I forgot to warn you people; in case you haven't guessed it yet, this
fanfiction WILL include spoilers for "Harry Potter and the Order of
Phoenix".
Sorry for my lapse. Nrr.
Song of the Chapter: "What Your Soul Sings" by Massive Attack. Another "100th Window" song (tell me if you'd like me to e-mail it to you!)
(Sorry this isn't a very long chapter either, DcSolstice T.T I tried I tried!)
Cheers, peers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"There was a boy . . .
A very strange, ~enchanted~ boy.
They say he wandered very far,
--very far--
over land and sea . . .
A little shy, and sad of eye
but very wise, was he.
And then one day,
one magic day, he passed my way.
While we spoke of many things,
fools and kings,
this he said to me:
'The greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love . . . and be loved in return'"
- Massive Attack & David Bowie, "Nature Boy"
~*~*~*~
"Tomorrow, we will ride to Azkaban."
"Of course, the island is just on the horizon, after all."
"The dementors have been notified?"
"Yes, milady."
" . . . the Dark Lord has been notified?"
"Of course, milady."
"Good. Every thing is in order."
"As always."
"Can you remember what or precise mission is, as far as total decimation or a quiet break out?"
"I doubt any break out from Azkaban could be considered 'quiet', love. But I suspect the Dark Lord would be unhappy to find any devious plans to tell the world he has returned, foiled in his 'absence'."
"Ha--he just won't do his own dirty work for him."
"I knew there was a reason I loved you."
"I haven't seen it yet."
"Well, I have."
" . . . "
"Do you ever think about him?"
"Who."
"Your son."
"Pft, he's not ~your~ son."
"I know."
" . . . no. Why?"
"You just seem preoccupied. Do you wish you could free him as well as our suffering comrades?"
"Only to kill him."
"Haha--~sure~, love. Get some rest, darling, we're on a mission from a god."
He knew that killing was a tender mercy to someone in Azkaban.
~*~*~*~
He flew; it was all he knew.
The moment he pushed off clumsily from that barred ledge, he felt all of his sorrows simply--drift away as the wind whistled past. The stars were still scattered about the sky, even though the pinkish hues of dawn had already illuminated the sky slightly, and he headed for the only horizon with ~something~ promised, and not just more water. He had seen too much water.
It was the most wonderful feeling he had never dreamed it could be. He remembered more than just such complicated sadness and depression, and it warmed him up so far beyond physically.
The warmth bubbled up deep inside him, and he ~laughed~ and soared dreamily.
He ~*cawed*~ a tancho's call, but he didn't want to notice that at that point.
Ryou was happy, for no reason at all besides peacefulness, and nothing came to take him back.
//Fly Ryou, fly.//
He cawed again; floating, fleeing.
~*~*~*~
Their camp was quiet that night, as no one seemed inclined to talk about much in fear that they would then ~reveal~ too much, and that was a dangerous thing to do within Lord Voldemort's circle. There were about only twelve of them in all, because they were anticipating no struggle from the dementors stationed around their target, but needed enough cover to keep the convicts out of the hands of the ministry again.
Avery sighed, sharpening a wicked dagger for no other purpose than to have something to do with his hands. The camp's central fire pit burned with no sign of natural weakness at the slight breeze, but the purple flame was by no means natural. It burned strongly until dawn, where the constantly insomnia-struck Death Eater banished it with a lazy swish of his wand.
Others were asleep but he had charmed himself long ago, back in his fifth year, to not need sleep any longer. His cleverness was renown among Hogwart's alumni, and it was perhaps that which made him a candidate for a Death Eater in the first place. None of his old classmates would directly associate him with the quiet boy who spent too many unhealthy hours in the company of books, now, but it was nice to reminisce--to only himself, of course.
Still, he did miss sleeping at times.
He sat on a conveniently placed tree-stump in the shadow of a gigantic oak, whose wise branches hid him slightly from the view of their camp. His right leg was bent up to his haunches as his left stretched out to the leave- littered forest floor; drawing simple shapes on the ground under it's own accord.
Avery's dusty blonde hair tickled his cheeks, reminding him in an irritated fashion that it was growing a bit long and constantly unkempt. It was sometimes useful to have hair in which you could hide your eyes under, because eyes were so difficult to control, but the split-ends were scratchy, course, and diffidently not worth it.
With a decided sneer, he reminded himself that he would look like that troublesome Potter boy before too long.
The blade slipped, digging itself deeply into the tree-stump.
