Author: Malebranche
Date: 05/09/04
Contact: xxxdre4merxxxhotmail.com
Genre: Slash/Yaoi, AU, romance, angst, supernatural, series.
Comments: PG-13. If you can't handle slash, go away. BxS. Lime. Mangled personalities. This story has not been beta-ed, barely even proofread. I'm deeply sorry for any mistakes.
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz and all its characters are properties of their respective authors.
Autumn to Ashes: The End of the Beginning is Still the End
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Any given date, France
Thunder boomed and lightning struck as the rain pour down in near-impenetrable sheets. The car outside was a black, glossy Mercedes. It clashed strangely with the gothic-style chateau that loomed high above it. Towers with lacy stonework and bells, guarded by ferocious gargoyles that seemed to move when the lightning struck. The lush grounds stretched far into the distance, until there was an abrupt line of black at the horizon -- the wood.
Inside, the sharp click-clack of black leather boots on a marble floor echoed down the sparsely lit hall. The occasional candle flickered dangerously as the person walked swiftly past, stirring up a gust of wind because of the long cloak that tracked mud and water over the floor. Small whispers and cackles came from the eaves of ceiling. Bats, or demons? The person wearing the boots ignored the background noise and proceeded by his lonesome.
Something flickered on the wall at his right, and the person paused slightly. Only a haunted mirror, whose occupant had been a cannibalistic human imprisoned by some monk with a superiority complex. He tutted at himself for being startled so easily. Long fingers, enclosed in black leather gloves brushed away hair that swept into his eyes. Grimacing, he felt water trickle from his hair onto his face. His ponytail was heavy and it pulled at his neck, which was beginning to become very sore. He wasn't used to hair that was so long it nearly dragged on the floor.
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, possessed statues groaning at him the whole way, begging him to free them from their never-ending boredom. As if, he thought. Murderers and thieves, the whole lot of them! Although, he admitted to himself, he couldn't exactly accuse them, for fear of being hypocritical. Paintings of lecherous women and men (mostly monks and nuns, he noted) winked flirtatiously at him. Some were even intimately involved with the other personages portrayed in their painting. The person looked away quickly, wishing he didn't have to suffer through this.
Finally, he reached a large room with rich dark carpet and luxuriously antique furniture. Rugs and pillows were strewn about the room, gold-plated tea tables rested next to antique sofas and padded chairs, and chandeliers hung precariously from the ceiling by a chain. The ceiling itself had the illusion of a spiral staircase that stretched on forever; only when one looked closer could one see that the whole thing was ingeniously painted on. The walls were hung with tapestries depicting the nine layers of hell, with the largest and grandest (Satan, Brutus, and Judas included) hanging over the ornate fireplace. Magnificent, elaborately framed mirrors were placed at random places all over the room. The doors at the opposite end of the room were mammoth, made of a black sort of metal, which some clever artisan (most likely of vampiric blood) had wrought into thin bars, and then melded them together seamlessly in a criss-crossing weave of sinuous snakes.
The scenery was not what the cloaked person was looking at. In the center of the room, sipping delicately at what looked like red wine (or blood, possibly) in tall flutes, was Aya-chan, Noir, and Rubeus. The latter was spread on a divan with embroidered upholstery, lazily twirling his half-empty flute between his graceful, pale fingers. He stared at the coiling, eyes moving in circles, apparently tracing the circuit of stairs. His leather ensemble hadn't changed very much; skin tight animal hide was stretched over his lithe body and his boots looked new. His hair was longer now; it hung past his shoulders in damp red strands. Noir was chatting idly with Aya-chan, glancing occasionally at his lover with a small smile on his face. He too, had not changed much. His hair was, impossibly, longer than it was before. It was tied up in a loop, but the tail still collected in a pile at his feet when he sat down. His incisors peeked through as he laughed at one of Aya-chan's comments.
Aya-chan was dressed in a French maid uniform, sans the cleavage. She smiled winningly at the new arrival as he stepped into the room.
"Good evening, Schuldich!" she said cheerfully. "Brad's been waiting for you. Give me a moment and I'll take you to him." She exchanged a few words with Noir, and then stood up and said, "This way."
She led Schuldich through the wrought metal doors and down a carpeted hall; this time, there were no moaning entities within the paintings. Indeed, some of the artworks looked very familiar. To his left, Schuldich thought he saw a painting by Picasso...to his right a whiles down the hall, a Georgia O'Keefe painting hung perilously on the wall. Finally, after much walking and bitching about boots with two-inch heels, Schuldich and Aya-chan arrived at another room. This room had thirteen doors ("Typical." thought Schuldich with a roll of his eyes) painted various dark colors. Aya-chan led Schuldich through the third one from his left. Yet another long hall stretched before them ("How big is this damn place anyway?").
When Schuldich and Aya-chan once again reach the end of the hall, Aya-chan ushered Schuldich to open the door.
"I'll be in the living room with Mr. Noir and Mr. Rubeus if you need me." she said quickly. She smiled and proceeded to walk back to the ornamented room.
Schuldich sighed. He had a lot of questions to ask Brad -- but first things first. He knocked on the door.
"Yes?" called a voice from within.
"It's me." said Schuldich.
The door swung open by itself, revealing Brad sitting behind a severe-looking black desk. He was working again, as usual. Schuldich sighed and walked around the desk, sliding onto Brad's lap.
"Tell me, what are those two doing in our living room?" Schuldich he questioned.
"They wanted to talk. Said Asgaroth's company grew tiring after a while. They also said that Aya-chan was the best company they're had in half a century." explained Brad, ignoring the confusion that marred Schuldich's face.
The redhead blinked. "That doesn't explain --" he started.
"Does it really matter?" interrupted Brad.
"They killed me, Brad!" cried Schuldich, looking at his lover in disbelief. "What do you mean 'does it really matter'?!"
"But technically, you're here right now. And so am I. Can we just enjoy it?" said Brad, taking Schuldich by the hand and nuzzling his neck.
The other man sighed. Wary as he was to acknowledge it, it was the vampires' meddling that made them both immortal. Now they would never face the risk of losing one another to the ugly maw of death; they would never grow old and fragile with their new bodies. Never-aging bodies meant more sex, Schuldich rationalized. So yes, he had much to thank the vampires for.
"Fine." he grumbled, hating to admit that he was wrong. "They can stay. For now."
Brad smiled and slid a hand behind Schuldich's head. He brought the other man in for a searing kiss, tongues sliding in and out of warm caverns. Schuldich moaned.
"Oh my god... I'll thank them later." he muttered between kisses.
Author's Commentary: IDFD: Interior Decorator's Field Day
1. Yea, I know...the tone of the epilogue deviates tremendously with the previous chapters. I got so tired of angst, I couldn't help myself. This is finally over. I have to say, It came out a lot differently than what I had originally planned. The plot tends to get tangled when I do series...which is why I should stick with short stories.
2. I want to let my reviewers know how much I appreciate them. Thanks to MOTDOTW and Hele especially, for supporting me for such a long time! Without your support, I don't know if this story would have been completed. I'm really grateful for the spontaneous beta-ing, too. Also, even if you didn't review, thanks for reading my story (to the end, it seems). I'd really like it if you shared your opinion on it, though. :)
3. I don't seem to be very talented at writing fanfiction. Original works much better for me, so there probably won't be many works of fanfiction for me. Nope. I'm sure you're heartbroken ;).