-LOVE, PEACE & WAR-
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
It seems like immortality is real. And, immortal life is possible.
Furthermore, the frantic hunt and protection over the secret of immortality continues today- chaotically, violently, and all around the world, and yet absolutely shrouded in mystery inside the silhouetted world of the Mafia.
But amidst the maddening 300 hundred-year-old secret conflict, some of the immortal Alchemists from 1711 Europe are up to no-good with their own personal demons and corrupted agendas during their time watching the all corners of the world around them, especially the parts shrouded by mystery, change drastically.
By: chibigurl305
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
The REAL Summary- (I apologize for the length- it's actually pretty necessary)
One particular maid that works for the Vongola mafia family's great assassination squad, the Varia, goes to Ouran Academy; the learning sanctuary for the rich and powerful, for a Varia mission that's non-Mafia related (weirdly enough). But, while attending one of the most elite schools in Japan, she also attends a series of fights to the death at night to… serve wine to a Mafia Boss candidate in a room with a giant wall-sized TV?
The weirdness doesn't stop there; the Host Club decides to live 'the commoner life' after accepting another female, commoner, and non-customer friend. (How else will those ridiculously good looking teens supposed to win Haruhi's heart?)… So (insert: Tamaki's idea) they leave to Namimori Japan for a commoner-school exchange program made for bored filthy-rich students! But that's not good considering the school they're going to. You know that one school where the biggest Mafia members and hit-men are hanging out at for some reason. (By the way, is it a good idea to have loud, obnoxious rich people around Hibari? Probably not...)
But yet, the madness doesn't stop even there! - Immortals. Bored, insane, twisted and absolutely inhumane immortals are beginning to change and tamper with the world they're seen grow into a moral-less human-wasteland over the course of ninety-something years. Some immortals have world domination on their minds and some, a second Holocaust on theirs. And did I mention one immortal in particular has an army over a hundred of very loyal… 'non-human' help?
Can and will everyone survive this ancient chaos that's pouring into their everyday lives?
We can only hope, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
"When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show life that you have a thousand reasons to smile."
– By; Unknown Author
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
Pairings- Idk, like maybe 80XOC or XxOC… 1827, R69, 0080, wtf! Pfft, like I actually know! XD I'll look at the suggestions in comments or reviews.
Characters- Varia, Vongola gang, Ouran people, and some Baccano cast (you don't need to know this anime to read this Fanfiction… but you do need to watch it for its awesomeness). YES, THREE WORLDS CLASHING! THIS IS GOING TO BE CHAOTIC!
Warnings- an 'sort of' AU, defiantly some OCs; the central ones are Clara and Ciel (both girls) any others will be added with no warning. Bad language, dirty jokes, ripping on European, Japanese and American people and racial slurs, horrible treatment on Humanity and human rights will be included in this dark-ish fic (but it'll lighten and darken up like a rollercoaster of bipolar-ness).
DISCLAIMER; I OWN NOTHING OF EVERYTHING MENTIONED IN THIS STORY, EXCEPT MY EMOTIONS, MY CHARACTERS, MY JOKES AND MY PARTICAL RACISM!
And if you're still reading this, you're very patient and kind!
Ok, let's get this show going! Cue lights! Camera! ACTION!
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
Chapter One: In Which Normality Turn Into Unusual Problems for the Most Serene
A girl with neck length black, disheveled hair that covered the top part of her face sighed heavily as she rushed through the halls of a mansion that she called home. A very big (BIG!) mansion. Was she rich? HELL NO! If the girl ever had the actual chance, she'd laugh at the irony of it all.
At her situation, that is.
Yes, she lived in a mansion (… that… belongs to someone else…). She is one of the many house-staff that worked hard, and with her own life on the line, to make sure to serve the occupants of the mansion with excellent service. And also help make sure that the mansion isn't reduced to charcoal and rubble by the end of the day.
Or be killed be the many homicidal occupants of the house. Which-ever comes first.
(It's like a 'clean or be killed on the spot' kind of game of fun-ness! Not!)
Anyway, rushing through the beautiful mansion diligently, the girl made her way to a large towering old Italian/Victorian era door that was admittedly breathe-taking; the slightly muffled shouting from the other side of the ostentatious door- not so beautiful. The girl straightened her posture and shifted the unopened tequila bottle in her hands so that it, and also herself looked presentable- if not graceful.
The girl even went out of her way or ironing her dark blue maid uniform into crisp perfection- it's a 'prideful worker' thing, don't judge her! (Even though in the rush of doing so, forgot to comb her hair.) She just doesn't want to get fired today, or the next day or any other day- despite that the job sucks.
But she'll endure it! (Like she even has a choice).
Gathering imaginary bravery, Clara walks into the room. The moment Clara pushes the door open, the shouting immediately intensifying to the point where Clara physically winced. Crisp sounds of things being violently broken reached the maid's ears, with almost inhumanly loud shouting echoes off the walls in the ostentatious room and into the empty hallways (and they're empty for a good reason). There's no one to help this Maid with the people inside that Victorian-Italian room.
In the face of utter madness, Clara ventures into the room.
The maid kept her eyes to the ground, so hopefully she won't be noticed or included in the fight that destroyed the relatively classy Victorian room which had mahogany wall paper and dark-wood floor. The rather pretentious room even was lighted by a brilliantly glistening crystal chandelier, which is never used for 'good' purposes.
(Ex, Such as using the expensive decoration as a weapon, using the shards to stab, tying people by the neck to the chandelier to swing around mercilessly, etc…)
Clara made her way against the opposite wall from the other side of the room where the fight took place, and made sure to not to be noticed. Her messy black hair helps her to hide her face. Unfortunately, it also makes a lot of blind spots in the maid's line of vision.
The maid barely saw it coming as she narrowly dodged a dark green bottle that was thrown to the right of her head and exploded on the wall. The pieces of glass scattered to the (also very) expensive floor behind her, sprinkling shards that rained down on Clara's calves that were luckily covered in protective in dark tights. Clara held back the urge to cover her face protectively in fear of another random bottle ricocheting towards her from the fight in front of her, and to run out of the war zone of a room. But she has a job to do. A SUCKY job, but HER job.
"Bring the boos to the boss, bring the boos to the boss, bring the boos to the boss," Clara chanted inside her head as she made her way, dodging random bits of up-turned and or broken furniture, bottles, knives, and food that was thrown in all directions of the room. Clara couldn't help but to notice that the things thrown in her direction were bigger and sharper than the objects thrown on the opposite side of the room.
