Chapter Three - Ecstasy
A/N: Here it is again. Swallow it like a man. You man!
Disclaimer: It belongs to me, I swear it does. *looks over to Kenshin tied in ropes and taped around the mouth* Right, Kenshin? It doesn't, but hell, a girl can dream. It belongs to those rich and powerful people who made Rurouni Kenshin, and since I'm not rich or powerful, it ain't me. IT AIN'T ME!!!
Here the story goes . . .
"Plead me, plead me, whisper your troubles into mine, Feed me, feed me, quench the hunger they can't be surpressed."
The night was a buffet filled with the glory of emotions, of surprises, of bewitching. Here, stabled and solitary, was a lone figure against the firm walls of his room. Here, was where the Battousai merely rested, for sleep never comes to those who shed enough blood to overflow the world. There, the massive bed held no purpose, just capturing the moonlight with its velvet contours.
His head leaned to the wall, caring not of the discomfort, but of the mental nightmares that doesn't seize night after night. A continuous cycle of endless dreams that haunted the manslayer, that haunted his humanity. Words of babble and nonsense escaped his parched lips, sending obvious symbols of his mental wars. It was a discomfort, until a presense could be heard through the darkness of his nightmares.
Before her minute hand could touch any graph of skin, his reflexes seized the frail digits, nearly crushing them to filmy powder. A gasp could be heard, clearly not expecting another frightful act of violence from the man.
"Why must you bother me incessantly? Can there be peace and obedience from a slave?"
Innocently, her other hand caressed the callous grip upon hers, gently scraping his skin with her feathery touch. An invisible wind sending stalks of hair to rise from their natural graves. Then she raised her eyes to level with his, yet they held no fear or hatred, or some emotion akin to those two familiar factors. It was of compassion. Compassion tasted foreign to his lips, like a sweeter wine savored, yet not known as familiar to the tongue. At this thought, he turned away in disgust.
What is compassion to a man who thought of it as a weakness?
"You are suffering, my lord. Not from the cold or discomfort. But from the heart. You ail from nighmares. Battousai, let me console you. I am your slave, as you claim I am, let me bring you your salvation."
"I don't need help from anyone. My nightmares are of my own. Silence, woman. Keep your silence." His voice was a steel blade against the porcelain feel of a virgin's skin. Yet her expression was made of human emotions, of too much compassion and love towards all, that it was an act of immortality for mortals.
"Sleep, Battousai. Never shall you be lingered with these horrid dreams. Never shall you lay blaim for your mother's death."
Between the process of declaring such a decalaration, his head was brought to her lap, scarlet hair adorned by her faint hues in silk. The hand grazing soft comfort to his head, brushing the blood-stained tresses with her motherly touch. He look upward to her face, to captivate the moment of utter silence to find such a pain-stricken face that held such age-old pain, distorting her innocent curves to pitying eyes. Shortly, her breath grew short, as tears threatened to make an exit.
"You live in such pain. Such pain."
At that moment, his eyes widened at her words, unable to grasp the warmth stirring his heart and soul, for no one had played such a compassion act towards the legendary manslayer, a monster who lived to conquer and knew not of mercy for the ill-treated. It sent him such bittersweet anguish and emotions that the Battousai withered in confusion.
"How do you know this? What do you know of my pain, of how I killed my mother?"
"Because, as the nightingale, I ease your troubles, but in the process I accumulate your pain in return for your salvation. Your humanity for my suffrage. 'Tis why Kanryuu kept me as his possession. To keep his insanity, that corrupted, poor man."
Kanryuu? Poor? Considered a man? Battousai tried to enterprise through her shady depths, in search of some lingering humanity in those milky eyes. However, he found nothing but the reflection of his pain.
"How can you hold such compassion for everyone, no matter what faults they bare? How can a human bear the world's suffering?"
"It is my curse, my atonement. Your salvation. I will be your anchor to humanity. I will be your grip on reality. I will be your sheep."
"Yes, you do. You need it like every man who sheds blood. You need your humanity."
Tips of every finger traced the edges of the Battousai's desolate features, as if she was the blind in search for a mental picture. Blinded, mute, and deaf to all the elements, except her heart which she shed for his salvation, while hers was taken into death's palms.
