Of Fairy Tales and Dreams...
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, when man was still very young, there lived a woman high up in a castle that rested among the clouds, far, far away.
This woman they called Grandmother, although she had no children, and never seemed to age. But her kindness was infinite, and her love boundless, and she would never turn away a soul in need.
"I suppose next you'll tell me she had a knack for baking chocolate chip cookies."
"Be quiet and listen to the story."
Now one fateful day, when the winds blew portentously about the rolling hills of sand, Grandmother found a pair of twins in the desert, cold and alone amidst the wasteland. And so she took them to her castle in the sky to care for them.
They were beautiful and perfect, as any mother would wish in a child, with silvery blonde hair and soulful, expressive blue eyes that seemed to go on forever. One was the embodiment of joy and happiness, ever reveling in the fact that he was alive. The other was quieter, more reticent, but nonetheless just as beautiful. He rarely spoke to any but his brother, and almost never smiled. He personified the aspect of sorrow, ever conscious of the fact that he would someday die.
But she loved them both dearly, as only a mother could, never giving one more love than the other.
"That's a lie."
"I beg your pardon?"
"This 'equal love' business. She always liked the cheerful one better."
"It's only a story, Knives."
"Stories always have a grain of truth in them somewhere." Knives scowled fitfully. "Humanity was never creative enough to make up their own without basing it on something they'd seen before."
Meryl sighed and returned to the tale. It was an old one, something passed down from her mother, and her mother's mother before her. It was an ancient legend that had been around for as long as anyone could remember.
"Who were they, Mama?" she remembered asking her mother, curious as children are wont to be at that age. "Were they gods who lived in the sky?"
"Now, child, you know there's only one god out there," her mother had gently admonished her. "Remember what the priest told you at church."
Even back then, Meryl had had great doubt in the infallibility of priests and their church. In retrospect, she supposed that Wolfwood had been the final confirmation of something she had suspected for a very, very long time.
"But then why did they live in the sky? I thought only God did that."
"They were around a long time before God was, honey." Her mother had smiled sadly, but Meryl had never understood why. "Before man had grown old and lost his wings."
"Were we angels then?"
"We were more than angels once, sweetheart. We owned the sky."
One day, the somber twin approached Grandmother, asking a boon. "I wish to travel the world," he beseeched her, "and see the five moons of the sky from the ground. I wish to know the ways of those who dwell below us, and of those who creep along the sands of the earth."
Grandmother looked at him sadly, knowing that this day would come. "Do you truly wish this, my son?" she asked him quietly. "You have lived a peaceful life, protected by the clouds and the skies. You have neither experienced pain nor suffering, and the world is full of harsh and sorrowful things."
"I am ready," the somber twin affirmed, determined to see his journey through.
Grandmother sighed, knowing that no amount of pleading or begging would move him, once his mind was set. "Very well, then. Take your brother and roam the lands. Learn all that you can, and you may return here one year hence."
Before the brothers left, she gave them swords of shining fury, of bright light that would protect them if ever they were in need. Only they and they alone could wield them, one of white fiery metal, as gleaming and silvery as the moons, the other of blackest steel, darker than the fields of the starry night sky.
"Use these only for your own protection," she told them firmly. "Never stray from the path set before you, and always travel together. And never, ever take away the gift of life."
"Yes, Grandmother," they replied dutifully. As they turned to go, Grandmother offered the somber twin one last bit of wisdom from her lips.
"Do not become discouraged, my sorrowful one," she whispered gently. "You will find much evil in the world, but do not let it overshadow the good that you will find along the way."
Perhaps he did not believe her, or perhaps the wind blew the words away before they could reach his ears. Who knows what would have have come to pass had he heeded them? In the end, it may not have made a difference.
"This is a waste of time," Knives told her bluntly.
"It wasn't my idea," Meryl said in her defense. "Blame your brother. He's the one who thought it'd be a great idea to start telling you fairy tales before your bedtime."
"In the hopes that I'd mistake you for some mother figure, lulling me to sleep?" Knives scoffed in a mocking tone. "He can't possibly be that stupid."
"No, but he's very optimistic, which sometimes amounts to the same thing," Meryl pointed out. Personally she thought Millie would have made a better candidate for fostering motherly tendencies, but Vash had insisted for some reason that Meryl do it instead.
