((I noticed that a section of my writing got cut off while publishing. Here is the basic paragraph. More talking at the bottom.))
"You have earned the satisfaction of the Elders. Our subjects are not to disobey, if not the unloyal, than the loyal will have to partake of this. You know what we want, do it."
"Impossible, he is not one to be so easily defeated."
Maybe he had been to brazen in his answer. The scowl that crossed their faces in turn did not look gracious for the comment.
"Use your head then, soldier."
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Eve sat in the passengers seat, she and Sven had long since reverted to silence, and she spent her time gazing out the window at the country side moving past her. "How much longer, Sven?"
"Close to 15 minutes. It's not that far from the town."
She allowed his words to settle around her before turning her eyes to the clouds overshadowing the sky above her. Eve clasped her hands tightly, to keep them from bouncing around with excitement. She was finally going to get the answers that had left this longing hole.
She wanted to know… more about herself, what she was capable of… She wanted to know more about her mother, whether she could really consider Dr. Tiayou to fill such an important position, and why why had she made her?
In all honesty, she did want the answers to those questions, buy what she was really yearning for… was the relationship. Of course she enjoyed the sweeper's life. Competing with Train, and living with Sven, helping people, saving people, setting some in the correct path again. Everything about that felt right. But sometimes when she'd notice other families… mothers out with their daughters… or no matter what, being able to run home to a mom. A woman that could understand completely what it felt like to live in this day-and-age, someone who knew what it felt like to be put down for the sole reason that she was a girl, or just younger than everyone else.
No doubt she had female companionship, but Rins had already avidly explained to her how she would rather be viewed as an older sister. Besides… she wasn't even around much anyways. It was on rare occasions that she stopped by, for one reason or another, but it was never long. It never filled the solitary feeling she felt when knowing that she was viewed as a child tagging along.
A star winked at her.
She wanted this. She didn't know how long she'd stay, whether it was until she got her answers or got restless, but she knew it would defiantly be after she felt like a daughter and like she could belong in that life. The belonging sensation being the one of utmost importance.
Brushing her hair from her face with a thoughtful hand she caught a glance of Sven's content face, quietly humming. If anyone, she'd miss him the most in the time she was here. He was the closest thing to a father she'd ever had. He protected her, even against her will at times. He was, in a sense, her angel.
And she tried to be his. That's where she had gotten her wings from, her want to be able to protect him back. Even in that short time she had been separated from him at Creed's castle had had her worried. That feeling that she had to be alive for him, and that he must be alive for her was the string that kept her tied to life. Not even the Furies could cut through a string of gold.
Things were relatively peaceful now though, besides Train's usual antics of course. The first to come to mind was when he had attempted to mix her toothpaste with hot sauce…obviously he had gotten Sven's instead. But all the same, they hadn't heard a peep from Creed or any of his underlings, and Chronos left them well enough alone. Every once and awhile she would overhear Train speaking to Sven about the tabs he could sense they were keeping on them. But it was not like they should worry about it, Sephiria watching them was only natural.
As she turned her young eyes back to the velvet black, her white knuckles were finally laid to rest, her body visibly relaxing. Even if she had few problems nowadays, those few easily made themselves known. The only thing that would make them dissipate was to look at the stars. Each pinpoint of light hung by a thread, so delicately balanced and so far away. The issues that weighed her mind down were always shed when she lifted her gaze. They always helped bring things into focus, even through the darkness the light created clarity. When she saw them they made her feel whole. The same way Sven made her feel whole, and the answers that she was seeking would. She loved these people, and she loved those stars. She just wished that she could have them in the daylight.
Sven drifted to a stop, switching off the engine and allowing the headlights to fade. He was leaving the life that he felt comfortable in, and entering an aspect of his mind that he had hardly any experience with. It was almost as a second thought that he exited the car and pulled a protesting Eve onto his shoulders.
He knew she hated him treating her like a child…but sometimes these things couldn't be helped, and everyone deserved a childhood.
When the wooden doors opened to a shining interior, Dr. Tiayou stood peering over the rim of her glasses at the pair of them, before smiling broadly at the pouting Eve perched atop Sven's shoulders.
The way you smile so softly…
She invited them in warmly, and Sven allowed Eve back onto solid ground.
"How about tea? Tea and sandwiches? Those are so fun to make…" She finished wistfully, before ambling off into the kitchen.
"It would be in our best interest to help her out, don't you think?"
She grabbed his hand, yanking him into her wake, "What a wonderful plan of action Sven, let's hurry."
When the duo entered the room, they were met with the scene of Dr. Tiayou slicing vegetables. It was a couple of moments before they noticed the glint of the edge was facing upwards, forcing the unfortunate carrot into mush.
Sven let a small smile cross his face.
The way you hold your knife…
"Ah…should I help you with that Miss Hakase?"
"Why? You don't think I can handle it?"
"Of course you can handle it…" Sven answered, drifting towards her, eh…no easy way to put this.
"He just wants to help. Why don't you start the tea mother?" Eve cut in, jumping onto the counter, letting her toes dangle. Sven smiled graciously, and proceeded to take the knife.
She had called her mother nonchalantly, but really she wanted to see how she would react. Dr. Tiayou seemed to almost take it in stride, already filling the pot with water.
She hadn't said it in waste though, she had gotten that topic out in the open. She may act clumsy in her scheduled life, but when she looks at something scientifically, she'll be able to understand what I was trying to get across. I could swear by it.
Her eyes wide and hopeful, she stored her newly gained ideas about her mother in the recesses of her mind, to be used in the opportune moment.
After many mishaps regarding spilt tea, the trio had settled on the couches spread across the front foyer. They were each sipping the liquid sparingly. She had never been one for the bitter taste herself, even so, the warmth was welcomed on a cold night such as this. She amused herself by observing Dr. Tiayou and Sven, each in turn. She wasn't all together positive what the two were conversing about, but it might as well have been the weather for how detached and inane the whole situation was.
She sighed inwardly. Why did he have to be like this sometimes? He could so easily break Dr. Tiayou out of her dam.
"So just turn the heat down a little?"