Yes, that wretched little boy who had yet to discover how insignificant a barrier he really was. How could those Pheonix-fools believe that something as slight as a half-trained child could ever stand up to the Dark Lord of legends?
If his master had not insisted on toying with him--it would make their horrific conquest ~so~ much easier.
Avery yanked the blade cleanly from the decaying wood. /Though I have long since learned that nothing is done the easy way under the Dark Lord's supervision./
It was in Potter's sixth year that he had injured the Dark Lord enough for his soul to stray slightly for a while. The event was a passing of great relief among wizards, but they still did not suspect the truth.
The Dark Lord would never die.
Avery grinned to himself, still sharpening the blade.
And in the time that he 'strayed', he had brought back ideas, he had brought back wonderful plans. With the experience of a dark place, and the powers of shadows. None of them understood it, but the faith recalled by the Dark Lord's stressing of power was enough for each and every one of his 'immortal' disciples to trust in it.
But none of them could trust him; that was why they did his bidding with absolutely no questions asked.
His steely gray eyes closed for a moment, as he smelled the pine and sea water, tasted nature. It was an unhealthy forest, he decided though he didn't really care, with too many sorrows mulling around such doomed life. He could smell the depression of the trees, it's faintly metallic scent prodding slight pity.
But then, he sensed something ~more~.
Avery's eyes shot open as his body rose in a taught crouch; holding his silver dagger in front of him warily to the trees. He took advantage of his quiet step to sneak closer to the something, keeping his mind and expression blank in case of a sneak attack.
He waited.
"What?!"
Yes, there was diffidently someone out there, foolish enough to actually ~speak~ in such a tense environment as this. Of course, the unwilling victim probably didn't share such 'gifts' as Avery--
--How could someone not notice this?
Abruptly, while he was contemplating the situation, something shot out with a rustle from the bushes.
He ducked with a roll silently, as his attacker recovered agonizingly quickly and lunged at him again, snarling, as the rotting leaves rustled in annoyance.
Avery was thrown back with a hiss of surprise, only somehow managing to swing his sharpened dagger upward, as his attacker dodged back--
--Grabbing his face with a claw-like hand, sharp nails pressing into his cheek and drawing blood down his pale face. The face above him was masked by the view of the rising sun, but he understood it's mutual discomfort from their situation.
Avery grinned.
His dagger sparkled on the attacker's throat, preventing either of them from moving for the time being.
~*~*~*~
Ryou's bare feet touched down on rough sand, and he stood there for a moment, savoring the feeling of the rocky beach between his toes. His eyelids were closed in ecstasy, and his untroubled but inquisitive mind behind them still wondered if this was all a dream.
But he knew it wasn't, with a tiny giggle, dreams in ~that place~ were worse than reality. And this was so much better than both.
He laughed with great power now, testing his rarely-used voice out again, a little deeper than what he recalled from before. Ryou forgot all sense of practicality and raced around the beach, teasing the waves to come closer, and finally just leaping and galloping and skipping over to the large mass of trees; gates by old eroded logs.
The shade crowned him delicately as he still smiled, bending under brittle, low-hung branches that threatened to hurt him. He elevated to just standing on the balls of his bare feet, and he stalked with amazing agility and stealth to another clearing in the forest. Dimly, he wondered how he could walk so silent after staying in his tiny cell for so long.
/You're welcome, Hikari-baka./ even his other half was amused.
"Oh thank you." Salt water began flooding into his lower eyelids "~Thank you~." He whispered.
Involuntarily, he slumped forward to his knees, rubbing his eyes and instinctively stifling most of his sobs. Ryou wasn't sure why, and had sparsely the idea of the actual purpose of crying.
But for once, it felt so ~good~ to let his tears and fears run out of his eyes and stick to his face. The helplessness was maddening as he tried to control his racking sobs, parching his throat and tiring his body, stop, but he only wept harder, just reveling in somewhat distorted happiness.
He barely noticed the slight warmth around his shoulders from his Yami, until he felt warm tears fall like generous, warmed raindrops on his head, which his only responded to by burrowing himself deeper into the apparition of Bakura. The spirit, though in possession of no independent body of his own, could still cry with untainted, raw magic.
They both wept; for happiness, for luck, for peace.
However, all great things end, and after a while, Ryou pulled himself straighter with a shudder in his breath and wiped his tears on the grubby sleeves of his prison uniform. He felt Bakura return to his soul room, but didn't look up to see it, caught up in the aftershock of his lapse of
Happiness.
/Bakura--/ Ryou hesitated /what will we do now?/
//I don't really care. But I know where we're going after this.//
The hikari boy stiffened a little with a scowl. His life was becoming controlled by others, just like before.
