Oriole was stargazing that warm evening when Grayfall approached her,
almost sheepish as he tried to smile, but looked more grim than anything.
She waved her good hand at him, letting him know he was welcome, and then
turned her eyes back to the sliver of moon dropping low in the navy blue
expanse of heavens.
He did not take a seat beside her, just stood nervously on the edge of the porch. "Oriole?"
"Yes?"
"Today, you said you could hold something that someone created, and tell me their emotions when they were making it."
"Correct."
"If I found something of my father's could you do that for me?"
She hesitated, knowing full well what the consequences might be. Having done this favor before for various people, she had learned that the consequences could be disastrous. Sometimes, they were angered by what they learned, and lashed out, and other times, they were relieved. She didn't know whether the risk was worth the reward, although she did want to ease up the flow of negative energy from Grayfall dramatically. It almost gave her a headache sometimes, the angst that flowed from him.
"If you don't...want to," he said quietly, disappointed, "I understand."
She looked up, saw he was turning to walk away, and gently called his name, beckoning for him to come back. "Grayfall, the things you learn may not be pleasant."
"The things I know now are not pleasant."
"Fine. If you really want this, retrieve me one of his personal items. Whenever you want to do it is fine for me."
He nodded, and said no more.
~~~~~
Grayfall figured that if Knives had been his father's employer, perhaps whatever personal items Legato had left behind were now with him. So, he decided to ask the man, but when he found that Knives was not home and Vash was too wrapped up in preparing for Meryl, he ventured into the twins' room alone, nearly shaking with nervousness. If they caught him...
He dropped to his knees at the closet door, sliding it back and peering into the dark recesses. There was a box of belongings in the back, and he carefully slid it out. There were some interesting objects inside, and though he wondered if some of the things could be Legato's he wasn't sure - until he came to a small, leather-bound book. Upon opening the cover, he saw, in a simple scrawl, Legato Bluesummers penned on the inside.
His heart nearly fluttered with excitement, and he clutched it to his chest, jumping up and hastening from the house. Certainly Oriole could work with this.
~~~~~
Knives was in a horribly fretful mood the next day, having suffered through the agonizing experience of watching his brother clean the house from top to bottom, humming good-naturedly and constantly reminding anyone who would listen, "Meryl is coming today!"
Didn't he know the woman wouldn't be the same?
Humorously enough, Knives considered himself the stronger twin, and looked upon Vash as if he was some fragile creature with an easily broken heart. Deep down, he loved his brother deeply, and was afraid that Meryl's visit would send him plummeting into a deep depression. Of course the human would be much older - twenty-years older, in fact, and would not be the same. And if the age didn't break down Vash's image and love of her, then the fact that she was married would. Well, or at least he assumed she was married. The return address said 'Harpers', and her name had been Stryfe. Yup, differently married.
On the other hand, things had been more quiet around the house lately. Stormie, realizing that Vash and Knives lacked the room, had invited Oriole and Grayfall to stay at her home for as long as was needed - forever, if they so desired. She certainly was a social creature.
Naoshi hadn't appeared at all...
It was night now.
The door bell rang and Vash squeaked in anticipation, excitedly scrambling towards the door and throwing it open. An image flashed before his eyes, and he saw young, beautiful Meryl, her black hair cropped short to her neck, blue eyes smiling and full of energy. He picked the short, dainty woman up in his arms and swung her around, shouting her name in exuberance.
But she only cried out in surprise with a voice that was not Meryl's, trying to push him away.
He dropped her in confusion and then heard a voice that WAS Meryl's calling his name, and a middle-aged woman launched herself into his arms, hugging him around the waist affectionately. "Vash!" she laughed. "Oh, Vash! I missed you!" She pulled away and held him at arm's length, head cocked to the side and a smile on her lips.
