Another chapter is in! Getting a bit sad at the thought that Xellos/Filia fics aren't appearing anymore. Guess I'm the last of a dying breed . . .
Review time! Thank you all for your awesome reviews! I am so glad you're still reading!
Mwafwa: Thanks! Xellos will be learning much, but his time is almost at an end . . .
SithKnight-Galen: You are correct, sir! Val will have a lot to deal with. You are so smart, too. You just come up with everything. Dammit! I can't pull a fast one on you, lol. Keep using that brain of yours, it's a keeper. :-p
Kaeru Shisho: such a short review! I'm aghast! Just kidding, thanks for the review. :-p Xellos still has some ups and downs to deal with, still, fortunately! (be boring if he didn't, wouldn't it?)
YueMichiruNaragisawaMiko: Glad you liked the cat, didn't really prefer that way of introducing him myself though. Needs more humor! Should be some in the next chapter, finally. This one has some action, at least! LOL, you're so funny. ("this just fucking hurts!") I hope this chapter satisfies!
Ryoko: Thanks, glad you liked the descs. I wonder what the "guessers" will think of this chapter?
Mistress DragonFlame: That's good, I think it could have had more pizzaz. Must me something wrong with me lately. :-p
Emmyjenny: Xellos is safe since this underworld is more a cross between many religious ideals of heaven, than just the Greek one. :-) Thanks for the ideas, don't be sad if I don't use them though! I have something planned that may or may not be cool. I hope it is, though!
Icecrystal48: Here you go! I hope things work out too!
Ryu-Zero-Rei: Wowie, long review, neat! You are way too smart also. Yeah, I think Val will survive. He's strong. You've seen a lot of what I intended. I'm very happy that someone (among a few others as well) understood my intentions! Anything is possible, tee hee! Xellos' prior life will be explained eventually, I hope. :-) Thanks for reviewing!
The Steel Pheonix & Tbiris: Thank you, I am really glad it pleased you:-)
Vincellia Valentine: No problems! Yes, that chapter was rather emotional. This one gets that way too. I think Val will survive intact, and may even grow from discovering who he was. You are also correct that the first MD is coming to a close soon. Perhaps even with the next chapter. Stay tuned! PS: You're probably right about who Azrael is. I can verify through email though if you want, lol.
Jadehaku: Spirited Away fan? I know, I wish it could be animated! Darn, I so wish I could get them to make this. Lol. Hope this hits the spot!
Icy Neko: Thanks for reading! I'm sorry you've not found many good ones. I have to agree. Few really sate my thirst for Filia Xellosy goodness! It's sad, but let's hope and try to keep the flame alive! Or something . . .
And now, onto the chapter!
With the new year upon us, let's all try to be loving and positive. (the latter is gonna be hard for me!) Times get rough, but we'll persevere, okay? Gambatte!
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Chapter 50
Land of the Dead - Book Four
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D A N C I N G - O N - T H E - P R E C I P I C E
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What a bad thing for her to do, a very, very bad thing.
But then, Mistress Zelas always did do what was bad, if it was necessary.
Iyzeka pounced on Valgaav after the meeting and grabbed his hands, determined now and knowing what she wanted. "Vallie," she spoke forcefully, yet kind, "come on. Let's go have some fun and talk, okay? You need some rest." Especially after that! Bad, mean Mommy!
"No," he shook his head, and his eyes slid over to where Lady Filia was rising from her seat and shakily making her way out of the swirling spherical room, and they both watched with surprise as Lady Zelas took her arm and led her gently from the chamber. "Iyzeka, my mom, she needs me. Xellos is gone. He . . ." his eyes flickered, and he glared at her for a moment, and why'd he do that? "He left, Iyzeka!" he whispered vehemently. "He left us for Lina. He left her."
"You," the tiny redhead murmured, climbing into his lap, "you weren't upset before."
"I didn't want to be," he sighed, and she leaned up to rest her head against his shoulder. "Iyzeka," he warned scornfully at her choice of seating, but then seemed to give up. "I didn't want her to see my anger, and I didn't want to feel it. It's his choice to leave. But that doesn't make it right. And," his bass voice grew distant, eyes looking past the cheerfully churning room, "maybe I just didn't want to believe it had even happened. I guess I was hiding from it, because it was easier to let it go. To say it was alright, even when it isn't."
