Amorous Mort
BY: Demon Tsunami
A/N: Here goes, the next installment. I'm not patient enough to wait on reviews, so these first three chapters will probably be posted all at once. Also, I suffer from long term laziness, so after this patience will probably be required….
CHAPTER ONE: The Masters of Illusion
"Moving?" Hilde inquired absently; she wasn't paying him any attention. He could say that the whole world was on the brink of implosion and she would respond with the same casual attitude. Of course, if the world were on the brink of implosion he'd be breaking out the champagne, but alas, it was not about to implode… but he just might. Frustrated he shook the back of her chair, she dropped her scrying glass and the crystal shattered, uh oh.
"Duo Mayhem Maxwell!" She exclaimed, finally focused on him and him alone. He smiled at her smartly; he would replace her silly little crystal. She could have a mountain of crystals, a whole cavern if it pleased her, but right now he needed that cute little face completely on him. She was yelling still, his little hellion was giving him a tongue lashing, he smiled, and she was so cute when she was pissed. "Oh no you don't Mr.! This is not funny, or cute, I am pissed. Royally pissed! You hear me? You are in big trouble, and I don't mean it THAT way you stupid man!!!" She punched his chest twice, fuming and disheveled, just the way he liked her.
"Baby," He soothed, fingering her short blueberry locks. She yanked her hair away. "Baby, I'm sorry, that was mean." He tried for contrite, but that venom stare of hers ate right through his ploy.
"MEAN?? You're damn right it was mean! What am I going to do with you?" She pouted sourly, eyeing him with disdain from beneath those thick lashes. He recognized relenting when he saw it, and seized his opportunity.
"I was just trying to tell you-"
"Oh, so you can ignore every word from my mouth when you're out all night in the mortal realm doing who knows what, but I can't leave you alone for one moment without getting my scrying glass broken???" She demanded haughtily.
"Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore," He told her with a small grin. She glared at him skeptically.
"You're going to start listening to me?" She asked incredulously.
"No, this time we're BOTH going to the mortal realm."
"So if you don't listen I can at least knock you once good, sounds fabulous, when do we leave?" That was his girl, already packing. She turned back from a half stuffed suitcase, a handful of clothes sliding from one hand. "How long are we staying? Why are we going? Well??" He plucked her off the floor, spinning her once in his arms, causing her to squeal.
"Now, I'd say a month, and I'll tell you when we get there," He answered all three of her questions simultaneously. She shook her head, bemused with his impulsive nature. Suddenly the expression was all serious, and he inwardly groaned.
Sure enough she began snapping orders like a general, a fanatical gleam in her eye as she supervised the excavation of all their needed belongings from the safety and luxury of his estate, to the perils of the mortal realm. He grunted and heaved. Obeying meekly and cursing himself for bringing about the situation that lead to his being used for manual labor. She told him to quit his whining and get his butt in gear.
-*-
How did people do it? A curiosity she pondered as she stared at a coffee menu that looked as if it's seen better days last decade. Not deciding on coffee, although that too for the moment seemed elusive, no she wondered how people went around all day normally. Like nothing was wrong. The whole smile through the tears bit was like metal scrapping on every vein. Even the most simplistic tasks seemed to take her greatest effort as of late. Paper work, always a vice in her daily life, now seemed a problem of epic proportions, and as the mountains grew so did the purple splotches beneath her eyes. She brushed aside her problems, which she seemed to do more frequently lately, hadn't she once been the assertive live in the moment type? She was trying to remember where that motivation had stemmed from, because in the last months it seemed to have deserted her.
"Coffee, as dark and large as you can make it," She told the coffee shop barista. He smiled at her, though she barely took notice of it as she handed him her credit card.