He had been giving her the most innocent pointers he could think of, it would have been rude for a gentleman such as him to criticize. "Well, maybe more like a lot."
"And avoid adding salt?"
"Yes, in fact, just avoid salt and sugar all together. They look to much alike as it is," She was nodding thoughtfully, as if these words were of the type of the most intelligent and useful that she had ever heard. "We'll just add it on ourselves later."
Eh, he'd said 'we'. Showed his intentions then, she'd know soon enough. What a slip of the tongue. Nobody was ready for this sort of thing. He should just get up and leave now before things got embarrassing. A stunning and enchanting exit was at hand.
But possibly, maybe not. There was always the chance he was reading to much into these sort of things. He was just totally and completely clueless in these areas. Like driving in a deep set night with no headlights. Besides, for all the nodding she was doing, she didn't seem to be processing many things.
She glowed with Eve's childish innocence, it just manifested itself in different ways. Like her clumsiness. And with what trust and care she seemed to hold people. It was mellowing, if not anything else. For what a big brain she had, she had a bigger heart.
Or at least, he thought so. He believed it, sure, but he didn't really know her. A single meeting in person and few conversations on the cellular provided his whole impression of the woman. In reality, he should slow his racing brain and let Eve figure things out from here. The young girl really was the best soul to decide on the character and nature of this lady.
In response to reflection, another sip of tea was inevitable. In the momentary comfortable silence he was allowed a glimpse to savor, a sideways glance of her eyes as she lifted the cup to her lips. A glance usually associated with mirth and laughter, from her only came across as one of sedate tranquility and purity.
And the way she held her glass, two delicate hands gracefully balancing the weight, pinkies lilting to the side.
And the way the drink was drunk ever slightly, one small joy to be loved before the next.
And the way her loose tresses slipped in and out of her vision to mix with the heated vapor and lukewarm memories.
In summary, the way you sip your tea.
The conversation carried on sporadically after that, dipping through the wake of waves. Each ripple in their drinks were held as tsunamis in how much memory they were beholden with.
Having been one to memorize the gentleman's code, he knew the way to keep a person talking was to introduce subjects associated with the things they cared about. Eve tired quickly when the subject was her, the awkwardness of that situation was enough to end it at least. And he had pushed Dr. Tiayou into the topic of her recent scientific studies, a foolish move on his part. He fathomed it had been close to three seconds before the five syllable words shut down every electrode in his brain. After what was most likely a couple of centuries, he was able to dismiss himself with a short goodbye to Eve and a curt nod.
It hadn't been until he was back in the car with the headlights on that he realized what a fool he had been. I might have looked normal, but truly, on the inside, I never was. If he wanted to be included in their future lives he should have been more open. She probably thought he hated her. Great. He should go back and apologize. No, that would just be pathetic.
Silent honks drifted through the emptiness as he banged his head against the wheel. It was many sighs and swerves later that he was finally able to compose himself and his grumbling nature. He should have lived in the moment, dropped more than a hint, just went outright and said it. Sometimes he envied Train and his spontaneity.
This was too much thinking, especially when it was a completely new frontier. And he had way to much time to mull over it. He had lied to Eve, it wasn't fifteen minutes, but more like thrice that…and he knew that it would seem like much more.
The handle.
Grasped firmly, it was total control. In the palm of your hand, your life, your sanity, your conductor for fear.
It was like the mind, no one could take it away from you. A complete trust never possible to give away.
The defense.
The thin sheet of metal that protected the fingers, a half circle. From the front you saw perfection, but from beneath; an empty cavity.
A protection so thin yet so unbreakable. Like a fantastic shield or aura, that only the confidant mind could conjure.
The blade.
Long, thin. Like a road of life. No discrepancies and absolute balance. Yet evidently no room for deviation.
Straight, like the back of a proud man. Odysseus when he sheds his rags to string his bow for battle, churning with keen intelligence. A keen intelligence and certainty that all of the weak-willed will fall beneath him.
The Blade.
In spite of its obviousness, gray. Gray for confusion. Uncertainty regarding the assured answer.
To continue with Odysseus, grey for old age. Spent taking tests to challenge. Yet throughout his journeys and despite his aptitude, he lost many to enchanting mystery. Gray for mystery then. Mystery and possible surprise.
The point.
The wide expanse of life to finish with an end of death. The point hanging over the never-ending void, boundless like the sky. An instant that shines with ruin. A star. A lost soul.
A point like a steeple, to be revered by some and abhorred by others. To hold the whole world, life and death, in a speck so miniscule. But no end, no demise. A limbo; a link to a wide expanse of uncertainty. An exciting thing held by so many as fear. Let them fear it. Let them fear death. Let them fear this soul.
This was…
Or might…
Be how a swordsman thought.
The soaked duo had entered the planned pizza café a little off schedule, obviously, but the waiters didn't mind, more pay for them. And she certainly hadn't minded, she was freezing. They had sat there for awhile now, trying to dry in the still air which obviously hadn't helped in the least. And here she was, still freezing, in a café way past it's closing time, with the maitre d' and assortment of waiters breathing down their necks, arguing with Train over the bill.
Obviously he had carried no money with him.
"I am not paying for your eating disorder, Train."
He grinned sheepishly, he was lucky he still had those lips to grin with…she was about a hairsbreadth away from ripping them off of his face. "But I can't pay for it! Sven never lets me handle the money. It's so sad."
"It's not saddening, it's infuriating. It's because you're so childish. Grow up quick and get a real job so that you can pay." Her glare had solidified long ago, violet eyes flashing beneath narrowed eyelids.
"That's impossible!" he moaned, collapsing on the table.
"How is that impossible? Don't contradict me. I need this money for a taxi, and I would have more if you hadn't thrown me in a lake. I'm freezing and it's all your fault."
"But I gave you my jacket."
"It doesn't help in the least."
"Then can I have it back? I'm cold too!"
"What an idiotic thing to say!" She stood up, shaking him wildly, his shirt in her tiny fists. It was as if she shook him with the hope that a couple of well-hidden coins might fall loose, or some cents...sense... might become apparent.