"Right," she nodded swiftly, though she wasn't sure she understood. "Well, we should go, before you vomit," she said sincerely.
He began to laugh, then stood, picking her up easily and setting her down before heading for the door. "Yeah, we should."
Iyzeka ran after him, following his deep voice and the solid weight that lingered beyond his golden eyes. "Val . . ."
She took his hand, and his thoughtful expression didn't change as they walked out together, but their minds connected.
--You're upset?—she asked, though the emotions were scattered across him like windswept petals.
--I guess. I feel like there's something I'm missing. And mom and Zelas know it. Yet . . . it's not time. And it's frustrating,-- his voice in her head growled as they began to wander the corridors outside of the chambers, --because I really want to know, yet I feel it's not time for me to know it. And I wonder, if I'M not the one who has determined it's not the right time, WHO HAS?—
The tall dragon boy pulled her with as he began to walk more swiftly, and sensing he needed to release the energy, she skipped along side him. –I don't know, Val. But maybe they're right. You're bound to find out eventually, but right now you should try to rest and be happy. The more you are happy, the easier this time will be for Lady Filia, and the easier it will be for you to cheer her up, right?-- Iyzeka winced a bit as Val's gaze flashed to her for an instant before he slowed and looked out across the candle and torch-lit halls. She only hoped he hadn't realized that she knew the secret as well. Poor Vallie . . .
"Yeah," he spoke aloud. "I guess I should try to be happy for mom so I can help her to feel better. Guess I'm sulking. But . . . Xellos left me, too, you know?"
A small, uncertain smile appeared upon his face, and Iyzeka returned it broadly. "I know, Vallie," she whispered, and hugged him. "He's running away. He's a bad boy," she informed him gravely.
Once again, Val burst out laughing, and she giggled with him, glad that she had brought him to smiles and joy. "I guess he is," the boy mused, scratching at the back of his teal head thoughtfully. "Okay. Let's go to dinner. I'm starving."
Chortling, Iyzeka pulled him along towards the dining hall where she sensed Hellmaster Zelas, her heart lightening as she felt his emotions rise from the deep, dank place they had rested before. We'll figure it all out, Vallie, she thought to herself, carefully blocking her inner monologue from his mind. Now's not the time, but when you do find out, I'll be here, and everything will be okay. I promise.
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B L U R R E D – L I N E S – T O – C R O S S
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Filia felt warm arms wrap around her as she stumbled, and, dizzy, she raised her head to look up into Zelas' unreadable face. "Z-Lady Zelas?" she murmured, holding her head with her hand and distantly acknowledging the chill to her own skin. Why is she . . . helping me? Her fragmented thoughts coalesced for a mere moment, and once again her heart plummeted into her gut. Oh, Val. How could this have happened?
She supposed her sins had finally caught up to her.
Before she could further dwell on such things, Filia felt the demon woman easily sling her arm under her own and begin pulling her from the room. "Come, Filia. Let us talk. You seem to be having some issues."
Issues? A frown drew along her mouth and she shook her head hazily, before placing one foot in front of the other. Eyes upon the ground, she blinked as the floor changed from polished white marble to a soft, maroon carpet that her bare toes sunk deeply into. Of course I'm having issues. How could she act so nonchalant after bringing up-
But then, Filia stopped to think, had Zelas intended what it seemed she had intended? Blinking swiftly, the dragoness raised her head again to gaze into the cool chartreuse eyes of the Mazoku holding her upright. Deep within those pools of green and saffron, a callous, calculating air struck Filia firmly, and she flinched at the carnal, bestial hunger that dwelled barely at bay. So much like Xellos, she realized absently, head still reeling, and she shook it again, turning away with a wince to grab blindly for something, anything –
She found what felt like a cushion, and tripped into it before sitting onto the chair beneath, clutching the pillows desperately, her eyes squeezed shut. Yes, she knew exactly what she was doing. Now that she was free of Zelas' grip, the blonde could feel the absence of her warm hands on her shoulders. Dark laughter brushed across the chilled air, and Filia chanced a glance up at the azure-haired demoness as she approached.
"You wonder at my reasoning, sweet Filia," the Hellmaster whispered sultrily, and Filia squirmed under her molten gaze. Reaching out a hand to brush a hot finger across the other woman's neck, Zelas chuckled, "You should have told him years ago. And now, you'll have to let him know."