"Thanks," Relena muttered grabbing the warm card board cup by the burn resistant holder. The place smelled of burnt coffee beans and cigarettes, and was far from her normal choice of coffee houses. Still, what the service and atmosphere lacked the coffee made up for in taste, and she took a long appreciative gulp where she stood. Not too long ago she would've been drinking coffee from a new snazzy mug at some ritzy new coffee shop, rushing to get to work as the clock ran out. But her normal stop had been torn down last week, a loss that she'd suffered greatly, and so now she found herself stepping into coffee shops at random trying to find one that fit. Nothing seemed to fit though, and everything was so changed that even though the coffee was sweet and warm she still tasted bitterness at the back of her throat.
She collected herself, running her hands through her shortened hair. She'd cropped it as a sign of mourning, and the new strands felt as unfamiliar as she did in her own skin. The coffee guy, she noticed him now that he was staring at her, gave her a finger wave as she turned from him in embarrassment. Perhaps he was being flirtatious (though she had no idea in this state of mind how to properly respond to THAT) but his keen interest irked her. The cocky set of his thin shoulders, the knowing glimmer of amusement in his oddly colored eyes; she had no time for people who had everything figured out. She wouldn't begin to know what to do with them. By the time she realized she was inner monologing (again) she was already at a cross walk, waiting for the digitized sensor to read that she was there and create an avenue through the early morning traffic rush.
She was surprised she even noticed it, as caught up in her own woes as she seemed to be, moving daily in more of a trance than an emotional state. Still, something about chocolate hair, Prussian blue eyes, and tanned skin was biologically imprinted into her eyesight, and the second she caught a glimpse she was enraptured. Her eyes frantically searching for the glimpse that was probably no more than a cruel trick of her eyes. Tears misted, but her feet carried her of their own accord, and soon she was running like a mad woman chasing figments of her imagination. The concrete was even, luckily for her because she wasn't watching what path she chose being too busy focusing on the direction she'd swore she'd seen him in. Please, please, please…. It was a sad statement to her state of mind that she was wishing this hard for anything, even an illusion of him to comfort herself with. Please, she swore impulsively, please God, I swear I'll do anything, just let him be real.
Much later, long after she'd mentally chided herself for her wild goose chase. Longer even then that evening where she cried long hiccupping bursts into her pillow, recalling the momentary crystal clear view she'd gotten, and wondering in an oddity of thought why she had pictured him smiling. Surely it would've been easier for her mind to conjure him as she'd seem him most frequently, scowling impressively and as distantly as possible. After all that, her biggest regret would be not choosing her words more carefully, or perhaps specifying which deity she expected to answer.
-*-
"How do you find it all?" Rashid enquired, he was lounging on his golden throne like it was a plush recliner. His twin sat to his left in an identical golden throne gazing at the ceiling with an expression of disinterest and boredom. The pearl tile of their man court was hard on the knees, but he remained bowed and kneeling as he spoke, wary of the god's fickle favor.
"Noisy," He told them, "Flashy, and rather mind numbing, but no worse than I expected." He admitted the last begrudgingly, the last century had done nothing for the mortal realm save make it all the more full of bumbling mortals as far as he was concerned. He revised that thought, remembering the fully loaded pistol in his belt that contested to the fact that some constructive inventions had occurred. Still, it was all rather predictable after so many lifetimes, highly advanced weaponry aside.
"I heard you procured some toys," Rashid acknowledged. He surveyed his general with mild interest. The fire power of the new century eluded most of the palace guards, having neither the desire to change nor the foresight to recognize an advantage when they saw one. Rashid knew that resurrecting his general would have advantages, and modernization of his forces was foremost on his list. He had some fortifying to do if his plans were to solidify.
"A few minor devices, this centuries "circuitry" is a bit… complex. I should be able to grasp it and make the necessary modifications," He allowed, and it wasn't boasting. Domtar roused himself out of his slumping posture, turning to stare down at the general with coal colored eyes.