"Désolée! Désolée! Madam put me down s'il vous plaît…"
She dropped him, flopping back into her chair. It was exhausting to think for the both of them simultaneously. "Firstly Train, wrong language, a pizza place is Italian. And if your going to speak it, learn it correctly, I'm not married."
"Duh, what kind of totally random statement was that?" He rolled his eyes upwards, as if begging the heavens to give her intelligence. He was so clueless sometimes.
She slumped on the table, much like he had done beforehand. It was exhausting to be infuriated too.
"I'm just going to lie here until some sort of miracle comes along."
She had said it faintly, more of a thought than a proclamation, but it seemed as if the god's had answered her pleas. One of the waitresses finally getting fed up with the situation stomped over to them and snatched up the bill.
"Leave, just leave. And to think I stayed here all this time waiting for my fifteen percent tip."
Rins sighed gratefully, and made a move to stand up. Train followed slowly, but was unable to keep his curiosity inside for long. "You mean you don't get paid at all for us being here?"
The girl was busy stuffing her apron into a cubbyhole, and it was a few seconds before she was able to answer. Rins used that time to send him a glare carrying the words: WHY do you CARE? You don't care that I'm freezing…you don't care about your honor…making a woman pay..yeesh.
Well the last part was mainly in her head. But it's not like it made a difference, because he wouldn't have noticed either way.
"No, I don't. This isn't a democracy."
He turned drooping golden eyes towards her, pouting. "You won't even give her a some change?"
If he wanted to pay her so badly he should have brought money. "The puppy dog look doesn't work for you, Train."
She started marching off. He looked torn between the two woman, a slight limbo. A choice between the right thing… and well… the right thing. Paying her was the good thing…but making Rins do it was wrong. Letting her leave was a better choice, but it still left the girl feeling ripped off…A gray area to say the least.
In the end his innate want to do good got the better of him, and he ran after her. "Rins pleeeeeeaseeee, it makes me feel so mean!"
"Get off my leg, you're going to break my shoe!"
With his persistence, she finally relented, wadding up the few bills she had left and throwing them in the direction of the café.
"There, happy? I'm broke too."
For someone who had been begging her with near tears moments before, he seemed to recover way to quickly. "It's okay if you're broke, all holy men are broke! It makes you a great person!"
She sighed numbly. Mourning over his scattered judgment. "I need a vacation."
They were walking towards the streets now, his hands hanging lazily from his pockets, and hers sporadically lifting towards the heavens, as if begging for guidance.
"But I thought you visiting the three of us was your vacation."
Her hands lifted as formerly mentioned. "Hardly. I come here and lose my good health, lose my money, and lose the heel of my shoe."
"Eh, sorry about your shoe Rins," he looked genuinely sorry, "I'll pay it back if you want me too."
"For some reason I doubt that."
Her uneven shoes clicked irregularly on the paved sidewalk, breaking the hum of insects and streetlights harshly.
"It looks hard to walk like that, why don't you just take them off?"
She grunted, though more out of frustration for her feet than anger at him. "I would like to avoid blisters. That's what shoes are for. To protect feet."
He took a single hand out of his pocket to begin motioning with, "Blisters aren't that bad. All you have to do is learn to ignore them, in fact I probably have one right now because of this…" his face became thoughtful, and his hand's motions stilled, "…money that I've got in my shoe."
Her face fell. "What?" Many questions had run through her mind at the moment, but that seemed like the best summary.
He immediately bent down to remove his shoe and a handful of cash. "I remember…I was hiding it from Eve so she wouldn't use it to buy more books."
His face lit up with fascination, while hers darkened dramatically, sifting through her usual emotions. She finally ended with utter disbelief and acceptance, and collapsed as gracefully as she could onto the paved ground.
"I give up. Leave me here to die. And don't worry about guilt, you'll forget by morning."
"Désolée, désolée! I forgot, I did not mean too. Forgive me s'il vous plait!" He knelt down beside her, begging her much the same way he had before. She made no attempt to respond, only moving to cover her face with his jacket. He put on a valiant face, fist clenched in a heroic gesture. "I will not leave you here to die madam!"
She sighed into the wet cloth, blinking to challenge the opaque. "Please stop with the French, Train, I want to die in peace."
"This is peace?" He blinked to challenge her, "You mean you'd rather die freezing on a sidewalk than sleeping safely in your bed?"
Another breath of wind escaped her lips, to mingle with the stale trapped beneath the fabric. Why didn't he understand that his innocence was bothersome? "I suppose you're right. I'd rather die sleeping peacefully like my grandmother, than, for example, screaming in fear like the passengers in her car."
If that was a joke, neither had time to laugh, because in result of that statement Train had swooped her up into his arms and had her balancing precariously along with him on a rooftop halfway down the street in an instant.
She gasped feeling the sudden gust of cold wind, quickly removing the soaked jacket. "Train! What are you doing! You're going to get us killed!"
He chuckled slightly, before moving with his astonishing quickness again. This time the scenery consisted of an abandoned car in front of a desolate looking building. "I thought you wanted to die?"
"And I thought we established that I'd rather not die screaming in fear!"
He laughed again, flying in a direction known only to him, buildings flitting past. These types of excursions were definitely not good for the stomach.
When he set her down, she found herself swaying in front of her most recent apartment, and was soon clutching the doorframe for support. "Oh gosh, I think I'm going to be sick."
He grinned, amused and innocent. "Really? I though it was a lot of fun."
She attempted a glare, but it came across as more of a grimace. "It would be in your best interest to get out of here before I recover…because I am seriously going to rip out your tongue and make you eat it."
His grin was hurriedly amended from amusement to one of mock fear, wide with a silent scream. Then, spontaneously, once more no time to protest, he leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek, and jumped over the railing. He held a broad grin in his waving hand from his position on the street, before disappearing in the direction they had come from.
She snapped the jacket like a whip in the place he had just stood, before fishing in her pocket for her key. That man…was completely nuts.
He settled into his seat. There really wasn't any rush, no lights were on, meaning Train was obviously not home yet. An empty house wasn't much different than an empty car, except for the fact that the sounds echoed in lonesome wails.
