A/n: All right, I got my 6 reviews pretty quickly, so that means this quick upload was a reward for that. :D (same day as I got the sixth review)And also, I think I need to start getting quicker with the writing if I possibly can. Your reviews motivate me beyond belief! This chapter was necessary, although it's only here as a reminder of other things-plus I wanted to show how Marik is sort of mentally disturbed, anywayXD because he is.
The sad news about this one is that Bakura isn't in it an awful lot, so hopefully next chapter he'll be back with avengance. And a big thanks to anyone who reviewed. Read this first, before you judge... I know it's not as eventful aslast time but we'll get these sort of ones out the way quickly, so that the real drama can begin!
Disclaimer: I actually feel the need here to make a quick announcement: I don't know how you readers feel about these fics with about five pairings in them, but I personally feel it's a bit unrealistic. Don't get me wrong, that's what being a fangirl's all about right?, but it's just personally I don't believe the whole cast of Yugioh can be gay at the same time, it's just not that common. ^^ so the characters, you're about to see, react like anyone would and aren't all like," oh, this isn't unusual, being gay is the norm!!" I hereby therefore disclaim that any of these are my personal opinions, they are that of the story's characters, and how I imagine the Yugioh cast to react if this actually happened. Oh, and I disclaim I don't own Yugioh, either. ^^ longest disclaimer ever, isn't it?
Chapter 9- At sanity's end
"No, I'm sorry, but we'll have to keep you in again overnight…just to make sure you're really okay…" The doctor was examining the thin wire of mercury populating the hollow plastic thermometer, thankfully below a level that he would find satisfactory.
"So he can't even come for a walk with me? A… around the hospital grounds?" asked a concerned tanned teenager, who didn't even particularly recognise himself any longer, since he had been transfigured into such a kind person. Indeed, as he sat, both legs dangling childishly over the edge of the other's hospital bed, he could think of nothing more than world domination. The sweet bliss of having a say in his own destiny…
"No, I'm afraid your little friend here needs to stay in until we know he's better. Remember, he was very, very sick not so long ago," the white-coated doctor prattled on, pocketing the feeble little thermometer and turning to Marik.
"I…you know, I do feel much better, though," insisted the little British accent of his friend's host, to his right side, sitting cross-legged. The blood from earlier had been cleaned off, and now the wound was tightly bound in crisp white bandage, barely visible under a long stripy t-shirt and the ends of dark navy boxers. Marik, however, was completely clothed again-not having a large bloody patch infecting white cloth to prevent it. He was hoping he'd get a last word to the spirit of the ring before he left to find Odeon, and plan his next move. Since he'd realised that his associate could be fairly fickle towards his attempts of communication- often refusing to emerge, leaving an embarrassing sort of conversation between Marik and the host, who had…. no real notion of what was going on, to describe it rightly. He was simply an annoying pawn, with no real use in our villain's plan…wasting his precious time, now that it was only three short days now before the finals.
"No, no walks today. Your immune system could have a re-lapse, and you could fall sicker than you were before. So no, just take it easy here today. And then tomorrow… we'll see. You took the crash pretty well, but those ribs won't be healed yet, by any means." reminded the doctor, interrupting our villain's thoughts. "And that goes for you too, Mr. Ishtar," he added, to which our villain almost scowled, but caught himself in time and only smiled weakly.
"Of course, doctor…" truthfully, although he had had a few broken ribs, the only sort of pain he was in now was a dull sort of bruising sensation across his chest, and the odd cut here and there, well-scabbed over by now.
Bakura, it seemed, was not quite as lucky. It appeared his friend and partner in crime, the spirit that dwelled within this host's millennium ring whenever he wasn't possessing him, was using some sort of power to try and heal the boy's injuries- this was probably why the doctors had been stumped over his unnaturally quick recovery since the accident. Ancient magic could do that to normal people- I know that all too well, he grinned to himself, lightly fingering one of the sharp tips of the millennium rod wedged between his belt-hook. He hoped the doctors hadn't been watching the news already today.