The only maternal instinct Meryl possessed, as far as she could see, was the one that manifested whenever a mother caught her boy at something he shouldn't be doing, or, worse yet, doing something that no one in their right mind would ever think of doing in a thousand years.
In other words, she possessed the irrepressible instinct to whack the idiot upside the head for being stupid.
Although, she mused as she looked at Knives again, in this particular case it might be the appropriate response. Maybe Vash did know what he was doing after all.
She suddenly chuckled, to the vast confusion and irritation of her patient, who glowered at her. "Humans," he muttered to himself, turning away in disgust.
She chose not to share her thought with Knives, feeling correctly that he would not have appreciated it.
When did Vash ever know what he was doing, anyway?
"Damn lucky, that's all," she murmured under her breath before continuing to retell the ancient fairy tale to an uncaring audience.
*****************
The dream began, as it always had.
"Rem!"
He could almost see her. The woman who had made all the difference in his life.
"Rem..."
Her back was always turned to him at first. Red petals swirled around her, contrasting sharply with a brilliant blue sky. In the distance, billowy white clouds dotted the horizon, flowing gently like a river of wispy cotton across his field of vision.
"Rem...was I wrong?"
She turned, smiling. Always laughing, her amber eyes filled with joy--- joy from simply being alive.
He had always tried his best to emulate her.
"Do you think you were wrong, Vash?"
"I--- I don't know."
The uncertainty was unsettling. He longed for something concrete...something to tell him that he was in the right.
As if reading his mind, Rem laughed again. A stray breeze caught her dark hair, swaying it gently against her face. She reached up a hand to brush it aside, releasing it behind her to flare dramatically in the wind. He found the effect breathtaking.
"Uncertainty is a part of living, Vash."
"I don't understand."
"Trust in yourself. In the end, that's really all you can do."
He shook his head to clear the confusion clouding his mind.
"But---"
"Always remember, Vash. Your future is always a blank ticket, waiting to be filled."
She slowly began to fade away.
"No, wait! Rem!"
"Goodbye, Vash."
"But I still need you..." He reached out a hand, as if to catch her fading image.
"No, you don't. You just don't know it yet." She was barely anything more than a voice now.
"I still don't understand!" he called frustratedly. He dashed around blindly, madly trying to find her again.
"You will..." She was but a whisper on the wind.
"Don't leave me again..." he trailed off longingly. "Rem...Come back...please..."
She was gone.
A cold gust blew by, chilling his skin. He shivered at the sudden silence, feeling empty inside.
In the distance, he could hear a faint sobbing.
Tears?
A shape appeared far ahead of him, curled up on the floor. She was swathed in faded white cloth, dark hair obscuring her face. Her cries were muffled, as if she was trying to stifle them.
"Rem?" he asked hesitantly.
She ignored his query, turning her head away even further.
As he approached her, he realized it wasn't Rem. Her frame was too small, her hair too short.
Rem would never cry. Not like this.
Her shoulders were heaving from the force of her crying, her almost violent sobs wracking her body. She continued to hide her face from him as he drew closer, as if she was ashamed of her sorrow. Her clothes were torn and ragged, her hair tangled and in disarray. Her bare arms revealed discolored bruises, some faintly healed over, some still fresh and dark. From the way she held herself, he suspected that more of the same covered her entire body.
"Please...don't cry." His words echoed familiarly. A warning flashed in the back of his mind, but refused to elaborate. Shaking his head, unable to decipher the feeling, he gently held out his hands towards the girl. She pulled away from his touch, shrinking in on herself, her hair still obscuring her face.
"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." Something tugged at the corners of his mind, nagging him. He felt as if he should know this girl. Reaching out, he laid a hand on her shoulder to coax her to turn to him.
"Don't touch me."
The words were delivered coldly, belying her distraught appearance. Her voice reverberated with an unearthly tone. He looked sharply at her, hastily brushing aside her hair to reveal a face full of hate and contempt --- reflected perfectly in cool, clear gray eyes.
Meryl's.
The scene shifted. He stood, surrounded in inky blackness. Off to one side, a light shone down upon a figure sheathed in folds of red cloth, holding absolutely still. Her dress was a dark crimson silk, falling airily about her slim body. Intricate patterns of gold embroidery were interwoven throughout the material, glittering in the harsh illumination. In her hands, she held a dark red rose, the same color as her dress.