He looked at her blankly, realizing THIS was Meryl and the girl before was just someone who looked an awful lot like her, or at least a young version of her. The Meryl before him was in her late forties, small wrinkles creasing the skin at the corners of her bright, blue eyes, laugh lines developing around her mouth. She had gained a little weight, but it looked good on her, making her a little bit more curvy, and her hair had grown out shoulder-length, as well as being streaked with gray.
"H-hi, Meryl," he murmured, his throat suddenly dry, constricted.
Knives frowned painfully. It was just as he had feared.
"Gee," Meryl remarked wistfully, suddenly becoming self-conscious as she backed off to stand by the other young woman, "you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you. I suppose I look terribly old." When he said nothing, she laughed awkwardly. "Here, meet my daughter, Billy."
Billy smiled sarcastically. "We've met."
"Oh," said Meryl, now glancing over her shoulder as a tall, fair-skinned, blonde man came stumbling up the steps, loaded down with suitcases, "and this is my husband, Vincent."
~~~~~
Oriole leafed through the diary, a troubled expression on her face. Grayfall had given it to her earlier in the day, and she was trying to find something that would bring him comfort, but the only thing his father had seemed to write about was pain, suffering, anguish, betrayal, torture...
"What would you like to know about?" she asked nervously, glancing up at him. "Anything specific?"
"I want to know why I am here. Show me what he felt about my mother, what made it all happen." Grayfall stood in the doorway, his hand on the light switch, poised to darken the room. In the silence that followed, a blush heated his cheeks. "I mean, not HOW it happened, but what made it happen."
She smiled grimly at him. "Can you handle it? The details are pretty depressing."
He shrugged and flicked the lights off, letting shadows overtake the bedroom he was now residing in at Stormie's house, taking one faltering step after the other towards the young-looking woman sitting at the edge of his mattress. The bed dipped with his weight, and he looked at her, uncomfortable all the sudden with his decision, but deciding to go on with it anyhow. "How is this done?"
"Just relax. I'll do all the work." In the darkness, her lips lifted into a sincere smile, and she placed her mangled hand over his. "Close your eyes now..." Her own dark lashes drifted lazily to her pale cheeks, and her free fingers brushed the cover of the journal. "Now, just don't think about anything... Be silent, and patient, and always keep your eyes shut. Now, breathe...and let me take you there."
~~~~~
Heather, Grayfall's mother, was a bit on the plain side, her mousy brown hair always swept up into a tight bun, eyes dull gray, and features soft and fine. She was leaning towards being tall, and spindly thin, always looking tired and overworked from her double jobs and late night shifts. Now, she was scurrying around the small diner, trying to attend to all the ravenous customers, and looking very fed up with it all. She glanced at the clock, and the time read half past nine. One more hour, and she was done, free for the night.
The door swung open, bells chiming merrily, and a tall, deeply tanned man strode within, his broad shoulders sagging in exhaustion. His hair, a peculiar shade of blue, hung over one side of his face, cut from the other cheek by a strong nose and hiding one of his brilliant gold eyes. He wore a simple pair of gray jeans and a black turtleneck, the latter tight to show off lean, defined muscles in his arms and chest.
"Legato, sit down and I'll be over soon," Heather called over to him, smiling in relief. She quickly gave a family, a mother, father, and little boy, their meals and hurried over to where the twenty-something year old telepath was seated, looking very serious and very defeated. "Hey, are you ok?"
"Yes."
"Do you want something to eat?"
"No."
"You have to eat something. I'll get you a bowl of soup." She hurried off again, wiping her hands on her apron, and ladled him out a healthy portion of vegetable stew. Then, shuffling her aching feet, she returned to his table and set down his food. "We have a room open tonight for you. Will you be staying?"
He shook his head, looking sick. "I....can't."
"Why not?"
He stared listlessly into his soup. "I haven't the time."
"Please?"
His eyes lifted to meet hers briefly, and then he smiled, tenderly. "I will leave late, but I cannot sleep here tonight. When do you get off?"
"Very soon. Just wait for me a little."
