IV. The Storm
The air is still and molten – burning his skin and his hair and his clothes until he isn't sure where he ends the air begins anymore. His can see red, nothing but red, no matter how wide he stretches his eyes. His arms are still searingly restrained to his sides, if they are his sides anymore. Is anything really his anymore?
Seishirou still has a hand around his neck. It feels cold – glacial – against his veins. Kamui hates to know that those fingers are growing tighter in anticipation.
His eyes are beginning to water and he is losing strength in his limbs. He hopes that it will just end soon.
So he waits – blindly, solemnly – for Seishirou to deliver death, or at least pain.
And he does.
Subaru flew blindly through the air, plummeting towards the ground faster than the stairs would take him. Around and with him rain was falling, mixing with his own tears that are so much more acidic.
He was slightly surprised to see that a serious storm has developed outside, with clouds nearly biting off the tops of skyscrapers and lightning devastating the concrete. He would think about it being unusual, this midday storm, if he had room left in his grief-torn mind.
If he's dead…if Kamui's dead…I'll return here and try jumping off the top floor. See if that doesn't make a difference.
He cratered the ground when he landed, like some foreign star descended upon desecrated ground. The wounds of the jolt healed almost immediately, and so he bounded toward the doors and the staircase to the reservoir.
From the entryway he could see that the doors had been blown away and their twisted iron frames littered the hall. A sickly orange radiance came through the doors, silhouetting a large frame in front of them.
Fuuma.
Already his hands were claws and his eyes were angry slits. He imagined the luxurious sensation of blood dripping down his nails and arms. He almost smiled.
He is pinned to something cold – something freezing, with his arms outstretched and useless. He can feel the ice of Seishirou's magic keeping him there, limp, uncomfortable and waiting.
Hands pinned, feet stinging, the sky roiling in agony above him.
And suddenly –
Oh God oh god oh god -
Sharp fingers, a steel hand, tearing through his skin –
Goddammitgod –
Clumsily slicing through his trachea and stealing his little singing bird breath –
God oh god pleasejustletitend–
Finding one of those large veins and squeezing until the blood is leaving him like skylarks when you leave the cage door open.
Kamui can vaguely feel his body trying to heel, trying to rebuild itself around the foreign hand –
Thrashing thrashing and silently screaming because he has no voice left to speak with-
Its useless because that claw still holds his vein fluttering vainly in its digits and dripping dripping dripping lifelifelife.
And Seishirou is laughing.
Fuuma turned from the door to see Subaru and moved to drive him back with an almost frenzied haste.
He met Subaru's claws with a long dagger no one really knew he had. The two became interlaced, the inorganic weapon locked with the organic one, faces nearly pressed together in combat.
If not for his rage Subaru would have taken satisfaction from the lack of amusement on Fuuma's face. He might have noticed the darkened wet lines on Fuuma's cheeks.
His own was wrinkled in a feral snarl.
"I'm sorry, Subaru-san. You can't go in there yet. They aren't quite finished."
They aren't finished – he might be- he might be alive!
Subaru slashed at him with his other hand, barely catching the side of Fuuma's head. Fuuma stumbled back a bit, free hand flying to his ribboned ear.
"I will let you pass, unharmed, when they finish. Please wait."
"NO!" Subaru yelled, voice exuding aggression. "I won't let you kill him!"
Fuuma flinched. "I'm not…" his expression grew calloused, "Stand back, Subaru. Don't force me to hurt both of you in one day."
But even as he spoke, Subaru was surging towards him with his deadly fingers outstretched.
With a gratifying rip he felt his claws tear away at the soft skin of Fuuma's exposed face.
Seishirou looks down at that beautiful little face and smiles. Kamui's eyes are wide and lacquered with pain, his mouth open in a futile attempt to scream with the vocal cords that aren't there anymore. Seishirou's hand is deep in that thin neck, clutching almost desperately onto the throbbing vein and strangling away its essence.
