DISCLAIMER: All elements of Suikoden series belong to Konami. Fanfiction belongs to littlemaiko. Stealing is prohibited.
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The Snow Covered with Peonies :: 2
by littlemaiko
The leisure of taking a walk across the hill of corpses he had created gave Luca a strange relief from the constant rage at the world. He had become aware of his addiction to murder many years ago; a short moment of peace following the mass killing of men was his solace from the madness. It was a blissful, vicious cycle. The more he slew, stronger the returning madness and thus larger the scale of next slaughter.
// What will I do when all the world has burned down to cinders? //
Luca wondered, his powerful face taking on a look of a musing philosopher. In the privacy of a solitary stroll, he could afford to think about such things. His White Wolves had all retired to the camp by his orders. There was no one present to interrupt with his demented, thoughtful mind. Or so he thought. In a corner of his field of vision, a fallen enemy groaned. Frowning at the sloppy job his soldiers had done with the order of total annihilation, the prince unsheathed his sword and threw it to the injured man. The blade struck home, burying deep into the already bloody forehead. The body no longer moved, thus pleasing Luca.
"Worthless pig." Muttering with an evil and smug grin, Luca steadied the fresh corpse's head with his armored foot and tugged out his sword. His cape was already tattered and ruined from the battle, so he wiped the bloodied blade with its hem. The pattern of crimson over the originally pure-white cape drew a curious interest. Chuckling and letting the stained fabric go, he resumed his lazy steps, the sword still in his hand.
"Ha! All the Jowston pigs... shed more blood. Scream and moan in agony!" The wolf-like prince raised his voice over the hills of still bodies. The annoying fortress of Muse-hired mercenaries had been stormed down. The day for his return to that accursed Jowston capital was near.
// Muse... //
A sudden grimace contorted Luca's handsomeness as the unpleasant name of the hated city roused his memory. He didn't mind remembering, but the expression of crushing shame and suffering upon his mother's lovely face always made him reel. His beautiful mother's lithe body, the famed flower of L'Renouille, blotted from his eyes by filthy Musean soldiers. Only her emerald-like green eyes, pleading to him not to look, remained in full view as the hellish scene fast-forwarded.
Luca would have given into the new surge of mad rage if he had not sensed someone moving close by. His attention returning to the present, he found a tiny figure in red tunic and green bandana hopping over the corpses. A boy, no older than fifteen. The sight of a slender youth only armed with a long staff puzzled Luca more than provoke him into using the sword as a javelin once again.
Singing an old requiem of Red Moon Empire origin, the boy reached a glove-covered hand into the large cloth bag he held in the other. He pulled out a wad of medium-sized, vivid red flowers and sprinkled them over the dead, moving on in a light-footed step once he had dressed the bodies. The scarlet flowers colored the blood-soaked field with a more fresh hue, adding sickening sort of beauty to the scene.
Luca did not move as the young stranger neared, transfixed by the budding curiosity and marvel at the unearthly sight. His own mind was a wonder to him, switching from one mood to another in a flash. All the murderous wish boiling from the memory of his mother's rape retreated to the recesses of his mind where it dwelt hidden. Only his right hand, used to the reflexive movement of cutting down whomever stood in his way, twitched to touch the handle of the silver-blade sword.
"Halt."
The Highland prince's simple command was obeyed right away. The boy was so close to Luca by that time that even the faded texture of the green bandana and glimmer of the red lacquer painted over the rod was clear to the eyes. Finding no expression in the youth's oriental face, a doubt of possible mockery pricked at Luca.
// No, not mockery. Lack of emotions. //
Reasoning in a rare calm state of mind, the tall man dismissed the irrational war-devil residing within him. Most likely, he would end this meeting with the slaying of the boy, but he would do so only after finding all he wanted about the mysterious child of red flowers.
"What are you doing?" Luca questioned, his tone haughty yet even. He studied the younger one from head to toe, finding no supernatural beauty or observable power there. To dismiss the boy as a passerby, however, was not feasible. There was something about him that caught Luca's attention. The lightless brown eyes looking fearlessly up at him.
"Only what you see. Singing songs and giving flowers to the dead. You've created quite a heap of corpses."