The television was no longer on, but still our villain was contemplating what would happen in case the foolish police managed to get them before he could get to the finals. He'd have to control their minds and get himself, at least out… still, he planned, he couldn't leave his beautiful friend there to rot in a cell… still, perhaps he could get himself out on his own, but…
"Okay, Namu. Well, don't let me hold you up from getting into the finals," Bakura suggested, a hand daintily laid across the starched bed sheet.
"Not at all, my darling," Marik replied naturally, with a loving grin, pale eyes glittering with a fake sort of affection he was used to donning in these situations since the crash. He almost guessed this may be the spirit once again, disguising himself as his host. Occasionally when he did this, Marik couldn't tell for the life of him whether it was or not.
However either this 'fake' Bakura was good at covering up, or had suddenly developed feelings for our villain despite displaying attributes of being as straight as a streetlight before that, so he guessed his first assumption must have been correct.
"Really, I'll be okay. You've been here for over two days now, Namu… I'm worried. You're family' ll be worried, not to mention your friends. All you do is visit me, you know…"
"That's because I'm so worried about you… I'll never leave your side before you can leave here, at mine. Remember the promise I made to you? I swear I'll always keep it," Marik heard himself invent, absent-mindedly running his fingers over the other's hand, gently. If this was the spirit of the ring, he wouldn't ask what promise. If it wasn't, he'd just dug a hole for himself, and was likely to have to think of something quick to get himself out of said hole.
"Yeah…" they shared a lazy grin, Marik certain now it was the spirit, due to the lack of objection. His host would have protested by now, definitely…
"Okay. I'll go and grab something to eat before I come back. So you be good while I'm gone and rest up like the doc advised you. Then perhaps you can watch me duel in the finals," he suggested, getting slowly to his feet. Bakura remained unmoving.
"Sure thing. See you later," the doctor still hadn't moved, which meant he wouldn't be able to have a proper conversation with the spirit until he came back. He stretched, leaned across to the other, who opened his arms to return the hug and embraced him, the faint dying scent of honey enveloping him.
"…Don't go anywhere until I come back, you hear me? I'm going for a few hours to sort things out, and then we'll have to get out of here." he hissed into Bakura's ear.
"You'd better not be too long," the animalistic growl returned, so low it tickled his inner ear.
"All right, my little snowdrop," Marik smiled out loud suddenly, cupping his tanned fingers beneath Bakura's pale chin, the contrast pleasant to his pale amethyst eyes. Then knowing there would be no harm done, leaned closer to his friend's face until his lips whispered softly across the corner of the other's. A truly gentle sign of affection.
Then a hand embraced his neck, and lo and behold, Bakura returned the gesture. It was nice to snatch some sort of affection from him after the dreadful…erm… performance he'd put on last night, since it didn't take his future-predicting sister to suggest that the spirit would be unwilling to repeat it any time soon. The tone of his voice when he answered him was enough to betray that.
As soon as their little show was over for their one and only watcher, he straightened up, the fake glistening excitement and nervousness swirling in the auburn hazel of Bakura's dark eyes as he scanned the expression of the doctor caught his attention. So he pretended as well to reluctantly turn in apology for their public display of affection he'd insinuated, only to see the doctor chuckling once again.
"How old are you, Mr. Ishtar?" he asked with a gentle tone, suddenly. Why in the name of Isis did he want to know that?
"I'm sixteen, sir,"
"And you, Bakura?"
"...Same, sir, just back in September," his friend answered sweetly, almost appearing sheepish and guilty for admitting he was slightly older than Marik- the heavenly white fringe masking two shivering dark chocolatey eyes.
"You two are something, all right. Be good to each other… you're so young yet, it'd be a shame for anything to happen after all this.
…for two sixteen year-olds, I have to say you sure are dedicated, though…" the doctor replied, turning back to his still-poorly patient, who was doing his best to appear blushing.
"Age is but a number, since love knows no bounds," reminded Marik, even though he almost gagged at how mushy it had sounded. Thank Ra he'd heard that sappy saying somewhere along the way.
"Indeed," replied the doctor, mysteriously.
………………………………......................................................................
