Join me, look up at the sky, stare into the sun with wide dumb eyes. have you ever seen anything so pointless and uninspiring?
Hello and welcome back! I'm Daniel and this is my fanfic, it is mine, there are no exact doubles of me trying to replace me and take over my life without anyone noticing, that's a dumb thought...stop thinking that. I might not be doing a holiday themed one-shot after all. mostly because I cant think of any sou eater holiday scenario that hasn't been done to death, and also I'm still trying to figure out exactly WHAT Christmas is...I hear it's kinda of like a wrestling tournament but also like brain surgery , I don't know, holidays are weird and inadvisable. hay if you want to help me figure out what Christmas is, or talk about soul eater or help me pray to the elder gods for the ultimate success of this fan fiction then write a review or PM me, I'd love that. also I'd be thankfull if you Favorited the story or fallowed it so you can keep up with when new chapters are posted and consequently why the walls of your home start bleeding every weekend, oh yeah i forgot to mention, if you read more that one chapter of this story you are likely VERY cursed now...sorry bout that.
And hay, thanks.
(In Medusa's lair)
There was the suggestion of movement in her solid white milk glass eyes, a faint glint against the glaze as they rolled in their sockets fallowing her mother as she moved around the room. It was very early in the morning, the pail predawn light shined through the craggy and jagged crevice in the vast looming chamber. In the middle of the chamber where Crona sat was a large solid stone table, a table with no legs but simply jutted out from the ground in a prefect rectangle. Swirling patterns and complex murals of birds of pray, arachnids and serpents carved deep into the rock. The long table was set for one with pewter silverware and a plate of absurdly portioned food, placed in front of her. Her mother appeared from the other end carrying in yet another large plate of food, she sat it next to the plate that was still in front of her, which she still had not taken a bight from. Medusa looked at the untouched food. "is there something wrong?" Crona stared at the plates. "I'm trying to remember the last time I ate anything. I can't." Medusa raised an eyebrow. She sat close to Crona. "is that so?" Crona sat her gloved hand on the table and considered taking them off. "perhaps I should have started you off easy. You have look of someone whose been on a liquid diet for a while. Eat what you can." Medusa said with a nod to the plates. "thank you, mother." Medusa smiled at Crona and leaned back in her seat. Crona took a few bights of the roasted lamb on her plate but her stomach turned instantly, she felt nauseous, struggling to keep the morsels down her gullet. She looked up at the crevasse in the looming vault of the cave, the light only made the sudden nausea worse. "I'm sorry, I cant." she muttered. Medusa slowly nodded. "that's alright.." there was a long silence between them, their eyes met, Crona weary and sickened expression against Medusa determined stair with a hint of sadness that came from a mother watching their child suffer. "the people who did this to you are going to die." she said simply, looking to the corner of the room at nothing in particular "their not going to hurt you anymore. Your safe here." crona was silently looking up at the dusty blue sky through the crack, it was the first sun rise she had seen in many years. "your different now, why are you being so nice to me?" Crona asked, her voice softer than it had been in quite some time. "there's something you want from me, right?" she asked. Medusa's shoulders drooped. "I missed my child. Is that so hard to believe? Don't misread my affections for having gone soft. I'm the same as i'v always been." she looked back at Crona. "if there's something that I regret, its that I wish that I would have been a better mother." Crona nodded quietly, accepting what Medusa had to say. "I'm going to sleep now, if that's okay." Crona said. "there are things, so many things I need to do. But I'm tired." "i can take you to your old room." Medusa said already halfway standing. "no, that's okay. I want to see the sky." Medusa nodded. "if that's what you want, Crona."
(somewhere else)
there was a man, he sat not alone in a study, a study room perhaps not unlike your own if you have one. Dose your study have multiple trophy heads of exotic animals adorning the walls? A fire in a grand fireplace with an oak mantel that casts an amber glow around the room? A mahogany desk, carved with intricate swirls and etchings of historic scenes of death and mayhem? Dose your office contain large bookshelves of tomes and banned literature? Then perhaps this study is very much like your own, perhaps you are this man that I am narrating about, if you are then you shouldn't be reading this story, you will not at all like some of the things that you are going to read. Imagine this man, imagine him. His balled head, speckled like the egg of a hen with brown liver spots, his face is wrinkled and aged but delicate like the skin of man on the later end of life, He was an old man and had no intentions of hiding this age, he was not feeble in a physical since but his hands had not seen the toils of labor in quite some time. He used a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his bald head, he was sitting much to close to the fire but did nothing about this. He stared with cold and calculating eyes at a letter on his desk addressed to him, one Ester Finch, he had read it over many times. His aid, intern Steve, stood in the corner biding his time, he hand delivered the letter which had come in that morning, a letter that was addressed from the Timber Creek Industries, he did not read the letter himself but he was curios, they had all heard the news, it was hard to hide the fact that ten of Finch's men had been been killed, this was not a rare occurrence at all, people who worked for Finch had suffered worse fates indeed, At least it appeared that the operators he had sent to collect Crona, met their end quickly enough but not painless in the least. Steve the intern had worked for Finch for only a few months but he knew that the mortality of his workers would not be enough to keep him from his prize. He was with Ester the day that her bought Crona from the so called asylum, he saw the way his eyes lit up to see Crona, in a delirious and chemically enraged state slaughter a collection of Timber Creeks worst inmates. He sat and talked with Crona's handler about the terrible things that they had rented her out for, all the ways that she could be used. Steve had no comment, he wanted to be done with it all, the internship was not what he expected, the fact that he was not allowed to leave Finches manor worried him most. He remembered some of the other interns that were working around the mansion from where he went to school, some of them he hadn't seen for a couple of days and he was worried if they had gotten in trouble and were sent home for the summer, he certainly didn't want to be in that massive house with no one to talk two but there were three others left at least, he had a seeking suspension that maybe they were having second thoughts as well. He wasn't going to be scared away so easily, his graduation hinged on the collage credit that he would receive, it wasn't something he was going to die for. Crona gave him the creeps, just looking at her behind those iron bars, even before she began killing, something about her ethereal but highly unsettling visage was not human and yet finch could hardly contain his desire to posses her, he found that more unsettling that anything else. Finch finally looked up at Steve, sizing him up in a way that made Steve rather uncomfortable. "Steve..how are you with a gun, son?" Steve looked into the old mans eyes but nothing came out of his mouth.
(meanwhile, in death city)
The once sheltered white headed vagabond shuffled down the streets of Death city with his hands in his pockets, gripping a meal voucher he had tucked in his wallet earlier, it was lucky for him that Death City functioned on a sort of Frankenstein socialism or else he would have gone hungry, but even the deep pockets of the great and charitable lord death (long may he reign) have their dusty bottom. The shiftless fellow moped about the night before thinking of where exactly it was that he went wrong, and he genuinely couldn't think of a reason, why did something like this have to happen to such a good guy? He sat down at the DWMA mess hall where he used to have his meals with his comrades, he hadn't been there in quite some time, he remarked how every student or three star meister passed him by, he remember a day when st least one person would find their company with him. Not a single person in the cafeteria recognized him, nor he any of them, not a single face. He started eating his meager meal, the food was the same at least. He couldn't believe Maka was making him live life like this, kicking his out of his home, he was a death scythe and a meister is supposed to treat their weapon with dignity, she had no riht as his mister to throw him out. Something clicked in his head, their apartment was not his only home and he did not have to give Maka the satisfaction of seeing him low, he decided that he would build him self back up, up over Maka on her high horse in fact. He was a death scythe after all.
(if you haven't picked up on it I'm not a big fan of soul...)