The appreciative glance the boy cast over the field of broken bodies sent a tremble down Luca's spine. No, he did not shiver from terror. The boy was all too familiar, too similar to the prince himself. He could smell the scent of blood clinging about the boy, not from the recent battle here but the odor absorbed into one's frame through many years of killing. The youthful face, not at all unpleasant or ugly in the structure, glowed with dark somberness instead of the juvenile radiance typical of someone his age. If the somberness had been an insane rage, then Luca would have labeled the boy as the one suffering the same madness as himself.
Ignoring Luca's silence, the lithe boy let a few more crimson flowers fall to the battle-disturbed ground. One of them fell right by the Highlander's foot. Large petals encased the thick batch of yellow stamen in the middle. No green leaves accompanied the severed bloom.
"What is the name of this flower?"
"Peony. Summer peony." The Asian boy offered a good-looking peony to Luca, not letting him take it but just to see it. "Peonies kill men. Or so the superstition goes, since the flower falls clean from the shrub as though it has been beheaded. You shouldn't touch it."
// Hah. //
"Give it to me, boy."
"Do you want to die?" The soft alto of the teenager stayed flat and pleasant to the prince's ears.
"No." Luca let a sinister grin distort his wolf-like handsome features. He waited until the boy placed a lovely peony upon his hand, feeling the silky texture of thick, red petals over his palm. Then, without a warning, he crushed the beautiful flower in a fist. "A mere flower will never kill me."
"Perhaps." The boy's gaze followed the disfigured peony to the ground as they fell from Luca's opened hand. He curled his lips, too slightly for the man to ascertain if it was a smile. "What is your name?"
The reply followed naturally. "Luca Blight."
"I will see you again, Luca." With a graceful little bow of a nobleman, the boy turned his back to Luca and began to tread back the way he had come. His small hands still sprinkled the peonies about his path.
// Wait... //
Luca almost voiced the thought aloud, but he refrained from doing so. He watched the body clad in a dull-red tunic disappear from his sight, immersed in the silence that followed their parting. The few minutes which passed while the prince saw the stranger off slipped through Luca's grasp of time. He only lowered his dark gaze to the ground where the crushed peony lay amidst a puddle of drying blood.
TO BE CONTINUED
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The Snow Covered with Peonies :: 2
by littlemaiko
The leisure of taking a walk across the hill of corpses he had created gave Luca a strange relief from the constant rage at the world. He had become aware of his addiction to murder many years ago; a short moment of peace following the mass killing of men was his solace from the madness. It was a blissful, vicious cycle. The more he slew, stronger the returning madness and thus larger the scale of next slaughter.
// What will I do when all the world has burned down to cinders? //
Luca wondered, his powerful face taking on a look of a musing philosopher. In the privacy of a solitary stroll, he could afford to think about such things. His White Wolves had all retired to the camp by his orders. There was no one present to interrupt with his demented, thoughtful mind. Or so he thought. In a corner of his field of vision, a fallen enemy groaned. Frowning at the sloppy job his soldiers had done with the order of total annihilation, the prince unsheathed his sword and threw it to the injured man. The blade struck home, burying deep into the already bloody forehead. The body no longer moved, thus pleasing Luca.
"Worthless pig." Muttering with an evil and smug grin, Luca steadied the fresh corpse's head with his armored foot and tugged out his sword. His cape was already tattered and ruined from the battle, so he wiped the bloodied blade with its hem. The pattern of crimson over the originally pure-white cape drew a curious interest. Chuckling and letting the stained fabric go, he resumed his lazy steps, the sword still in his hand.
"Ha! All the Jowston pigs... shed more blood. Scream and moan in agony!" The wolf-like prince raised his voice over the hills of still bodies. The annoying fortress of Muse-hired mercenaries had been stormed down. The day for his return to that accursed Jowston capital was near.
// Muse... //
A sudden grimace contorted Luca's handsomeness as the unpleasant name of the hated city roused his memory. He didn't mind remembering, but the expression of crushing shame and suffering upon his mother's lovely face always made him reel. His beautiful mother's lithe body, the famed flower of L'Renouille, blotted from his eyes by filthy Musean soldiers. Only her emerald-like green eyes, pleading to him not to look, remained in full view as the hellish scene fast-forwarded.