Ten minutes later and Marik was pounding down the street, trying to keep the rod at his belt hidden least someone would recognise him from the description on the news. The sun was out in a wild blaze of glory, it's strength and heat caressing his nicely tanned skin gently at first. However, after about fifteen minutes, in which he was forced to board a train to get back to the city, it had left him hot, uncomfortable and slightly sweaty. The man at the desk who'd administered the ticket had been old and balding, and adjusted his thick spectacles to get a better look at our villain. Had he noticed the resemblance he bore to the news? …Marik hoped not. He was blind enough to have been mistaken, he tried to remind himself. He felt under pressure for time, too, since it was already after midday.
On the train, he sat by himself in a corner throwing a sultry glance over at the other inhabitants of his carriage, hoping all of the other passengers would find some excuse to disappear and let him contact his rare hunters. He was aware they'd been silent for too long, and didn't want the Pharaoh to getting a false sense of security. (Plus, could they guess that since the accident, since there hadn't been any attacks he'd instigated…would they put two and two together…?) The sun was beaming down into a pool of golden cornfields beyond the glass as they rocketed past, the handsome stirring of the wind across their heads reminding him of the rippling sea, and his own bed which sat waiting aboard the private boat he and his closest servant Odeon owned, right at this minute….
Even since the disastrous night of sleep he had managed to snatch in the same bed as his associate (he did have a few new tender patches of bruises since then, he had noticed), he still was in danger of drifting off here and now. Perhaps he'd go and catch some shut-eye back at the boat, when he arrived…?
He was very bored and unstimulated, curled up in the corner against the plastic seat with his knees drawn to his chest. This made him appear much smaller and less conspicuous than normal, and even the other passengers seemed not to be able to relieve his boredom if he were to sit here and watch them.
One was a young woman with earphones, far too busy to even notice our villain since she was in the possession of a dreary looking novel her nose was buried in. She tapped her foot absent-mindedly to a tune Marik couldn't hear, not that he really enjoyed the stupid music teenagers seemed to listen to nowadays anyway. Another was a man in a suit, obviously a business worker coming home for lunch after doing nothing all morning. He had a newspaper, and was attempting to complete a crossword in it. However, it appeared he was not going to be doing that anytime soon- Egyptian god of the underworld, six letters. Come on, everyone knows that, Marik sighed in exhasporation, rolling his eyes and going back to inspecting the company he had.
Another couple of teenagers were chatting eagerly about something in the far corner. One was a girl, young by her posture and height, and he could just about make out very long, loose auburn hair spilling like a fountain down her lower back. It was far longer than even Bakura's, and perplexed him slightly; he'd never seen hair that long in his life. This girl was speaking fluidly and without halting to a rather familiar-looking teenager sitting opposite, which our villain could see the face of. He was transfixed to his little female friend, a stupid sort of grin creeping across thin features in the shadows, pointed and narrow... Marik was sure he knew this boy…..
Of course! It was one of little Yugi's friends, one of the stupid associates of the golden-haired one-…Joey. There was something unmistakeable about this Joey he longed to use… some sort of inner strength he longed to turn against the Pharaoh's vessel. But was this his way in?
He got hastily to his feet to go and instigate conversation, pins and needles rushing angrily into one ankle which he gave a frustrated little shake. Perhaps it'd pass the boredom somewhat if he were to speak with them.
"Hey! I know you!" he grinned, donning his fake personality once again as he approached them. The male he recognised glanced up immediately. At first his face remained blank, then his dark eyes lit up with recognition.
"Hey! It's Namu! How are you feeling, man? How's Bakura?" he asked, excited. Marik noticed there was an assortment of fast food containers littered across the seat beside them. Up close the girl was young, and had a thick white bandage covering her eyes, but this didn't mask the smile creeping onto her face.
"Who's this, Tristan? Another of your friends?"
"Er, yeah! Remember I told you Bakura was in an accident?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, he's the guy who hit him…. No, but it's not like that, he's stayed with him every day since then, making sure he's okay. I've never seen anyone so kind in my life! Perhaps other than Yugi," an innocent laugh was injected.
Yes, laugh while you can! Soon there shall be no laughter when I annihilate that blasted Pharaoh and all he holds dear!
"And my brother?"
"Yeah, Joey too…"
Marik stood forgotten, clinging to the metal pole to stave off the shuddering sideways motion of the train. The stifling heat tickled his midriff, and he was slightly glad of the lack of material covering it.
