([ Symphony ])
April 30th, 2017
2:26am
Hiro Frost Kudo
If he were being honest with himself, he really did not want to be there, and he could tell he was not the only one who felt that way. Aland appeared to be downright miserable - he had since before they even boarded the flight, when Mirielle had been insisting her shitty 1980 Ford Pinto could drive the four of them all of the way to Chicago. The car hadn't even started, and the Meister and her Weapon had launched into a shouting match before Twain arrived with four plane tickets and saved the day. Although, Hiro had to admit that even the plane ride had been hellish. Again, mainly because Mirielle had been overly-excited and thrilled to be on an airplane for the first time ever. Having grown up in Britain himself, Hiro was fairly used to the contraptions, and he saw nothing too interesting about the short flight from Nevada to Illinois. But she'd been gushing about how cool it was to be up in the air, and how excited she was to be on a mission, and it had been a nightmare.
At least Twain and Aland were quiet, and Mirielle eventually did fall asleep after about two hours of chatter and exuberance. She'd dropped her head onto her Weapon's shoulder, and he'd let out a longsuffering sigh before attempting to catch some sleep, himself. Twain, being his curious self, had brought along newspaper articles and even a book on H. H. Holmes to read during the flight. Which had left Hiro to wallow in his own fears and anxieties about the mission itself, which had been absolutely terrible. He'd come up with at least five hundred different ways for the Kishin egg to destroy the four of them and leave no remains.
Eventually, the plane had landed, and they'd been freed from their metal prison at about one thirty in the morning. They'd split up afterward, looking for the monster's den. As Twain had explained, Holmes liked to take his victims into a sort of lair and torture them before he killed them and ate their soul, and they needed to find exactly where that place was. Naturally, Twain and Hiro had taken off in one direction, and Aland and Mirielle in another. The Kudo had thought it was a bad idea to split apart like that, because when that happened in movies, someone always died. That thought send spikes of anxiety through his soul, and he didn't think that Twain had felt it through their connection.
Until, of course, Twain's blue soul intertwined with his own, attempting to soothe and calm him. "You alright?" the other boy asked, looking down at his Meister with a worried frown. It struck Hiro that he'd chosen a particularly kind Weapon, and though he was embarrassed to be caught mentally freaking out, he was glad that Twain had noticed and wanted to help him through it.
"Oh... uh, I guess I'm a little nervous," the Meister admitted, because Twain already knew. He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets as a gust of wind buffeted the both of them, and offered his Weapon a smile, shrugging his shoulders. "Is it obvious?"
Twain smirked and shook his head. "Only to me," he assured, and the pressure of his soul on Hiro's felt like a hug. It was reassuring, to say the least. Hiro didn't know much about this side of the world - the side with monsters and Weapons and Meisters and Kishins and souls. It scared him, and he was grateful that Twain wasn't teasing him for it. But then, his friend hadn't even teased the shorter boy when he had caught him singing in his bedroom, decked out in a full Hatsune Miku cosplay. Therefore, Hiro was fairly certain that there truly was nothing that Twain would bully him for.
It was a comforting thought.
They walked along in silence for a several minutes, turning down a few unexplored alleys. Hiro didn't have a controllable level of soul perception, so they were mainly working on sight. He hoped Mirielle and Aland were having better luck - they were supposed to call or text whenever they found the place, but Hiro's phone hadn't rang or vibrated yet. But, then again, there could have been tons of reasons for that. Maybe their phones had died simultaneously. Maybe Mirielle had broken her phone. Maybe they were both being eaten by the Kishin egg.
That last one would be particularly bad.
Fortunately, it was most likely that they just had not found the place yet. Holmes was supposed to have been very elusive.
A sudden chill filled the air as they walked, alongside a pressure that found its way into Hiro's very core. Even Twain's steadfast soul gave a slight tremble, and the young Meister couldn't imagine what his own was doing. His mouth had gone dry, he'd broken out into a cold sweat, and fog began to wind across the ground and around his ankles.
Then, the world dropped from under his feet.
It was unclear how much time had passed from the moment he fell to when he opened his eyes back up. His awareness came back gradually. The first thing he knew was cold. The temperature was at least twenty degrees cooler than it had been when it dropped outside, and suddenly his black-and-yellow jacket didn't seem nearly adequate enough. The second thing he was aware of was the smell. It was the stench of rotting corpses - of things that had been dead for weeks and weeks on end.