Filia could only glare up, impotent, at the Mazoku, rage flushing her features a brilliant salmon. How, how can she-be so callous!
Those lime-green eyes widened a moment as if absorbing a marvelous sight before Zelas bent her knees to lean over the dragoness in the chair. "Do you hate me for what I did, Filia?" she purred, and dropped a hand to the ex-priestess' chin, raising it to face her. "Does it fill you with contempt?"
Why is she doing this? Filia's wrathful thoughts danced and tumbled over each other, until she was breathing fire through her clenched teeth, the air frosty within her flaring nostrils and her eyes almost rolling with the anger she restrained.
"I know it does," Zelas smirked, and brought her other hand lower, until it brushed along Filia's collarbone, then began to sink. "I can feel it."
That's it.
Snapping her hands up, Filia caught Zelas' wrist before it could touch her chest and jerked the other from her neck, then flung the Mazoku across the room where she crashed against the wall, spread limbs rebounding like a rag-doll. "YES!" the blonde screamed while Zelas drew to her feet, "YES, IT MAKES ME ANGRY!" And Filia stood swiftly, fists clenched and eyes glowing like hot coals.
The Mazoku laughed again, and suddenly was upon her, holding her tightly, their faces inches apart. "You don't seem to want me, dragoness. Is it because I am not pretty enough for you?" she hissed with a malicious smile, and Filia's eyes distinguished, then grew wider as her hands began to rove over her thighs and back.
"Or," Zelas chuckled into her ear, hot breath raising goosebumps across her neck and shoulders, "is it because I am a woman? I'd gladly change into a man for you, sweetness," her words teased along Filia's spine and heat began to flood her from head to toes, her mind blanking except for the words, No, no, stop, "In fact, I could become Xellos if you wanted me to."
At that, Filia whipped her arms out, and - with a force that shook the walls - Zelas was thrust into the window, which shattered around her as she cracked the pane in multiple places, before collapsing to one knee. Without a flinch she rose once more and began to stalk back towards Filia across the drawing room, nonchalantly shaking the glass from her luxurious indigo hair while a ravenous smirk bloomed upon her lips below her heated gaze.
Panicking, Filia backed up into the wall and stared at Zelas, stance ready but expression bewildered. "No, Zelas!" she exclaimed suddenly, "that is NOT why I need Xellos!" Fury filling her vehement words, she howled, "It is not just about SEX!" As she glared defiantly at the nearing demoness, a distant part of her psyche saw her aura burst into existence around her, enveloping her within a white flame.
"No," the demoness smirked as she stopped mere inches from Filia, doing nothing more than raising a brow at her display. "I suppose not. If it were, you'd have screwed him long ago. Unless," she growled, and moved closer, until they were almost touching, and the blonde felt a shock of fear begin to jolt along her, wavering her resolve, "you've just recently realized how attractive a Mazoku can be to a Ryuzoku." Filia flinched at the accusation, but held her ground. "Or," Zelas spat into her face, "it took you this long to get over the pious vows of your priesthood, though it ended hundreds of years ago."
Filia winced and her hands began to fall, to wrap around herself. "No." It's not true. Is it? Suddenly, the rage returned, and it gave her a strength she otherwise lacked, fists balling again and back straightening.
"No, Zelas!" she screamed, pleased to see the demoness step back. "While it is true that Xellos and I don't have other companions, and while we both feel lonely, I would be his friend no matter what! I've lasted one-thousand years without SEX! Sex, to me, is something to be treasured and saved! To be shared with someone you care about, and love! I would never befriend someone just to use them the way Mazoku might!"
The blue-haired woman stared at her, expression lax, yet slightly confused. "But he is a Mazoku."
A horrible surge of pain and loneliness flooded Filia and weakened her legs, and she hung her head, the aura vanishing. "Yes. He is. So?" He's also gone. Does that make it better? Does it make anything better at all?
Brushing past Zelas without care, Filia returned to the comfy chair and curled up into it, facing away from the Hellmaster. "He's Xellos. You're Zelas. Iyzeka is Iyzeka. I don't want to hear the word 'Mazoku' ever again. If I had my way, I wouldn't." She pulled her legs to her chest and clutched her arms around them, pressing her thighs into the jagged ache that had buried itself deep below her breasts. It took all her effort to not cry, as each breath she took hitched in her throat and squeezed tears from her eyes that she desperately tried to blink away.