"So, you guys heading down to Domino?" he asked, to try and catch their attention.
"Yup, Serenity here wants to go and see her big brother duelling in the finals," Tristan enlightened him, proudly. Marik suddenly got the impression he was attracted to her. He was no expert at wooing women, but it didn't happen to strike him as going particularly well. He grinned; he supposed he'd stick to Bakura… he was prettier than most women, anyways…
"That's great, who's your brother?" he brushed a few of the empty food cartons to the ground and perched himself on the edge of the seat. "Say, are you going to be meeting Yugi and the others, later?"
"Yeah… that's the plan anyways. This is Serenity, Joey's gorgeo-I mean, lovely younger sister! You wanna hang out with us when we get here, Namu? How's Bakura, by the way?" asked the dark-haired man, finally taking his eyes off of Joey's sister.
His sister... perhaps she'll come in handy, too?
"He should be getting out tomorrow, actually," Marik told him; that much was true, anyways.
"Aw, wicked! You two can come and watch Yugi and Joey in the finals, too!" he laughed.
…Laugh while you can, you fool! Soon there will be no laughing! The only one who's going to be doing so, will be me when I acquire the two other god cards, the puzzle and am ruling the world!!
"Great!"
Almost another half-hour he was forced to sit and listen to this girl- Serenity's sob story about being blind until an operation, Marik forced occasionally to add the odd pleasantry here and there. But to him it was just a way of passing the insufferable journey. He could have taken to sleeping, but then he might miss his stop and end up in some further town, past domino's one, which would not put him in good form in the least, not to mention further wasting his time trying to get back.
"So did you and Bakura just meet after the accident?" she asked, a while later, pulling Marik from another weak daydream.
"Yes… I'm almost glad we had the accident now," he explained.
Almost… but if that fool hadn't have almost had me killed, then perhaps I wouldn't have another mindless puppet working against Yugi for me! …still, if he hadn't have almost got us killed, then perhaps I wouldn't have acquired such a beautiful associate for company. He's mine, all mine! Hahahaha!
The train pulled hastily into Domino shortly after, with the woman's voice announcing over the intercom about where they were and to 'please mind their steps'. As soon as the doors had opened, and a splash of fresh air invaded the hot passages of the train, he leapt to his feet.
"Aren't you going to help us look for Joey?" asked Tristan, before our villain had ran away completely.
"Sorry… I have a few things to take care of first, and besides, I promised Bakura I'd get back to him as soon as we can. Every time I leave him on his own like this, I really worry about him."
"Aw, I understand. You guys miss each other. That's so romantic, Bakura's such a lucky guy, to have someone who cares about him so much. It almost makes me feel lonely…" he glanced quickly towards the girl, who when standing barely reached his shoulders. She, being blind, did not notice his affectionate look. "Okay, let's go Serenity,"
"I'll see you guys later, though! When he gets out!"
"Sure thing, Namu! Tell him the gang says hi!"
Marik turned away, and was ready to sprint off through the crowds, when he heard the young girl's awkward question and turned back. Surely he had time to see what his response would be? Tristan had his hand against her shoulder protectively, steering her through the receding lunchtime rush.
"…Tristan, are those two boys you were talking about in love, or something? Um…gay?"
"Yeah they are. You could sort of tell though… well. If you met Bakura, you'd know what I'm on about,"
"Oh. …And the other one… Namu?"
"They suit each other, y'know? It's great Bakura finally has a true friend- someone to keep him company."
"Didn't he have before?"
"Well…he did hang around with us sometimes, but… there's just something weird about him… it makes people feel really anxious, I just can't explain it, really…"
"Is it because he's gay?"