And he did. Very patiently in fact, just sipping at his dinner until she arrived. Of course he suffered some grief for just drinking the broth and not consuming the meat or veggies, but he let himself be berated quietly, never raising a voice of complaint.
"Come on," she said when she was finished with her lecture, "let's get you to your room. Are you sure you're not sick? You haven't been eating too much lately, and you're looking a bit thin."
"I'm fine."
But when she glanced back at him as they mounted the stairs, she couldn't help but feel there was something wrong with him, like he was suffering some secret pain, and he didn't seem strong enough to prevail over it at the time. Legato loved food! Something horrible would have to be going on for him to give it up.
"Why don't you take a shower?" she suggested, handing him a bathrobe and towel. "You look a bit dusty from your travels."
He obediently nodded and ambled off into the bathroom.
~~~~~
When Legato emerged, dressed in the long, black bathrobe, Heather was still sitting on the small bed that he would be sleeping in that night. His long fingers ran through his wet hair nervously, and he gulped down a lump in his throat. They'd been through this before.
"Legato," she whispered, looking down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap, "you are really worrying me. Are you sick? In trouble? What's wrong?"
"It really is nothing," he murmured in a voice so soft, so melodious that it was beautiful. He gingerly sat down beside her, and took one of her hands in his one, palms still soft from when he had scrubbed them roughly with soap. "You should stop worrying about me."
"I...I can't," she admitted, nearly choking on sobs as tears spilled forth from her eyes, darkened to a bright silver in the dim room.
"Don't cry!" he commanded almost gruffly, his voice rough and seeming upset. His eyes glowed with fury, but it was not one of anger. "Don't cry," he repeated, this time in a soothing tone of voice, almost pleading.
"I...I can't stop!" she replied with more volume than she had intended, yelping when his hands tightened almost painfully over hers. "L- Legato...you're hurting me..."
"I know, I know," he hushed, beginning to cry now himself. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry..." And his hands left hers to cradle her face, bringing their foreheads together so that they touched gently, their tears mixing into joined rivers. His face tipped upward, lips meeting hers, and the kiss was so desperate it scared her.
She shied away from him, gasping.
Legato sighed heavily, slouching his position on the bed, hands in his lap, black robe sliding off one shoulder to reveal an ample amount of chest, crisscrossed with rugged scars. "Did I hurt you?" he inquired, biting his lip.
"No, no, no..." Her heart was ready to explode from the tenseness in the room. "Just a little...surprised, that's all."
"Well, goodnight then," he said, eyes trained on her, vivid and almost glowing yellow in the dark, much like a cat's.
But she didn't leave. She just stood there, fidgeting, and then sat back down beside him, nearly going dizzy and breathless in her nervousness. "Goodnight," she murmured, and leaned in to press her mouth firmly to his, keeping her eyes wide open, staring into his own. Legato took no time in running his tongue over her lower lip, and then nipping it sharply.
"You ok?" he asked, breath hot and labored on her face.
"Yeah," she whispered, and placed her hand to his bare chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart against her palm. His skin was still cool and slightly damp from the shower, mouth tasting of mint from the toothpaste, and water dripped from the strands of his still wet hair, running down her neck in rivulets. "But," she said, pulling away with a fickle smile, "I should go now."
"I know it's selfish to ask, but...please -" his eyes gleamed in the dusk. "Stay."
~~~~~
~*~Legato.~*~
It could only have been four in the morning, way too early to wake up and even climb out of bed.
~*~Knives?~*~
~*~Legato Bluesummers.~*~
A golden eye slid open in the early morning light, peering out at the opposite wall just past the foot of the bed. Heather, who had turned over and pressed her naked back firmly to his chest, was acting as something of a hot water bottle, heating up his body temperature and making his position under the covers toasty. No one would ever know how much he wanted to ignore that voice in his head, but he just couldn't.
