Playing God
By GoldenEagle
Author's Note:I know what you're thinking! You're wondering what the hell took me so long to get out this next chapter. Actually, I was considering not working on this fic anymore because of permanent writer's block, but I got so many reviews and people asking about the story that I decided to trudge on. But, in finishing this chapter (which I literally started a few months ago), I found that the writer's block I had wasn't as bad as I had thought and have decided to continue! Yay! So, please read and review! They're really the only thing that got this chapter out!
Chapter Seven: Playing the Dinner Guest
Dilandau Albatou sat, his gaze distant, his form motionless. He sat in the empty room, silence encasing him, for a long while. The vacant look in his eyes was strangely unnerving, a look that couldn't possibly be all the way sane, but at the same time, the boy carried the look so well. The silence was broken by the noise of shuffling feet and an electric door sliding open. The emptiness on Dilandau's face was gone instantly, his head snapping up like a hawks, his gaze focusing in. A lithe smile graced his face as he watched her stumble in, trying to hold her head and shoulders high, but only succeeding in the movements with a machine like jerkiness.
"Ah, I see you've joined me at last, hmm?" The mocking tone in his voice was to be expected, but the girl's reaction was not. She looked up at him, only a few steps from the door she had entered in, the Dragon Slayer right behind her. She threw Dilandau a look, a look that said she wasn't going to take his shit, and turned on her heel, almost too gracefully for the weight of the armor on her shoulders, and stalked out of the room before either boy could say a word. Dilandau's smirk faltered, and his mouth suddenly went agape before he could pull himself together. "What... Bring her back here! Right now!" He yelped out, his voice high in anger.
"Yes, Lord Dilandau!" The boy said without hesitation before giving a quick bow and jogging after her. The Dragon Slayer general could hear some muffled words, a scuffle, and then a loud, male exclamation and curse. Then the blue clothed warrior had returned, Siren's arms crossed across her chest, her lips out in a pout, and the Dragon Slayer behind her supporting four red gashes across his left cheek. Looking at those red, agitated scratches that the girl had delivered made the scar on Dilandau's cheek tingle to life, recalling a memory that only built up onto his already unstable mental status.
"You may go, but clean your face up once you get to your room." The soldier twitched involuntarily as the stinging of the marks on his face raged up a bit more, but managed a salute and quickly strode out the door, leaving the small, blonde teen standing before a fuming warrior. She had now taken on that vulnerable look she had on the side of the road, the one that made her look like a small, quivering child. But she wasn't quivering, and her eyes, though wide and glossy as she pouted, held no fear. Her shoulders were still slumped from the weight of the armor when Dilandau finally managed to speak, his voice deathly calm.
"So." It was all he could manage, his voice shaking violently with rage at the one syllable. "I see you didn't... really... want-"
His voice died away in his throat as he watched her in a distracted manner. She wasn't even looking at him, or even listening, by the looks of it. Instead she picked at the nails on her right hand lazily. The nails were tainted a dark crimson and dark, small splotches colored the skin on her fair hand. She continued to pick the skin of the Dragon Slayer she had just scratched out from beneath them, seemingly unaware of the murderer standing before her, ready to pounce. After a moment of Dilandau clenching and unclenching his hands, Siren looked up from her finished job, her big lavender eyes blinking up at him innocently. "You were saying?"
"I'd like you to not wound my men anymore." He said, a part of his mind questioning why the hell he hadn't already attacked the girl by now. He unconsciously rubbed his fingers in hard, simple strokes down his right cheek, over the scar. He aggravated the skin there, his pale complexion pinkening and then reddening as he paced. Siren cocked her head to the side, like a curious bird of some, sort before pushing forward.