"No! Of course not… Well, I don't think it is, anyway…"
Marik almost snorted the vomit he was holding back out his nose. Oh, if only you twats knew what was really going on with Bakura…! he grinned to himself, eyebrows clenched together as he picked his way through the crowds, taking roads he was certain of without even thinking… If only you knew the Bakura I do, then you'd know why you feel so edgy… that was because he felt edgy around him too. An edgy feeling he particularly liked, one which usually gave him an extra prideful jolt every time something went right, but sadly an extra-hard knock when something went wrong…such as last night…
Why in the name of Ra did he have to fall asleep…? For one thing, he'd never had sex with anyone, but considering the manipulative, cunning…er…horny sort of individual this proud, handsome demon happened to be, he knew no matter how possibly terrible he could be in bed himself, falling asleep like a Ra-damned child up past it's bed-time was a well-worse crime to have committed. Hopefully he'd get to make it up(or out?) to him… but only after he was Pharaoh. (What? He can't be as easily distracted by mindless human instincts he was unaccustomed to anyways, when there was a whole world waiting for a new king to be appointed, surely??)
.....................................................................................................................
The boat was just as he remembered it, when he arrived solemnly at the docks, bobbing innocently atop the waves with it's creamy hull awash with the shimmering light water-reflections kissing it's way across the expanse.
"Odeon!" he yelled; he wanted no time delay, for a nap was in order before he returned to Bakura.
"Odeon!"
A balding head appeared from the boat's doorway.
"Yes, Master?"
"Where are the locator cards? I have a new plan, and I must give Bakura his if we are to make the finals anytime soon," he answered, leaping to the hull and climbing over the railing expertly.
"If I may ask…where did you get to, last night? You never returned,"
"I slept with Bakura," as soon as he had uttered it, he realised what he'd said.
"...Not like that, you idiot! Look, we went to the museum, too. Did you know that fool of a sister of ours has come to town?" he grumbled, following the tall, caped servant into the first room inside the ship. It was large, spacious, and contained a single table surrounded by black swivel chairs. He immediately threw himself back into one, lifting his feet to the table's surface.
"Indeed, master. I saw it on the news. Was that anything to do with you?"
"You better not be questioning my judgement, like that stupid sister of mine! Not only is she prattling on about how I shouldn't be stopping the Pharaoh, she told me that being around Bakura was dangerous too!" he stormed, hand propping him defiantly up on his cheek.
Odeon was silent for a second.
"Master is young and usually knows best… and I beg his forgiveness in advance, but in certain circumstances your relationship with this Bakura may well be dangerous," he then commented. Marik scowled darkly, extracting the rod now he was not on the street where he could be noticed easily. He turned it once in his hand, examining it, wondering what his servant was going to lecture him on this time. Boys? Was it because he wanted to kiss a boy, like his sister warned him against?
"Oh yeah? And what are those?" he asked, choosing not to look directly at him to show him he was not approving of this development.
"…Has Master become…intimate… with him?" he dared to ask. Marik could now see the top of his shiny bald head, half enshrouded by tattoo as he knelt before him.
"What do you think I am? I'm not 'intimate' with him, if I was, he might figure out my plan!!
…….why?"
"When I saw him kissing you in the graveyard I assumed… especially after you just said…"
"Assumptions are dangerous, I suggest you remember, Odeon! You think I slept with him, in the way the common young folk mean, don't you?" Suddenly Marik felt really angry. He couldn't explain it, really… it was like it had touched some raw nerve inside him and the fury bubbled up like a volcano ready to erupt.
"I…"
"Well I didn't, okay! Now where are those locator cards??" he ordered, his voice raised in a rough bark which reminded him briefly of his white-haired friend back at the hospital.
"…I believe you, Master Marik. I just wanted to…advise you about the risks, that's all. Here are your locator cards, as you requested." he extracted a bunch of transparent plastic cards from inside the lush, navy cloak. Marik briefly wondered if his was anywhere around.
"What risks?" he snapped, snatching them from the heavily tanned outstretched hand to inspect them further. Apart from some sort of controversial topic that everyone seemed to frown down upon for a reason beyond Marik, he could think of no further danger, apart from the spirit of the ring outsmarting him… and he could assure anyone, that was not about to ever take place.
"Master understands… there are diseases associated with that sort of behaviour, curses from the great gods that can take one's life. Just like your sister- we only worry for your safety, Marik…"
Our tired villain had not the time nor the patience for this nonsense right now. If they wanted to believe Bakura was infested with all sorts of deadly diseases and all these mysterious plagues nobody has any names for in the vague hope that it would prevent Marik from being around him, then that was their problem. He was as beautiful as the summer sun sweeping low over the golden sand of Egypt, and there was no way he had any sort of contagious illness… the hospital would have discovered it!