Awesome, yeah! - go on and hate on the maid, whatever!
Amidst out from the random fight, an aqua-marine haired boy was chucked in her direction and ended up landing and breaking what was an unharmed couch in front of her. The couch was thrusted backwards on impact, tipping the piece of furniture backwards as he rolled back with it. The green-blue haired boy ended up lying down and staring upwards at the ceiling. He seemed fine, but with a very emotionless look on his face (… and are those blue triangles under his eyes?). Poor thing. He's probably in shock! Giving the poor new recruit a sympatric stare, Clara goes on with her job without helping him up. (Boss doesn't like kindness… or human sympathy in general).
"Why aren't rich people nice or polite anymore? Whatever happened to these people's manners?" Clara wondered to herself as she briefly glimpsed at the room that torn apart, even though it was repaired two hours ago. Clara suddenly feels like she should make sure not to complain about her job in front of the carpenters that also lived and worked in the madhouse of a mansion.
As she just got out of range of the chaotic fight, Clara then spots a familiar patch of black hair and a slight murderous aura on the other side of the room that choked the innocence of being in mansion quite effectively. And relief floods her soul. "I CAN GET OUT OF THIS ROOM IN JUST A FEW MORE MOMENTS! YES!" Clara cheers inside of her head. Her body floods with a victorious feeling that hides itself on her French-ly calm face.
Pulling out a clean crystal drinking cup from her large front pockets of her maid's uniform, Clara makes her way to her destination. Clara noticed her boss's throne chair was positioned as if he wanted to see the fight of his two subordinates, but Clara highly doubted that was the case. She knew Boss doesn't give a damn, one way or another, about his subordinates. He probably is too lazy to move his chair, and is waiting to shoot the first unlucky person to chuck something in his direction.
"All the reason to get the boss drunk, so his aim is remains exactly the same," Clara good naturedly makes a dark joke inside of her head (that's way too true for her own safety). It's one of the few ways to find peace in this mansion.
Clara finally makes it to the side of Xanxus's chair and sets the cup on the arm-rest on his chair. "Would you like some more to drink, sir?" Clara asked, holding out the bottle of tequila.
Her boss, Xanxus, looks up boredly from the border-line homicide of a fight between subordinates in front of him and glances at his bar-maid with a cold look with difference. Well, not completely cold; almost the opposite, really. Clara noted that her boss's eyes are a delightful shade of murder, blood, flames of hell… ECT – 'a warm scarlet red'.
While looking at her boss's calm face, Xanxus suddenly swiped the full glass bottle from Clara and chucked it at his poor second in command.
That, at least, got Squalo to stop fighting with the other Varia member, Prince Bel.
Clara blinked for a moment to process what happened, before realizing by the missing weight in her hand that the action took place at an inhuman speed. She then wondered if her boss was going to reach for something else to throw, seeing his second in command stand right up after the attack to start yelling profanities at the fearsome boss.
How has he not died yet, anyway? , Clara wondered.
It must be some sort of special blessing that Squalo was born with. The blessing may save Squalo from dying, but it doesn't stop him from getting hurt, like some sort of incomplete immortality (even though Clara knows this is not the case). Xanxus glared full-throttle at his second-in-command. He looked ready to throw the nearest chair/bolder/mansion staff at the white-haired assassin and co-worker (That's never a good combination…).
Not wanting to be thrown herself, Clara grabs the unharmed crystal bottle from Xanxus's side and holds it in her other hand not in a gesture, but modestly in her boss's view. He should at least know that he doesn't have to throw this particular maid. There's plenty of willing staff elsewhere in this mansion! (Well, not willing, but there are definitely more, weaker and older maids. And butlers! There's plenty of butlers too.)
"Don't throw me, don't throw me, don't throw me" Clara prayed inside her head, almost out-loud. The maid's face shifted to a look of discontent as bad memories replaying inside of the Maid's mind;
Once, while on the job, Clara was thrown.
It was not fun.
"Get me some red wine. And send someone to clean this mess, trash." her boss dismissed the French Maid in his commanding, deep, and intimidating voice. His voice never vibrated nor did her boss open his mouth wide while speaking, indicating that he wasn't yelling, but rather his voice is very (freakin') loud. Without ever trying, he gives the same frightening feeling of being yelled at. That's just how scary this man is.
Clara could only nod and rush a "Yes sir" before weaving her way through the chunks of broken furniture and glass that littered the floor, to the highly awaited door. "DOOR! DOOR! DOOR!" Clara nearly shook in anticipation to get out away from the Varia and her fearsome boss, if it wasn't for her French pride. Despite her stubbornness to show fear, Clara knows he isn't in a good mood- not like he's ever in a good mood. (When Xanxus wastes a full bottle of alcohol to throw someone, you know he's pissed).
Clara managed to inform the (pissed off, but too scared to do or say anything about it) carpenters and maids, and get Xanxus's wine in a record time; forty-two seconds! Clara knew it wasn't a household record, but it's a nice boost to Clara's (dying, rotting, semi-corpse of what used to be a) ego. Xanxus seemed pleased (meaning, he didn't threaten to or kill her, nor break the bottle with Squalo's forehead.) by her choice of wine, Chateauneuf du Pape Clos des Papes (it was the most expensive wine she could find in the wine cellar), since he never specified what he wanted. But, the job is done, and Clara is not dead (Yet).
And so Clara finished sweeping the foyer of the mansion, on the west wing of the mansion, and then helped with the kitchen staff by cleaning stoves and loading dishwashers before she made a run for it to her tiny room on the opposite side of the Varia estate, since her job for the day is done. Clara's Maid-duties were to bring Xanxus alcohol, and help clean. The French maid has her schedule down on a dime. She knew Xanxus's limit is three large bottles of hard alcohol a day and after she delivered bottle number three and her cleaning chores were done, Clara didn't waste any time rushing back to the safety of her room, the door closing with a semi-reassuring 'click' of the door lock. SAFE!
Well, not completely safe… whenever one of the Varia come within fifty feet of her room, then it's about as safe as a drunk Yankees fan at Fenway Park. (For those of you who don't know baseball, a drunk Yankees fan + Fenway Park with Red Sox fans = fight/knifing and or a riot… vice versa)
Yupp. Never, ever safe. EVER!