"Under my palm, I feel your suffering. Hidden secret to the ones who eyes, yet apparent to the ones with the sight. Please tell me, Battousai. What is one thing your heart desires most? Respond not as the Battousai will, but Himura Kenshin, the man behind the mask."
Uncharacteristically, the manslayer tyrant savored the sweet skin against his own, which have been stained by the shower of blood, each and every time death was by his sword. Impulsively, as if the manslayer was under the nightingale's spellbound, he answered her with his childhood fantasy.
"To be loved."
"Then, Battousai, you will be loved, with the most I can offer. Please except this. Please will this to be yours. And I will always adore you. Cherish you. Love you. Because I fear this is the only thing that will keep you from a tyrant's insanity."
Could there be such a creature who would love a murderer? Then his thoughts drifted to the words of yore that passed her lips before, that her services were primarily for Kanryuu. For a man who once touched her . . .
At the very thought, his iron grip clenched the ivory silks, causing her to bruise like a porcelain doll, eyes were possessive amber hues.
"Promise me, under my reign, you will not serve another man, but me. You belong to me, and I alone. Understand?"
Tears found its shelter on the Battousai's crossed-shaped scar. Her tears. Then, she sealed her fate with a kiss upon the scar that held his suffrage and past.
"Love me, Nightingale. And I will keep you mine. Mine as Himura Kenshin. My name is Kenshin, for then you shall call me this."
Her response to his warmest phrase was the innocent of all smiles, it held adoration, adulation, and the roots of friendship.
"Hello, Kenshin. I am Kaoru. Let me be your friend. I hold knowledge that I am of imperfections, but I would adore it if you could except me as your companion."
It was at this very night the Hitokiri Battousai and the Nightingale vanished from existanced to be replaced by a man scared by his past and a woman who offer her heart to the manslayer, no matter the consequences. The night of eternal unity that would shatter the history of the worlds and break the glass barriers between two souls.
A/N: I know that was short, but I couldn't think of much for this scene. *cuddles Bishie doll* Maybe my tiny Kenshin Bishie doll would give me some inspiration.
Five Years Later . . .
*throws Kenshin Bishie to the ground* I can't think of anything, but shit!!! You useless piece of crap.
Kenshin Bishie: Oro.
A/N: Here it is again. Swallow it like a man. You man!
Disclaimer: It belongs to me, I swear it does. *looks over to Kenshin tied in ropes and taped around the mouth* Right, Kenshin? It doesn't, but hell, a girl can dream. It belongs to those rich and powerful people who made Rurouni Kenshin, and since I'm not rich or powerful, it ain't me. IT AIN'T ME!!!
Here the story goes . . .
"Plead me, plead me, whisper your troubles into mine, Feed me, feed me, quench the hunger they can't be surpressed."
The night was a buffet filled with the glory of emotions, of surprises, of bewitching. Here, stabled and solitary, was a lone figure against the firm walls of his room. Here, was where the Battousai merely rested, for sleep never comes to those who shed enough blood to overflow the world. There, the massive bed held no purpose, just capturing the moonlight with its velvet contours.
His head leaned to the wall, caring not of the discomfort, but of the mental nightmares that doesn't seize night after night. A continuous cycle of endless dreams that haunted the manslayer, that haunted his humanity. Words of babble and nonsense escaped his parched lips, sending obvious symbols of his mental wars. It was a discomfort, until a presense could be heard through the darkness of his nightmares.
Before her minute hand could touch any graph of skin, his reflexes seized the frail digits, nearly crushing them to filmy powder. A gasp could be heard, clearly not expecting another frightful act of violence from the man.
"Why must you bother me incessantly? Can there be peace and obedience from a slave?"
Innocently, her other hand caressed the callous grip upon hers, gently scraping his skin with her feathery touch. An invisible wind sending stalks of hair to rise from their natural graves. Then she raised her eyes to level with his, yet they held no fear or hatred, or some emotion akin to those two familiar factors. It was of compassion. Compassion tasted foreign to his lips, like a sweeter wine savored, yet not known as familiar to the tongue. At this thought, he turned away in disgust.
What is compassion to a man who thought of it as a weakness?
"You are suffering, my lord. Not from the cold or discomfort. But from the heart. You ail from nighmares. Battousai, let me console you. I am your slave, as you claim I am, let me bring you your salvation."