He didn't have time for this!
Marik got to his feet, startling his companion and servant.
"Believe what you want, Odeon. But I'm not in the mood for this nonsense! I got no sleep last night, and I want to take a nap before I tell you my new plan," he huffed, heading for the downstairs bedroom.
"Of course master," came the reply. He did not pick up the slight sarcasm in the deep voice of his servant, luckily.
He was asleep almost before his golden head hit the pillow, changed into much cooler clothes to comfort him while he slept.
The locator cards stared innocently over him from the dual disk, sitting unused on the dresser beside his bed, the small data chips they contained watching over the sleeping figure as he tossed around in sleep.
He was dreaming something amazing from what he remembered…
There was a yellow sail contrasting deftly with a blue sparkling ocean before him, the weary sun dipping it's rays shyly into the cool waters in the distance. There was a figure approaching, who had hair as white as the frothing heads of the waves, the frothing, arctic foam…
It all began to dissolve, the scene, until he was sitting in the driving seat of a porche. The top was off, and the wind ripped his blonde hair back desperately as he drove along the road. The arctic mane of Bakura was visible beside him for a flash, until suddenly his head bent and dropped to his lap. Next thing he knew, the button of his tight jeans was being yanked down by two animalistic fangs, the heat of his friend's breath against his bare skin…
He lost control of the car, when a rush of pleasure ran down to the offending area. He hit a post, was jerked backwards, and everything went black. Then he could feel himself coming around, becoming closer to consciousness.
Everything dissolved once again, until all he could catch were desperate flashes in amongst his fighting consciousness. Perfectly pale flesh entwined with his own tanned variety… the flush of a light blue duvet as it was thrust off… another rush of pleasure, like he'd never known in his life- a knife, jagged and almost blunt from use, flashing in his palm.. The hot effort, resulting in crimson streaking the pale and dark… intertwined forevermore… the gleam of a leathery strap, broken metal biting at raw flesh...then the froth of white against the tan, as the waves of the blue, blue ocean… the creamy foam of their insanity, mixing…
All of a sudden, our villain's eyes sprung open, and almost immediately he yelped and was forced to jam a hand down his boxers to contain the erection he instinctively knew had formed… rather glad that he'd opted to half-strip. Stupid dream…
Now the blankets had decided to stand too many inches above their usual place-or more specifically, they'd been hitched up cruelly like a circus-tent by a certain over-excited body part of his.
"Stupid dreams!" he roared to nobody in particular in his exasperation, almost setting to attacking the raised covers in his rage as an involuntary rush of white-hot ecstasy ran down him and he gritted his teeth against it.
This wasn't a completely new body reaction, in fact this sometimes happened for no real good reason, these dreams. But what annoyed him even more as he rose and stumbled towards the en-suite, was that now he did have a reason, and he could no longer blame it on random teenage hormones.
Bakura...
At least it wasn't another nightmare… but still…
He managed to hit the shower to go on as hard as it could, before he sunk to the ground and gasped with another rush of stirred hormones.
"Dumb dreams, why can't you help me think of plans, instead of wrecking my sheets?!" he roared at the offending organ, still staring him down confidently. Sometimes, when caught in this position, he was happy to help the whole process along by hand, he knew quite well his limits, but today and now, there was no way he was going to give Bakura the satisfaction of knowing he was happy to masturbate over him. No, the great Marik Ishtar does not bend this low! (A/n: no pun intended here, or anything... er… yeah…anyways…) He'd always instinctively reached for the shower, usually just to drown out any strangled cries he couldn't hold back, but in this turn of circumstances…
The force of the freezing water-droplets numbed his back, as he suddenly leapt halfway out into it's jet.
"Holy Ra!" he yelped; it plastered the dark t-shirt he'd slept in to the maze of scars patterning his back with just as much force that had drove him to this room in the first place, and ran down his golden mane, colouring it the dirty yellow it became when wet. The cold chilled him, numbed out the next rush of frustrated pleasure which leapt like electricity inside him.