In fact, her safety level is about at 2.4% at all times. This is because she sees the Varia regularly, everyday. This is sort of weird… You would think that a team of seven people can't show up twice in a mansion the size of the one Clara is in one day, right? WELL, YOU'RE WRONG.
The Varia found a way, they found a way.
Clara pushed that lost thought away for the sake of her own sanity. Imagining the Varia being anymore powerful or all-knowing is enough to drive the Maid crazy right now.
This maid has seen enough crazy to last her a lifetime, and forty-seven more.
Scratching her messy dark hair, Clara took off her maid's uniform and the rest of her clothes. She entered in her tiny bathroom and turned on valve that thundered warm water into the modest (read: tiny) tub. The tired maid submersed herself in a clean porcelain bath tub filled with lukewarm water.
After soaking in the delightfully thick-with-minerals water that soothed out the aches and pains of running from and serving the Varia, Clara used her French soap and shampoo to clean the grime of the day that stuck to her. (Clara loves her home country!) What a way to sooth Varia-caused physical and mental pains! Not even her annoyingly long and now wet bangs sticking to her face could ruin this moment of peace in her itty-bitty sanctuary. In fact, Clara loved her bathroom.
Clara was grateful that she had running water in her room. She's heard that some rooms have off-and-on water, and some don't have any at all. Over-worked and dirty; how depressing. Clara would be the queen of all assholes is she had to work under those conditions. Speaking of assholes…
Clara wondered why her boss was so frustrated as to throw an un-opened tequila bottle at Squalo. He always gets at least a sip before chucking the darn thing, so why be so furious? (There's actually just under a billion reasons for Xanxus to be furious, but let's just pretend that's not the case here.)
"Oh yeah," Clara remembered. "The Tenth Vongola. They're all going to Japan to hunt down the unfortunate heir." Clara felt sorry for the kid, being all sucked into the mafia like he probably is, but yet again, Clara gets a free vacation for however long the Varia decide to stay in Japan. No bottles or chairs being thrown in Clara's direction for certain amount of time! HELL YEAH!
But, there's catch (of course). She'll probably end up staying in the mansion anyway to keep the mansion clean because-
A.) Boss doesn't tolerate laziness or a dirty mansion,
B.) Clara has no money to do anything else besides to work to get more money.
The latter made Clara's head drop in defeat. "Why does Boss pay me so little money?" Clara despaired inside her head, "I risk my life everyday! I WANT A RAISE!" Clara sunk further her shoulders in the water, knowing her small dream is waaaaaaay out of her reach; at least it will be with Xanxus as her boss. "Super-minimum wage paychecks are the devil…" Clara thought as an irritated vein on her forehead throbbed.
Relaxing her tensed muscles again, Clara leaned back on the back of the tub and traced patterns in the ceiling with her eyes, and continued to wallow in warm water.
Clara absently thought how rich Xanxus and the Varia must be, (they seem to do whatever the hell they want without worries, especially about breaking furniture that's worth more than Clara on a daily basis) and wondered with the best of her abilities how it was like to live a life style of the rich and the powerful. How great could it be? Or how great could it not be, considering how angry Xanxus always seems. Clara let an airy sigh leave her lips as she sunk half her face under water, pouting, and bubbled out in slightly cooling water, "Oh well. It's not like I'll ever find out for myself."
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
Xanxus and the Varia are having a meeting.
No, really! They are! Ignore the death threats being tossed around, the very loud yelling and the throwing of random objects, and then you could see that most of the members are sitting down. Including Xanxus (of course). And a wide variety of words are being exchanged… loudly… So yeah, technically it is a meeting.
"VOOOOOOOIII! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOLD STILL, PRINCE-BASTARD!"
"Ushishishishi~ you can't tell the prince what to do, ignorant pheasant. Shut up before I slit your throat open~"
"Not on the floor. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to replace a carpet like this?"
"Yeah, and stop it with the stupid fake royalty stuff, stupid-phony-Prince."
The sharp sound of knives being thrown was heard, laughter following, then a thick-sounding crash, as if a morbidly obese person sat and broke a desk. (AN: that's a weird analogy…)
"Wow~ everyone just seems so rowdy tonight! Maybe I should make some more snacks…"
"Quiet, I think the boss is going to say something!"
The last two comments were ignored by everyone as the argument continued violently.
In the midst of the chaos, Xanxus sat calm in his chair, swirling his alcohol in a crystal glass that reflected the diffuse light in the room. The reddened reflected light scattered across Xanxus's dark features, his coal-black hair and even his facial scar that was only slightly faded. The dark red color of the devil's elixir matches his personality all too well. The Vongola heir took a sip of his scarlet drink, and growled in approval at the stinging sensation in his throat, only to have warmth wash the pain away. He sets the glass back down, then looks out the window that revealed the pitch-black night that lacked a moon and stars.
Xanxus had an uncharacteristically thoughtful look to him as he was pondering about a new mission that need's his attention. This is odd; the Boss is anything but an indecisive man. Whatever Xanxus wants, it happens (not including the current Vongola Heir issue).
But this isn't the usual mission.
The more Xanxus thought about the mission, the more annoyed he felt. If there's one thing Xanxus would personally go out in the world to destroy, it would be brats. Not Tsuna-type brats (although he does needs to die), Xanxus is talking about the rich, obnoxious, and stupidly ignorant brats that made Xanxus feel like they'd be better off without a face.
Xanxus, a long time ago, would go through the torture and go to dinners with the Ninth and socialize their selves with the richest families, (mafia or not) all around the world. And the world supply of brats would be there too. Squealing, daddy-pleading, teary eyes and snot-nosed brats. He nearly killed the other mafia family kids more than once per each special dinner party, double for the brats.
They'd all be dead if it wasn't for the Ninth stepping in every time Xanxus had his hands wringed around a brat's neck. Stupid old man…
And now, Xanxus is out of the Vongola, and is cut off with the other influential families. Sure, Xanxus can keep up appearances with other Mafia families; no, he doesn't mind torturing those ones, nor is it an inconvenience on his part either, since they can't exactly call the police. Not if they want jail-time too.
At least scummy small families can get blood on their hands, and do something without the authorities' help. Brats can only flaunt their money and ask their mommy and daddy for everything. Every time Xanxus sees a brat, he has the overwhelming desire to shoot them in their ankles, make them drag their selves to the hospital then show up at the hospital after their painful surgery of snapping their bones back together is done and then finish the job with his trusty guns wearing an honest smile on his scarred face.
