So i had this revelation. Some people are good at writing emotional scenes. I'm not. But i Do have a gift for symbolism. So rather than trying to make this emotional, i instead focused on mood and symbolism. The finished product, while not really as immersive as i would prefer, actually sounds quite 'professional;' something i would expect to read in a highschool english class. The problem with relying on symbolism is that everything has to be perfect. Each simile/metaphor MUST be symbolic as well otherwise the poor reader won't know a real symbol when they see one or will mistake regular crap for symbolism. So that basically means that these types of chapters will take a LOONG ass time to write. s'fun though.
My goal with this chapter is to show that Raven is sick of fighting and subconsciously wishes to die, and also to make the reader hate Patch.
Also, i've read other fan fics and i find that usually when Raven is annoyed by someone's concern for her its because she is in love with them but won't admit it to herself (usually with Beast Boy of course). i will stress here that RAVEN DOES NOT SUBCONSCIOUSLY LOVE PATCH. Patch's feelings however, remain to be seen. all we know so far is that he is unusually vulnerable to her.
Btw, this chapter marks the beginning of the sexual tension which will define the romantic aspect of the story. Since sexual tension is indeed an even combination of Angst and Romance, im changing the genre back to Angst/Romance.
Chapter 6: The Dark Rose
The dim flickering light cast long dancing shadows in the grooves of the mangled willow branches. It looked as if each dead branch had become half alive with hundreds of dark fingers that reached out and retracted as they fought to consume the lifeless shell of a tree completely. The only sources of light were two lanterns hanging from the ceiling. One was an inconspicuous solitary round ball, elongated slightly so that it looked like a dried flower bud, hollowed out to create a space for a lone candle. Across the room hung the other, an intricate two-tiered beast of a lantern, which drew all attention to itself, away from the lonely sphere opposite it. The top tier was a hollowed hemisphere with two giant horns on top and floor-pointing fangs on the bottom. Hanging beneath it was a smaller pit which held a ring of upward pointing fangs surrounding a second candle. The light of this candle shined up into the upper dome and reflected out of the eyes which had been bored into the beast's head. All in all, the lantern had the look of an enraged demon about to swallow a candle in its fang-filled mouth.
And in between these antipodes was a sharp unfriendly deep violet pathway which leads to a rounded, low-rising bed, the only serene furnishing in a room full of aggressive angular corners. Upon this bed lay Raven, sprawled on her back, staring up at the battle of light and dark which played itself out upon her dried willow branches. Most would not wish to live in such a dark and horrific room but she had always been partial to such surroundings. The outside world with its events and people was unpredictable and stirring in ways that rallied Raven's emotions to move against her. In the dark she found solace in the constant void that wanted nothing more from her than to lull her into a numb oblivion, a place where she could truly be at rest. The horrific was her ally as well; the adrenaline of fear had its own numbing effect and as such, she often felt more at peace in horrific surroundings than in any other more serene space.
She had decorated her room accordingly. Of all places, only her room passively blocked her emotions for her, and allowed her to find actual sanctuary from her otherwise constant battle. It was only in her room that she could ever achieve restful sleep. This was why she had never let anyone inside. To grant entrance to any outside entity would defile the sanctity of her final citadel. It would only take the association of one or two strongly emotive memories to ruin the feel of the room completely. After all, darkness is such that it flees from light.
As she watched her willow branches, she reflected on the night's meditation which she had just concluded not ten minutes ago. She had finally recovered from the beating Anger and Despair had given her tonight. It was all that fool's fault; he and his overpowering warmth had made her life hell for the past twenty four hours. And now he will be staying here for who knows how long.
His personality was irritating; the way he blended kindness with arrogance, as if he felt he was king of all humans and therefore had an obligation to care for his underlings. More irritating was his capability of eliciting resentment and somehow finding a way to manipulate others into silent grudging tolerance. She and Robin had both fallen victim to that gift. And yet it always seemed as if he was only trying to help. She had noticed this particularly in the way in which he treated her. Just about every word he had spoken to her had been an offer to make her life easier. Her continued politeness towards him had been largely due to that fact. Then again, it was not unlikely that the act was all part of his 'grudging tolerance' gift.
His qualities were infuriating, yes, but the true reason she could not stand him, she realized, was that aura of warmth that followed him wherever he stood. From her meditation, she had discovered that the warmth was joy, and he reeked of it. Her absence of emotion of her own had left her with the gift of empathy. She was used to being able to sense the emotions of others, particularly if they were strong, but she had never felt anything as strong as the joy which radiated from Patch. It was as if his thin frame could not contain the wellspring and it overflowed out from his pores, his words, his movements…
…And those eyes.