I bet the Pharaoh doesn't have this problem, he thought angrily, gritting his teeth and watching his knuckles pale as he dug his nails into the tub's rim against the cold. It was past numb; tiny rushes of pain prickled his scarred back in between from the sheer frigidness of the water. It was having the right effect that he'd hoped for, calming the bulge below at his crotch, even though he now would have to waste time drying his hair, and changing into dry clothes. At least as he sat crouched with his head down, he had managed to deny himself (and Bakura, who never would have known in the first place) the pleasure of the act he could have committed.
He finally stopped the water, victorious although he felt no rush of pride associated with triumph and bent double dripping, with the edges and front of his long baggy t-shirt bone dry but his hair and most of his back and sides soaked, gasping for breath.
"That'll be the last time you choose to disobey me! Nobody disobeys me!" he shouted furiously to the offending organ, now orderly once again and quailing before his livid stare, as water from his hair ran down his face. He pulled off the shirt next, and used it to soak up some of the water in his golden hair.
This is just not my day, is it? he thought, sourly, strolling back to the room, only to find someone burst into the room. Odeon was framed by the open door, panting after running from somewhere.
"M…master…are you all right? I heard you shouting!" he asked, at the sight of the bedraggled teen.
He whipped off the t-shirt and fired it across the room, and tantrum not satisfied that easily, gave the waste-paper basket the hardest kick he could, sending it flying towards the opposite wall.
"Leave me alone!" he yelled above the noise of it colliding with the wall and shedding it's contents; mood swings he considered to be his strong point. However the figure of his closest servant didn't move, much to his annoyance. He was used to this sort of unstable behaviour.
"No, I wasn't drinking from the toilet, if that's what you think!" he stormed randomly, throwing himself back on the bed. These sort of 'episodes', while not completely common, did always leave him confused and full of strange emotions he'd never had to deal with before. Why they happened…? No, it usually helped, if there was an explanation.
But he still locked himself into the bathroom alone with the shower on for hours afterwards, feeling shamed, alone, broken…
And now if that happened to him over Bakura, it was fine if he were awake and actually with him. But alone, pretending… it seemed horribly wrong, somehow… and now he'd even denied himself a couple of minutes pleasure at least, he felt even worse than if he had.
"Get out!" he screamed, picking up the vase and lobbing it over his shoulder at the door. He heard the slight tinkle as it exploded against the wall, but still Odeon did not leave.
"…Would you like to talk about it?" He made his way over to the bed, and seated himself very lightly on it's edge. Every time our villain had an 'episode', or another nightmare, or anything, he always said the same. 'Do you want to talk?' If he did, he would have done so already!
"No I don't! I need to call the rare hunters and get the new plan into action!"
"What is this new plan, master? I can start preparations and move ahead with it, if you inform me first…" his voice, to our villain seemed almost to be patronizing him, chastising him to fight(while in reality it was soothing and full of calming warmth)… but finally Marik succumbed, and sat up. His semi-wet hair had fluffed up horribly, and framed his head like the unruly bristles of a brush.
Great. Now IT wants to disobey me too…
"All right, I'll tell you the main details now, but I must be getting back to Bakura very soon… It's Mokuba- Seto Kaiba's brother I want. And as many of Yugi's pathetic friends as you can muster up. After you've successfully done that, I'll take it from there,"
A/n: Hmm, I personally think it's one of my crappiest chapters yet, but no worries, I'll make up for it hopefully next time:D
Poor Marik, and his little 'episodes'! ^^And Odeon, trying to give him sex education out of nowhere! I've given him some problems, you'll have noticed, but they sort of add to or explain why Marik acts so strange in the anime, hopefully. :D And the train journey.. poor BakuraXD Did you like Marik's little inner dialogues, by the way? I don't think I've done that before, but it sort of fits the mood of this chapter... doesn't it? Should I continue?
Okay, as with last chapter, The quicker I get the six reviews, the quicker I start the new chapter and leave this (kind of) boring one behind! Seiri wants your feedback!(I also have Monday off from school(woohoo), so as long as the reviews come, I'll do my best with the immediate updates, okay?)
Until next time!