But, no people, no business.
As much as Xanxus hates to acknowledge it, he needs the brats and their brat's parents since they do have influential power in politics and in world stocks which is still very important, even for the underground world of the mafia.
But Xanxus's not going to fucking talk to those brats. Would the Varia be able to spy or carry out official business with them? Xanxus could almost laugh at the thought. Not only does Xanxus completely distrust his Varia on doing the business part right (because they're a wild pack of idiots), he has a feeling that the rich and powerful and their pedigree children will suddenly start disappear upon the arrival of the Varia. Not that Xanxus can blame them without being a hypocrite... Damn brats…
But, despite the dilemma at hand, Xanxus has an idea.
It's been brought to Xanxus's attention, that one of the workers at his mansion has been killed or fired yet. (Which is an amazing feet by normal people's standards) That fact alone brings up a very difficult answer; does she annoy the crap out of Xanxus?
No.
By far, Xanxus is not nearly annoyed of her than by the other workers. She doesn't grabble in fear at the sight of him and spill shit everywhere like a clumsy dumb-ass, and she's not disrespectful like an oblivious idiot and 'forced' Xanxus to shoot them in the head. Not at all, not her. This worker is by far the longest worker that has ever existed in the Varia mansion; two whole months.
Thereby, she is the most reliable. If not, a death threat will make her loyal. That's one less thing to worry about besides winning the fight against the next Vongola boss for the boss's position in a week. He also has another, much more complicated plan that'll need Xanxus's full attention.
Xanxus emptied half his glass in one gulp at the thought.
Xanxus made a deep growl in his throat at the sting of alcohol, before muttering out, "She'll deal with the brats at Ouran" in conclusion. A certain loud-as-hell assassin didn't hear him.
"VOOOI! Boss, who's going to get the mission?" Squalo shouted at his boss. Sounds like Xanxus forgot to go over the Ouran mission with his idiot subordinates…
Squalo's voice raised in volume and his grey eyes practically sizzled in anger, as Xanxus tuned out his loud-as-hell voice.
…Or even mention what it's about.
Xanxus stared at his second in command for a moment, before tearing the solid wood chair next to him off the ground, and chucking it with precision at the white-haired assassin's head.
Squalo's head was knocked backwards as he screamed profanities, demanding an explanation for being hit in the head. "You're too fucking loud, trash." Xanxus replied.
"Ushishishi~ the job that the boss seems deep in thought about, should belong to the prince." Prince Bel grinned as he gave a amused stare at Squalo who roughed wood chunks out of his hair with one hand and using his other to point and accuse Xanxus of everything little thing that came to Squalo's mind (90 percent profanities, 10 percent 'VOI!').
"Would you like me to take on that mission, boss?" Levi requested respectfully. He was ignored.
Lussuria furrowed his eyes brows. "What's this mission about anyway?"
"Yeah, is it a mass-assassination? Do we get to destroy a village like the time in Malaysia?" Prince Bel asked with hint of amusement in his innocent-sounding voice.
"It's not going to be expensive, is it?" Marmon spoke in an eerily empty yet musical voice.
"It's regular business." Xanxus announced, taking a swig of his drink. Bel made a disapproving sound. "How boring… Never mind then. The prince doesn't want the mission."
Fran decided to speak up. "Yeah, normal wouldn't do it for you. I don't even believe that you're completely human, fake prince," at that moment, a knife was lodged in Fran's hat, dangerously close to his forehead. Fran didn't flinch, let alone blinked as he barely made a fight and whined, "Mou, that hurt Bel-sempai." in a jarringly emotionless voice.
"What kind of mission is it?" Squalo asked in his usual volume, ignoring the stupid prince and the frog-weirdo. Wait, just how did he get into the Varia in the first place?
"It's a long-term spying mission in Japan at a brat's school. The bar-maid is going to go." Xanxus declared in little words with a bored expression. Levi's eyes widened dramatically. "No, boss! We can't let some girl go and do a job for the Varia! She'll mess up for sure!" Xanxus made a "Tch" sound and glared at his Thunder Guardian (…what's his name anyway?) for underestimating his judgment. Didn't the guy worship him or something? He's doing a shitty job.
Levi paled and backed down. Bel's mouth was pulled into a mocking grin. "Hm… why the bar-maid?" he questioned with an amused undertone.
"YEAH! Why the bar-maid? Does she even speak Japanese?" Squalo shouted at his boss. Xanxus crushed the bottle in his hand, expensive scarlet wine spilt to the floor and Marmon glared at Xanxus. The Boss turned his head towards his second in command with eyes filled with smoldering fire. "No shit she does. What do you think I am, an idiot?" Before Squalo could get his death wish granted by answering 'YES!' Lussuria spoke up again. "Hm? I thought she was French?" the flamboyant flamer noted, "Her last name is du Vale, isn't it?" (Why does he know that?)
Fran scratched the side of his head (the only spot on his head he can reach lol). "Ah, this doesn't even make sense… how did she end up working over in Italy if she's from France?" the frog sighed. Marmon turned in mid-air to face his subordinate. "Hm"
Truth is she's worked for the Ninth for a long time.
Xanxus remembers seeing her when I was just a kid, when his mother dropped him off to be a mafia boss- Xanxus remembered faintly, the kind words a younger Clara gave him the moment he stepped out of the limo in front of the house that held a family that changed his life forever. Welcome 'ome, young Master. Iz deez your bagz or 'ave they not arrived yet? Even with the annoying accent, she was the only one who didn't try to change Xanxus, or lie to him. She was just a young maid living along the sidelines not mattering directly to Xanxus's life in any way, but in the end she was the most honest person in his life, the one that gave Xanxus the greatest amount of a normal feeling while growing up in the mafia. The scarred Mafioso had mutual respect for her. But he isn't going to let his idiot subordinates know that.
"She comes from a poor family and looked for work in Italy. She worked in the Vongola estate as a maid under the Ninth's rule." Xanxus informed his subordinates. His powerful baritone voice echoed in the room.
"Ah I see!" Lussuria beamed, the only happy looking person in the room, "A French girl huh? She may be troublesome… they tend to have big attitudes." the flamboyant assassin's smile turned into a thoughtful look. Lussuria remembered being in France, going around shopping. There was a sale, and it was a free for all, so the flamer Guardian snatched an adorable purse from a sea of greedy hands. Lussuria doubts he will ever forget the blood thirsty snarl the French woman in the store all gave him when they saw he got the last purse. He could have mistaken any of those furious women as the antichrist itself!