He tipped his hat low on his nose, wiggling it around out of habit and comfort. Where was that guy? It was pretty late, he usually made it a point to keep his curfew. Not that he really had one, but the thought was nice. Maybe he had gotten into trouble. Maybe Rins had gotten them into trouble. Then again maybe not. She had proven herself trustworthy, and Train was more of a magnet for those types of things.
Besides, if there had been any real danger, he would have rang his cellular.
Unless he had called and it just hadn't gotten through since Dr. Tiayou's house was way out in the middle of nowhere.
His hand involuntarily reached into his pocket, drawing the device halfway out before leaving it to rest once again. What kind of peril could that kid not get out of anyways? What use was an ancient policeman like him?
He ballooned his cheeks up with air, letting it out slowly. Train. He was an enigma that one. It was a mystery to him whether the clueless-ness was just a front, used to throw others off… or a sort of reprieve from his real self. Or, strike all that, maybe he really was clueless underneath, since all he knew how to do was fight.
No, that wasn't true. He'd seen him figure things out on occasion, and fighting required a mind not easily fooled. So, really, he must act the way he does for fun. Nothing wrong with having fun he supposed. He was constantly happy, it was almost unnerving at times. But it must make sense somewhere, and things were working out for him.
So there was the meaning of life, happiness.
These were the sort of things you wrote on fortune cookies. Confucius says…
On to another quagmire.
He folded his hands over his stomach, breathing evenly for a few minutes. His leg was sore before he realized that he had been shaking it. Why was he so tense lately? And where was Train? He'd feel better if there was someone else around. It couldn't be that he was sensing danger… where could you find any in a quaint city like this. Port. Bell-tower. Humongo jungo church. Dirt road off into the forest. Downtown was four blocks.
It must have been more of an inner nervousness, it could possibly have come along with leaving Eve behind. This must be how a parent felt when you left your child at school.
Rivers of silent tears flowed down his face, his fist clenched proudly. The Lil' Princess was growing up. This really must be what a father felt like though. That feeling that almost all their innocence was gone, and deteriorating fast. He was tempted to reach out and grab it, begging her to ask him what an ocean was again.
Eve really had grown up fast. Maybe it had come from reading all the time, all that pent up information had to lead to somewhere. No more books for her, he'd have to hide the money.
Like that would stop her anyhow, being around two sweepers and criminals all the time required a person to understand reality. Or, like he had said before, a mind not so easily fooled. And as much as he hated to admit it, she had lived in a life revolving around fighting and death for a long time. It could ruin any person. Yet she seemed to take it and move on, just like Train. She made do with what she had, using it to the fullest, and she seemed content.
Perhaps he should use his proverb again, she was happy with her life. Something he could never obtain.
Of course there were happy moments, but everything always felt lacking. Like he could never fully achieve whatever goal he set for himself. It was almost frustrating. No, not almost, it was. He never felt like his past could leave him. Everyone was able to carry on with their life, while he always felt tied down to his. One eye saw the present, but the other was a hook to the past. No matter how many times he looked forward he could not escape it. He doubted the feeling was as big as guilt, or as ignored as a twinge of memory. He tried to be rid of it by placing flowers. White for peace. Peace for his friend's soul, and for his own peace of mind.
He got out of the car, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. He didn't mind reflecting. But reflecting as in 'mirror' was always hated.
Fumbling through his coat pocket for the single key, his mind wandered back to the subject. He knew he would never be able to escape it. His supposed 'answer' was useless for this situation. Being happy all the time would never work. Maybe his own answer was to just live on. Which was useless when he felt like there really wasn't anything left to accomplish. There was the possibility that he had finished everything that he had been set on this world to do. Well, if he couldn't live happy, at least he could die happy.
He fit the key into the lock, turning it gradually. What was this apprehensive feeling he kept getting? He couldn't associate the whole thing with a 'fatherly instinct'. The apprehension almost bordered on a pressure and tension.
He pushed the door open with the toe of his shoe, glancing in quickly. He hadn't seen anything yet, but he couldn't just ignore the feeling. It didn't set him on edge though, it wasn't like bloodlust, or a killing intent, more of a type of ferality, like an animal.
He cautiously shifted his hand toward his eye patch. It would be the safer thing to check, even if it was nothing. Reaching the area of the black band, he was stunned to find it missing. On further investigation, he found he still could not see out of it.
Moments later all feeling was pain.
The sun burned beneath it's mask of stars.
A hallway. Dark, he fathomed. Demons dancing and twisting in the corners. Narrow, too, no escape from the torture each demon's claw inflicted. And the floor, tile. Repetitious pattern, or cement, flat. Cement. He could feel the cold seeping into the soles of his shoes, each toe turned to ice for each deadly sin.
The cold, irritating his feet, and the cold bickeringwith his ears. Somebody had left a window open. A window that wasn't even allowed to be open, and one that blew in great gusts of frigid and whistling air, to aggravate his sensitive ears.
He wouldn't be surprised if one of these idiots had left it wide on purpose, just to bother him. Here he was, locked in this forsaken building for more than a month, counting each crack in the memorized passageways, unable to leave, unable to feel any wind. Any rain even. And here this person was, thinking they just had the luxury to enjoy a long lost memory of sweet smells and sounds.
If he wasn't allowed, they weren't allowed.
Ever since Creed had left, there had been a feel of separation. The higher-ups worried about rebellion, and, he assumed, therefore kept them locked up under scrutiny. But even so, there was a subconscious shift, each drifting towards their own allied forces.
Which was the reason they kept him here. Him, few others. For fear of rebellion. Why they thought he would rebel against the only thing he ever knew confounded him. They were crazy is what it was. They feared him. Him and Baldor. Useless people. Good enough only to be used.
His feet shuffled silently down the corridor. Straight corridor, not winding. No corners, therefore everything visible. Like that made a difference to him. He could feel anything hidden. Like the monotonous wind. It had quickly receded from a sonata to a fuel of great irritation. It was forbidden freedom.
And he hated how they held it over him. Like a punishment, like the man who in the depths ofTartarus thirsts for a drink, and receives nothing. The sweetness of fruit balancing before his lips, but unable to savor it.
This sweetness of the air, held before him as a privilege. Only to be earned under good behavior. No such thing as good or bad in a place like this. Gray like the cement.