"I don't need help from anyone. My nightmares are of my own. Silence, woman. Keep your silence." His voice was a steel blade against the porcelain feel of a virgin's skin. Yet her expression was made of human emotions, of too much compassion and love towards all, that it was an act of immortality for mortals.
"Sleep, Battousai. Never shall you be lingered with these horrid dreams. Never shall you lay blaim for your mother's death."
Between the process of declaring such a decalaration, his head was brought to her lap, scarlet hair adorned by her faint hues in silk. The hand grazing soft comfort to his head, brushing the blood-stained tresses with her motherly touch. He look upward to her face, to captivate the moment of utter silence to find such a pain-stricken face that held such age-old pain, distorting her innocent curves to pitying eyes. Shortly, her breath grew short, as tears threatened to make an exit.
"You live in such pain. Such pain."
At that moment, his eyes widened at her words, unable to grasp the warmth stirring his heart and soul, for no one had played such a compassion act towards the legendary manslayer, a monster who lived to conquer and knew not of mercy for the ill-treated. It sent him such bittersweet anguish and emotions that the Battousai withered in confusion.
"How do you know this? What do you know of my pain, of how I killed my mother?"
"Because, as the nightingale, I ease your troubles, but in the process I accumulate your pain in return for your salvation. Your humanity for my suffrage. 'Tis why Kanryuu kept me as his possession. To keep his insanity, that corrupted, poor man."
Kanryuu? Poor? Considered a man? Battousai tried to enterprise through her shady depths, in search of some lingering humanity in those milky eyes. However, he found nothing but the reflection of his pain.
"How can you hold such compassion for everyone, no matter what faults they bare? How can a human bear the world's suffering?"
"It is my curse, my atonement. Your salvation. I will be your anchor to humanity. I will be your grip on reality. I will be your sheep."
"Yes, you do. You need it like every man who sheds blood. You need your humanity."
Tips of every finger traced the edges of the Battousai's desolate features, as if she was the blind in search for a mental picture. Blinded, mute, and deaf to all the elements, except her heart which she shed for his salvation, while hers was taken into death's palms.
"Under my palm, I feel your suffering. Hidden secret to the ones who eyes, yet apparent to the ones with the sight. Please tell me, Battousai. What is one thing your heart desires most? Respond not as the Battousai will, but Himura Kenshin, the man behind the mask."
Uncharacteristically, the manslayer tyrant savored the sweet skin against his own, which have been stained by the shower of blood, each and every time death was by his sword. Impulsively, as if the manslayer was under the nightingale's spellbound, he answered her with his childhood fantasy.
"To be loved."
"Then, Battousai, you will be loved, with the most I can offer. Please except this. Please will this to be yours. And I will always adore you. Cherish you. Love you. Because I fear this is the only thing that will keep you from a tyrant's insanity."
Could there be such a creature who would love a murderer? Then his thoughts drifted to the words of yore that passed her lips before, that her services were primarily for Kanryuu. For a man who once touched her . . .
At the very thought, his iron grip clenched the ivory silks, causing her to bruise like a porcelain doll, eyes were possessive amber hues.
"Promise me, under my reign, you will not serve another man, but me. You belong to me, and I alone. Understand?"
Tears found its shelter on the Battousai's crossed-shaped scar. Her tears. Then, she sealed her fate with a kiss upon the scar that held his suffrage and past.
"Love me, Nightingale. And I will keep you mine. Mine as Himura Kenshin. My name is Kenshin, for then you shall call me this."
Her response to his warmest phrase was the innocent of all smiles, it held adoration, adulation, and the roots of friendship.
"Hello, Kenshin. I am Kaoru. Let me be your friend. I hold knowledge that I am of imperfections, but I would adore it if you could except me as your companion."
It was at this very night the Hitokiri Battousai and the Nightingale vanished from existanced to be replaced by a man scared by his past and a woman who offer her heart to the manslayer, no matter the consequences. The night of eternal unity that would shatter the history of the worlds and break the glass barriers between two souls.
A/N: I know that was short, but I couldn't think of much for this scene. *cuddles Bishie doll* Maybe my tiny Kenshin Bishie doll would give me some inspiration.
Five Years Later . . .
*throws Kenshin Bishie to the ground* I can't think of anything, but shit!!! You useless piece of crap.
Kenshin Bishie: Oro.