"A god-damn French brat? You can't be serious, boss!" Squalo shouted his accusations loudly.
"No. I've never heard her complain about her job before, unlike you, trash." Xanxus confirmed, taking a good amount of tequila in his mouth while Squalo seethed at the insult (shouldn't he be used to it by now?)
"Ushishishi~ that's because she's a pheasant. Pheasant's don't have the privilege to complain." Bel's melodic voice sang out happily, with a threatening undertone that could only belong to Bel.
Levi's face hinted that he agreed completely. "Bel's right! She doesn't do anything important! Boss, if she ever complains we could always just kill her."
Xanxus just sat there in his throne-like chair, pondering upon the unusual attention to Levi's proposal (or unusual acknowledgment his existence, for that matter. Twice in one day is too much for the quantity of his uselessness). Xanxus didn't want to admit it, but he doesn't really want his bar-maid to die. She's the only person in his life that didn't try to lie to him or change him, or be so much of a klutz in his presence to drop or spill anything or be an annoyingly clumsy mansion staff. She is also weird as hell, with her hair style that covered her face. In fact, Xanxus never saw her eyes or her face, and wondered why she kept it hidden.
Xanxus guesses if you're ugly, you're ugly, and how you deal with your face is a personal problem. Besides, someone unattractive will get less attention, right? Even better for the mission.
Trying to remember the last time Clara put attention on herself, Xanxus found himself trying to think of a time when Clara actually even talked about herself.
One occasion or another, all his maid or butlers would try to strike up a conversation with Xanxus a certain number of times; the numbers of times determined by how much the person irritates Xanxus… everyone, except for Clara. This left Clara who only talked about whatever was happening in or out of the Varia mansion, stating her opinion plainly, never expecting a reply.
Sure, Xanxus has meet people void of emotion (save for Fran and Marmon, but they don't count), but he's never seen Clara smile before. Ever. Or maybe she did, but her damn hair got in the way. Damn weird-ass girl.
Realizing he didn't reply yet, Xanxus muttered out, "Yeah."
Levi nodded in approval, seemingly content with how the mission is being handled so far, even though it will be carried out by a maid. But, Boss is never wrong.
Squalo made an annoyed sound, while slandering his words over to his boss. "I don't understand why any of the Varia won't be spying for this mission!" Xanxus ignored his loud-ass second in command. Why couldn't he just drop dead from something conveniently painful like AIDs or something? Xanxus is sure Sqaulo's death will actually be the cure to the Varia Mansion's constant noise.
"VOOOOOOI!" Squalo yelled at his boss again, his face exploding in anger. NO. ONE. IGNORES. SQUALO!
Xanxus's eyebrow twitched in annoyance before simply stating, "Because you posse of psychos would never blend in Ouran Academy."
Marmon gave a shocked silence, and the Varia could have sworn they heard a menacing thunder-clash outside. "You mean that rich-kids school? That school where the uniform costs more than twelve-thousand yen alone?" A dark aura surrounded the toddler-sized assassin at the thought of spending that much money on a freakin' uniform.
Everyone noticed Marmon's darkening aura and took a few steps back. He may be smaller than them, but he's widely known as 'the guy that'll make you see scary-ass shit when you get him angry'.
"Huh?" Lussuria gave a confused/fearful look, pressing his hand against his face… gaily. "What's so special about this school?"
Marmon's aura only got deadlier. "You see, Ouran is what you'd consider an 'elite' school. Because they are called 'elite' they expect people a lot of money to get in and stay in. Only rich kids get in. It's one. Big. Expensive. Scam." Marmon's voice was more of an invisible knife than anything else as Varia members scrambled to get farther away from the glowering Marmon.
Xanxus remained in his chair with an irritated face; why the hell are his subordinates afraid of a baby? "Looks like there's some discipline to reinforce" Xanxus decided inside of his head. He grabbed his guns and switched off the safety with a 'click'.
Lifting his smoldering gaze to the Varia for a moment, Xanxus is completely and utterly serious. "The French maid-trash is going to Ouran."
BANG! CRASH! KA-BOOM, et cetera!
Yes, it was yet another Varia meeting…
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
That night, Clara lay restlessly on an uncomfortable bed. There was one thing, and one thing that been bothering her since the day she's worked here and the only thought running through the girl's mind as her lips curled up in anger.
THIS
BED
SUCKS!
Why deal with this crap? Clara sighed and tried to put her attention somewhere else;
Clara remembered a time, when she had a normal life, living a mellow life. Where did it all go wrong? And then, Clara remembers exactly where it all went wrong. Clara had no normal life. Parents literally didn't care if she died of not. They never even talked to her.
Aside from that, it seemed that her parents were hiding or not telling Clara something, though Clara could never really place it. Just something that made itself known in the deepest recesses of her mind, so far that it's not so much as a thought, but more of a feeling. It was something Clara could never grasp, for as she did, any bit of reasonableness of that feeling slips right through her fingers like water. Never to become more than vague fuzz in her mind, Clara believes it to be something that was simply part of her. It was infuriating and intriguing on so many levels.
Over the years, Clara has learned to accept it as another lovely part of her life.
Despite her parents never talking to her, Clara managed to get a decent education through French public schooling. The teachers seemed to care. However, while in school, Clara realized the world wasn't as silent as her home with her two cold parents. People make noise all the time, people can talk to each other, and people do so much more. Clara never felt so… regenerated knowing that there's more to life than silence and keeping out of people's ways. Sometimes, it's exactly like that, but other times… life can be so beautiful, it was mind-blowing.
This little piece of inspiration caused Clara to go on working as early as the French law allows; thirteen years old. Clara experienced life, and she couldn't get enough of it. Clara moved out of her parent's house, and they said nothing of the manner, of course. Clara uttered a simple 'good-bye', the only words ever spoken in her home, and then she went running out of her house, and went on living life in Europe.
It was then where Clara learned the evils of minimum wage.
Clara… never made much money, working no matter what job she had. It seemed impossible for the poor French girl to earn decent pay. But, on the bright side, Clara learned many things, meet many people and has experience in just about everything. Even though the pay sucked. In the end, Clara got to live a lot while bouncing around Italy.
However, not graduating high school means no honest work. It was difficult to grasp at first, but Clara became a maid for the Vongola Mafia family (yeah, the MAFIA… she was desperate for money!)