Already the boy's entire neck and chest are coated in the crimson stuff, glistening like rubies in the orange glow. The more it flows and it hasn't slowed yet the more the boy trembles and his skin grows cold. It smells – well, it smells like –
Seishirou hasn't fed in a while, he realizes, and looks down. It would be fitting, he figures, to feed off of this pure-bred creature. To let Subaru see what he has created.
Without removing his hand from inside the boy's neck, he leans down to the exposed collar bone and begins to lick. He is sure there is blood coating his face now - not that he cares. The warmth trickling down his tongue is well worth the mess. Pure blood – besides his birth with Subaru, he had not yet had the chance to feed off of it – it's so very rich and potent. It is life.
One life going straight to another, he muses. How very efficient.
Subaru did not look back to see Fuuma collapse onto the floor with his bleeding face cradled in his palms. He instead raced forwards towards the scorching entryway, leaping blithely over metal scraps and debris.
He stopped at the threshold. Inside all he could see was a roiling sea of gold, the water burbling and the air dripping and the red red magic infused with it being so so cold making everything so so warm.
It felt like Seishirou.
He charged in, beating back the waves of heat and looking around frantically for his twin. There – in the very center – upon water that was hardened into glass – two figures –
NononoNoNoNoNO! Please no it can't be –
Kamui suspended from the air, hands outstretched and held fast by dancing strands of magic, eyelids lowered and head hanging limply, blood pouring forth and dying his skin and clothes the color of the air, blood pouring forth from the HAND
Seishirou's hand plunged into Kamui's neck, blood pouring forth and dying his lips and teeth the color of the air, blood pouring forth and Seishirou FEEDING
Seishirou feels the boy go limp sometime while he is feeding. He isn't sure whether the vampire is dead or not, but if not then he must be close. He stops momentarily to look at the boy's face, now hanging against his chest. His eyes are nearly closed and he has given up on trying to scream. The orange in the air makes the tears on his cheeks and the blood trickling down his chin and his almost lidded eyes glitter like topaz ornaments.
Seishirou leaves his hand in the well, hoping to encourage forth more of that grotesquely fulfilling substance. Its flow has slowed considerably, but not entirely, so he lowers his head again to steal a little life –
Subaru slams into his head with as much force as he can muster. Unprepared for the assault, Seishirou's hand is torn from Kamui's throat, and he goes sliding across the magic platform he created above the reservoir, a little crimson stream trailing after him through the air and splattering around his head.
Kill Seishirou this time I will kill him-
Oh God no please don't be dead I won't know what to do if you're dead. I'll die.
The adrenaline makes you forget the blood and the death and makes you act.
It does not take long for Subaru to formulate a plan. Seishirou is momentarily distracted with eating Kamui, and although that disturbs Subaru greatly, it is unfortunately to his advantage. He needs to get Seishirou away long enough to touch Kamui – that is enough – and he can whisk them away to another world. The strength of it would be enough to tear Kamui from Seishirou's bonds, he is sure of that.
And with that hastily sketched plan, he smashes his body into Seishirou's unsuspecting head.
The numbness of disbelief is what allowed Subaru to wrench those talons from that neck and send the monster flying…
He wastes no more time with the monster. He races to Kamui, still suspended and limp, and reaches out to grab a part of him – any part of him – and manages to get a hand on his arctic cheek.
The runes of travel swirl around the twins and lift them into a black void. The red magic around Kamui finally dissipates and he falls into Subaru's arms as they whisk across dimensions.
He is cold, all of him, he is hyperborean, and very still. Subaru hopes to at least hear strangled breathing but then realizes that Kamui no longer has the organs in his neck to breathe with.
The tears start up again, this time flicking off his face and being forever suspended between the worlds. Subaru holds his little brother close and sobs into his back, choking and wailing and hopinghopinghoping that when they land he will be able to detect a pulse in that boreal frame lying listless across his chest.
Thank you for reading. I would love to hear your feedback in a review!
Just to let you know, within a couple of chapters, this story will be continuing in another story of mine entitled Crimson Stars and Distant Skies. Please take a look if you are interested.
With love,
Elegy