He could hear the rustle of leaves mingled with the infernal drone, and he hated it and he loved it. A sweetness he was so deprived of, the deprivation leading to immediate irritation. Few things were as sweet. A prick of the finger on the tip of his knife, a needle, sweet like sleep for Sleeping Beauty, a sweet feeling. A sweet taste. One small reprieve. Red. Red like the pretend velvet carpets and ornate drawings that could litter the walls. Red for ferocious passion and passionate ferocity. Red for sweet death, a sweet sight. To see again, like Paul. Where was god in a hole like this? Who did he have to go to for forgiveness to be reborn?
And there was still the irritation. A nicotine wind, addicting and awful. Once again, if not his, then no one else's.
His steps on red cement ceased, finding the abhorrence. Behind a door. Baldor's door. Smelled like him. He imagined, large, black, perfectly rectangular. And as of recently, foreboding and ominous.
Anger blinds, though, and he had soon shoved his way into the area universally accepted as Number XIII's.
No pressure, therefore no presence.
Fanghini always let off a sort of pressure, singularly characteristic of him, it was so easy to sense. Lately it had escalated, due to the Leader's lack of action. He could sense the same irritation from him that he felt incessantly now. That man was the same as him in many ways. They had both grown up here at the Organization, born to fight. Each sonata the song of a battle cry. They shared the same views, the same ideas for liberation. The same exultation in combat.
On a softer note, he was the closest thing to a friend he would ever have. The closest he was ever allowed to have even. They knew everything about their past lives, partners. Yet he knew to Baldor they were nothing of the sort. A partner was an extension of the weapon. Though he believed that too.Fanghini was a good weapon, it would not judge or plot against you. Only attack, relentless attack, Every bond, every chain, and every thing that got in the way.
He missed it, the excuses they could make to fight. Sometimes he wondered what he would do to end this stupor.
Anything.
Like killing was an issue. And that was the last rung on the ladder.
He moved toward the grating sound of the wind, issuing through the opened window. No crunch of broken glass under his feet. It could open easily. A knife in his heart. Was that a pang of envy? He attempted to close it, a hand on the sill, the other, permanently resting on the hilt of his weapon.
An ambiguity for why the man had left the window open. Unless he had been planning on himself following. Which was peculiar regarding XIII's recent tendency to push him away. It had to come with the irritation towards Sephiria. His only ally, lost to the organization, lost to him, lost to the wind.
The thought of closing the window had already been completed, but the action was quite the opposite. He deserved a revelry for what these Chronos members had put him through.
It was a whole different world, with much more space to run and catch something. He had forgotten how good it felt to slice through a well tracked prey. What did it matter about the rules anyway? He had never made it a goal to follow them. If they were going to stop him from going outside, then they'd have to fight him. Simple as that.
He had flashed out of the porthole held high above the ground, and had only touched the grass when the strongest smell of coffee infiltrated his nose.
Had Baldor been as careless as to disregard his tracks? He hoped the man wasn't getting sloppy, he wouldn't be alive for long then. This was almost to strong to even be a trail. It was as if someone had gone around sprinkling coffee powder everywhere, just to make sure he smelt it. Even so, the smell of coffee gum was so linked to Baldor, it was no question where he had went. Following the shadow of the demon in a westerly direction, he made to cover both their tracks to the utmost extent. But it was not like there was a big rush to it. This freedom was meant to be enjoyed.
He had backed up towards the car door, shock numbing the pain. That was inhuman speed, nothing he could go up against without his Foreseeing Eye, all he could do was get the hell out of here.
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he collided with a body behind him. He immediately leapt forward, locking the door behind him, catching a glimpse of flowing blonde hair. His eye cast around widely, he knew a wooden door wouldn't keep out a person like that. To live he'd have to get his briefcase, which he'd left here in the house. Where had he put the damn thing?
He hurriedly made his way toward one of the side rooms, ducking behind a corner as he heard the door splinter behind him. He sucked in his breath, trying to his best ability not to make a sound. He had just made it into the hallway when he heard a dark laugh from behind him, he turned his head for a moment, coming face to face with Sephiria, the same woman he had seen from the battle with Creed. He jumped forward again, reaching simultaneously for the lamp on the counter and hurling it in her direction.
Almost with an ease she sliced through it, leaving the two halves balancing on the floor, only to shatter when she took a step forward. His immediate response was to tread backwards, a tango.
There was no way he'd be able to fight her, someone so elite in the Chronos scale. His only chance was to wait for Train to get home, which would require a good level of stalling.
She lunged forward, him only catching her movements at the last instant, pulling away from the deep blow. She seemed amused with his injury, and studied his heavy breathing and clutch for his bleeding shoulder, as if wondering what he'd do next. Like a game, or a plaything, something that could only hold the attention for as long as the song lasted.
His back finally found the wall, it now becoming a support for the building as well as him. Hurriedly trying to catch his breath, he squeezed his shoulder with the strength he had left, trying to hold back the flow. He could see in her eyes that she didn't find him amusing anymore, and she shifted towards him.
"Wait," he called out, shooting out the breath in his lungs, he was reverted back to panting for a few moments before he was able to speak again. "Why are you here?" A vague enough question to say the least, but if his lucky star was out there, it could at least buy him a couple of minutes.
An interested look passed her face for a moment, bringing her sword point down somewhat. "That would be too characteristic of an evil genius wanting to explain his plan, and besides, it's no fun to just tell." She flicked her sword at him, drawing a line of blood from his left cheek, "Guess."
This really was a game to her, except that there was no way to fight back or outsmart her. He was Inigo, Fezzik, Vizzini, against someone as Wesley. It looked as if her patience was beginning to run thin, so he spouted the first words to come to mind. "You've come to kill me."
"Yes, I figured that part was obvious. If that's all you can come up with in your last moments than so be it. Let me kill you in a way befitting."
She was so ominous in her way of being, this wasn't the flowing power he remembered her radiating. It was like her own liquid moves had corroded their own selves, instead of gypsum or whatever else they could. It was amazing how his mind seemed to be racing when he was hooked on survival. Racing, but in the wrong direction. Again, his answer was a forced ad lib.