She suddenly found herself faced again with his sparkling green soul stealers. He was staring at her again, tugging at her will to carry on the fight that she had waged since birth. What was it about his eyes that made her want to surrender herself to impulse, and abandon her resolve which had kept the universe alive thus far? Was it that he himself seemed so carefree, even in his apparent concern for her 'toxemia?' Was it that the joy which he imparted unto everything he looked at made her wish she was in such a position as to bask in it; or perhaps achieve it herself? Or was it just that she so much wanted to destroy him for being everything that she could not? Or was it simply that she wished to destroy the universe, whose continued existence was the very stake of her strife?
Whatever it was, she found his eyes to be an unwelcome haunting in the sanctity of her room. She sat up and held her forehead in her palms. As she swiveled her feet effortlessly off the bed, she thought back to the plight her muscles had suffered that morning and realized that Patch's damned fruit truly had helped to push the burden through. The thought brought her back to that morning, when he was pleading with her, and it only served to strengthen the bright green image in her mind.
She stood up and walked to face her dresser mirror. There she saw the familiar pale morbid face that she had become accustomed to seeing every morning. It stood in stark contrast, her dull, lifeless complexion, to his bright sparkle. Her ashy visage helped to ground her and she began feeling more like herself. She soon noticed that she looked slightly paler and a bit closer to death than usual. Her hair was a sweat encrusted mess and her listless eyes betrayed her exhaustion. She noticed too that her cloak seemed to be clinging to her back. It was still early so she decided she should take her shower tonight, lest the running water wake the others tomorrow morning and preclude her pre-dawn meditation.
She stared into the mirror a few moments longer to be sure his gaze had truly left her and then turned and walked the ten paces to her door. Without looking, she reached for the console and lightly pressed an oversized button and the door zipped open.
She promptly jumped back with a girlish yelp. Standing in the doorway was Patch, with his left hand holding a tall glass of water and his right fist up in preparation for a knock. Despite the abrupt meeting and Raven's frightened yelp, he did not seem startled.
"You OK?"
His voice was soft and respectful. He waited patiently for Raven to recover from her initial shock.
"What are you doing here."
She was still shocked enough that her voice did not carry the menace she had intended.
"I wanted to give you something."
Her initial jump had caused her to retreat far enough into her room that he had no trouble walking past her. He apparently had no manners whatsoever. She trembled with repressed anger as she watched him walk deeper into her room.
"Today at the market, something caught my eye."
He put the glass on the dresser and it knocked softly, the only sound in the otherwise silent room. He reached into his side pocket and spoke without facing her.
"It reminded me of you."
He pulled out a cylinder of thick plastic wrap and began carefully unwrapping it where she couldn't see. She was boiling. HE was in her room. She knew that if she spoke she would lose her temper and so she just stood there in silence and tried with all her will to calm herself down. She closed her eyes and faced the ceiling as she consciously relaxed each muscle in her body.
"I couldn't resist." He continued, having finished unwrapping whatever it was he was unwrapping. "I had to save it. It would surely have been bought by some depraved necrophile only to be left to rot on a shelf once the novelty had faded."
Raven finally recovered enough to speak safely.
"Aren't you noble." She growled.
He turned finally and looked at her with a pinch of hurt. Held delicately between his thumb and fingertips was a thin stem consummating in a lone dark blue rosebud. He soon stretched his smile and chuckled. He looked down at the bud and rotated it carefully with his fingers.
"The shopkeeper wanted to strip the thorns but I felt it deserved to retain at least some of its dignity."
He looked up at her fondly and laughed a little harder than before.
"Besides, what's a rose without thorns?"
His voice was full of benevolence and respect but she couldn't help but feel patronized. He turned away from her again and mindfully placed the stem into the glass. Raven grit her teeth and began to tremble again at his brashness and arrogance.
"A rose knows what it wants, to be beautiful." He mused. "To try and tame it only distracts it from its purpose."
He looked tenderly at the flower and affectionately stroked its bud.
"Some ass decided to embalm this unborn rose with an infernal dye that represses its natural life processes."
His voice had become reflective and very gentle, as if he was talking to himself- or perhaps to the flower.
"While most flowers reach their goal and wither gracefully, this one is now damned to remain in this state until the dye itself eventually suffocates it."
He began gently stroking the stem, weary of the thorns, as if he was amazed that the flower could stand on its own.
"All the meddling in the world will not bring this flower back."
He pulled his sack by the strap until it hung at his side. He reached in and stared forlornly at the bud as he dug for something.
"However, while the sleeping flower may not realize it, she is determined to break free of her dark restraint."
He produced a finger sized green vial and untwisted the cap slowly.