Luca would have given into the new surge of mad rage if he had not sensed someone moving close by. His attention returning to the present, he found a tiny figure in red tunic and green bandana hopping over the corpses. A boy, no older than fifteen. The sight of a slender youth only armed with a long staff puzzled Luca more than provoke him into using the sword as a javelin once again.
Singing an old requiem of Red Moon Empire origin, the boy reached a glove-covered hand into the large cloth bag he held in the other. He pulled out a wad of medium-sized, vivid red flowers and sprinkled them over the dead, moving on in a light-footed step once he had dressed the bodies. The scarlet flowers colored the blood-soaked field with a more fresh hue, adding sickening sort of beauty to the scene.
Luca did not move as the young stranger neared, transfixed by the budding curiosity and marvel at the unearthly sight. His own mind was a wonder to him, switching from one mood to another in a flash. All the murderous wish boiling from the memory of his mother's rape retreated to the recesses of his mind where it dwelt hidden. Only his right hand, used to the reflexive movement of cutting down whomever stood in his way, twitched to touch the handle of the silver-blade sword.
"Halt."
The Highland prince's simple command was obeyed right away. The boy was so close to Luca by that time that even the faded texture of the green bandana and glimmer of the red lacquer painted over the rod was clear to the eyes. Finding no expression in the youth's oriental face, a doubt of possible mockery pricked at Luca.
// No, not mockery. Lack of emotions. //
Reasoning in a rare calm state of mind, the tall man dismissed the irrational war-devil residing within him. Most likely, he would end this meeting with the slaying of the boy, but he would do so only after finding all he wanted about the mysterious child of red flowers.
"What are you doing?" Luca questioned, his tone haughty yet even. He studied the younger one from head to toe, finding no supernatural beauty or observable power there. To dismiss the boy as a passerby, however, was not feasible. There was something about him that caught Luca's attention. The lightless brown eyes looking fearlessly up at him.
"Only what you see. Singing songs and giving flowers to the dead. You've created quite a heap of corpses."
The appreciative glance the boy cast over the field of broken bodies sent a tremble down Luca's spine. No, he did not shiver from terror. The boy was all too familiar, too similar to the prince himself. He could smell the scent of blood clinging about the boy, not from the recent battle here but the odor absorbed into one's frame through many years of killing. The youthful face, not at all unpleasant or ugly in the structure, glowed with dark somberness instead of the juvenile radiance typical of someone his age. If the somberness had been an insane rage, then Luca would have labeled the boy as the one suffering the same madness as himself.
Ignoring Luca's silence, the lithe boy let a few more crimson flowers fall to the battle-disturbed ground. One of them fell right by the Highlander's foot. Large petals encased the thick batch of yellow stamen in the middle. No green leaves accompanied the severed bloom.
"What is the name of this flower?"
"Peony. Summer peony." The Asian boy offered a good-looking peony to Luca, not letting him take it but just to see it. "Peonies kill men. Or so the superstition goes, since the flower falls clean from the shrub as though it has been beheaded. You shouldn't touch it."
// Hah. //
"Give it to me, boy."
"Do you want to die?" The soft alto of the teenager stayed flat and pleasant to the prince's ears.
"No." Luca let a sinister grin distort his wolf-like handsome features. He waited until the boy placed a lovely peony upon his hand, feeling the silky texture of thick, red petals over his palm. Then, without a warning, he crushed the beautiful flower in a fist. "A mere flower will never kill me."
"Perhaps." The boy's gaze followed the disfigured peony to the ground as they fell from Luca's opened hand. He curled his lips, too slightly for the man to ascertain if it was a smile. "What is your name?"
The reply followed naturally. "Luca Blight."
"I will see you again, Luca." With a graceful little bow of a nobleman, the boy turned his back to Luca and began to tread back the way he had come. His small hands still sprinkled the peonies about his path.
// Wait... //
Luca almost voiced the thought aloud, but he refrained from doing so. He watched the body clad in a dull-red tunic disappear from his sight, immersed in the silence that followed their parting. The few minutes which passed while the prince saw the stranger off slipped through Luca's grasp of time. He only lowered his dark gaze to the ground where the crushed peony lay amidst a puddle of drying blood.
TO BE CONTINUED