Zelas' voice carried over the silence from behind her. "Good." A hollowed space, a breath, and then she said, "Filia . . . I thought I was doing what was best to snap you out of your depression." Filia felt her hand on her shoulder, again, but this time sensed its softness in gentle pressure. "But . . . I suppose I had my own doubts and fears that coalesced into what occurred, without my realization. I apologize for my brashness."
The dragoness hung her head, and took a deep, long breath. The hand stayed, and she smiled into the shadowy corners of the room, firelight flickering now that she could see it. "Are you . . . scared?" she asked in a weary voice, soft and empty.
"Not normally," Zelas returned, and squeezed gently. "But, even though I know that Xellos will be back . . . logically . . . I still worry."
Filia nodded. "I miss him."
The hand stilled, then began to rub in small circles. "I know." Filia might have thought she was attempting to seduce her again, if it were not for the resigned tone to her tired reply.
Smiling very slightly, the dragoness leaned back her head to gaze up at Zelas. "Lady Zelas. I think," she frowned thoughtfully, mind skipping through options, "I'd like to spend some time alone . . . release some frustrations." Quickly, at the other woman's amused quirk of the lips, she added, "Not like that! I was hoping . . . I could take a flight."
Raising a brow, Zelas nodded. "Would you like me to come along, to make sure you are alright?" she asked, tenor voice subdued.
"Thank you," Filia spoke as she stood to face her, "but I need some time alone, if that's alright? This is your island, so I know I'll be safe."
Zelas nodded, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly, before she smiled. "I hope you enjoy yourself. It would do you good to get some time away, to relax a bit. My spa is also available, should you need it. I'm sure Iyzeka wouldn't mind accompanying you if you felt ill at ease amongst the other . . . people here." A tiny, amused smile crossed her face, and Filia blushed a bit, eyes veering away.
"Thank you. Maybe I will," she replied, and Zelas nodded.
"Good. I will take you to the courtyard, then? It's the only physical entrance to the outside, I'm afraid."
Nodding, the dragoness blinked, gaze cast beyond the walls, into memories. "That's fine. It's alright." Xellos . . . I know you'll be back.
They left the room together, and for the first time, Filia felt at ease with Hellmaster Zelas Metallium, of the Mazoku race.
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F O R E S T – D E L U S I A
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Xellos wandered, an odd smile brushing across his face, painted with the strange, sweet aftertaste of rubies and rainwater. The sensations that the phoenix had brought about still remained, and he sampled the remnants within himself carefully, uncertain and ever in awe of them.
The forest he strolled through held its own uniqueness; not two of the mystical places he had found within the afterlife had been the same. In this, the ground rollicked and roamed, stone and rock overrun with fluffy, full ferns and thick pale jade mosses, intermittently interrupted by woodland flowers of chalcedony and lavender.
He passed beneath tall, straight trees with tan trunks that reached high into the air to spread a wide, verdant canopy through which the diffuse light flickered, casting a peridot glow across his surroundings. Not one held a knot nor bent even slightly, and they seemed to create a labyrinth of wood impossible to navigate. And all around himself, he could feel the woodlands bursting with life.
He could feel it. . . Halting in his tracks, the Mazoku gazed down at a broad, wide rock against which a cluster of scarlet-spotted mushrooms had taken up residence, and he slid down upon it to sit heavily and gaze into the shadowed wilderness.
There remained such a peace, yet an emptiness, inside of him that was echoed betwixt and between the spindly trees. Though he knew creatures dwelled in this place, could hear their calls and cries, he saw nothing of them. Perhaps they're afraid of me, he wondered, and stared down at his hands. He'd lost his staff in the desert . . . he wondered where it was now.
Over the whistling breeze and the chirping of invisible birds, Xellos became aware of a voice on the wind, humming a happy, light tune in a soprano timbre. So faint, yet its sweetness drew him to stand and search the dizzying maze of tree trunks for the source.
He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, and stumbled. Looking down, he discovered his staff lying in the fresh grass that glistened like polished malachite. Taking it up, he brushed the dew from it and began to walk in a direction he hoped was towards the song.
The frolicking voice lead him to a stream, then down it as it babbled at him, and each time he felt he had neared the singer, the sound drew further away.