Then, his consciousness snapped back all at once, and he understood that he was completely alone, in a dark room, in H. H. Holmes' den. Weaponless, defenseless, and terrified. He automatically reached for his cell phone, and relief overcame him when he found that it was unscathed and even turned on. Then, that same relief rushed out of him again when he saw that there was no service. He supposed he should have expected that - it wasn't as though Holmes would need a cell phone, after all.
He reached his soul out, seeking for Twain's to respond, but it became apparent that that was certainly not going to work, either.
The Meister rose to his feet and took a deep, steadying breath, before heading over to find his way out of the room. Using his phone to illuminate his surroundings, he found that the door was already propped open, and he pushed it the rest of the way only to realize that the thing that had been keeping it from falling closed was a rotting corpse. Nausea swelled in his gut, and he stepped over the decaying woman and into the hallway. There was a nice carpet rolled out over the hardwood, but it squelched uncomfortably underfoot when he stood on it.
He didn't look down to see what it was wet with. He could probably hazard a guess, anyway.
The halls were mazelike, and they all looked the same, no matter how far he walked. The silence that surrounded him was broken only by the sound of his own footsteps and the occasional whisper or murmur in the dark. The disembodied sounds were even more unsettling than the silence, because no matter how hard he looked, he could not find the source of them.
"You know, if I were a serial killer, I think this would be a good way to do it."
Hiro spun around, eyes blown open wide at the unexpected, completely casual tone that came from right behind him. Aland stood, looking as comfortable as he always did. He certainly didn't look like a person who was traversing the lair of a Kishin egg. He looked as calm as he would be if he was simply going to the store for milk.
The small Meister blew out a sigh of relief and shook his head. "Have you seen Mirielle or Twain around?" he asked, brows rising hopefully.
Aland's gray eyes flicked around the hallway before landing back on Hiro. "If I had, I wouldn't be following you around, now would I?" he queried in return, raising his chin in the direction they were heading. "I have the feeling we should probably find them if we want to have any chance of beating this guy."
"Aren't you worried about your Meister?" Hiro asked. He was quite concerned for his Weapon's wellbeing, but Aland didn't look at all perturbed.
One shoulder shrugged in response. "Not really," he dismissed. "She can probably annoy this Holmes guy to death without me."
Hiro didn't think that it was time for jokes like that, but he made no comment on it. Instead, he just turned back in the direction he'd been heading, and started walking again. Aland followed behind him, and while Hiro actually enjoyed the Weapon's company on any normal day, it was disconcerting to know that he was enjoying their little trip into hell.
([ Symphony ])
April 30th, 2017
? am
Twain Thaddeus Thorndyke
It felt like he'd been walking for days through these long, bloodied hallways. Tripping over corpses, running into walls, calling for his Meister and friends. He was terrified for Hiro - the smaller boy had been frightened before they'd even fallen down into the monster's lair - he could only imagine what he was feeling now. If he was still alive, that is. From what Twain had learned of H. H. Holmes, he understood that this was absolutely not a place you wanted to be by yourself. Which was why Lord Death had sent them out in teams like this, the Weapon realized belatedly. It had probably been a bad idea for them to split up in the first place.
"Hiro!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth to project further. He had no clue if it was a good plan for him to do such a thing, but it might be the only way to find his Meister. Holmes knew that they were all there, anyway, so it wasn't like announcing his presence was going to do anything worse for him.
The maze around him seemed endless. He'd taken to only walking forward, but for some reason, he never reached a dead end. There were only turns and twists and he had no way of knowing if he was going in circles or not. He hoped that his friends were having an easier time navigating than he was, though he knew that Hiro and Mirielle both had sucky senses of direction. But, then again, it wasn't as though Twain had a bad one, and he was struggling badly.
A whisper sounded from his right, but it was just like all the other murmurs and voices he'd heard so far - just white noise. Likely Holmes' doing, to disorient them even further. Didn't make it any less frightening or unsettling, though - it kind of sounded like it was calling him into the darkness; like it was willing him to just give up already. He wondered if that was how the Kishin egg liked to torment his victims before he killed them... if it was like a fun game for him.
Silence settled around him again for a heartbeat, before it was shattered by a bone-chilling scream.
It sounded like it was everywhere, all at once, and Twain slammed his hands over his ears to try and block the sound out.
"Help me! Oh, god, please! Anybody! Stop!"