The color of blood.
He approached warily, trying to get a closer look. Her face was veiled with a soft gauzy material, keeping her identity hidden. He carefully removed it, pushing it aside to drape behind her head.
"Meryl...?"
Her eyes were glassy, staring ahead into the distance, unseeing. She seemed in some sort of trance.
He shook her gently, but she did not awaken.
Laughter resounded around him, echoing endlessly into the darkness. He took a step back and looked about, but there was no one to be seen.
"Do you like what you see, Vash?" a deep voice taunted. "Isn't she beautiful?"
He turned back to Meryl to find his brother materializing behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders familiarly, sliding them down her bare arms. Almost affectionately, he leaned forward and kissed her on the side of her face. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring each moment. His eyes never left Vash's face.
She still had not moved.
A surge of unfamiliar emotions rose up inside of him. "Leave her alone." His voice became a low growl, a warning carried in its tone.
Knives smiled amusedly. "Like you have?" He ran a hand absently through her dark, silky hair. "She's willing to give you everything, Vash. But you keep pushing her away."
His smirk widened into a sadistic look. "Now, she's mine." His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her close possessively. Watching him intently, Knives brought his mouth to her neck, nipping her soft skin with his teeth. From where he stood, Vash could see faint marks forming where his brother bit her.
He snarled and reached forward, but was repelled back by some force. Frustrated, Vash started forward again, but could not push past the barrier. This doesn't make any sense, he thought to himself frantically. Knives would rather die before he ever touched a human willingly. Intellectually, he could see this was an impossible scenario, but this did not halt the rising tide of anger and protectiveness welling inside of him.
"Meryl!" he shouted, helpless to do anything else. "What did you do to her?"
Knives laughed again, that cruel, quiet laughter. "Jealous, Vash? Would you rather it be you here?" He released her slowly, his hands lingering before removing themselves from her body.
In an instant, she was in Vash's arms, warm and alive. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers. He caught his breath at the sudden closeness. Closing his eyes, he could taste her lips against his, soft and sweet, as he had always imagined them to be.
He almost lost control of himself in that kiss.
He almost lost himself in that kiss.
With a great effort of will, he pulled away from her. His hands were shaking unsteadily, his breath uneven. He swallowed hard, struggling to regain his sense of self. Even then, every part of him was screaming to return to those arms, that mouth. To her. Vaguely, he could hear his brother laughing again.
A chill ran up his spine as he realized her eyes were still blank as ever, devoid of all emotion. He pushed her away, shivering. She stepped back into Knives's arms, awaiting orders.
"What, don't you like her better this way, dear brother?" he could hear Knives sneering at him, taunting. "So quiet, so docile. She'll do anything she's told, now."
"Let her go, Knives." His voice held a calmness he did not feel. "This isn't about her."
"On the contrary, brother." Knives smiled, his hands reaching again to tangle softly into Meryl's hair. "This has everything to do with her." He bent down to kiss her cheek in an oddly paternal gesture. "Her, and everyone else that has come between us...."
His hands tightened, yanking Meryl's head back painfully. Still smiling, he traced her neck with the fingertips of his left hand.
Vash swallowed hard. "Knives. Don't hurt her." He pushed against the invisible wall that once again blocked his path. It held unyieldingly against his efforts. "Please."
"Her. Always her. Always them." Knives finally broke his gaze from his brother, glancing down contemptuously at the limp girl in his arms. "Why, brother? Why do you forsake me for them? What have they ever done for you?" Releasing her hair, Knives turned her around to face him, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. His hands wrapped around her throat delicately, his expression unchanging.
Vash didn't like where this was headed. "Please, Knives. Leave her alone. She doesn't need to be part of this." His voice was hoarse, and he had to restrain himself from crying out.
"I don't understand what you see in them." His fingers tightened abruptly. A small sound escaped from Meryl's mouth in response, the only sign of consciousness she had shown so far.
"Knives!" Vash felt as if his throat was tearing out. "For the love of God, let her go!"