The demon had almost become frustrated, when the creek opened up into a small clearing. A tiny, quaint wooden bridge curved up and over the winding waters in a half-circle, and on the other side of the rivulet sat a huge, gnarled oak, its trunk two yards in girth and the bark worn and aged to a deep mahogany. Within the center was a dark, flat and cloudy oval, easily of Xellos' height.
Xellos strolled over the bridge and neared the large tree. Reaching forward, he brushed his fingers along the flat expanse within it. It felt solid and slick to the touch. He stared at the strange material, and before his eyes the smoky surface began to billow and move, swirling within the flat plane, until he found himself gazing at a reflection of his own form in a tall sheet of glass set into the gargantuan tree.
Xellos looked at himself, studied himself in the mirror. His hair had mussed, and he smoothed it back with a gloved hand, then brushed down his turtleneck. His gaze seemed hollowed, darker: and with that, holding a frenzied desperation within violet serpentine eyes.
"I don't feel desperate anymore," he whispered to his reflection, frowning at it. As he stood before it, eyes flicking over his pallid cheeks, he noticed them begin to blush. He frowned and turned his attention to his hair, and realized it grew inexorably, patiently longer, and lightened ever so much, more and more.
Stepping back, Xellos touched his own head and felt no difference in the length of his tresses, even as the reflection began to shorten, and soften, the body curving, the eyes brightening, the clothes shifting to magenta and marmalade. Fiery rubies glittered in the eyes that gazed back at him, topped with a mane of copper, and he swallowed, throat constricting, and took careful, measured steps to return before the shimmering image that began to glow and cast upon him its own light.
It was no longer himself that stared back.
"I don't feel desperate anymore," she spoke to him, but her tone was content, not confused as his had been.
He twisted and bent forward in pain as the words struck him, like he'd eaten raw cookie dough until it had filled him with a sickening weight that rested deep inside his stomach. Reaching forward, he touched the glassy reflection, light pouring through his fingers to strike his face, and that was when the emotion overcame him.
Her snapping red eyes gazed into his own, and he felt things inside him begin to crack, and to shore together. He slid slowly towards the ground, both hands upon her image now, until he knelt before the oak. And every move, she copied; every stumbling step and graceless sloop she mimicked, until they both sat upon their knees, and Xellos was leaning against the pane of light, pain contorting and twisting his features into a morass of agonized relief.
"Lina?" he whispered, and his own plea rasped in his ears.
"Lina?" her cheerful voice parroted, and he closed his eyes to her, to the sound, and the torment.
Just a reflection. It's just a trick.
Still, to gaze upon her after so long was a sought-after prize he'd not believed possible. Even if it was an illusion, even if he could conjure her within his own mind easily, within his imagination . . .
He chuckled dryly, and opened his eyes to see her giggling back at him happily, her joyfulness countering his wry, lackluster laughter and her sparkling eyes without the ragged emptiness he knew his held. The sound enraptured him, drew him closer, and he sighed with loneliness, only to have the reflection sigh back in satisfaction.
"You're just a reflection of myself, but the opposite," he told her sadly, tiredly.
Her thoughtful voice returned, "You're just a reflection of myself . . . but the opposite," and sounded fascinated.
"It's been a long journey to get to you."
"It's been a long journey to get to you," her peaceful voice replied, smiling while he frowned, her brows relaxed as his raised upon his forehead as if pleading silently for understanding.
With a heavy sigh – that the mirror image repeated happily – Xellos sat back on his haunches and wrapped tired arms around worn knees, and watched in fascination as the redhead did the same. "I have to leave soon," he told her. "I hope to find you."
"I have to leave soon . . . I hope to find you."
She seemed so sincere . . . he shook his head at the fallacy. Not real. Just . . . an illusion. As most of heaven seemed to be sometimes . . .
"I wish I could . . . touch you," he mused.
He smiled sadly as the image thoughtfully murmured, "I wish I could touch you."
"Hold you, hug you," he continued, "really let you know that I cared."
"Hold you, hug you . . . really let you know that I cared."
Sighing again, Xellos closed his eyes and bent his head, blocking out the sight of her which now seemed more a burden, a weight, than a blessing. "This could just be all for nothing," he bemoaned dejectedly, and stared at his feet, shining with dew and glistening in the brilliant light cast through the mirror.
