She nodded, leading him outside into the foggy day before up the stairs into the room above the shop. The door creaked loudly and he paused a moment, inspecting the dusty and obviously ill-kept room. It held too many memories. She looked over her shoulder at him. "Nothing to be afraid of, love," She murmured, "Come in."
He could get a better look at her now. She was tall for a woman, built willowy with little to her. Pale skin seemed to pull over her bones, a tribute to the hard times. Her green eyes were a forest color, not the yellow he had thought them to be. Her blood red hair was pulled back out of her face in a bun at the nape of her neck, her dress torn and tattered. But, she didn't seem to be inspecting him as she wandered over to a loose floorboard and pried it up out of the floor with ease.
She handed him the velvet cloth, hiding a leather case. Inside…he blinked in surprise as the silver shined in the light.
"I don't believe it…" Bakura breathed, sliding one of the razors out of the case.
"When they came for the girl, I hid them. I thought you would be back." She smiled a little, looking at the handles, "They're pure silver, aren't they?"
"Silver…yes…" The cool metal against his hand seemed to bring back memories of the old days. Memories that had been lost for years. "These are my friends,
See how they glisten…
See this one shine,
How he smiles in the light,
My friend,
My faithful friend.
Speak to me friend…" He opened the razor, seeing the blade seeming to glow in the light, "Whisper,
I'll listen.
I know,
I know,
You've been locked
Out of sight
All these years,
Like me, my friend.
Well, I've come home,
To find you waiting.
Home,
And we're together,
And we'll do wonders,
Won't we?"
The redhead stepped up beside him, seeming to watch the blade as well with equal interest.
"You there,
My friend…" He continued, not seeming to notice her.
"I'm your friend too,
Mr. Todd,"
"Come, let me hold you,"
"If you only knew,
Mr. Todd,"
"Now, with a sigh,
You're warm in my hand…"
"Ooh,
Mr. Todd,
You're warm in my hand…"
"My friend,
My clever friend,"
"You've come home,
Always had a fondness,
For you, I did…"
He folded the razors, lovingly sliding them back into the case. Watching them still shining in the light from the window, "Rest now, my friends.
Soon I'll unfold you.
Soon you'll know splendors…"
"Never you fear,
Mr. Todd,
You can stay here,
Mr. Todd…
Splendors you never have seen…"
"…you never have seen all your days will be yours…"
"…all your days,
My lucky friends…
Till now your shine
Was merely silver."
"I'm your friend,
And you're mine,
Don't they shine beautiful?
Silver's good enough for me…"
"Friends,
You shall drip rubies…"
"…Mr. T…"
"You'll soon drip
Precious…
Rubies." Looking over at the redhead from the corner of his eye, he ordered, "Leave me now."
A tad disgruntled, she gathered her skirts and swished out. He stood, holding one of the razors to the light of the window, a large, almost demonic grin on his face.
"At last…my arm is complete again!"
Marik looked over his map for what appeared the fifth time already, unfamiliar in the streets he had not set foot on in years. He sighed, sliding the map into his pocket and looked up at the large, foreboding building in front of him. It looked like the haunted mansions that he had been told about.
And there, as sad and lonely as any ghost, sat the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
Smooth, slightly spiked pink hair hung down to her waist with part of it bound out of her face in a bun, seeming almost red against her pale skin. Violet eyes were locked on the obvious needlework in her hands, occasionally looking outside the window to the city below. Her eyes closed and a sigh escaped ruby red lips.
"Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
How can you jubilate,
Sitting in cages,
Never taking wing?
Outside the sky waits,
Beckoning, beckoning,
Just beyond the bars.
How can you remain,
Staring at the rain,
Maddened by the stars?
How is it you sing
Anything?
How is it you sing?" She set a hand to the pane of the window, giving Marik half a smile as they shared a long look before she looked away. The next part seemed only for him as her eyes met his as well.
"My cage has many rooms,
damask and dark
Nothing there ever sings,
Not even my lark.
Larks never will,
you know,
when they're captive.
Teach me to be more adaptive...
Green finch and linnet bird,
nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing.
If I cannot fly,
let me sing..." She turned away from the window, as if suddenly startled by something before moving away from the window. A shriller voice cut through Marik's thoughts.
"Alms, alms, for a miserable woman on a miserable chilly morning..." Absently, Marik dropped a coin into her hand, never looking away from the window.
"Ma'am, could you tell me whose house this is?" He asked, slowly looking at him. She was a thin shred of a woman, stringy scarlet hair hanging around her face like pouring blood.
"That's the great Pharaoh Atemu's house, it is..." she murmured in a low tone.
