All righty, time for installment number 2, ne? So, you know the drill, readers - Have fun, read, and review. Please! :)
Disclaimer: All characters portrayed in Eternal Sonata/Trusty Bell: Chopin's Dream do not, nor ever will, belong to me. Very sad, I know.
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The blackened room remained silent for a while after that, one of the two voices quieted by sleep. The air smelled lightly of sweat and musk - the "windows" kept the scent from becoming too noticeable from those walking by or in. Though, who was likely to in the middle of the night like this was beyond his fathoming. All he wanted to do right now was lie there as he was - the one he loved most resting against his chest, arm wrapped over them to keep their slender frame warm. Though he couldn't see, he didn't have to - he knew every line and detail of their face, the fall of their hair, the exact shade and tone… Saints, he wished he'd known earlier his feelings; everything would have been easier to explain… At least, that's what he thought…
Ah well… I still wouldn't be able to talk about their deaths as I saw them… That's my memory alone now.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes, running his large hand absently through his lover's hair as he recalled the terrible incident - though it'd been years, he knew everything about it… the conversations, the faces of their attackers and his family… and the color… such bright, vivid colors…
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The boy was roused from his slumber by a hand harshly shaking his shoulder and pulling him to his feet. Bleary, he struggled to awaken as he heard harsh whispers in his ear, telling him to stay quiet and hurry. He stumbled, but managed to keep up with the boy pulling his arm. "Meter…" he murmured, his voice laced with heavy sleep as he stifled a yawn. "Wha's goin' on? Wha's 'sa matter?"
"Be quiet, idiot," the older boy snapped, his pale blue eyes glowering at his younger sibling as he stopped at the end of a hallway. "Just follow me and don't say anything." Only a tired nod accompanied this order, and the boy was once more dragged away by his dark-haired brother. In only a few moments, the two were enshrouded inside a small cubby, hidden behind a false wall in the living room. On the couch sat their mother and eldest brother, watching the four men before them in apprehension. The youngest boy watched, slowly waking when he realized that the men in the room where not any he recognized.
"So, you must be that Miss Malagueña that we heard so much about," one of the man stated. He stood by the fireplace, his skin tan and weather-hardened and his features dark and exotic. His clothes were nondescript – half his face covered by a mask, and every bit of his outfit dark and singularly unremarkable. The other men in the room bore the same design save one; the man by the door was more slender and significantly shorter, with flaming red hair. Their mother sat with poise and regality, despite the gentle quivering in her dark hands. Still, she said nothing, only watching the man intently as he stared at her and her eldest boy. After a moment of silence, the man chuckled. "Quiet? How very strange. I had heard that you loved to speak. Perhaps that was before your husband died, hm?"
Papa? Confused, the young boy tried to lean closer, only to be held back by his brother's arm and sharp, icy gaze. Anxious, the boy simply watched as his mother recovered from the flinch she'd made at the mention of her deceased love. "My husband was a fisherman, like my son," she explained softly, her voice gentle yet hard, a rod of iron wrapped in velvet. "We have nothing for you bandits, as we don't have anything for ourselves."
"Oh, I see." The man shook his head, then looked to the man closest to the two, giving a shrug. "Sorry boys - I guess we go home." A light wave of laughter issued from the men as the two on the couch scowled darkly. Suddenly, the eldest brother stood, pointing at the man. With his modest height, he was eye level with the intruder before him, his chin-length black hair seeming tipped in flame from the light of the fire as he declared, "You are not welcome in this house. I do not know your connection with my father or mother, but-"
Before he could finish, the man moved. It was so fast and so sudden that no one saw it coming, until their mother put her hands to her face and shrieked as her son fell to the floor, blood pooling from a fatal stab to his heart. Jazz could only stare, then lurch forward instinctively to help his brother, even as his other held him back firmly. He could only watch as his mother screamed their brother's name, cradling his slowly cooling body to her chest, blood staining her homespun white clothes. The man looked to her dispassionately, then gave a harsh snarl.
"I will not let your bastard husband live on, witch," he stated coldly. "Those from the Hell he came from should remain, and your lesser breed to your pathetic islands."
"You monster!" she screamed at him, tears running down her face. "We have done nothing wrong! And you killed my son! A curse on you, you heartless bastard child! Damn you to your unspeakable Hell!" Before her curses to him could continue, the man lunged his sword forth one more, piercing her throat and watching the life drain from her eyes as the blood flowed from her small mouth and slender neck.
Jazz nearly screamed but for his brother clasping a hand over his mouth and tightly pulling the boy to him, shielding him from anything more. But, even against his brother's chest, he could hear the cold man speak to the others. "Let's go. Our business is done here. We'll collect our dues and leave." Within moments, they were gone, after crashes and bangings were set about on their way out.
Then, the silence. It seemed to stretch on forever as they sat there behind the wall, fully knowledgeable about what had just happened. Finally, Meter let his brother go, staring blankly at the floor.
"We bury them," he stated sternly, answering the unasked question in the younger's mind. "We bury them, then go somewhere else." Jazz didn't dare ask where, only followed his brother as they left the small sanctuary and walked into the main room.
The stench of blood overpowered his senses, seeming like a thick pool in the air as the firelight make it shimmer like blackened oil. The two of them worked together to drag both mother and brother outside into the rain, the drops hiding the tears that the younger had begun to shed. The chill wind helped mask his sobs with shivers, and the work dulled his mind so that he needn't think of what had just occurred until the graves where dug.
And so, they stood in silence as the silver rain fell, piercing through to fill his soul with pain and tears.
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Staring at the ceiling, he didn't realize how long he'd been staring off until the lover in his arm suddenly rolled further into him, half of a warm, slender body resting on his own now. A cold nose tipped up to rest under his chin, and a sigh escaped parted lips. Giving himself a secret smile, he closed his eyes and willed away the memory.
Tonight was not the night for haunting recollections - only good dreams would beckon him into darkness this time.
A smile quirked further onto his face as he drifted into sleep, peaceful darkness lacking dream or memory, but filled with the sense -the knowledge- of who was laying at his side. That, in itself, was it's own dream come true.
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Well, tell me what you think… though I think I may have Jazz fangirls trying to rip me apart with these crazy ideas. Anywho, please review with what you think, okay?