~*~Legato, I am ashamed... How dare you tear down everything I have built up for one worthless night of impulses?! You have stripped yourself of all the purity I have bestowed upon you...~*~
Legato cringed inwardly, his nose nuzzling Heather's neck affectionately as he tried to drown out his Master's yells in his mind, but they were too loud, grating on his nerves, making his head pound. Already he was sensing a migraine.
~*~Legato, the time is near.~*~
He frowned, closing his eyes again.
~*~You cannot ignore me.~*~
Tears were building up behind his eyelids.
~*~I own you. My brother is waiting, and you must go to him to make the plan complete.~*~
He let the salty droplets slide down his cheeks.
~*~Get up. Get dressed. Get going. Those are not requests.~*~
~*~I know~*~ Legato replied, but he was numb inside. Untangling himself from the sleeping woman, he silently rose into the night-covered room and stood there, staring at Heather with eerie foreboding, and then bent and picked up his boxers, slipping them on, quickly followed by his pants. His shirt had been left in the bathroom, and on his way to retrieve it, he tripped over his carelessly discarded robe from the night before. But, with a groan, he persevered and found the garment, forcing it to fit over his head, forcing his arms to cooperate, and forcing himself not to let the regret wash over him like a tidal wave. But he had scarcely tugged on his boots when Heather awoke, pushing herself up in the bed with whatever strength she had left and squinting at him.
"Legato?" she asked shakily, as if her worst fears had been confirmed and he was walking out of her life forever.
And he was.
"Heather," he answered, sliding halfway out the door and pausing to linger there, gazing back at her. He smirked. "Hey, go back to sleep. You need rest."
"Where are you going?"
"I told you I had to be somewhere early."
"But...you know, I thought that...that maybe you could stay this time." Her hair was messy, cascading down over her bare shoulders. "You'll come back, right?"
"I will because I love you," he promised, but his heart broke at those words tumbling so carelessly from his lips. "Wait for me, Heather, I will," he lied, and he started to slide through the door the rest of the way. Maybe he had told her those things because he was in denial and that was what he truly wanted, or maybe because he couldn't bring himself to hurt her and needed to see her hopeful face, not her hurt, confused one. Maybe he somehow imagined that that he would find a way out of the whole mess and come back.
Gently, he closed the door, and the latch clicked shut.
~*~You know that this evening you will die.~*~
Either way, someone had every intention of never letting him come back.
~~~~~
Oriole pulled herself out of her trance, breaking away from the journal and the movie-like memories playing in her head, turning them off for Grayfall as well. As always, when coming out of such a sensation, she was foggy on her surroundings and a little confused, but just lay back and let her mind adjust. Slowly.
When she actually began to take notice of her position, she realized that somehow she had lied back on the bed, lop-sided across the comforter, and a heavy weight was draped over her body. Grayfall. He was a massive pressure on her small frame, his hands flat on either side of her head, face nestled into the crook of her neck. He seemed to have passed out...
"Grayfall," she said loudly, shaking his shoulders none too gently. He stirred and moaned a bit, then began to tremble. She let him lie still, ceasing in jarring him, and sucked in a deep breath, feeling crushed. "Grayfall, are you ok?"
He gripped the sheets in his fists, face still buried in his pillow, and began to tremble uncontrollably. She wondered if he was crying, his hopes shattered at the prospect of how he had come about, but in the next moment, when he pushed himself away from her, she saw only anger blazing in his expression. His teeth were gritted, a muscle in his jaw ticking dangerously.
He was ready to kill someone.
"Knives," he growled, and his voice was no longer soft and rich, just deep and animalistic. But there was something akin to betrayal laced in his tone as well. Rising dizzily, he moaned, "It was Knives the whole time!"
"Grayfall, don't be hasty," she advised, sitting up and glaring at his back.
He angrily stalked from the room, pace picking up as he went, quickening from a walk to a near run. His hand waved her back at her in a quick, furious gesture. "Just back off!" he screamed, voice raw with hurt, and fled the room, and soon after, the house.