He had no intention of going down easily this time.
/No./
//What do you mean ~no~?// Bakura responded, irritation appearant in his voice.
Ryou tore his gaze spitefully to the side, his eyes narrowed, and thinking that perhaps his Yami's kindness wasn't really what he had thought it was.
"I'm not about to fall back into another one of my stupid destinies!" he hissed to him with an isolated finality.
Bakura was taken aback
//I would ~never~ lead you to destiny, Ryou.//
"How could I know that you're speaking the truth?!"
The Yami's transparent image appeared again, looking down to his slouching Aibou with an unreadable expression. A feeling that was strong enough to show, and become readable to the often times oblivious Hikari; sadness, regret.
Ryou took a step back in startled surprise.
"Because we are 'destined' to fail, aibou. Our soul will always be 'destined' to fail." He whispered, and they both knew just how true the words were. They stared at one another for a second; two halves of a greater whole--but still separate. Two souls who didn't always understand each other.
Bakura faded into the shadows once more, bowing his head in earnest.
Ryou shivered with another shaky smile, an apologetic one this time, raising his head to the filtering branches that blocked the sky. A bird trilled into the morning, but otherwise, the relative silence seemed unnatural, oddly enveloping and still. Forests were not supposed to sound like this.
//There is someone nearby,// the tomb robber's echoed voice warned //be still. We do not yet understand the significance of their presence.//
"What?!" Ryou cried, before he could stop himself, whipping around in distress.
/They've come for my again, oh gods . . . / he could feel himself shaking in hysteria and pure wretched anticipation. Ryou's head went limp. /Oh, oh, oh, I can't fight them, no no no./
//Ryou! Listen to me!//
His memories became too much to bear, despite his absence from the prison, his capture, his mother, he thought of them with slightly wild eyes.
/Come, they've come they've come they've come./
//Aibou, I'm taking over.// he notified himself, without further preamble.
Then his fingers were not his own, his eyes were no longer his own, and he drifted eerily to his soul room in complete trust of his Yami.
The only outward change was a little glow from the disguised ring, and suddenly, the expression was cold, completely masked. Bakura walked carefully, it was like a second nature to him still after all of those years in exile, his hands itching for his beloved dagger which no longer hung in deadly anticipation at his hip.
He conjured the Eye with a twist of his spidery hand, a relief for hiding it after all of these years, considering if he should attempt to take advantage of it's power, erratic to him as it was. It didn't take long for him to come to his decision. Zork Necrophadisu was still a part of him, wasn't he?
His fingers massaged the gold, feeling the warmth spread through him; the intoxicating experience of such beautiful power.
*. . . unwilling victim . . . foolish . . . *
//Ryou . . . ?//
/I trust you./
He smiled maliciously, then dove for the presence.
Bakura did not expect the other to be skilled, but time had taken it's toll on his patience, and he still recovered quickly from his first failed attempt to immobilize the man on the other side of the bushes. His spontaneous manner of fighting left the opposing person dazed for a minute.
He twisted and swiped up at the possessive spirit with an unexpected weapon, a clean dagger that was sharp enough to gleam.
The Yami responded by reaching down and grabbing his clean-shaven face with sharp nails that cut through his skin like a dinner knife, drawing five individual points of trickling blood around his cheek.
However, the opposing dagger was stationed expertly at his throat, he could feel it.
The pause that followed was at least as long as the scuffle had taken. Neither of them flinched when a crow unexpectedly took flight somewhere above them, which told a lot about each other.
"Not bad." Bakura said in that deep, rich voice he had. He seemed very sure of himself, and Avery was slightly concerned for himself with such mad reassurance coming from this boy.
His face was hidden behind waist-length white hair, bleached with something other than any sort of physical dye, he was certain. He was unnaturally lean, yet still quite obviously strong with whip-cord-like wiry muscles despite his malnutrition and unkempt state before him. The boy was dressed in some sort of ragged, gray robes that hung off his thin frame like a hand- me-down, but they were no hassle to his maneuverability as they should have been.
He was still smiling, a frightening leer masked with mystery, and Avery had no idea why. Such mystery was making him slightly uncomfortably, though he didn't dare show it outwardly.
"You would have killed me easily if you held a weapon." Avery sneered.
The boy's upper lip curled a little.
"And I would have to admit that your means of fighting are by no means honorable." He said, still not moving.
"Well, I'm not an honorable man." This kid had no idea who he was messing with. That thought allowed him to contort his expression to a mirror image of the boy's. "Just give up, kid."