"You've come to kill me...because I know too much about Chronos."
"Do not flatter yourself, you know nothing useful." The blade was now circling before his face, as if she was choosing its next specific target.
"Because I'm a danger to the organization."
"What could you do? You do not seem like much of a danger now."
It had been a useless guess, yes, but not nearly as bad as the princess when guessing Rumplestilskin's name. "For fun then." he stammered out, immediately regretting it. Fairy tales were clouding his judgment.
"Murdering for pleasure? Don't associate me with mere serial killers." The weapon flashed out towards him, another mark on the cheek, an 'x'. Targeted. She stabbed en route for his face, both hands gripping the iron handle, was it shaking or was that just his vision going?
"For Train." he gasped at the last second, before the point collided with his head. She diverted her attack, sending the force plunging into his stomach.
He gripped the sword with weak hands, as she leered at him. "Precisely."
"How does killing me help?…If anything…it'll help…make him angry…" He sucked in great gulps of blood-soaked air sporadically, sinking to his knees. He blinked away the haze, he had to stay alive for as long as possible.
"Angry, yes, most likely. But in battle, when he has nothing to live for, he will embrace death."
He broke into a fit of coughs, splattering flecks of blood on the shining metal. "Obviously you don't know Train."
She narrowed her eyes at his half bowed head, "He lived with Chronos for his whole life. You've tagged along for a slight bit over 3 years and you think you know who he really is."
Another ragged breath, "He's been away from that for a long time…he has a heart now…that changes things…you may know cold-blooded--"
With a sudden yank she wrenched away the dripping blade from his abdomen, finally allowing it to bleed freely. Grasping the wound, his weight was conclusively allowed to fall onto the ground, a tangled heap. "I thought I told you not to associate me with petty killers." She spoke stiffly, raising her blade for the finishing blow. "It doesn't matter for any mind, any individual, they will break when surrounded by death, and will not be able to escape it!"
This was his last chance. It could potentially be dangerous for those still living, but it was his only way of switching roles to Wesley, and being able to poison both cups.
Stealthily he let his hand drop to his pocket, allowing the mobile to become loose, falling with a dead thud onto the carpet. She glanced once at it, and once at him. If he was lucky she'd been to absorbed in the slaughter to notice his act.
She finally seemed to decide, using the sword to flip the object up into her hands, "This would help me find the missing partner, would it not?"
Eve. Tiayou. He couldn't let her take them away. If Train would just hurry…he couldn't hold on for much longer.
She pocketed the small trifle, eyes glimmering with a feral joy. For all her glowing blonde hair, that was just like theirs, she was covered in shadows, a cape of them, her blade a scythe, raised high, to reap his soul. His face was grim.
She tore down into him again, opening his side to an onslaught of unwanted air, his life seeping into the carpet. Eve, he wouldn't be able to save her, Tiayou, he'd never be able to tell her, Train, he'd never be able to help again, and he'd never be told of their last chance.
Raising her arms again, she was frozen in midair just as he had begun to freeze on the ground. She'd heard a click, from upstairs, a window.
"Train Heartnet, appears!" Rocketed through the house, accompanied by a deathly pause and a flurry of footsteps. She had sheathed her sword when a bullet rang past her head, of course he'd intend to miss, what a fool.
The feet slipping their way into the dark, they knew they would not be followed. The Black Cat had other matters that he'd deal with, he'd come later.
His words seemed to stick in his throat, and he immediately rushed to his friend'sside, kneeling down, hands out helplessly.
"Train…" was all Sven was able to croak out, before clenching his teeth in pain again. His own life may be about to end, but in doing so he'd be able to save Eve and Dr. Tiayou. "Sephiria…"
He broke into a spasm of coughs again, catching glimpses of Train shaking his head rapidly, in a gesture of not to talk. But there was no time…no time…he couldn't let Chronos take them away too. "Phone…tracker…" He searched Train's face for understanding, finally getting a mournful nod, "Eve…"
Couldn't let them take her away…
"Tiayou…"
The way…the way you hold your knife…
"Tell them…" He could see the pain held behind Train's eyes, and he could feel it in his own. He was wrong…he was leaving so many things left undone…
The way you sip your tea…
In a bout of momentary strength, he used a weak fist to grab hold of Train's soaked shirt. "Don't! Don't wait till tomorrow. Don't hold back. Don't hold back your emotions, Train. Train, there's no time. Train…"
His fist slipped from his hold, and Train held up a quivering hand to silence him, "I know…I know. But you're not…you won't…" This time the pain held behind his eyes manifested into a faint hint of water, his teeth the dam, clenched to hold it back.
I loved her smile. They can't take that away from me. They can't take that away.
"Save them…"
No assuring nod this time, he had closed his eyes out of exhaustion, falling toward a sleep that numbed the pain. He could feel the swirling whirlpool fluttering in the pit of his stomach, like the unforeseen excitement that was around the bend, or the seer's dread like a weight, pulling him down into the water.
It was one last reach over the torrent, the faintest movement of breath. "Goodbye Train, good luck."
And the water stilled, and the wind formed by him lost forever, any fires of life extinguished.
He pulled himself away, and he screamed. Howls of anguish that didn't cease until his throat closed up, the only sound a sore croak, then he resorted to beating the ground with his fists. Fighting it until his hands were too bruised to uncurl and too bloodied to care. And he would have cried, he would have cried if his mouth could utter sound, he would have cried if there was energy left for tears, he would have cried if they could heal like the phoenix, but they could not. And he could not. He could not cry, no tears for Sven. There were none to give now. No tears for Saya either, or his parents. The only thing left was a rage, a rage so consuming that the sorrow was banished.
She would pay. They would all pay.
They had washed the dishes together, in total silence, Dr. Tiayou's random humming of a single verse sometimes breaking her from her thoughts. She had eventually led her to her room, patting her on the head and immediately wandering off. She was different that most, but idiosyncrasies were easy to become accustomed too, especially with the people she chose to associate herself with.
There was a time when the feet and hands explored her furnished room, finding each shelf fascinating with imagined prospect, and each wall smoother than the last. Flat and empty, lacking the unwritten verse. But once again viewed with possibility and hope, like a new book for this body to begin with.