She got up and worriedly dashed after him.
~~~~~
Keep on reviewing! Naoshi comes back in soon!
He did not take a seat beside her, just stood nervously on the edge of the porch. "Oriole?"
"Yes?"
"Today, you said you could hold something that someone created, and tell me their emotions when they were making it."
"Correct."
"If I found something of my father's could you do that for me?"
She hesitated, knowing full well what the consequences might be. Having done this favor before for various people, she had learned that the consequences could be disastrous. Sometimes, they were angered by what they learned, and lashed out, and other times, they were relieved. She didn't know whether the risk was worth the reward, although she did want to ease up the flow of negative energy from Grayfall dramatically. It almost gave her a headache sometimes, the angst that flowed from him.
"If you don't...want to," he said quietly, disappointed, "I understand."
She looked up, saw he was turning to walk away, and gently called his name, beckoning for him to come back. "Grayfall, the things you learn may not be pleasant."
"The things I know now are not pleasant."
"Fine. If you really want this, retrieve me one of his personal items. Whenever you want to do it is fine for me."
He nodded, and said no more.
~~~~~
Grayfall figured that if Knives had been his father's employer, perhaps whatever personal items Legato had left behind were now with him. So, he decided to ask the man, but when he found that Knives was not home and Vash was too wrapped up in preparing for Meryl, he ventured into the twins' room alone, nearly shaking with nervousness. If they caught him...
He dropped to his knees at the closet door, sliding it back and peering into the dark recesses. There was a box of belongings in the back, and he carefully slid it out. There were some interesting objects inside, and though he wondered if some of the things could be Legato's he wasn't sure - until he came to a small, leather-bound book. Upon opening the cover, he saw, in a simple scrawl, Legato Bluesummers penned on the inside.
His heart nearly fluttered with excitement, and he clutched it to his chest, jumping up and hastening from the house. Certainly Oriole could work with this.
~~~~~
Knives was in a horribly fretful mood the next day, having suffered through the agonizing experience of watching his brother clean the house from top to bottom, humming good-naturedly and constantly reminding anyone who would listen, "Meryl is coming today!"
Didn't he know the woman wouldn't be the same?
Humorously enough, Knives considered himself the stronger twin, and looked upon Vash as if he was some fragile creature with an easily broken heart. Deep down, he loved his brother deeply, and was afraid that Meryl's visit would send him plummeting into a deep depression. Of course the human would be much older - twenty-years older, in fact, and would not be the same. And if the age didn't break down Vash's image and love of her, then the fact that she was married would. Well, or at least he assumed she was married. The return address said 'Harpers', and her name had been Stryfe. Yup, differently married.
On the other hand, things had been more quiet around the house lately. Stormie, realizing that Vash and Knives lacked the room, had invited Oriole and Grayfall to stay at her home for as long as was needed - forever, if they so desired. She certainly was a social creature.
Naoshi hadn't appeared at all...
It was night now.
The door bell rang and Vash squeaked in anticipation, excitedly scrambling towards the door and throwing it open. An image flashed before his eyes, and he saw young, beautiful Meryl, her black hair cropped short to her neck, blue eyes smiling and full of energy. He picked the short, dainty woman up in his arms and swung her around, shouting her name in exuberance.
But she only cried out in surprise with a voice that was not Meryl's, trying to push him away.
He dropped her in confusion and then heard a voice that WAS Meryl's calling his name, and a middle-aged woman launched herself into his arms, hugging him around the waist affectionately. "Vash!" she laughed. "Oh, Vash! I missed you!" She pulled away and held him at arm's length, head cocked to the side and a smile on her lips.
He looked at her blankly, realizing THIS was Meryl and the girl before was just someone who looked an awful lot like her, or at least a young version of her. The Meryl before him was in her late forties, small wrinkles creasing the skin at the corners of her bright, blue eyes, laugh lines developing around her mouth. She had gained a little weight, but it looked good on her, making her a little bit more curvy, and her hair had grown out shoulder-length, as well as being streaked with gray.
