she knew what was happening she ~changed~. Her pupils dwindled to slits and her eyes glowed an eerie red. Her face contorted into a hideously evil mask and her canines lengthened to needle sharp points, glinting silver.
"What the..."
She lunged, her pointed teeth sinking into his bloated neck in a manner similar to a cobras. She sucked hard, his juices restoring her strength. She grimaced, he tasted bad, of liquor and drugs. The man whimpered pitifully, and her heart lurched. She then remembered what he had done, and whatever pity she had for him was erased from her mind.
In a quick movement she had her hands around his neck, and wrenched, painstakingly slowly. She relished the sound of the bones in his neck breaking one by one. His eyes rolled up in his head, and she tossed him aside in disgust. How boring!
His friend was making to move away, frozen in horror, his breathing laboured. In a lightning fast move she pounced upon him, and held him still. He struggled to escape, but he was ensnared in her strong hold. Tears of dread ran down his drunken, bloated face, pleading for mercy. She sighed.
"Would you like me to let you go?" He nodded hurriedly. "Would you really..." She ran her hands up and down his chest, absentmindedly making circles with her fingertips. He breathed out a sigh of premature relief.
Cecelia looked him in the eyes and her wide smile was replaced with open scorn. "Fat chance." He screamed as her head darted towards his neck, and with a jerk of her head she ripped out his throat. She smiled winsomely, and lapped up the crimson elixir flowing from his jugular. Her long blonde hair trailed through the pool of blood, and she realised she was naked but for the almost non-existent remains of her dress.
She sighed. What a waste of a perfectly good dress. It wasn't even white anymore! Tiredness overcame her, and she crawled away into the trees before drifting off into a deep sleep.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-oh in any shape or form. I do own the plotline though...I don't think this has been done before, so please don't copy my idea!
A/N-I have written chapter 4 for In The Eye Of The Beholder. I just can't be bothered to type it up. ^__^;;
A/N2- ~italics~ *bold*
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Glowing sapphire eyes snapped open and the creature sucked in its breath sharply. That was a mistake. It started to choke, lungs that had ceased working over fifteen years ago screaming.
The figure tried to sit up and was rewarded with a loud bang. It blinked, puzzled. Shouldn't that have hurt? It tried to shift but was restrained with walls on all sides, the silk smooth and musky.
Suddenly it heard a noise, and its ears pricked up.
"Cecelia, my love, I miss you so much. It seems not a day since you died, yet its already been fifteen years. Why did you have to leave me? It could have worked, I swear. I didn't mean to do it! I miss you so much..." The voice trailed off, and collapsed into sobs.
The creature drifted off into thought. Cecelia? Who was that? It sifted back through its memories, not finding much. A dark figure, claiming to heal her. Why? It remembered something sharp, sharp and silver. Sorrow, and lots of red. Everywhere! It realised that it was female, that it was supposed to feel pain. It heard footsteps, receding slowly. They were dulled, as if her hearing was failing her. Realisation hit her! Her mind was clouding over. She couldn't breathe!
She began to panic, scrabbling at the wooden box that enclosed her. ~Have...to...get...out!~ She started kicking and pushing, hitting the lid of her prison. It all seemed in vain, until she heard a crack. She renewed her efforts, adrenaline coursing through her system. She *had* to leave this place!
With a sickening crunch the lid gave, and she burst free, soil seeping into her tomb. She fought through layers of mud and roots and was rewarded by the tang of fresh air. She lay on the ground, panting, as the night overwhelmed her senses. The sky was midnight black, and cloudless, a silver moon glowing alongside the stars. Crickets chirped and owls hooted, taking refuge among the trees, afraid of this mysterious stranger.
A smell seeped into her delicate nose, and she sat up looking for the source. There! A bouquet of pale pink roses sat by her resting place. She picked them up clumsily, and ran her fingers over the soft petals.
She stood up and bumped into something solid. Turning awkwardly, hampered by the ruins of her prison, she looked at the offending object.
A large white stone, made out of marble. It was an angel! She gazed at the beautiful statue, revelling in its loveliness. There was a picture of a young woman on the front, golden haired and blue eyed, a rosy blush tinting her pallid cheeks.