Immediately, Vash wanted to take his words back as Knives stiffened at the invocation. His grip on Meryl tightened even further, the soft flesh beneath his fingers turning a livid white. "It's the same," he said, his voice low and controlled."It's always the same. She couldn't die the first time." He began shaking her."Why do you keep coming back?" Reaching again to yank her hair, he pulled her head back to expose her throat."Why can't you stay dead?"
He pulled his hand back, a knife materializing in his palm. With a fluid movement, he brought it down, a bright fountain of red slashing across her neck. The blood pooled from the wound, dripping downwards to melt into the dress, its colors blending with the crimson already present. Calmly, he dropped her to the ground.
"NO!!" Vash cried out loud as he reached towards Meryl, the wall vanishing. All he could see was the spilling blood and her glassy eyes, even now darkening as the light left them. He threw himself forward to catch her falling body, gravity taking hold and dragging him down---
--- and he opened his eyes, his mouth shaped in a silent scream.
Vash bolted up in a sweat, frantically scanning his surroundings. Gradually, as his heartbeat slowed, he could hear a faint voice on the other side of the wall. Her voice.
Sighing in relief, he leaned weakly against the head of his bed, letting the words wash over him, soothing his fears. Her voice was muted, and the sounds barely clear, but somehow it didn't matter. The words were not what was important.
It was a long time before he closed his eyes again, but when he finally did, he slipped into a dreamless, unbroken sleep.
*****************
Millie hummed softly to herself as she wandered through the kitchen, dutifully fixing a midnight snack. Regular meals were always an important staple of attaining a happy life, even if it meant your regular meal times had to take place at irregular hours.
Milk, cereal, banana. She took inventory carefully, remembering what her mother had always told her about having a balanced diet.
"I seem to be missing something," she mused out loud, although there was no one to hear her. It seemed to be happening more and more these days, but it didn't really bother her that much.
Not really.
She had grown used to the echoing halls and the empty rooms, as the other occupants of the house grew increasingly more reclusive. And if occasionally she would occasionally find herself speaking to someone who wasn't there, or begin to feel shut out or left behind, it was something that she could make herself forget quite easily.
Of course. It wasn't a problem at all.
"Ah, there we go," she said happily, fishing a small cup of pudding from the cupboard, "the perfect dessert."
She placed the pudding neatly beside the other items, arranging them in an aesthetically pleasing fashion on the tray. Grabbing a spoon along the way, she walked to Knives's room, still humming a light song she had learned from her mother.
She didn't expect a full-blown war when she opened the door.
"You stupid, ignorant woman!" Knives had thrown aside the blanket at some point, clearly forgetting his injuries. Millie could see the bandages on his arm staining red from his efforts, but he hardly seemed to notice as he clenched his fists in frustration. She wondered why Meryl had not treated him yet, but one look at her Sempai answered all her questions.
"Why can't you just shut up and let me tell the goddamned story? Or is it below you to listen to a little fable some human made up?" Meryl had drawn herself up from her chair, half leaning towards Knives in her rage. Her eyes flashed a pale gray as her voice and face grew more animated by the second.
"You don't know anything. You can't even comprehend what you're talking about. And besides, you're telling it wrong." He was definitely agitated now, glaring at her with full intensity. Not surprisingly, it had no effect upon his target, who only seemed to grow angrier at his words.
"Who are you to tell me I'm telling it wrong? It's my story!"
"It has nothing to do with you, you idiot. And I keep telling you, you're getting it all wrong!"
"What the hell are you talking about? I know your injuries didn't include a sharp crack on the head, but maybe it should have---"
"Um...Sempai?" Millie broke in before the pair killed each other in a fit of fury. They both turned, their eyes focusing simultaneously upon her. She felt distinctly uncomfortable under their scrutiny. "IÑ I brought something to eat." Hastily she set the tray down on the table, almost spilling the glass of milk in the process.
"I... thank you, Millie." To Millie's relief, Meryl's manner softened at the interruption. Breathing in deeply, she calmed visibly as she pulled herself together. "Let me help you with that." She stood to help her steady the tray, but Millie shook her head.
"Don't worry about me, Sempai. Maybe you should help him instead." Millie motioned towards Knives, still glowering from his position in his bed. Confused, Meryl turned her head to look at him.