Eventually, Clara wanted a more honest living, and went back to France to work odd jobs.
And while in her home country, she discovered that she had family. Spread all over the world, it seemed, were people like her. She meets her sister Noel Laforet and Noel's daughter and Clara's niece Ciel Laforet while in the underground/shopping-mall city of Montreal. Noel was kind; she was optimistic and always had something important and meaningful to say. Noel was a loving person; always putting her husband and her child ahead of herself. It was probably her only flaw, in Clara's eyes.
Clara has only meet Martin, Noel's husband and Ciel's father only a few times, but she had decided that he was a good man.
With that sort of family, Clara felt almost more complete as a person. She got closer to her newly discovered family.
Then, things got complicated.
Clara's forehead throbbed with a vein vengeance and anger as she thought about him, Huey Laforet, the immortal scientist bastard himself, with his mini-army of 'vampires' Homunculi, and his own telepathic powers, causing havoc on innocent people…The man who's been manipulating her life before she was even conceived. Clara can't believe he's related to her heart-felt Noel.
One painful year after Huey ruined everything, Clara discovered some pretty unpleasant things about her and Huey. Unable to handle or deal with the truth, Clara decided to leave her family, to be alone again, and hopefully have a new start in her life.
But this time no one she once knew will ever get to her.
Clara ran away back to the Vongola Mafia family.
The Ninth was confused first, and then Clara began to tell him, with reluctance, about the immortals and Huey. The Ninth had no choice but to let her back in… days before the Cradle incident.
After the commotion, Clara worked hard to clean and help get the mansion back together, knowing it'd take a long ass time if everyone didn't haul ass. What Clara didn't know was Huey Laforet had ties with the mafia, and put out a capture request for her. The secret members of Huey's cult have been living in the mansion all their lives, but never meet the maids until everyone in the Vongola estate had to be in one place to fix damages brought upon Xanxus.
This thus put Clara back at square one with no job, but this time, on the run- for her life.
Luckily or not, she happened to bump into the fearsome Xanxus one day on the road on a mountain, while walking around aimlessly in Italy. Xanxus questioned her presence at the mountain. Clara figured that she used to work around Xanxus all her life, he'd help her.
When Clara explained her situation (leaving Huey out of it, of course), Xanxus off-handedly gave her the job of getting his liquor to him. The job offer was anything but courteous- it was more of a watered-down threat than anything else. (Not including the nice n' shiny gun barrel kissing her forehead.)
After accepting the job for money anyway, Xanxus left Clara, quite literally, to hike two miles uphill on rocky mountain terrain to get to the Varia mansion where Xanxus told her she would begin working. For being five minutes late getting to the castle (he decided to give her a time limit for fun), Xanxus threw Clara's body at his second in command.
Clara later made it, limping (her back wasn't straight for a week after that), to her room so she could wake up and face madness again. This is the cycle of Clara life. Yay…
Brushing her shaggy, unmanaged hair from her face, the bar-maid let her body seep into the uncomfortable mattress. Clara pulled her (rather thin, Clara noted) blanket to her chin and drifted from consciousness quickly so she could deal with more stress of survival and not dying tomorrow.
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
The world is covered in hills and hills of soft-golden daffodils, glowing warmly in the bright and crisp sunlight. Above, a perfect blue ocean stretched across beyond to make a sky scattered with blithe, stark white clouds. Smell of sweet flower's nectar tingled and warmed one's senses. It seemed to be a calming and vaguely happy feel in the air and it made itself the ideal atmosphere to lounge down in the rather tempting soft bed of beautiful flowers and relax to one's content.
Despite the perfectness of the vision, Clara felt ill at ease.
There was too much brightness, as if it was made to make things harder to see, or perhaps to distract Clara. To support this theory; not a touch of green could be found in the golden field of flowers with no stems or leaves of any sort. Dirt is non-existent as well. It felt artificial, that this vision's sole purpose was to project perfection.
Clara searched her mind on how to take in this odd setting, and found it faintly familiar to her. Maybe it's the color, or the oddness of it that gave Clara enough anxiety to start looking around for any form of life, or anything that isn't the mockingly perfect daffodils. She found nothing.
Clara swopped down and touched the daffodils to find that they had no bud; they were all bundles of petals stuck together by some invisible force. The girl pushed the flowers out to the side, only to have them flow back to fill the spot. Clara tried again and again, but it didn't work. The floor of flowers refused to be dug out.
Clara sighed as she pulled her hands from the pile of flowers and lay down on the plush make-shift bed instead. "God, this is way more comfortable than my bed at home…" Clara thinks to herself absently as she laid there in the golden field, feeling nothing in particular.
Clara's mind began wandering on, thinking about life- her life. Her parents are strangely distant and unfeeling. They said no more than a couple pages of words to her since she was born. Most of those words were questions about Clara's health when she suddenly became ill one day when she was 11 years old. Her Shadow told her that he was suppressing something in her genes, and made her immune system and body very weak. Clara lived through a bed ridden childhood for a year before she eventually got used to being sick and went back to working. Despite Clara's efforts, her sickness never really went away until she started working for the Ninth. But that's not all that changed.
On the day she became hopelessly sick, Clara's appearance changed. Her hair turned explicably long over night and no longer shone in the sunlight, and turned into a dull, flat black color. The part of her hair disappeared, leaving long bangs that covered her face. Clara, at first, wanted to cut the annoying bangs out of her face, but her Shadow told her not to. He told her to keep her eyes hidden, because it would be 'in your best interests'. Her parents never questioned her about her sudden difference in her appearance, of course.
Yes, that's right; Clara can remember clearer now. The conversation with her Shadow about her dramatic change… the confusion, even now, does not lift.
Shadow… Clara's had a mysterious figure in her life for as long as she can remember. The man (Clara is sure by his voice that he is male) gives her advice and pieces of wisdom of her. Sometimes, when her Shadow visits her dreams, he doesn't say anything at all. His reasons for being are vague and unexplained, but Clara finds comfort in the constant company, oddly enough. Yet again, there is nothing that isn't odd about her Shadow.
Clara has never even seen his face before. He never let her.
Why hide? Why be so secretive while being such a huge part of one's life? These are questions and things her Shadow has yet to answer or discuss.
Clara wishes she knew more about the mysterious person who's been in her life for, as Clara guesses, since she was born. Why does he exist? Why does he help her? Just who was he? These questions are so simply important; it's almost as if Clara is asking questions about herself.