Finally retiring to the single window that stretched almost to the ceiling, held in place by the bed, with room enough for the stockinged feet to rest. Opening the curtains with large eyes for eclectic skies, she admired the profound beauty of each nebula that now shone with a sort of new life that was usually drawn away by the city's lights.
Raising the window that reflected the faint lamplight from the wicker bedside table, she lifted the unsullied face to the immediate gust of cooling wind, whipping around the small misshapen room. It carried with it a remnant of something lost or missing, bringing to the surface the nagging seed at the base of the young heart.
Bringing the petite hand up to hang from her neck, as if holding the porcelain head in place. It was an action for comfort. She could feel the taut line, frayed, breaking from Sven, relying on the man less and hopefully allowing this body to become more independent. If there was any time for the mind to grow it was now, here where it could finally make it's own decisions freely. Even so, a hushed whisper drifted from youthful lips as she wished that her own hands would never be her only safety net.
Warming hands released themselves from the throat, eyes beginning to catch on the magical trail of a falling star. It streaked through the forever for an instant, but remained the most memorable image. It could have been viewed as a symbol for hope, a wish for new beginnings, or as death, the death of a star. She'd been to hasty, had she waited she'd have had a bond with heaven.
The heart was still entitled to a wish, however, and the innocence of that thought made those youthful lips smile wryly. These were the types of things that she was trying to escape. If a child was to be viewed respectfully, they would need to stop expecting promises from burning rocks.
In spite of the reasons for naught, fair lids fluttered over pale eyes, the heart yearning and the brain repressing. Light skin over fair soul. What light over yonder window breaks? With each wave of wonder, excitement, and anxiety for the future, its wake brought in a dark presence, pressing against the eyes and heart.
Forcing the eyelids to open, the heart ringing, the lungs panted for breath as the mind shook away the feeling. It had been a sensation that was so foreign and yet so familiar, like breaking down her walls and body to be totally exposed, it was transcending with the weightlessness of evil. The body sensed death, but she refused to accept it, drawing scratched knees under rounded chin, a show of comfort. She knew there would be no sleep, and that no eyelids would close until the horror had left.
She took the first echoing step into her neglected bedroom, wet clothes sending rivulets of water down her leg in mazelike patterns. Her shoes continued to cling just as readily as her clothes to her skin, like an old memory from before she had grown into Chronos, when she was still sure of where she was headed. The now broken shoes that supported her feet felt like the only things that were still hers that she could understand.
Another step into the almost unknown room, everything is secretive in the dark, and the door seemed to disintegrate behind her. Her body was exhausted, and the need to crumple into a weary heap almost overshadowed all else, but it could not force her to move. She wasn't sure if lying on the bed now was what she wanted to do, or if standing by the wall and observing the room from afar was a better strategy. The possibility of curling into a corner even crossed her mind, before striking it off as a ridiculous notion. There were a labyrinth of decisions to choose from, but she had no indication as to where to go. The bed seemed almost as foreboding as Theseus's minotaur, and seemed to exude the deathly sleep of Sleeping Beauty.
Her movements from then were sluggish, as if wading through mud. Moving forward with no hint of direction and no way to see through it. As if winding through the spindly passage of her furniture, her mind's feet explored each detail and theoretical path into life before returning back on the skein of thread. But even as she viewed the foreboding room that was beginning to be recalled back to memory, it began to darken. It was a slow dimming, as if a solitary cloud had begun to cover the moon, causingtwisted shadows to creep closer, or each star loosing its light of its own accord, or blinking out one by one. As if she had dropped her clear and strong diamond into the mud, loosing the light she had left. An impression of despair crept into the room through the closed window. It was stiflingly closed, and it almost raised an anger within her, as if someone had locked her in and refused her exit. There was a fleeting feeling of wanting to tear from the room with a speed and swiftness that desolation came from.
These were strange thoughts, but they almost seemed to not be coming from her, as if the room had instilled them into her upon her entry. Or maybe it had now become the symbol for all her confusion, or someone else's, like a link to them, through the closed window.
She gripped her hands around Train's jacket, trying to draw strength from old memories, ones that she understood. What was she supposed to do now? Curling her toes to grip the bottom of her shoe, she held the broken thing to her foot as she walked. It was these pieces that defined her, and she could feel them leaving. It was a frightening feeling, that she was loosing herself.
She sat on the edge of her bed, scooting forward every so often. There was an undercurrent of something she couldn't quite place, but it was forbidding. Like a death bed, her living soul misplaced among the sheets.
Tentatively, she released her arms from around herself, to smooth the area surrounding her, finding solace in the fabric draped around her. Her friends would always be there to help her, no matter how lost she felt, they'd always be there. The sinister tendrils of night that the world was sending towards her could not seep into her heart with this protective shield around herself.
A crumple of paper jolted her back down to earth, whatever darkness that had been imagined disappearing. Picking up the message, she immediately recognized the cursive mixed with block print writing, a note from Janus. Quickly skimming it she gathered that he was back from wherever he had been, and had stopped over to find her missing, but would be back soon. Here was another reason that she felt lost. She liked this guy to an extent, but at times he seemed too preoccupied with the organization, and she really didn't like the idea of him going out as an assassin and not minding the murders. It seemed too cold-hearted for a person, and to be in a relationship with someone like that didn't seem possible. And at times he would be too controlling, like now, forcing himself into her life. Another thing was that sometimes it felt like she was going through the motions, like the whole thing wasn't real from her side. But then at times she felt a sense of belonging, and that was all she was striving for. She didn't feel like she had a goal to run after, and the relationship made her feel like she had a real identity, and wasn't going through the fake faces of another alias. And it wasn't like this man was corrupt or immoral, he treated her right most of the time, maybe her apprehension towards him came from her not able to know what she wanted out of him. What she wanted out of people, or this life.
And if this whole thing really was meaningless, was she using him, or more horribly, vice verse? Or should she even care about that? Was it really that important in her life, but then again, what did she have to compare it too?