She started guiltily, perhaps noticing his bandages for the first time. "When...? Never mind. Millie, get some bandages and some water." Concern painted her features as her eyes traced over the bloodstain that was seeping through the rough cloth bound tightly around Knives's arm.
"Yes, Sempai." Millie moved towards the door, stilling at the glare Knives directed towards her.
"I told you before," he said, enunciating his words slowly as if he were speaking to a child. "I don't need any help from you. Either of you. And I meant it."
"Be quiet, you," Meryl said, rounding on Knives. "Lay down. Lay back down! The last thing you need to do is strain yourself."
Knives snorted. "A fine job you've done so far." He pushed his arm forward in indication.
Meryl colored at that, but straightened quickly, her fists clenched. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she said in a tight voice. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But we both know you need to rest. So please, lie back down and relax. If you want, I'll leave you in Millie's care, and we can forget the whole thing happened."
"Afraid I'll tell Vash?" He drawled out the words, smirking at her sputtering reaction. "You needn't worry. I take care of my own problems." He eyed her meaningfully, but reclined back onto the bed without further protest.
"You know that's not what I mean." Clutching the blanket, she absently pulled it over his exposed torso. He wrestled it gently from her grasp, steering her hands away firmly from his body.
"You make a lot of assumptions about what I know." His voice was silky and quiet, but Millie shivered at the ice she heard in his tone, unconsciously tightening her grip upon the door handle. Silently, she began counting down the seconds before Meryl exploded again, wondering if she would have to wake Vash to settle matters.
But Meryl only pursed her lips, drawing away. "Fine. Have it your way." She glanced at Millie in irritation. "What are you still doing here? Stay with him. I'll get the bandages myself." She pushed her way past the confused girl, not quite slamming the door.
Millie looked at Knives, for once at a loss on what to say.
*****************
He could still feel the imprint of her filthy hands upon his blanket, their greedy warmth invading the worn cloth. Glowering darkly at the tall girl still in the room, he considered asking her for another cover, but realized that it wouldn't really solve the problem.
That woman.
He closed his eyes wearily, as if to shut out the sight of everything before him. Faintly, he could hear rustling nearing him. Judging by the sounds, the tall girl had decided to fiddle with the tray on the table.
"I can feed myself." He pointed in her direction without looking. "Put it down. Leave me."
"But Sempai said---"
"I don't care what that woman told you. I don't want you here." He kept his eyes shut, willing her gone. "Do you understand me, or will I have to start speaking more slowly?"
He heard the soft clatter of metal and a shuffling of footsteps. The closing of the door announced her departure. Knives slowly released the breath he had been holding.
Finally. Peace.
Author's notes: It's been quite a while since I've worked on this, so forgive me if either the thread or the momentum is lost. I've not had the time I once had... I've learned quite well this year that programming and writing stories often are mutually exclusive experiences.
This chapter isn't really complete. This is sort of a preview I've worked on this week. I've been playing around with different styles and approaches to storytelling, and I wanted to know if I was wasting my time and botching the whole thing up. What say the masses?
There was also a brief crisis when I realized that Millie seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth in my fic, hence the last bit where I try, belatedly, to put her in at the last minute. (I told you this chapter wasn't complete. It's very rough around the edges.) I also tried a bit of angst, but I'm not sure if it actually flew. I'm not good at writing angsty Millie... angsty Knives seems slightly better(that's for next chapter, once I get it at decent length and plot), but less coherent.
Anyway, the first part of this chapter came out of my curiosity about fairy tales and legends that could have sprung up on Gunsmoke. After all, every culture has at least one creation story. After mixing in a bit of Grandmother Spider and the infamous Twins (I forget which Native American tribe had those tales... I just remember reading it once when I was very young) and switching to what I like to call "high bard" style, I came up with a little fairy tale of my own.
Vash's nightmare was originally part of one of my earliest fics, a rather incoherent angst-filled mess called "Silence"(which I never finished or posted), so if parts don't seem to match up exactly with the earlier chapter, you know why. I think I'm going to get a real headache trying to resolve this bit, but I liked it too much to just let it go to waste. And it seemed to fit at the time....
Ah, well. Maybe I'll get it right one of these days....*sigh*
I also apologize for borrowing imagery from "Shoujo Kakumei Utena" for the nightmare scene.