Then, out of her own confusion, Clara suddenly felt a familiar presence behind her. Clara sat up with her eyes dead forward, daring not to look behind, knowing that it's her Shadow. Her Shadow always ends her dreams whenever she tries to turn around to see his face. Clara found it both annoying and a curious habit.
"Hello" the dark haired girl greeted with no form of respect. Manners were beyond whatever bond her and her Shadow has, even though Clara doesn't quite understand it herself.
"You are thinking about your past," her Shadow noted. He always knew her thoughts were. He always seemed to know exactly what Clara did every day, to the very last detail. Always.
Clara dully analyzed her Shadow's words. He speaks in polite, old sounding French, as if his he is old, or perhaps older than his smooth voice lets on. A rock-hard yet smooth quality made up his tone, reminding Clara of a carefully sharpened knife that never cuts. His wording and pronunciations are perfect, never flawed. He talks simply, straight to the point and only makes things easier to digest when sensitivity is needed. Clara noticed, over the years, the way he speaks has never changed a bit. It was like he was in his own little world. Or their world, Clara perceived.
"Yes. Many things still do not make sense." Clara sees no reason to lie to her Shadow, and answers Shadow's offhanded question.
"Maybe they never will," Shadow replies. His still voice and his offhanded words echoed the empty and beautiful land he created. Or did Clara create this fake world? She lets the thought slide.
Funny, Clara can almost imagine him standing right behind her, like she knows and yet doesn't know he is. Would he have blonde, brown, red or black hair? Would he be actually French or something else entirely in nationality… or in species? The possibilities are endless.
Maybe he'd look like her, like a conscious. Maybe he has same annoyingly messy bangs that get in the way of Clara's sight…
Clara then remembered today, with the bottle crashing against the wall.
"Can I cut my hair now? I can't see well, and I need to dodge things that are being thrown around" Clara asked, playing with her stupidly long bangs between her thumb and finger. Shadow was silent, and Clara briefly wondered if he was going to stop the dream. It wouldn't be weird to suspect such a thing, seeing that Clara's Shadow had a god-awful habit of only exchanging a few words with her during slumber. She was lucky to get to finish a conversation in one visit.
"Yes," her Shadow answered, "But someone else has to cut it for you. And you can't ask anyone. They will cut your hair on their own choice." Clara wondered what was so hard about saying 'No' in that unnecessarily complicated declination.
"Do not fret," her Shadow read her mind, "There is a good reason to have someone else to cut your hair… and your hair will be eventually cut." Clara curled her lips up in confusion. What one Earth does he mean by that? Why make it so complicated? How does he know if someone will cut her hair or not? Seems like Clara's life-so-far just isn't long enough for her to decipher her Shadow's odd ways of handling things and conveying meanings, not that Clara thinks she will any time soon.
The soft crunching of flowers meet Clara's ears, then the pressure of hands on her shoulders stuns her senses into a standstill. Her heart skipped a beat in shock. Her unseen eyes widen impossibly wide as something close to panic flows through her body. Never has her Shadow touched her or made direct contact of any kind. Their relationship is always distant.
What does this mean?
Clara was desperate to at least understand her Shadow's feelings; if Clara could just get one look at his expression, maybe, just maybe something will be uncovered. Clara fortunately had courage, but unfortunately time was not on her side. Could Clara beat the time it takes her Shadow to read her mind? Summoning strength and speed, Clara whipped her head around to her right to see blurred flowers pass her,
And then her dresser that sat plainly at the right of her bed.
Just like that, in the nick of time, her Shadow stopped the dream. "Damn" Clara cursed under her breath. "Every time…" her breath snagged with sleepiness- "every single time…" Clara whispered, holding her pillow down from its place under her head, to her gripping hands.
The maid with many questions left unanswered nestled closer to her stiff bed looking for comfort. She found none. Weariness comes over Clara's panicked body and her hidden eye lids start to drop. Before drifting unconscious again, Clara wishes she was lying down in a bed of daffodils instead of this freakin' stiff bed…
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
Clara awoke to the usual yelling and glass breaking sounds of the morning. Glancing at her silver wrist watch on her bed stand, Clara realized it was seven-thirty on the dot.
"Why doesn't the Varia wait to cause chaos later or at least in the afternoon…?" Clara grumbled irritably. Boss usually starts drinking at nine AM. Who could blame him when he lives around this kind of constant racket? Clara doesn't even want to think about the people right now. Pushing her comfortably warm sheets from her body, the maid takes a shower, gets dressed and brushes her teeth.
She didn't bother dolling herself up, and why do so anyway? (Even though she's completely contradicting herself from yesterday…)
She only did her job two to three times a day. Clara didn't see the point of making yourself look attractive for others, especially at work. Clara knows other woman don't think that, especially French woman, and wonders if it had something to do with growing up poor. Clara decided she didn't really give a damn. Stupid rich people...
She was more occupied with staying alive on the job, though most of the time it's relatively safe because Xanxus's anger is directed at the Varia, or more specifically, Squalo's head. But there are times when the job isn't so peachy. Half the time while working, when Xanxus is feeling lazy, he'll have Clara stands by him and pour more alcohol of his choice in his glass as and when he says so. That's when things start getting dangerous, and bottles are thrown. And knives… Desks… chairs… electronic devices… mansion staff… and just about everything in the mansion that isn't the floor, neither wall nor the ceiling is thrown one way or another.
Clara knows a lot about the law, and lately she's been considering filing a lawsuit. If constant yelling, destruction of property and impolite language isn't unlawful, Clara doesn't know what is. The idea was suddenly deemed suicidal since Xanxus would definitely find out. And Xanxus will make her suffer. And that'll end painfully, judging by the amount of scars on Squalo's head. (Clara once was ordered to help Squalo get all the glass shards out of the man's hair… his scalp looks a spider web folded in half like eight times)
As she made her usual route to the wine cellar, Clara decided to go with regular tequila, since the boss didn't have any yesterday. And Tequila is the Boss's favorite.
Clara made her way to the dining hall where the Varia and the boss were probably organizing new missions and other Mafia business.
The shaggy-haired maid knocked gingerly on the giant wall of a door.
"Enter," a deep resonating voice grants Clara entrance.
The literal French-Maid walked in, to find herself wondering if she needed glasses… or eye surgery… or both just to be safe, and a trip to the local shrink to make sure she crazy, concerning what she's seeing right now.