"This could just be all for nothing," the likeness retorted, but sounded disbelieving, doubtful, as if she did not agree.
Giving a wane smile, Xellos pulled himself to his feet, finished with this distraction. He watched calmly as she did the same, standing almost a foot shorter than himself and beaming up with a cheer he wished were infectious. "Time for me to go," he told her sadly.
"Time for me to go!" she joyfully piped and tossed back her head, scarlet hair dancing just once before it stilled.
Xellos smiled sorrowfully once more, and pressed a hand up to the glass, bemused as the mirror image did the same. He stared at her a long while, rememorizing every aspect, every feature, not knowing when he would gaze upon it again.
"Just in case," he began, voice catching a moment before he took a deep breath, "I never find you . . ."
"Just in case . . . I never find you . . ."
He peered into her eyes, and she did the same.
"I will always think of you."
Her vermillion eyes bore into his own with great intensity, and he watched her tiny, tart mouth open to speak.
"I will always think of you."
Xellos closed his eyes, his composure breaking as he felt tears begin to run in rivulets down his face. He stood and cried silently, letting the festering emotions run their course through him, until he was left empty, but clear. Wiping away the residue, he opened his eyes, blinking, then looking again at her reflection, unwavering.
Well, he thought sadly. All good things must end.
Ready now, he nodded to her image, and she nodded back. It was time to leave. Time to try one last thing to gain admittance to wherever she truly was. But at least if he failed, he'd have this . . .
Xellos snorted, then smirked as Lina's doppelganger chortled. "I certainly miss you, Lina," his words whispered through the air, and he hung his head morosely, resigned.
Her laugher stilled, but remained in her dazzling eyes.
"I miss you, too."
And then she vanished even as he gasped, the blinding light spinning away her reflection and pressing him back from the gnarled tree, her omnipresent laughter ringing in his ears like a cacophony of bells. And as he watched, shocked, the roiling cloudy light and sound spun within itself, then pulled into the wooden mammoth as if sucked into a singularity, leaving nothing behind but silence, and a dark, dank hole the width and breadth of a man, gaping quietly from the shaft of the ancient oak.
Xellos stared into the void of shadow that remained, stunned at the quiet of the forest. Not a sound carried through the air; gone were the chirps and whistles of a jaunty wood. Instead they'd been replaced by a mournful breeze that wound along the edges of the clearing, and sang eerily within the hollow of the great oak as if there had never been a magical mirror there.
He had in no way before known fear for himself. Even when the Golden Lady herself had appeared before him within Lina's very body, he'd not known personal terror. Yet now, as he stared into this gaping maw of infinity - the light of the forest dimming and casting a dismal indigo across the realm - a lick of foreboding traveled up his spine, and he shivered in the wind.
He wished with growing desperation for some sort of illumination to light the obsidian surrounding him. And as he thought of it, hoped for it, the sanguine orb of his staff began to glow a soft cannery yellow in the darkness, splashing a cheery light that slowly began to grow into a radiant beacon.
As the brilliance hit the black void along the trunk of the ancient tree, it cast it into stark relief and Xellos blinked to see that it was in fact a hollow, and along the bottom were smooth stairs of carved wood leading down in a spiral, charcoal and pitch dancing around the corner just beyond the reach of his staff's light.
Another shiver wracked his form, and he thought offhand of how nice his cloak would be, and found it materializing upon his shoulders, warm and snug. Thus equipped, he blinked at the revealed stairway, torn between his curiosity and his ill ease.
There must be a reason it appeared to me, he thought to himself, then took another look around the forest. It was now apparently evening, night falling within seconds of the mirror's disappearance. The wood stood silently, the trees onyx towers rising up to vanish into the blackness of the sky; empty citadels of a forgotten city.
Shoulders twitching nervously at the unbidden metaphor that had wormed its way into his mind, Xellos' eyes darted along the edges of the clearing, listening to the moaning wind and the whispering creek, before daring a glance at the gaping hole within the giant oak beside him. "Right. I think I'll risk the tree," he spoke aloud, and quickly headed towards the entrance.
Taking a step inside, the Mazoku cast another glance behind him, then leisurely began making his way down the wooden stairs, taking each step gingerly, uncertain of what would be around the curve that plummeted deeper into the bowels of the earth.
