She padded listlessly to her room in her cat skin, returning from the gathering revolving around her Queen, whom, she learned, had been defeated in a battle of raw combat against another woman. This woman, she also learned, was one of the people who were holding Strafe.
"Creena!" a voice meowed loudly from behind. Creena turned slowly, her whiskers twitching; it was none but her little brother, Jink. "What do you think about...," here he lowered his voice, as well as his head as he leaned in on his sister's face, "...about Lady Bellacruxia getting beaten...?"
Creena's whiskers twitched. If you ask me, she thought mutinously, she deserves it! She didn't dare voice her thoughts to her brother; he was barely out of his kithood, roughly eight years old, and he looked up to his Alphas. Out loud, she said, "It was certainly unexpected."
Jink pounced on an imaginary mouse. "But Lady Bellacruxia was beaten by a meat-bag!" he whispered loudly. "This person, she must be really powerful to beat Lady Bellacruxia!" Jink leaped clumsily in front of his older sister and held her with his light green gaze. Although golden was the most common eye coloring in the Pack, some were sometimes born with other colors, such as green, blue, brown, and in some rarities, red. "What are we gonna do about Prince Strafe, Creena? Will we have to find a new Cub Prince?"
Creena lightly cuffed Jink's head. "Silly," she said softly, "if we had to find a new one, we'd have gotten a new one already. Besides," she continued, "the heir to the Santor line must be one born from Lady Bellacruxia and Lord Ranik. It's to keep the family generation in line; Lady Bellacruxia said we'd be corrupting the Santor line if we chose some random pup or kit off the streets in some world to be the heir."
Jink and Creena had continued walking until they reached the female panther's quarters. "Jink," she rumbled after sitting down on her haunches, "it's late; go to sleep." Jink and Creena's parents were long since dead, killed in combat with what they knew to be massive Heartless. Creena was old enough to take care of herself, as well as have her own quarters. On the other hand, she must also care for Jink, him being her younger sibling, and thus he actually shared a room with Creena.
Jink yawned. "Alright, Creena," he obeyed grudgingly.
Creena's own mouth struggled to suppress a yawn, but her jaws parted anyway. However, she did not follow Jink as he slipped into the dark room for sleep; she continued down the hall toward another room, her paws making no sound whatsoever as she padded to see her mate.
An empty wind swept softly through the open window, barely stirring the sheets that were covering the lightning mistress's slim body. Larxene subconsciously curled into a tight ball in Zexion's Infirmary; she was not allowed to leave that night to her own room. The Cloaked Schemer was in the room next to this make-shift hospital, and due to his keen sense of smell, would know almost instantly if Larxene tried to leave.
Unless, of course, he too was in slumber.
It had been hard to persuade Larxene to spend the night here; her pride wanted her to just be bandaged and tended to, then go on back to her own quarters. But pride once again clashed with stubbornness as Zexion finally won over Larxene, and now here she was. Before leaving, Axel had told her that Strafe would be sleeping with him tonight, the pyro knowing that Larxene would demand to know where the boy was staying before she herself went to sleep.
Now, she began to mutter in her sleep. Larxene slowly rolled over onto her other side, in the midst of a dream. Coincidentally, the more her body curled, the more her dream uncurled into a nightmare.
Larxene quickly lifted her head, her antennae-like bangs bouncing to the sudden ascension. Her surroundings were alien to her: a dark, cold atmosphere, with a grey fog hanging about. "Hey, kid?" she called instinctively. No answer. "Kid?" She repeated her call several times, until she heard a whimper. The Nymph sped toward the source of the pitiful sound, and skidded to a halt upon seeing a large wolf crossing her path.
A blood-red wolf with streaks of ebony across her lithe yet powerful body.
The she-wolf was padding silently toward a large den of ferns and moss, and Larxene could hear Strafe whimpering inside, though she could not see him.
Larxene narrowed her eyes to slits and leaped in front of Bellacruxia. The Queen did not so much as flick her ears; in fact, she did not seem to notice Larxene at all as she continued walking toward the den.
"Bellacruxia," Larxene hissed, "I know you see me. So stop acting like you don't!"
But Bellacruxia had apparently not heard, even when Larxene began taunting the she-wolf. Larxene felt as if her blood flowed like liquid ice when Bellacruxia ghosted through her body as if the Savage Nymph was not even there. Instantly, Larxene whirled around and tried grabbing Bellacruxia's red tail, but her hand grabbed at nothing but air.
"Shit...!" Larxene gasped as Bellacruxia made her way into the den at last; Larxene was barely at the entrance when a wall of brambles began to curl and twist upward, blocking the entrance. "Dammit, Bellacruxia, open up and face me!" Larxene screamed as she pounded the brambles that felt like bricks but cut like knives. Larxene was growing frantic, and she knew it. Through the sounds of her demands, Larxene could hear an evanescent laughter like the tinkling of bells all around her, the source logically unknown. Bellacruxia was laughing at Larxene, laughing in triumph that she finally reclaimed her son, laughing at the impossible situation the Nymph was in as the Queen sat beside Strafe with Larxene on the other side.
Larxene was consciously aware that somehow she was unable to call forth her knives or her lightning, the part of her that so eagerly came bounding to her side at any opportunity no matter what the odds, no matter what the situation, no matter what the cost.
On the other side, Bellacruxia continued to laugh, the haunting sound still resonating all around Larxene.