Perfectly still and peaceful, the Varia is being perfectly still and peaceful. No yelling, no throwing, no fighting. This alone terrifies Clara more than if a table was chucked at her head.
"The Varia is being civil today" Clara tried to get the idea through her head… but it refused to be processed. Maybe because it doesn't make any sense. Clara walked, twice as cautiously than if Bel got his monthly delivery of new, shiny knives. And it definitely didn't help Clara's psyche that everyone's eyes were on her, like they were expecting something to happen. (Save for Bel, whose bangs were hidden, but his head was turned towards her, and was just grinning like usual)
Clara only glanced at the… new Varia through her untamed bangs when she first walked in, and was walking straight forward towards the boss, to avoid whatever the hell the Varia are trying to do, psychologically or physically. Silence enveloped the room as she made it to her boss's side.
Turning her head away from the very suspicious Varia, Clara opened the tequila bottle numbly and poured it in Xanxus's cup without having Xanxus call her 'trash' or looking horribly irritated.
He… had a blank face… like a thoughtful one. (Is that… good?)
Clara kept pouring into the cup until Xanxus raised his free hand to gesture the maid to stop. Clara complied, but kept her curious eyes on her boss's, also very peculiar behavior.
With grace and speed, Xanxus chucked the glass at Squalo's head who's been silent the entire time. Squalo screamed and cursed, breaking the silence, much to Clara's relief (but not to her ears).
"Why the fuck are you all fucking studying her for? Do you really think I would pick a wrong person for the mission, retarded-ass trash?" Xanxus furious voice rushed to everyone's ears.
"She's a stupid maid though, Boss. Only a prince deserves to go to Ouran anyway…" Bel announced, raising his gloved hands in the air in a shrug.
"Gosh, look at her! She's a mess! I can't even see her face…" Lussuria mumbled. A stammering Clara didn't hear him, for she was too confused and scared to run away from the Varia member that was advancing towards her then started dancing around her, inspecting Clara head to toe.
What is going on here?, Clara's mind, body and soul screamed. THIS NOT NORMAL! THIS BAD!
"And you're going to school too? Geez you really need a mama like me, good thing I'm-" Lussuria's sentence was cut off when, out of curiosity, he lifted Clara's bangs up. (He needed to know what he was working with!) Lussuria's body was blocking what he saw, and everyone seemed interested on what Lussuria saw that kept him quiet. More awkward silence and Clara fidgeted.
"Um, Lussuria-sama?" Clara voiced out, not knowing how to interpret the silence, seeing that she couldn't see the flamboyant homosexual's expression because of his large sunglasses he wore constantly.
A murderous aura came leaking out of Lussuria like a waterfall and everyone seemed shocked by this rather blood thirsty feeling coming from the usually cheerful Sun Guardian. Bel's mouth was popped open like an 'O', Fran's eyes were widened slightly, and Xanxus's eyebrows furrowed in shock and the other mirrored his surprised expression (But Xanxus and Squalo somehow managed to still look angry while being confused). Clara seemed to notice the scary aura too, as she began to furrow her eyebrows in caution. Bravery was summoned from Clara's body as she tried to reason with the demon-beast that was once Lussuria.
"Lu-" Clara began bravely, but was cut short. "You are a truly despicable person, living with… this. I will get rid of this catastrophe right now," Lussuria's dark and heavy voice carried itself to everyone in the room. Promptly, Lussuria dragged Clara out of the room with one hand in a death grip around her wrist. Clara's mouth was twisted in shock and fear as she feebly dragged her feet to stop Lussuria from whatever he is trying to do. It didn't work.
The door closed with a click and silence was left in the room.
"He saw her face, and he said he'll get rid of this catastrophe. Bel-senpai, does this mean the flamer is going to cut off Clara's ugly face?"
"…"
"Voi…"
More silence.
Quick footsteps were heard rushing towards the door, two of them, from the hallway. And then, a black haired girl wearing a black v-neck tee shirt, dark skinny jeans and silver flats with a large silver flower on each toe stumbled into the room. Or rather, she was shoved in. She turned back to the grinning Homo-assassin before speaking;
"OW! What, the? How did you- why am I wearing…? WAS THAT NECCESARY!"
"Absolutely, sweet-heart!"
The petite girl seemed to have brushed herself off, and she turned her head to the room's occupants to two yellow eyes, and odd black hair. Her bangs were long and triangular, hanging in the middle of her face. And it was messy looking, like she didn't even have a part in her hair at all.
Weird hair or not, that doesn't explain why some girl is in the Varia mansion.
"Who the fuck are you, Trash?" Xanxus retorted the girl who seemed completely unfazed by his glare as if she was used to it. Smoldering fiery orbs clashes against cool gold eyes.
"Huh?" was the girl's intelligent come-back.
"Boss-"
"Shouldn't you trash be doing something about this girl who's invading the Varia Mansion? How did this happen anyway? I thought this was an assassination squad, not fucking mall security!" Xanxus shouted, immediately taking his anger out on Levi, who was standing the closest to the boss (of course).
"BOSS! This is Clara." Lussuria exclaimed, two melodramatic hands in the air.
Silence took over the throne room again at Lussuria's words. Clara wore no expression whatsoever as she stood plainly, not really grasping at anything that was going on, and decided to just be silent and watch what happens.
"Boss," Clara's accented voice caused everyone to look towards her, but the brave maid ignored it this time. She had to know… "I don't mean to complain, but I am very confused right now. What is going on here?"
Xanxus stared at his maid who changed drastically, and narrowed his smoldering eyes.
"You're going on a mission, scum."
…
… "…What?"
"Oh yes! Isn't this great Clara? We're all going to Japan together, my sweet and only daughter!"
Clara did not have it in her to even decipher if that was even Lussuria's voice or not- she was too shocked and confused. It seemed that the only thing that came into light in Clara's landmine-of-a-mind was the old French saying, "When a woman cuts her hair, she's about to go through a great change."
X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X - X - X – X – X – X – X – X - X
Author's Notes-
I'm not racist; I am being actually very truthful about the French, because I know them personally. I love them to pieces, but they're a weird people. Almost as weird as Americans like me
The chaotic-ness of the story that I promised will come eventually- wait.
And by the way, is Clara a Mary-Sue? Be honest, and I'll rewrite and make you happy!
REVIEW! JUST DO IT AND STOP BEING LAZY ABOUT IT!
Questions, comments and suggestions will be read and responded to… if you REVIEW!