Before the fifth step, which would take him beyond sight of the outer world, he looked behind himself, and his lips parted, no words upon his tongue. The place where the entrance had been was now smooth, polished wood, no sign of ever having been a doorway into the glade.
Troubled, yet also strangely relieved to not have the dark woods at his back, Xellos continued on, his boots cracking against the solid stairs with every step.
I'm almost done, he told himself. And then I'll be free of this place. Free of the fear; free of the pain; free of the longing and weakness. But Xellos realized as he walked, with every placing of one foot before the other, that his frustrated longing for the old, easy surety and power his life had gifted him simply shrouded the more weighty feelings that he considered feeble and unworthy of himself.
No more hiding, he told himself, and peered into the darkness. I don't care about being strong, or brave, or cruel . . . as long as I can just get back to Filia and Val. Before it's too late for me to return at all.
With that, he plunged into the unknown future with no regrets; yet a niggling thought darted through his mind frantically, unwilling to be silenced, and jolted both fear and elation into him. What if that was . . . could it really have been . . . her?
-:(-(-(-)-)-):-
W I N D – A N D – T I M E
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A smile slid across Zelas' face and remained as she watched, in secret, while the voluminous Golden Dragon soared through the skies above Wolf Pack Island. As much as Zelas would have rather let Filia be free alone, it remained true that the vagabonds - the refuse - remaining from Dynast and Dolphin's assassinations still roamed the island, ready and willing to wreak havoc should they find the dragoness alone.
High, high into the air the spot of saffron dipped and turned, sunlight glittering upon the scales to make them molten metal. As she gained in speed, pointing her shapely wings downward, a deep keening reverberated through the air, each wing slicing through the atmosphere and rumbling as the beast passed.
Zelas could feel the release Filia felt, sensed the peace and joy from an activity long laid to the side, long placed out of sight and mind. But the Gold hadn't forgotten. And now the bursting joy that flowed from her threatened to bring Zelas to her knees.
When had she last felt such joy?
From others . . . there had been occasions. But for herself, joy was a fleeting thing. It had never seemed the place of a Mazoku to feel pure, unadulterated bliss like that which Filia felt now. However, it had been brought about in the past. . .
Opposites did indeed seem to attract. Immoral to moral. Serious to lighthearted. Demon to heavenly form.
The Mazoku hung her head, letting her dark tresses be pulled away in the wind. I to you. You to me. She let her own desolation drown Filia's cheer, eat it up and corrode it until nothing was left but the pain. Pain . . . that's what demons are good for. Not joy. Not love. Not hope.
She knew she was wallowing. Not something befitting her station, yet the truth remained. Raising her head, Zelas gazed up into the sky, resolutely watching the dragoness fly. Demons could love. They might not be that great at it . . . but they could try.
You only fail when you stop trying, she repeated the often repeated phrase, and reminisced over the firm, stoic mouth that had spoken the words so long ago. I refuse to fail. I refuse to give up. I'll find you again, Luna, she vowed, and closed her eyes but not her senses to the dragoness high above. Instead, she let the endless sensation of flight, and happiness, and freedom envelope her once again.
Living vicariously, are we?
The joy settled and seethed brightly within her chest, melting away at the bitterness. Zelas smiled at the feeling, and at the Golden Dragon who soared unawares, while the emotions did their work and slid through her like the warmest of butter, or rain, or milk sweetened with honey. There could be nothing so delicious as this feeling, and Zelas knew that no matter how decadent and rich the lust, and rage, and twisted glee may be, how much those feelings might intoxicate and drown her, they could not compare to the simple taste of this.
Zelas savored it as it washed over her, and she felt cleansed. I shall have to thank Filia for this, though she will probably not understand. Such is the way of things. But . . . no harm in being polite.
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S A C R E M E N T – OF – E D W Y L M
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Meliael sensed his presence before he appeared; where she hung, invisible above Xellos, the light fractured into a million sunbeams through her wings, and she saw the holy and the unholy in the forest glen.
And then, a stronger holy and unholy appeared floating before her, and she let herself look upon his terrifying beauty, and felt herself breaking again just as the demon kneeling far beneath the canopy became whole. "Azrael," she breathed, and bent her head.