The Savage Nymph shot out of bed, heedless of her wounds, and leaped through a portal ripped open with such force that a gust of unknown wind exploded forth from the vortex. She staggered into Axel's room; the pyro had been sleeping peacefully on his side until Larxene's entrance. He now lay instantly awake and stared warily at Larxene.
Larxene realized that Strafe was not with Axel.
"What happened, Larxene?" Axel asked urgently as he supported her frail body: weakness, fatigue, and freshly opened wounds assaulted her with the threat of losing consciousness. "You shouldn't have left the Infirmary!"
"Where...," Larxene panted, "...where is...the kid...?"
"Strafe?" Axel turned his head toward the bed. "I think he's playing with one of the higher-ups..."
Larxene turned toward a newly opened portal, only to be stopped by Axel's gentle grip on her shoulder. "Look," he persuaded gently, "if you're so hell-bent on seeing him for whatever reason, at least let me come with you."
Larxene seemed to think for a second, then nodded at her lover.
He crept forward, intent on his target. His blue eyes glittered mischievously as he eyed the tall, muscular man who peered up at the tall bookshelf, arms crossed behind his back. Making sure his socks made no noise as he continued across the floor, Strafe kept stalking until he was directly below the man's long black hair.
Strafe bunched his muscles together and, rear wagging slightly, pounced up and took firm hold on one of Xaldin's locks of long hair.
"DING-DONG!" Strafe caterwauled as he swung from left to right. He took Xaldin's roar of pain as the substitute for a bell.
Xaldin whirled around, and Strafe was swung in a half-circle, still clinging on for dear life. Xaldin growled to himself, thoroughly frustrated to the point of anger. He reached around, but before he could possibly get ahold of Strafe's neck the boy's weight was lifted from him. Xaldin turned around to see Axel -Larxene behind him- holding Strafe by the seat of his blue jeans; the pyro's eyes held sternness that was directed toward the boy. The Whirlwind Lancer had no idea that Axel was secretly laughing behind his emerald eyes, carefully and expertly masking it with seriousness.
"You shouldn't have done that to Xaldin, Strafe," Axel scolded lightly. Gingerly setting down Strafe, the Flurry Of Dancing Flames told him, "Apologize to Xaldin right now."
"Sorry, Bell Man-- I mean, sorry, Sheldon..." To his credit, Strafe managed to look the massive man in his violet eyes.
Xaldin nodded to Strafe, then looked back to Axel. "You would do well to teach him a bit more respect," the Lancer growled.
Axel lifted his chin somewhat. "He was just having a little innocent fun, killjoy," he responded, grinning. "It's not like he was killing you by ripping off a part of your hair."
Xaldin's upper lip curled briefly before he turned around to stalk through a portal, vanishing the next instant.
At that moment Larxene took this opportunity to crouch down in front of Strafe, her eyes meeting his. "Are you okay...?" she asked fleetingly as she examined him for who knew what.
"I'm okay, Lark-sheen!" Strafe exclaimed enthusiastically, unaware of the frightening dream Larxene had had about him. He nuzzled her hand affectionately, and Larxene felt her back warmed by Axel's gaze on her. She did not care, however. She knew Axel's eyes must be widening to saucers as she picked up Strafe and held him in her arms, one hand holding his head to her shoulder as she whispered in his ear: "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Er," Axel rumbled awkwardly, "you should be more worried about yourself, Larxene. You're the one who's torn up from chasing Bellacruxia off our World."
"Who is this Bellacruxia?"
The three whipped toward the sound of the voice, and Larxene's eyes glittered upon seeing the man whom she recognized as her leader. "Xemnas," she addressed as she lowered her head respectfully.
Xemnas nodded, but his orange gaze became even more serious as he took in Larxene's condition; the Savage Nymph had not retrieved her coat, and therefore had nothing but her tight pants and tank top. This in turn left her leader to notice dark stains of blood through her clothes. "I demand to know how you received those wounds, Number Twelve," Xemnas ordered quietly; although the Organization was no longer as it had been in the living realm, there still remained an echo of rank and order.
Larxene sighed, knowing she could not explain without telling the whole story. Still holding Strafe, she said, "We're going to need a place suitable for a long story."
Creena nuzzled Stok beneath his chin as their fingers entwined; moonlight dappled through the curtains, pooling around the two mates as they nipped each other's ears and cheeks.
"Creena," Stok whispered as he stroked his mate's shoulder, "are you still hurt over Ston?"
Creena froze, her auburn hair falling to her face. She rested her head against the Beta's well-built chest, bare but for the scars that added to his appeal. After several seconds, Creena answered, "What's done is done, Stok. What matters is what will be done. By ordering me to kill Ston, Lady Bellacruxia has shown me what a corrupted mess this Pack has become at its core. It has to be stopped."
"Ay," he agreed. "But what exactly do you have in mind? Shh, Creena, let me finish first. We do not have enough support; Lord Ranik and Lady Bellacruxia would crush us."
"Not enough support within the Pack," Creena said steadily. "In a few days, while Bellacruxia is still bedridden, I will visit another world."
"What world, my love?"
Creena sighed to herself, not in impatience, but in nervousness. "I will seek the aid of the woman who bested Bellacruxia."
A/N: I noticed that the chapters are getting longer, hahah, but I suppose that's good!
While doing the scene with Larxene's dream, I realized Bellacruxia's laugh in my head sounded just like Tarja Turunen's own in "Wish I Had An Angel" by Nightwish. Listen to it some time and you'll see what I mean. YouTube is a good source.
But anyway, tomorrow's my last day for winter break! Dammit! So updates might be slower. But I'll still keep working on everything!