She slumped onto her floor, leaning her head back onto the frame of her unwelcoming bed, she'd have to get up to let him in. She wasn't even sure if she wanted him in here, when had he ever really needed permission though? He'd just invite himself… but she had never protested, and it wasn't fair to punish him for her confusion. And really, she couldn't just tell him to leave, because what was she without him? She didn't know where she was headed in life and he was her only real connection to it. Even if Train, Eve, and Sven were her friends, they had their own lives that she really wasn't a part of.
Standing slowly, she switched on the beside lamp and shook her head. He'd be here soon, and it probably wouldn't be a good thing for him to see her in these clothes. Putting on a new face. It would be pathetic to sit around and wait for something to make sense, she'd have to keep pushing forward, and maybe it would become clear in the future. Somebody would pick up her jewel of clarity from this swamp. She just hoped that this desire for change was possible, and that there really was something to be found.
He slammed his foot into the door, bending the hinges opposite thanthey were meant too. Pulling the two jackets his eyes first laid on, he swept out of the closet, leaving the coat-hangers to fall harmlessly to the floor. Pausing in his rage for a moment to cover Sven's inert body, he made to draw his arms into the jacket slung over his shoulders, eventually resorting to wrapping it around himself, he didn't have the patience to wear it correctly. It was cold out there, and his clothes were wet, he wouldn't be able to kill her if his muscles cramped.
He caught another glance of his friend's lifeless body, and it relit his fury, blinding him in ways he would have thought impossible now. He tore down the walls nearest to him, shredding his way in the direction she had left, finally coming to a room overlooking the alley below. There wasn't even a hint that she had been here. What was he supposed to follow? Why would she come here and just leave as if he were unimportant? He fired a frustrated shot at the window, shattering the reflective glass to litter the floor. He stole one last glance behind him to find the faint motionless figure, and narrowing his eyes sprang out the window.
The pieces of the window crunched underneath his feet and he made his way forward, catching glimpses of his anger-laden face. Reaching the end of the passage, and continuing to find no trail, he let out a following dry howl of aggravation, firing another three shots into the air. She was still nearby, it was like a lingering sensation drawing at the back of his mind. He knew she was here, so it would be useless to use the car. That would waste too much time. He was trying to get her to come to him, even though he knew she wouldn't. More important things to do, killing Sven and then moving along. Had she guessed he would take it lying down, let her run? She was a coward now, she'd lost once and now never be able to fight like she'd used to…a bloodthirsty…coward.
She'd be somewhere on these rooftops, even if she wasn't waiting for him she'd be there. Leaping from the ground, he rapidly made his way to the crown of the building, looking around with suspicion. Continuing to find nothing he began to make his way delicately from one roof to the next, any direction would be okay, because in the end he'd find her.
Shaolee Lin stood on the outskirts of the town, bending over the edge of a building. He'd been watching Number IV, with an almost exultant fascination, make his way into the town, following the smell of coffee.
It had taken him a minute or two to find him, the blind man had hidden the trail well. But it was not like that could have held him out for long. Which it hadn't. It was almost saddening that the man had not noticed the obviousness that it had been planted, but then again he was not one of those great thinkers either. Trying to judge his relative distance and speed from Fanghini, he finally came to the conclusion that he'd catch up soon, but too late.
He had sensed the Black Cat's movements for a second, and knew with a strange sort of assurance that he was looking for a fight. Well, he would get one, just not the quite the type he was expecting. There would be no revenge, but there would be a death. Number XIII's actions were easy to predict, and finding someone as the Black Cat to fight could only work out too well for this strategy. Heartnet would kill again in result of whatever sort of rage was consuming him, therefore impeding his new, unpredictable character from returning. He would be the Black Cat, someone he himself could predict, and be able to use correctly until his plan was complete.
There was a pause in his thoughts as he stalked Kranz's movements, picking his way down the street. It was exciting observing things beginning to play out almost virtually as he'd plotted. The only thing that was in the range of possibility to occur, that would be even more interesting, was to have Train resurface instead of the Black Cat, and seeing how he would react to these situations. Anything in that realm was a mystery to him now, and a challenge he was only delighted to confront.
A falling star.
OKAY! I'm finished. What a good feeling. I'm going to start a livejournal to explain everything that I want to explain, so that y'all aren't confused or forced to read ten more pages that you really don't want to read.
I apologize for killing SVEN! wow. You can't imagine how depressing it was to write that. And I apologize for the weird sword thing near the beginning, I was using it to try and explain how I view two characters. The same thing with Rin's little room dealio in her head. I'm trying to explain how Train won't be mad forever as well as Rin's character. I'm saying this because I know that it's extremely vague.
Hmmm...trying to see if there is anything else that you must know to understand the story... Oh, yes, Rins is having a relationship with Janus in a Trainslet story for good reason... haha. To make the plot better. I'll get around to it. I tried to make it sound like she's questioning the whole thing, I hope that's what it sounded like.
I seem to also have this innate want to drift towards the topic of tea. The 'tea syndrom' if I was to put it in words of a friend.
I had a lot of stupid celestial references... don't pay TOO much attention to them... I mainly wrote them for fun.
And I also apologize for Kranz sounding gay... that accidentally happened. And the freaky sexual undertone that I was getting just now from reading Eve's falling star scene. My last apology now... for referencing fairy tales like a whole bunch. Even when Sven was dying. I don't know why, but I've always thought that fairy tales had a sort of evilness in them. Which might have resulted in my absolute paranoia of Dr. Seuss. His books give me nightmares. :shudder:
WELL :MEGA SIGH: I hope this story doesn't make you think I'm an idiot. Which when I read it is what happens... and I hope most of my reviewers stayed and will stay.. and when I get around to posting the oneshot I was writing. That I'm editing now since CrypticAngel pointed out that the ending was as horrible as I thought it was. ((Not her exact words of course)) Life gives me a brain cramp.
Hopefully no more writers block. But don't expect an update until after July 9th... because my cousin's are going to be here, and they will take up my typing time.
So I guess goodbye until next time. ((and I apologize for Sven's weird last words. As you can tell I've never witnessed a death before, so I'm not quite sure how people talk.))
REVIEW! OR THE GRIM REAPER WILL GET YOU NEXT!