"All we can do is ensure that she has the ideal environment…"
He poured a portion of the contents slowly into the glass. The water glowed green.
"…and everything she needs to blossom on her own."
He replaced the cap and set the vial down deliberately next to the glass, then turned to finally face her. His expression was such that it seemed as if he was waiting for her to speak. She was still in the same spot she had been in since he entered and she was fuming. She realized finally what he had been up to all along- being extra helpful to her, showing her respect, trying to subjugate her, and now giving her a rose and reciting lame poetry. He was trying to pick her up. She felt Anger begin to claw at her chest from the inside out. Was he really that stupid? Doesn't he understand that she can't return affections of any kind? All the suffering he had caused her had all been in the name of his hopeless fantasy!
She suddenly lost all anger and grabbed her head as she felt it split with pounding pain. It felt as if she was having contractions in her brain. She became completely exhausted all at once and had difficulty keeping her knees straight. Something bulky built in her throat and wished to be squeezed out of her mouth but with what little bearings she had left she fought its escape. She felt herself sway once to each side and then her knees buckled. The world spun and her senses dulled but she never hit the ground, instead landing into a comforting sleep. Her entire body was numb with warmth and her field of view was fluffy and white. The white faded steadily to black but the warmth continued to increase. She was floating and was very disoriented but she felt herself becoming more and more aware as each second passed, as the white was further reclaimed by darkness.
Finally, she realized her eyes were closed. She struggled halfheartedly against the warm paralysis to awaken. She finally found control of her eyes and opened them slowly. The black which had been expanding in her vision was suddenly replaced by a bright vibrant green. She realized that she was in his arms but in her dreamlike state she was not fully aware of the consequences. For a moment she let his warmth cradle her and allowed herself to pretend she was a fairytale princess who had been swept off her feet and would never have to worry about anything again.
A familiar demonic stirring within her reminded her of who she really was.
"IDIOT!"
In a rush of cold that began in her chest and quickly consumed her extremities, she exploded into full awareness. She sprang from him by throwing all her newly found tension between them. She saw his concerned face speed away from her for an instant until she impacted something and her vision flashed yellow, then went black. Her head was spasming again but she fought hard this time to retain consciousness. Her vision gradually returned and she saw him kneeling on the floor only three feet away from her. He still wore the same expression of concern and had apparently not moved from where he caught her. His smile was gone.
She realized that his eyes were on her again, more intently than ever before, and she was backed against the door frame. She felt her anger begin to return. She closed her eyes and focused on controlling her trembling. When she was satisfied, she opened them slowly into a glare.
"Get out." She managed carefully, between clenched teeth.
He tortured her a moment longer then looked to the floor and sighed. It was then that she noticed how he stood out as a neon green astral being against the dreary backdrop of her room. He was a bright contagion to the dark essence of every possession of hers and the sooner he was out the better. He stood up and spoke quietly.
"Is there anything I can-"
"NOW!!" She screamed in a voice that was only half hers.
Several drawers flew out of her dresser and the aging globe beside her exploded into a cloud of dust. There was silence as the dust settled gradually and the unlikely pair faced off in the dim flickering light, rage against concern, revoltion against devotion, darkness against light.
Patch looked to the ground and sighed quietly. He kneeled and Raven heard the gentle tinkling of glass shards as he picked up the glass and the rose, both of which had somehow fallen since he had placed them on her dresser. He placed the glass onto the dresser. The mouth had been shattered but the sturdy base had survived intact. He gingerly placed the bewitched flower into the glass and turned to face the door. Raven looked down at the ground, eyes trembling with frustration, and waited for him to leave. She heard his footsteps walking solemnly toward her. It seemed as if he was in no hurry. When he finally made it to where she was sitting, he stopped in the frame of the door and bent over, his hand reaching to the floor. He set the vial down deliberately next to Raven, straightened, and left the room without a word.
Raven remained sitting against the door frame, looking in at her room. She saw no reason to move. Everywhere was overturned furniture and splintered wood. Her dresser mirror was cracked and her books were scattered, some closed and some open, all over the floor. Her two lanterns were swaying back and forth. The round one was rocking gently, creaking as it moved. The candle inside seemed to benefit from the aeration provided by the motion. The elaborate one traced a wide spiral like a winding down tornado, as if it had been responsible for the mess beneath it. With Patch's brightness gone, she finally noticed the strange shadow-play caused by the swinging candles. Despite the action all around her, she felt a post-climactic loneliness.