"H-hi, Meryl," he murmured, his throat suddenly dry, constricted.
Knives frowned painfully. It was just as he had feared.
"Gee," Meryl remarked wistfully, suddenly becoming self-conscious as she backed off to stand by the other young woman, "you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you. I suppose I look terribly old." When he said nothing, she laughed awkwardly. "Here, meet my daughter, Billy."
Billy smiled sarcastically. "We've met."
"Oh," said Meryl, now glancing over her shoulder as a tall, fair-skinned, blonde man came stumbling up the steps, loaded down with suitcases, "and this is my husband, Vincent."
~~~~~
Oriole leafed through the diary, a troubled expression on her face. Grayfall had given it to her earlier in the day, and she was trying to find something that would bring him comfort, but the only thing his father had seemed to write about was pain, suffering, anguish, betrayal, torture...
"What would you like to know about?" she asked nervously, glancing up at him. "Anything specific?"
"I want to know why I am here. Show me what he felt about my mother, what made it all happen." Grayfall stood in the doorway, his hand on the light switch, poised to darken the room. In the silence that followed, a blush heated his cheeks. "I mean, not HOW it happened, but what made it happen."
She smiled grimly at him. "Can you handle it? The details are pretty depressing."
He shrugged and flicked the lights off, letting shadows overtake the bedroom he was now residing in at Stormie's house, taking one faltering step after the other towards the young-looking woman sitting at the edge of his mattress. The bed dipped with his weight, and he looked at her, uncomfortable all the sudden with his decision, but deciding to go on with it anyhow. "How is this done?"
"Just relax. I'll do all the work." In the darkness, her lips lifted into a sincere smile, and she placed her mangled hand over his. "Close your eyes now..." Her own dark lashes drifted lazily to her pale cheeks, and her free fingers brushed the cover of the journal. "Now, just don't think about anything... Be silent, and patient, and always keep your eyes shut. Now, breathe...and let me take you there."
~~~~~
Heather, Grayfall's mother, was a bit on the plain side, her mousy brown hair always swept up into a tight bun, eyes dull gray, and features soft and fine. She was leaning towards being tall, and spindly thin, always looking tired and overworked from her double jobs and late night shifts. Now, she was scurrying around the small diner, trying to attend to all the ravenous customers, and looking very fed up with it all. She glanced at the clock, and the time read half past nine. One more hour, and she was done, free for the night.
The door swung open, bells chiming merrily, and a tall, deeply tanned man strode within, his broad shoulders sagging in exhaustion. His hair, a peculiar shade of blue, hung over one side of his face, cut from the other cheek by a strong nose and hiding one of his brilliant gold eyes. He wore a simple pair of gray jeans and a black turtleneck, the latter tight to show off lean, defined muscles in his arms and chest.
"Legato, sit down and I'll be over soon," Heather called over to him, smiling in relief. She quickly gave a family, a mother, father, and little boy, their meals and hurried over to where the twenty-something year old telepath was seated, looking very serious and very defeated. "Hey, are you ok?"
"Yes."
"Do you want something to eat?"
"No."
"You have to eat something. I'll get you a bowl of soup." She hurried off again, wiping her hands on her apron, and ladled him out a healthy portion of vegetable stew. Then, shuffling her aching feet, she returned to his table and set down his food. "We have a room open tonight for you. Will you be staying?"
He shook his head, looking sick. "I....can't."
"Why not?"
He stared listlessly into his soup. "I haven't the time."
"Please?"
His eyes lifted to meet hers briefly, and then he smiled, tenderly. "I will leave late, but I cannot sleep here tonight. When do you get off?"
"Very soon. Just wait for me a little."