"And the young woman who resides there?" He continued, looking down at her eyes. She made sure to keep her face tilted away from his.
"That's Takara, his beautiful ward. Keeps her snug, he does, all locked up. So, don't you go trespassing there, or it's a good whipping for you...or any other young man with mischief on his mind..." She turned, wandering off into the mist of the early morning.
Marik sighed, turning his eyes back to that window and sitting down on the bench outside. He saw a figure, thinking it Takara, he tried to calm her fears. Trying to make her believe he was a friend and not just a passer-by.
"I feel you,
Takara,
I feel you.
I was half-convinced I'd waken
Satisfied enough to dream you.
Happily, I was mistaken, Takara!
I'll steal you, Takara...
I'll steal you."
The figure moved away from the window. He sighed, shaking his head and looking down at the map in his hands once again before starting to move in the vaguest direction. But, the front door swung open. Half-hoping it was Takara, he turned to look at her. But, instead, it was a slightly older man, dark pink hair streaked with golden blonde and spiked to an enormous height away from his face. He smiled at him, though something about the smile was the tiniest bit unnerving.
"Come in, young man, come in," He murmured, beckoning towards the door. Marik hesitated, before he turned and walked into the home. It was a grand invention, though the older man led him slightly swiftly into the library. He was wary, though he tried to get some kind of glimpse of the young woman he had seen earlier. There was no sign of her.
"You said you were looking for the main park?" The man asked, looking at him. Another man, this one much taller with dark blonde hair, seemed to slip in silently from the shadows.
Uneasy, Marik nodded. "Yes, sir." He murmured, as his host handed him a small snifter of brandy, "It's large on the map, but somehow, I keep getting lost."
"Sit down, please," Marik obeyed, though it was obvious he was still slightly tense as he took a small sip of brandy.
"It is embarrassing, a sailor losing his bearings, but everything is just unfamiliar here." He tried to give a small smile, the older man arching a brow at him.
"A sailor, eh?" He asked, questioningly.
"Yes, sir. The 'Osiris,' from Cairo."
"A sailor must know the ways of the world…" His host stood, looking over a few of the books in front of him, "He must be practiced in the ways of the world. Would you say you are practiced, boy?" He asked, his voice having a less kind tone now. Marik's muscles tensed, his grip clenching a little around the snifter in his hand.
"Sir?" He asked, trying to keep calm. After all, the blonde behind him could probably snap him in two.
"Oh, yes," The older man murmured absently, "Such practices…the courtesans of Europe…the concubines of Siam…the catamites of Greece…the harlots of India…I have them all here…drawings of them." He turned, looking at Marik with cool eyes, "All the vile things that you could do with your whores." Taking a volume from the shelf, he smiled, sitting on the edge of his chair, "Would you like to see?"
"I think there's been some mistake," Marik stood, setting the snifter down on the table. The blonde stepped up behind him, daring him to move. However, Marik's violet eyes rested on the deep indigo ones of his host. The same ones that seemed to become angry as he spoke.
"Oh, I think not," The man clenched a fist, "You gandered at my ward, Takara. You gandered at her. Yes, sir, you gandered ."
Marik heard the cracking of knuckles behind him, almost readying himself to run. "I meant no harm-" He started.
"Your meaning is immaterial. Mark me, boy, if I ever see your face on this street again, you will rue the day that you were born," His hand clenched in Marik's shirt, drawing the boy closer, "My Takara is not to be gandered at !"
The next thing he knew, the larger blonde had pulled him out and tossed him out the back door into a back-alley.
"The main park is that way," He pointed, "right, left, and then straight, understand? Over there."
Marik turned, before the boy's fist met the back of his head with lethal force. The smaller blonde crumpled to the ground, before his attacker set his foot on his chest.
"You heard the Pharaoh, kid." He leaned on his knee, poking Marik's now pounding head hard, "Next time, it'll be your brains on the pavement." With a merry sort of whistle, he stood back on the ground walking inside.
Marik winced a little, wiping blood from his split lip before picking up his bag and starting to walk down the alley. His eyes rested on the window. He could see a set of violet eyes watching him fearfully. He smiled a little, despite his pain.
"I'll steal you,
Takara,
I'll steal you!
Do they think that walls can hide you?
Even now, I'm at your window.
I am in the dark beside you,
Buried sweetly in your blushing hair…"
He leaned on the wall for support, tearing his eyes from the window.
"I feel you,
Takara,
And one day,
I'll steal you.
'till then, I'm with you there.
Sweetly buried in your blushing hair…" His eyes closed a moment, before he moved down into the park.