With a thump she brought her head to rest on the door frame. The brunt of her headache had left the room with Patch. Such a foolish dreamer he was, and yet…
She suddenly became exhausted as she realized she can never experience romantic courtship. Such fantasies are for those souls who are not damned. She was above such infantile games anyway. Romance is for those who wish futily that life is more beautiful than it truly is. The desire for a mate is nothing more than the last resort of a fractured and frightened ego which needs to find justification for its very existence in the kind words of an infatuated and equally hopeless imbecile. Such games are for psychotic idiots. She knew who she was and didn't need any half-wit rose-colored flattery.
They're all hopeless, including him. None of them can possibly understand her - they can't even define themselves without referencing equally defective outside sources. She was too different from all of them. Patch was clever, sure, but such a strongly emotive person could never comprehend her. It would be like trying to explain the desert to a goldfish; words fail completely and experience is more destructive than instructive. He had made a valiant effort but the evil in her had pushed him away- and wrecked her room as well.
She was still in a state of partial disbelief at what had happened mere minutes ago. Her room was a mess, as if by a natural disaster; her head ached dully in the aftermath of the spasms, much as a bell would continue to drone lightly from a long bygone striking. Despite her weariness, she would have to meditate again before bed- she could not safely sleep in the shaken state she was in.
She stood up slowly, determined not to use the wall for support. Besides the mess, her room had been defiled and the mood was tainted with brightness. She picked her way carefully through the debris towards her bed. Everything felt foreign, as if she was no longer home, but in some sort of alien dream world. She stopped walking suddenly as she felt dark activity inside of her. She closed her eyes and turned her focus inward to confirm her fear: Trigon was stirring with new found vigor.
He must have been further aroused when she had lost consciousness, or perhaps when she had yelled at Patch. That meddling fool! He was so grossly incompetent that he had only made her suffer more! And now in this critical period he would surely only agitate her further as he continued to stay here. The time for tact was over. As soon as she was clear-headed enough to face him she would have to tell him boldly and absolutely to leave and never come back. In the mean time she would have to distance herself from the other idiots until the situation was under control.
She tucked herself into a floating lotus right there in the ruins of her room and sought to study Trigon more closely. As she had suspected, he was a swift learner; he was roused enough to invade both her angry and timid personalities, which had been becoming steadily more vulnerable to his influence everyday due to the increasing power of Anger and Despair, and yet he held back. Apparently he remembered his previous defeat and decided to bide his time so that he may become more powerful from further emotional turbulence and invade multiple sides of her personality simultaneously. For each that he commanded he would be that much more powerful with it and she that much weaker without it.
Feeling the immortal evil inside her, she opened her eyes and looked to the dark bulb sitting high and solitary upon its fragile thorny column. She wondered if there truly was an entity within it which desired to break free of its curse. It looked so morbid and still on the outside- could it really be so alive and tortured on the inside? Throughout her life she had seen people take ill or go missing and always some desperate romantic would claim that a miracle could still alter fate; and yet, time and time again, these miracles failed to materialize. Looking at the flower, she saw just another casualty of harsh reality. She knew that no matter how hard anyone hoped, truth was not sympathetic.
The thought calmed her. She was back in familiar territory and knew exactly how to proceed next. She closed her eyes again, sought her center, and prepared herself for another beating.
**********[end of chapter 6]**********
Next time: Patch has to go, Samus beats JigglyPuff, Starfire wags her finger, Robin gives in to Starfire's panties and Raven almost loses her lunch.
Review Responses:
evil reviewer #4:
Wow, thanks for all that. I'm glad you appreciate my style and i agree that most of these fics are crap. I didn't notice, however anyone telling me my fic was crap. I personally don't like my style. It's not an issue of confidence, it's just that i tried to achieve a particular style and failed (even if the result is still something you happen to like). I don't think it's so much the fault of the reviewers as much as it's the fault of all the great fanfics i have read (there are alot of gems in the Chrono Cross section). Don't worry about me too much; the reviewers don't get to me cuz i've figured out their game. At first i had "Romance" as the genre and i got 2 or 3 reviews a day. Since i've changed it, i got a review every other day. It seems most readers don't come on for a story but rather to see their favorite character pairings happen. That's why i don't expect them to be happy with my story. Besides that, the reviewers don't really get to me cuz this story isn't for them- it's really written for Raven. I have a thing for tragic characters like hamlet, magus (chrono trigger), frankenstein, batman, etc so this story is really just my way of giving her a happy ending. in a way, im no better than the reviewers, using fiction as a way to see something happen that i will never see on TV, a happy ending for Raven.
And Cyborg bothers me too. I really find myself struggling to keep him in character and, like you, i can't quite put my finger on what im doing wrong. If you ever manage to get your finger on it, lemme know. And im very glad you dislike Patch. I was noticing a few reviewers liked him and i was wondering what the hell i was doing wrong. Thanks for the review; it was really encouraging and the most helpful thus far (as is your specialty).