And he did. Very patiently in fact, just sipping at his dinner until she arrived. Of course he suffered some grief for just drinking the broth and not consuming the meat or veggies, but he let himself be berated quietly, never raising a voice of complaint.
"Come on," she said when she was finished with her lecture, "let's get you to your room. Are you sure you're not sick? You haven't been eating too much lately, and you're looking a bit thin."
"I'm fine."
But when she glanced back at him as they mounted the stairs, she couldn't help but feel there was something wrong with him, like he was suffering some secret pain, and he didn't seem strong enough to prevail over it at the time. Legato loved food! Something horrible would have to be going on for him to give it up.
"Why don't you take a shower?" she suggested, handing him a bathrobe and towel. "You look a bit dusty from your travels."
He obediently nodded and ambled off into the bathroom.
~~~~~
When Legato emerged, dressed in the long, black bathrobe, Heather was still sitting on the small bed that he would be sleeping in that night. His long fingers ran through his wet hair nervously, and he gulped down a lump in his throat. They'd been through this before.
"Legato," she whispered, looking down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap, "you are really worrying me. Are you sick? In trouble? What's wrong?"
"It really is nothing," he murmured in a voice so soft, so melodious that it was beautiful. He gingerly sat down beside her, and took one of her hands in his one, palms still soft from when he had scrubbed them roughly with soap. "You should stop worrying about me."
"I...I can't," she admitted, nearly choking on sobs as tears spilled forth from her eyes, darkened to a bright silver in the dim room.
"Don't cry!" he commanded almost gruffly, his voice rough and seeming upset. His eyes glowed with fury, but it was not one of anger. "Don't cry," he repeated, this time in a soothing tone of voice, almost pleading.
"I...I can't stop!" she replied with more volume than she had intended, yelping when his hands tightened almost painfully over hers. "L- Legato...you're hurting me..."
"I know, I know," he hushed, beginning to cry now himself. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry..." And his hands left hers to cradle her face, bringing their foreheads together so that they touched gently, their tears mixing into joined rivers. His face tipped upward, lips meeting hers, and the kiss was so desperate it scared her.
She shied away from him, gasping.
Legato sighed heavily, slouching his position on the bed, hands in his lap, black robe sliding off one shoulder to reveal an ample amount of chest, crisscrossed with rugged scars. "Did I hurt you?" he inquired, biting his lip.
"No, no, no..." Her heart was ready to explode from the tenseness in the room. "Just a little...surprised, that's all."
"Well, goodnight then," he said, eyes trained on her, vivid and almost glowing yellow in the dark, much like a cat's.
But she didn't leave. She just stood there, fidgeting, and then sat back down beside him, nearly going dizzy and breathless in her nervousness. "Goodnight," she murmured, and leaned in to press her mouth firmly to his, keeping her eyes wide open, staring into his own. Legato took no time in running his tongue over her lower lip, and then nipping it sharply.
"You ok?" he asked, breath hot and labored on her face.
"Yeah," she whispered, and placed her hand to his bare chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart against her palm. His skin was still cool and slightly damp from the shower, mouth tasting of mint from the toothpaste, and water dripped from the strands of his still wet hair, running down her neck in rivulets. "But," she said, pulling away with a fickle smile, "I should go now."
"I know it's selfish to ask, but...please -" his eyes gleamed in the dusk. "Stay."
~~~~~
~*~Legato.~*~
It could only have been four in the morning, way too early to wake up and even climb out of bed.
~*~Knives?~*~
~*~Legato Bluesummers.~*~
A golden eye slid open in the early morning light, peering out at the opposite wall just past the foot of the bed. Heather, who had turned over and pressed her naked back firmly to his chest, was acting as something of a hot water bottle, heating up his body temperature and making his position under the covers toasty. No one would ever know how much he wanted to ignore that voice in his head, but he just couldn't.