It was only because of Dilandau's surprise at her swift movements that she was capable of drawing as close as she did. He looked down at her, startled, as she moved toward him, the armor that covered her chest brushing lightly against his torso. She reached up and, surprisingly enough, pushed his hand away from the scar lightly before placing two tentative pads of her fingers against the old wound. She had removed the glove on her left hand, which was now prodding at the white streak, before coming to him, and it fell to the floor with not so much as a noise. A pain originated from her touch, permeating his scar, before it filled his cheek and the bolted downward, to his chest. There it engulfed his heart, a painful feeling, or possibly emotion. That one strong muscle increased its beat with the pain in what could almost be explained as ecstasy. The pain was a different pain than any he had really ever felt, but closely resembled the pain one might feel from healing, a deep, hopeful pain as a burden is lifted. Yes, it was an ecstasy, a pleasure. A shudder ran through him, and his eyelids dropped. He pushed his head to the side by instinct, his cheek now resting in her palm, his lips brushing lightly against her wrist. Another shiver, and then the pain dulled slightly, starting to leave behind this new, totally unfamiliar feeling. It was an intense feeling that made him tremble, made his entire body want to cave in on itself as it reached for that ecstasy inside him-
Shit!
He pulled away, his eyes snapping open. For a moment, he met Siren's own gaze. A gaze that looked slightly dazed. He did the only thing he knew to do at the moment. He threw his fist at her, but she reacted quicker than she had in the cart on the way there. She ducked nimbly, avoiding his harsh hit, and laughed even as she stumbled forward slightly from the weight on her shoulders. She just stood there, hunched over, her hands on her knees, and laughed. Yet it seemed to be a slightly strained laugh, a nervous sound. Then she spoke, and only a large ego and an even larger confidence sprang from her mouth. "What is it with you and that scar, Dilandau? You hold it and stroke it like a lover then hide and hiss like a snake when someone seems to stare at it too long. What is it to you that you handle it with such obsession?"
"It's an imperfection, an impurity, a stain." He snapped out without thinking, confusion from his earlier reaction to her touch adding to his rage. "That damn dragon marred my beauti-"
"Marred?" She echoed, her head snapping up, her face now flickering with a mixture of disbelief and mild amusement. "Marred?" She repeated. "Have you lost your mind? You're a warrior! Scars and broken bones are a sign of one's strength. A battle award, of sorts. It only adds to you, Dil. It only adds."
"Don't call me Dil." He murmured, his voice not as deadly as before, his eyes quieting a bit.
A smirk grew on Siren's full lips, her eyes lighting up. "I hear your men whisper about you and this 'dragon'. They say he is a king, and that you lust for him. That you call out his name in your sleep-"
This time, Dilandau's fist did connect with her face. It connected hard to her jaw and she was launched to the side. Her arms tangled in the armor she wore and she hit the ground on her side, skidding slightly into one of the chairs. The warrior watched her with a deeply satisfied look as she stiffly gathered herself up. Her hair feel into her face from his vantage point, but he could see a string of blood reaching from her face to the floor and collecting there in a small puddle. His slightly smug smile was replaced with a frown when she looked up at him, her eyes alight with some sick pleasure. She pulled herself to her feet, and he could now see he had busted one of her lips and torn at her gums a bit. Despite the blood that filled her mouth and covered one side of her face, she still held a strange, deadly beauty and air about her that made Dilandau's frown deepen. His disappointed look grew as she threw him an odd smile before swallowing the blood the filled her mouth and overflowed from her lips. "Blood." She murmured, licking her lips. "Blood is a sign of death, Dilandau. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you knew the love for it, the lust I have for it. But, truly, what is it you lust for? Do you lust for blood? For death perhaps? Or maybe more..." She stepped forward, her hips swaying a bit, blood still running in rivers from her mouth. Dilandau began to feel that tremor in him again as she stepped closer, but it was a more intense impulse. "Or do you lust for m-"
The door sprung open at that moment and the Dragon Slayer found himself jumping backwards from the girl, his mind ablaze by the insanity she had somehow spread through his veins. He looked up to the open door, relieved, but refusing to show so. One of his most elite men stood there, slightly bent over. Gatti looked up, his eyes barely wide in fear and anticipation. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Lord Dilandau, but Escaflowne and the his wielder have been sighted along with the girl from the Mystic Moon."
A huge grin spread across the teen's once distraught face, and as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder at the seemingly disinterested Siren behind him, again picking at her nails, letting the blood run down her swelling jaw. "It's him I lust for." He said with a huge, face cracking smirk. She glanced up at him, slightly confused and curious. "I lust for that dragon's blood, and by the gods, I'll have it on my hands today."