The man cloaked in shadow turned to face her, his cowl hanging against his shoulders, revealing the usual cheerfully dark expression that had instead shifted to concern. "Meliael. You've been watching him, haven't you? He's gotten too far, too soon." He then returned those snapping violet eyes back to the forest below them, and she felt her insides jump with emotions simmering in their multitudes.
"I," she stumbled, "I thought you were going to give him what he wanted should he succeed?" She floated down to draw beside him, and watched him watch the greenish gold land below, piercing the bows and branches to see beyond them into the heart of the Mazoku kneeling there.
The Angel of Death shook his head, then raised a bemused brow at her, eyes falling to travel across her in that way that always infuriated. "Sometimes you can't have what you want," he spoke weightily, his fluid drawl brushing across her ears and deepening her blush. "It's for the best that he not succeed." Instantly his sultry eyes snapped hard and he glared into her caught gaze. "And don't bother asking, Seraphim," he scathed, speaking her lower station like an insult. "There are some things you're not privy to, for a reason."
Scowling back, Mercy growled, "If you don't tell me, how am I supposed to do my job right? I don't know all of your plans."
"It ain't up to me," the brunet replied, calming in that way that frightened her in a completely different manner than all the other ways he managed to instill horror within her angelic being. His eyes caught hers in such a way that she was unable to remove herself from them. "It's up to Him," he reminded.
"Her!" she corrected on her tiptoes, then shied away at his hardening glower, his lovely amethyst eyes smoldering into a pair of burning red coals. "I-um-"
"Yeah, you just do that," he spat, then returned to peering into the heavenly forest below them, gaze troubled.
Beside him, Meliael clutched her arms around herself, wings curving inward to hide her bent figure from him. He's . . . going to be really, really mad when . . . she stopped the thought, scared he might hear it, but his concentration seemed to be weighing heavily upon Xellos. She learned many eons ago that she couldn't risk even the most guarded of thoughts, so she'd taken to speaking her dissension aloud, in his face, usually spat before her better sense could take over and sway her from her dangerous path.
And he would punish her . . . just by the sheer fear he infused within her, the terror that brought her to her knees. Even the thought of what he might do should he ever feel the need to go further overwhelmed her with dread. And Meliael knew that he probably preferred it that way.
"Stop that," his soft voice entered her mind and her ears, and she blinked, opening her eyes to gaze past the feathers concealing her. "You're my right hand girl, Mel. Ain't right for you to fear me so. Who else is gonna tell me off? Nobody else has the guts."
He wasn't looking at her; instead he still stared down, watching, she was certain. Unfolding herself, the Angel of Mercy floated nearer, and looked up into his soft features, studying the childlike mouth and nose, the smooth skin and unlined eyes. "If I cower it's only because you scare me, and you know you like it when I get scared!"
"Yeah," he grinned over at her, flame in his eyes vanished, "but I also like it when you bounce back and tell me off. Just . . . don't forget to chose the time and place, Mercy," he lifted a hand to brush a thumb across the shoulder laid bare by her ivory shift, his gaze falling to her lips, and she flushed, trapped by the heat in his eyes. "Can't have you staging a revolt when something really important is about to occur."
He glanced away, back to the woods, and she watched as his arm slowly fell back to his side, sliding over her skin just once before the contact was broken. "And something very important is drawing near, my Seraphim."
The words fell into her, and kept falling, until she felt vertigo begin to sweep across her eyes. Very important . . .
"It's Xellos," he confirmed. "He can't find Lina. Not now. No matter what. You know that now." There was a pause, and her frozen mind wouldn't compute; instead she floated there, stunned. "Please, Meliael. Don't disappoint me."
With that, he vanished, and the space left behind felt colder without Death there. Meliael waited, sensing all around her, then dropped her head when she knew he was truly elsewhere in the Afterlife. Curling her arms around herself, the angel began to shake, tears seeping down her cheeks.
Mercy cried alone, above the horizon, mourning the trust she was certain she had destroyed, unknowingly, and with only the best of intentions. And now, there's nothing I can do.
He would find out that she had helped Xellos complete his tasks. There was no possible way to think otherwise. In the multitude of universes, he was one of a handful of the most powerful of beings, and he would know. At the very least, She would tell him . . . Meliael couldn't hide. It was just a matter of time.
With that thought, the winged girl dropped her head into her hands, and began to sob, not for the first time wishing for someone to have mercy upon her.
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