~*~Legato, I am ashamed... How dare you tear down everything I have built up for one worthless night of impulses?! You have stripped yourself of all the purity I have bestowed upon you...~*~
Legato cringed inwardly, his nose nuzzling Heather's neck affectionately as he tried to drown out his Master's yells in his mind, but they were too loud, grating on his nerves, making his head pound. Already he was sensing a migraine.
~*~Legato, the time is near.~*~
He frowned, closing his eyes again.
~*~You cannot ignore me.~*~
Tears were building up behind his eyelids.
~*~I own you. My brother is waiting, and you must go to him to make the plan complete.~*~
He let the salty droplets slide down his cheeks.
~*~Get up. Get dressed. Get going. Those are not requests.~*~
~*~I know~*~ Legato replied, but he was numb inside. Untangling himself from the sleeping woman, he silently rose into the night-covered room and stood there, staring at Heather with eerie foreboding, and then bent and picked up his boxers, slipping them on, quickly followed by his pants. His shirt had been left in the bathroom, and on his way to retrieve it, he tripped over his carelessly discarded robe from the night before. But, with a groan, he persevered and found the garment, forcing it to fit over his head, forcing his arms to cooperate, and forcing himself not to let the regret wash over him like a tidal wave. But he had scarcely tugged on his boots when Heather awoke, pushing herself up in the bed with whatever strength she had left and squinting at him.
"Legato?" she asked shakily, as if her worst fears had been confirmed and he was walking out of her life forever.
And he was.
"Heather," he answered, sliding halfway out the door and pausing to linger there, gazing back at her. He smirked. "Hey, go back to sleep. You need rest."
"Where are you going?"
"I told you I had to be somewhere early."
"But...you know, I thought that...that maybe you could stay this time." Her hair was messy, cascading down over her bare shoulders. "You'll come back, right?"
"I will because I love you," he promised, but his heart broke at those words tumbling so carelessly from his lips. "Wait for me, Heather, I will," he lied, and he started to slide through the door the rest of the way. Maybe he had told her those things because he was in denial and that was what he truly wanted, or maybe because he couldn't bring himself to hurt her and needed to see her hopeful face, not her hurt, confused one. Maybe he somehow imagined that that he would find a way out of the whole mess and come back.
Gently, he closed the door, and the latch clicked shut.
~*~You know that this evening you will die.~*~
Either way, someone had every intention of never letting him come back.
~~~~~
Oriole pulled herself out of her trance, breaking away from the journal and the movie-like memories playing in her head, turning them off for Grayfall as well. As always, when coming out of such a sensation, she was foggy on her surroundings and a little confused, but just lay back and let her mind adjust. Slowly.
When she actually began to take notice of her position, she realized that somehow she had lied back on the bed, lop-sided across the comforter, and a heavy weight was draped over her body. Grayfall. He was a massive pressure on her small frame, his hands flat on either side of her head, face nestled into the crook of her neck. He seemed to have passed out...
"Grayfall," she said loudly, shaking his shoulders none too gently. He stirred and moaned a bit, then began to tremble. She let him lie still, ceasing in jarring him, and sucked in a deep breath, feeling crushed. "Grayfall, are you ok?"
He gripped the sheets in his fists, face still buried in his pillow, and began to tremble uncontrollably. She wondered if he was crying, his hopes shattered at the prospect of how he had come about, but in the next moment, when he pushed himself away from her, she saw only anger blazing in his expression. His teeth were gritted, a muscle in his jaw ticking dangerously.
He was ready to kill someone.
"Knives," he growled, and his voice was no longer soft and rich, just deep and animalistic. But there was something akin to betrayal laced in his tone as well. Rising dizzily, he moaned, "It was Knives the whole time!"
"Grayfall, don't be hasty," she advised, sitting up and glaring at his back.
He angrily stalked from the room, pace picking up as he went, quickening from a walk to a near run. His hand waved her back at her in a quick, furious gesture. "Just back off!" he screamed, voice raw with hurt, and fled the room, and soon after, the house.
She got up and worriedly dashed after him.
~~~~~
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