"Leave us," Domtar was the elder twin, though many believed it was the reverse. So immersed in the layers of lies and illusion they'd fed god and mortal alike in both realms, sometimes they even forgot which was which. So, although the twins seemed at times to be almost one person in two shimmering images of perfection, in truth (though they'd likely never admit it) Domtar had the overall say. Rashid's attention drew to his brother's gaze, and a moment of understanding flickered between them.
"Go play with your newest acquisitions, we have matters to attend to," Rashid reinforced, although the man beneath them was already bowing once more and preparing to leave. His obsidian armor glinted in the golden lighting of the room, the large oaken doors expertly carved slammed behind him as he took his leave. Both twins peered at each other in silent communication, their eyes and expressions carrying weights they dare not verbalize. What was she doing here? What had brought her? Her father?
A woman that was still a child entered, bare feet padded across the marble flooring in silent approach. She was beautiful, of that there could be no argument. Small slender limbs, pale and sun freckled lended to an appearance that gave the false impression of youth and innocence. Eyes dappled emerald green and coppery brown were large and thickly framed by yellow red lashes, they stared out of a child's face with an unfathomable intelligence. Her stride was elegant and practiced, her posture regal as she glided towards them, a small smile playing on her pink lips. Both twins, unease apparent in their identical expressions, knelt before their thrones, hair like spun gold touching the pearled marble as they did so. She laughed, and it was like bells chiming, the sound bouncing up and down throughout the hallow room.
"Rashid and Domtar bowing to the daughter of their enemy," She giggled, "Now isn't that just irony?" Unease, like a cold pit touched them, but they dared not let it show.
"My Lady," Rashid's voice was silken, "You are daughter to the God King, and no enemy of our court."
"We are your humble servants," Domtar agreed appealingly.
"Save me the meek drivel, I have no patience for your petty appeasements," She scoffed petulantly. "I didn't come on the behalf of my father." Now their attention was captured, she smiled in satisfaction. "I have matters to discuss with the both of you, things that will undoubtedly not please His Majesty." Nervous glances, they feared trickery or wrath, she was her father's daughter after all. "I understand your hesitance, especially since my interference disrupts your plans for regicide," both, kneeling in front of their thrones, went absolutely still. "I assure you I come to help, my father is much delayed in the Underworld, and I sit proxy on his throne. Though, you will find, my desires don't exactly match my father's will," She smiled at that, how they would be shocked, she was always bent perfectly to her father's wishes. "I weary of his reign, and seek to aid his would-be executioners, but I think that is a discussion best held in private, no?"
"My Lady," Rashid stood in one sweeping motion, his face alit with malicious glee. "We welcome you into our palace, and would be most gratified by an audience with you. Our private chambers are underground, if you'd be so kind to follow us we'll see that you're well accommodated for your stay." She nodded, and then, almost absentmindedly, she spoke.
"Accommodations for my personal guard as well of course?" She asked. Both twins exchanged glances of curiosity.
"You brought your guard from the palace?" Domtar enquired.
"Of course," Although she seldom let her guards leave her father's palace; she'd been well aware of the failing loyalties in this realm and had exercised more caution than usual. Going against her father's wishes left something akin to fear looming in the back of her mind, though she'd never admit it, and so she'd brought those whose loyalties she would never doubt. "Dorothy and Silvia are excellent company, and rather adept at seeing to my needs. I shall need them close to me at all times." Both blonde haired woman entered, their shimmering white clothing that hid their figures face to foot lightly whooshing across the pale tile as they made their advance.
"We'd be happy to oblige," Rashid assured her, but there was a lingering air of unease in the room once again. Deidre hadn't brought royal guards; she'd brought her two personal Generals of her father's army. Two women who acted as assassins and executioners more often than simple soldiers. The five of them made their way to the exit at the back of the throne room, the twin gods leading the way into the gloom of the secret passage that lead to their personal chambers.
A/N: Dun-dun-dun, the plot thickens. Okay, enough of my melodrama. Please be kind and review ect. Ect.