Then, cutting through the screams and pleas, came a more familiar voice. "I'm coming! I'll help! Where are you?!" the girl demanded, and Twain heard footsteps approaching rapidly from ahead and to the right. An intersecting hallway broke off into his own, and Mirielle sprinted out, stopping at the junction and looking around wildly. The other person was still screaming and begging for help, but it stopped abruptly as something above Mirielle opened and a body dropped down. The noose around the woman's neck caught her before she hit the ground, snapping her neck in the process. The young Meister barely leaped back in time to keep from touching the victim, her eyes wide and panicked.
Shaken, Twain stepped forward, reaching for the girl's shoulder. "Mir, are you alright?" he asked, and watched as the girl reached forward to touch the soul that had fallen from the woman's dead body. Her hands barely came into contact with the illuminated, moving spirit when liquid began to drip down from above. It landed on her outstretched palms, and she and Twain both reluctantly looked up.
It was, without a doubt, the most frightening thing Twain had ever seen. Stretched out over the chute that had dropped and hanged the woman was a creature with four long legs that braced against the walls to keep it from falling down. Its head was almost humanoid, but the jaw was widened so much that the skin on the cheeks had split and opened up to the inside, which was filled with dozens of needle-like teeth. Two goat horns curled back around the pointed ears, and a long, forked tail hung down beneath it. An upside-down cross was burned into its forehead.
Mirielle pushed through the initial shock first, swallowing hard before she spoke. "H. H. Holmes?" she asked, squaring her jaw and setting her stance into something more solid. The creature growled, deep in its throat, and lashed its tail. "You're not even partway human anymore, are you?" Her expression morphed into something akin to pity. "You really are a monster."
The creature gave a bloodthirsty screech and dropped. Twain grabbed Mirielle's wrist and jerked her to the side with him, narrowly managing to keep the two of them from being crushed by the Kishin egg. The two DWMA students sprinted off down the hall, and the monster's tail shot after them. It wrapped around the girl's ankle, twisting it out from under her and causing her to flop forward, directly onto her face. Understandably dazed, she made no move to get back up.
Not allowing himself to think, Twain leaped between Mir and the monster, working on transforming his forearm into the blade at the end of his spear. It would be impossible for him to fight Holmes on his own, but he had no choice but to try. Otherwise, there would be no hope for any of them to survive.
"Hold your breath!"
He felt his Meister's soul before he saw him. The sensation of their connection came at the same moment that something rolled past his feet and exploded into a plume of smoke that quickly filled the room. He obeyed the command, blocking off his airways and stretching out his hand as Hiro raced through the smoke. A smaller hand slipped into his own, and he made the full transformation into his spear form.
Their connection had grown easier to complete over the past few weeks, and he felt their souls join together smoothly. He could sense Hiro's reluctance to fight, but it was overcome by the determination to do what it was that they had come here to do. He felt a surge of pride at how brave his Meister was being, in spite of his initial anxiety and fear. He'd made the right choice with Hiro; he understood that better now.
Holmes was fast. He swung one, massive-clawed hand at Hiro, but the little Meister managed to duck the attack and jab the end of Twain's spear form at the Kishin egg's side. It nicked its target, but didn't do any real damage. Holmes swung his tail in return and slammed it against Hiro's gut, sending him flying into the wall behind him. Twain fell from his hands and clattered against the ground, but was retrieved quickly. It was obvious that his Meister was thinking on his feet; trying hard to come up with any idea that might save all of their lives.
The monster was looming over them again, tail lashing and saliva pouring from its mouth. It growled and opened its mouth wide to lunge at the Weapon and Meister duo - Twain was alarmed to find that Hiro had frozen up in fear.
Bright green light illuminated the hallway, and a bolt of energy hit the side of Holmes' head. It knocked his mouth off-course, which gave Hiro enough time to get out of the way into somewhere a bit more safe. Twain looked from his Weapon form and saw Mirielle standing further down the hall, dented sniper rifle in hand. Blood was pouring from her nose, but she grinned brightly when she saw that the soul attack had worked, if only for a moment.
Twain felt Hiro's soul channel more easily through him as his Meister swung hard at Holmes' underbelly. The curved end of his spear dug deep into the Kishin egg, all the way up to the shaft. Hiro's unstable wavelength shot through the end of the spear, putting more power into the attack, and Holmes' grotesque body abruptly split apart before their eyes. In its wake lay a crimson red soul, pulsating weakly in the darkness.
As both Weapons transformed back into their human selves, it occurred to Twain that there was only one soul to split between two teams.
"You guys take it," Mirielle said, as though reading his mind. And, before Aland could protest her decision, she put her finger to his lips. "You don't want to take that soul. We didn't kill Holmes - they did. There'll be plenty of other chances for us," she urged on, hazel eyes round and expectant. It would've been a cute puppy-dog face, had she not still had blood dripping down from her nose.
