The Sky is Too Far
Chapter 9–(No such Saint)
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Okay guys. I wasn't originally going to do this, but now I
feel it's my obligation to reply to all of you; as a general
public, at least.
If you're close-minded about homosexuality, then I apologize; but I'm going to ask you guys to please not review if all you're going to do is tell me "oh, gross!!" Because, truth be told, I really couldn't care less.
On another note! You can't really expect the intimacy between the twins to be much of a surprise; they were raised in an environment without any other children- they wouldn't have known the limit to intimacy between siblings. I'm not going to get into this, but I'm not going to just drop the whole "yaoi" factor of this story—it's a major key to the plot. So, if that means I'm going to lose some readers, then so be it.
Special thanks to those of you who were considerate enough not to choke on your suspicions.
Oh, and.. Reven is © me.
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He had had to tear himself away from it; stumbling backwards, his back crashing against the wall. He covered his mouth with a trembling palm, fingers clenched hastily against his own flesh. Knives was utterly silent, and he could only hear his own breathing; ragged and hoarse, gasping air in great swallows. He had bit down on his lip when he'd hit against the wall, but the blood did nothing to mask the taste of his brother's tongue.
Knives was smiling at him, in a way that was so frighteningly gentle it made him ache. It made him want to crawl into his twin's bed and forgive the parting of lips. He wanted to, so bad that his muscles seemed restless. His head was pounding and there was a building pressure in his sinuses. Christ, he wanted it so bad it hurt. Knives was drawing back the thick coverlet, but before he could gesture for his brother, Vash retreated into the hall, the door shutting loudly behind him.
Knives smiled, waiting until he heard the resounding slam of Vash's bedroom door.
Things were looking much more in his favor every passing day now.
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Meryl had slept in a manner that was as close to peaceful as she had ever achieved in a very long time. When she was finally roused by the child sun's insistence, she couldn't recall even the vaguest glimpse of her dream to mind, and that was just fine. She felt more optimistic than she had in some time, and that was wonderful. Millions Knives, that awful thing still haunted her, made her more wary than usual; but in spite of that, she felt hopeful. Why, she couldn't quite figure.
She crept from bed and soaked under a hot shower, dressed and then headed down the hall, her hair a damp mop of dark strands. She could smell that heavy aroma of coffee in the air, and she belatedly assumed Milly had simply woken ahead of her.
Oh, how she was so badly mistaken.
The small insurance agent hardly avoided tripping over herself in her hurry to stop, freeze, cease movement. A scream swelled in her chest but died in her throat, and she couldn't have forced out a sound if she'd wanted to.
Vash and Knives were sitting on the small couch (the girls had nabbed it from a garage sale some time ago), side by side. Each of them had a cup of coffee. Knives tipped the ceramic mug to his lips, Vash simply held his in his lap. But God, they looked so alike. They really were twins. Meryl had always wanted to deny it, but seeing them... just beside each other, their relation was made so painfully obvious she thought she'd have cried. Or screamed; but she couldn't manage either at the time.
She felt numb, and the fact that Knives was recovered enough to support himself only feathered the concerns in her mind. Vash glanced up at her, tipping his head in a half-hearted nod. He smiled, but his emotion was so dead it made her feel vulnerable. She smiled back, wan and limp; she hated him when he did that. Pretended to smile. Knives shifted and picked up a piece of paper he had apparently abandoned, re-addressing it with his attention. His sharp blue gaze flickered towards Meryl, but quickly returned to whatever it was he found so enthralling.
A letter, Meryl realized as she surveyed the table in front of them. There were two coasters towards the table's edge, each closest to its own user. Next to Knives' coaster, an envelope lay torn from the top. It wasn't forged with the postal service emblem, so it must have been delivered by the sender. The recipient address was written in ink, a tight scrawl of handwriting. No return address. Knives' name heralded the center of the envelope. Meryl was struck with the burning curiosity of who would know about Knives (that was still alive), let alone where he lived.
She would have questioned the letter, but Vash interrupted her before she could seize the chance. He nodded towards the kitchen, swallowing a portion of his own coffee. "Made some coffee. There's still plenty left."
Her gaze leapt to Vash, gazing at him; and for a moment, they simply stared at each other. Something wasn't right, but she couldn't understand it for the life of her. Not from his eyes—they held too much depth. The tension between them was shattered when he took another drink of his coffee. Meryl suddenly found herself nodding, Knives' letter pushed from her immediate cares. "Oh.. thanks." She didn't comment on the older plant's presence.
Milly joined them little more than 30 minutes later, prattling on about Mr. Knives' health. She didn't mention how sick she had been in the last hour, or how much her head hurt. She smiled, and made the grand suggestion of spending the afternoon outside.
Knives had grinned at the prospect and folded his letter, retreating to his room until it was time to leave.
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It was nice to be outside, even Meryl had to admit. Hot, maybe, but nice all the same. Milly walked beside her, and Vash kept a confident pace a breadth behind his brother. Knives was acting amazingly calm, too. Had she not gone through that hell the other day, she would have been convinced he'd really changed. Vash seemed exceedingly sullen, and the constant expression of no real emotion tightened Meryl's nerves.
Milly stumbled, and Meryl suddenly realized she had bumped into someone. "Milly! Really, you should be more careful!" Milly's hand rested over her chest and she poured apologies without much reserve. When she finally looked at the man she'd half-collided with, she had to stifle an exclamation. "Oh! You're the man from the church!"
He was just as tall as Vash, if not a centimeter's worth more. He looked much like a haggard (or just lazy) businessman; he wore a formal white shirt which hung out over dark slacks, refusing to tuck the ends in. He didn't wear a tie, but Meryl suspected that if he had, it wouldn't have been very neat. His shoes weren't black, but a nurtured dark brown. They were scuffed. He held a suitcase at his side, black and secure. His hair was a deeply bled red, bangs partially obscuring vivid blue eyes. Darker than Knives', but just as intense. He smiled, raising dark brows and chuckling in a manner that was blessedly good natured. "Oh, yeah. Ye'r that girl who was sleepin in the pew!" He laughed. "Not the best place for a nap, I say, but th'best protected, huh?"
Milly laughed, and Meryl couldn't help but grin. The guy had an accent, but it wasn't thick enough to handicap his speech. His voice was pleasant, really. She could tell that he smoked; after living so long with Wolfwood, she'd learned to recognize that rough gravel in a smoker's voice. Milly stepped forward and clasped the man's hand, shaking it as she gestured to the rest of them. "Yes! I'm sorry I left in such a hurry! I'm Milly Thompson and this is my partner, Meryl Strife! And there, that's Mr. Vash, and his brother Mr. Knives!"
The man was eternally polite through Milly's introduction, flexing his fingers when she let go of his hand. "Nice to meet ye all. I'm Revenent Saint."
"Do you work at the chapel, Mr. Saint?" Milly chimed happily. Knives looked vaguely interested.
"Oh, just Reven. And no, I'm actually here on business. Just got in yesterday, fact."
Knives shifted, nodding towards one of the hotels. "You're staying there?"
Meryl glanced uneasily towards the older plant, wondering why he was being so... social. Vash was watching him too, but she still couldn't tell what was bothering him.
"Yeah, Knives. Just there," Reven's sharp blue eyes locked with Knives' own for a horridly calm moment, and then pointed toward a comfortable-looking hotel. It was called the 'Three Night's Inn.' "It's not such a bad place, really."
Knives smiled and nodded as Milly started a conversation with the guy. How interesting, he thought. Saint's a brave one. More than the others. He has the nerve not to call me Master.