All thoughts were wiped from her mind and her gaze wandered down, towards the bottom of the figure. Writing! She struggled to read the carvings, her brain just awakening from its long sleep.
Cecelia Pegasus, born 1964, died 1988. Beloved wife and friend. May her soul rest in peace.
Cecelia. That name was ~very~ familiar. Her musings were halted when she felt something cold against her collarbone. She lifted it to her eyes. A locket! She scrambled to open the catch, stiff fingers working. Maybe this would tell her who she was!
The catch flipped, and she peered inside. There was a picture of a silver haired man, but for all that he seemed young, and happy. Next to her was a woman, the one she'd seen on the statue. The woman gazed out of the picture, smiling softly.
It hit her with sickening clarity, and the little colour she had drained from her face. ~She~ was that woman! But who was the man?
Another thought pervaded her mind-space. She was...dead? But how could that be? She was standing right there, on the very solid ground.
Unless...
She fell to the floor in a dead faint.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Her eyes fluttered open as her vision blurred and slid into focus. A face drifted in-front of her.
"Mike, the woman's awake!" He grinned at her unpleasantly as his friend sauntered over.
"What shall we do with you, beautiful?"
"I would like to leave, please." She made to sit up, slightly dizzy. Her vision was sliding in and out of focus. What was wrong with her? She was finding it difficult to breathe.
Her efforts fell short as the man pushed her back to the ground. "You're not going anywhere, precious." He gave her a predatory smile.
"Who...are...you?" She fought to get the words out. Her tongue felt thick and swollen.
"My name? You don't need to know that, my sweet." His hand travelled down to her crotch.
"What...are...you...doing?" She looked at him, confused and frightened.
"You are going to make me a very happy man." He began to lift the skirt of her tattered white dress as he clamped his mouth on hers. Her eyes fluttered wide open and it hit her. He was trying to rape her!
Calling on strength she didn't know she possessed, she pulled her mouth away from his, hissing. He hurriedly withdrew his hand, startled.
"Ooh, Kitty's got claws!" Sang his friend gleefully. Cecelia was not listening.
She was staring at a large, pulsing vein on his neck. What was it called? Oh yes, the jugular vein. She watched it pulse, the stream of blue blood moving under the drunken pallor of his skin. Entranced, she reached out to rub it, but he moved away.
"Eh, see 'ere woman, what d'you think yer doin'?" He lapsed into his native dialect, much different from his previous cultured tones.
Something clicked in Cecelia's brain, and before she knew what was happening she ~changed~. Her pupils dwindled to slits and her eyes glowed an eerie red. Her face contorted into a hideously evil mask and her canines lengthened to needle sharp points, glinting silver.
"What the..."
She lunged, her pointed teeth sinking into his bloated neck in a manner similar to a cobras. She sucked hard, his juices restoring her strength. She grimaced, he tasted bad, of liquor and drugs. The man whimpered pitifully, and her heart lurched. She then remembered what he had done, and whatever pity she had for him was erased from her mind.
In a quick movement she had her hands around his neck, and wrenched, painstakingly slowly. She relished the sound of the bones in his neck breaking one by one. His eyes rolled up in his head, and she tossed him aside in disgust. How boring!
His friend was making to move away, frozen in horror, his breathing laboured. In a lightning fast move she pounced upon him, and held him still. He struggled to escape, but he was ensnared in her strong hold. Tears of dread ran down his drunken, bloated face, pleading for mercy. She sighed.
"Would you like me to let you go?" He nodded hurriedly. "Would you really..." She ran her hands up and down his chest, absentmindedly making circles with her fingertips. He breathed out a sigh of premature relief.
Cecelia looked him in the eyes and her wide smile was replaced with open scorn. "Fat chance." He screamed as her head darted towards his neck, and with a jerk of her head she ripped out his throat. She smiled winsomely, and lapped up the crimson elixir flowing from his jugular. Her long blonde hair trailed through the pool of blood, and she realised she was naked but for the almost non-existent remains of her dress.
She sighed. What a waste of a perfectly good dress. It wasn't even white anymore! Tiredness overcame her, and she crawled away into the trees before drifting off into a deep sleep.