Instead of responding, Aland reached out to pinch the bridge of his Meister's nose. Twain suspected it was half to stop the bleeding, and half to shut her up. It was effective, because Mirielle mewled in pain, but didn't argue further and instead let her Weapon do as he wished with her.
Before he took the soul, Twain turned to his own Meister in concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, eyebrows knitting with worry when he saw that Hiro was holding his left side, where he'd likely smacked against the wall during Holmes' attack. "You're not hurt bad, are you?"
"I'm good," Hiro assured, tugging his shirt up to take a look at his side in the dim lighting. "A little bruised, but it'll be fine."
Twain sighed, relieved that he was alright, and took the soul in hand. He wasn't sure what to expect from the taste, but it wasn't what he got. The texture was slimy, and it was surprisingly cool in his mouth. It didn't have a flavor - it mostly just tasted like nothing, but the texture and temperature was... pleasant, almost. It was refreshing, after the fight. Twain wasn't sure if he wanted to be a Death Scythe anytime soon, but at that moment, something in his head began mentally calculating the number of souls left until they could reach that goal.
([ Symphony ])
April 30th, 2017
11:35 am
Aland Grimoire
It took around an hour to find their way out of the labyrinth, and they hadn't bothered to try and gather up all the human souls. They would tell Lord Death about it later, but for now, it was celebration time... or so Mirielle claimed. His Meister had been cheering about donuts ever since they had gotten out of the underground, and since they'd been in Holmes' lair for about nine hours, Aland could guess that they were all hungry. There was no need to argue with her.
He wasn't sure where the girl got all of her energy, though. She'd snatched him by the wrist and tugged him along ahead of Twain and Hiro in search of the nearest Krispy Kreme. The Weapon attributed it to delirium from bloodloss. Her nose had refused to clot up for quite a while, and Aland was beginning to get frustrated - not worried, mind you; absolutely not - by the time it finally stopped pouring. It hadn't broken, thankfully, but it was sore and stuffy.
"What kind of donuts do you like, Ally?" Mir asked, glancing back at him as she led him on by his wrist, like a dog on a leash.
He smirked, coming up with something on the fly. "Strawberry filled - it looks like blood when you bite into it."
"Hmm," his Meister hummed, unfazed by his statement. Instead, she tipped her head thoughtfully. "I like just plain chocolate glazed. Ooh, or maple glazed!" she enthused, and Aland could swear she was drooling. "They taste like really, really, really sweet pancakes! I'm going to get you one today so you can see."
Aland rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Do whatever you want. Can't promise I'll eat it."
She turned to offer him a smile. "It'll be nice to have as an option, anyway. Besides, you were awesome today! You totally deserve a maple donut. The smoke bomb was a great idea - I never woulda thought of something like that!" Aland grew uncomfortable under all the compliments, feeling his cheeks heat up. He pulled his hood over his head to cover the redness he was sure had spread over his cheeks. He grumbled in response, turning his head awkwardly to the side.
Mirielle noticed, however, and glanced over at Hiro, who was a few steps behind them. "Hey, Hiro, you know that type of character that gets all blushy and grouchy when they get compliments?"
"A tsundere," Hiro answered immediately, and Mir grinned cheekily at her Weapon.
"That's you!" she chirruped in an overly-cheerful tone, giving his wrist a tug to hurry him along in their donut search.
He sighed deeply and burrowed down further underneath his hood. "Shoulda let Holmes eat you," he muttered under his breath, but Mir heard. Laughter bubbled from within her chest, bright and happy even with the insult. The Weapon narrowed his eyes at her and set his jaw. "What the hell is so funny?" he growled, and her hazel eyes lit up as they met his gray.
"I probably taste like maple donuts!"
Yeah - she was delirious.
([ Symphony ])
An - Hey! I actually updated within two days of my last update! And with a really really really big chapter! I'm not going to spend much time on the AN this time around, but I wanted to thank you guys for your continued support and ask that you keep on sending PMs and reviewing, because that helps me so much. Thank you!
Main Question of the Day: Do you guys have any ships so far for the story? Just wondering c;
Secondary Question of the Day: Would you guys like a Pinterest page for this story?
UPDATE: I forgot that Death City was in Nevada, not Arizona! Rip. Anyway, big thank you to KenjiSpiritSlasher both for the correction and for helping me through my writer's block by teaching me a method of creating Kishin eggs and for choosing locations!
Have a wonderful, wonderful day!
Love,
Snowy