The Death Eater flinched as his grip tightened, piercing more flesh. He knew his sign of weakness was a mistake as the boy's sneer widened a little. This was beyond mischief, it was absolutely sadistic.
"Would you like me to destroy your pretty face?"
Who the hell was this kid?!
"I can bear that. ~You~ on the other hand, good sir, cannot afford to have your throat slit if you plan on surviving beyond our little encounter." Avery reminded him, cheerfully.
The sneer faded to an expression of deep mistrust.
"Just lower your hand, and I won't hurt you."
"Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe your word?"
Avery chuckled "Bright, are you boy?"
"I'm still not going to let you go." The voice turned as chilled as ice.
Avery sighed. "Look, I'm not going to kill you once you lower your hand. Not that a muggle device could take someone's life in the first place."
"Prejudiced, I see. Not a comment that should be given lightly to a fool who doesn't have his wand."
/Wand?/ Ryou questioned.
//Not now.//
He mentally asked for support from the Eye, which it gave again, a bit hesitated. This Avery man was not an honorable idiot, but he could tell he was telling the truth about not killing him. For more amusement's sake than anything, but still truthful.
The blonde man waited. Bakura took his nails from his cheeks, looking at the blood on his fingernails. Ryou would have felt queasy if he had a body as his other half licked off the blood daintily.
Avery's hand lowered as well, watching the boy without much expression.
"Your blood is bitter." Bakura noted.
He bowed his head "Aye."
The white-haired boy flashed another odd smile, this time signaling slight recognition in Avery's eyes. That smile was familiar, somehow.
"I am sorry for attacking you." Ryou said cautiously.
His strange accent, only slightly differing from Avery's own made him start in surprise.
/I know that smile./ Avery suddenly realized
Avasiah's smile. Cold, beautiful Avasiah's smile.
And suddenly, he understood who this boy really was.
/'He is deaf to magic.'/ His beloved said once to the Dark Lord in disgust.
A very dangerous little boy, now hesitant and thoughtful in his mannerisms.
/Deaf to magic./ he recalled, taking a step back. Not a squib, no, something beyond a wizard, but deaf to it all. That would explain the ~magic~ bleached hair, but he was much more dangerous than he seemed to expect.
"Get lost kid." Was all he said.
They boy didn't move at once, instead reflecting a blank sort of look in his unnaturally pale face.
/Where do I go now?/ Ryou asked.
//Your choice.// Bakura grumbled.
He thought for a moment.
"Ah--Mr. Avery?" he asked, not daring to look at him "Which direction is London?"
The blonde man watched him quizzically for a second.
He pointed. The boy looked thoughtfully in that direction, before turning the other way.
"I'd rather not cross the rest of the world before I reach my destination." He said over his shoulder with a sly smile before turning to walk.
Avery grinned. /Clever. Pity he can't help us; as useless as a mudblood./
"Hey kid." He called out, halting the boy's stride. Just as he turned, Avery allowed no mercy before throwing his dagger.
Bakura caught it's gold hilt, eyes narrowed.
"You will gain nothing with such pitiful attacks."
"It's yours." Avery said, startling both spirits. "Here--" he tossed the leather belt to keep it in, and his black, nondescript cloak.
He caught both of the additional items with a frown, before relaxing with a thanking smile that lit up his face brilliantly.
/If only Avasiah would smile like that./
"Thank you, Mr. Avery."
"Good luck."
The boy left the clearing without another word.
/Now,/ the blonde man thought distractedly, scratching his head /how did he know my name is Avery?/
Strange. He shrugged it off, returning to the Death Eater's camp.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few responses:
***Rosz of the Angel - Ma-a-a-a-a-a-aybe. *shrugs* I haven't really thought about the HP pairings, yet.
XGP - I'm glad you have still read my fanfiction, despite the fact that you're not the biggest fan of angst ^^ As for the love thing; I am one of those people who finds a little thoughtful romance absolutely adorable, and sometimes the best feeling in the world. As far as I know right now, I will try my best to tone down any shonen-ai hints to a bearable level to you; but I just sincerely hope you won't abandon my story because there is a guy/guy pairing involved. Besides, you don't seem like that kind of person! ^^***
Woo--that was a close and completely oblivious encounter on both sides (in the story).
The "deaf to magic" idea will be explained soon enough.
I got the idea from Kate Elliot's "Crown of Stars" series (good good GOOD books), so if you've read them, think Liath. The hair bleaching, on the other hand, belongs to milady Mercedes Lackey. Some of you other fantasy novel loving wierdos should understand that from various parts of her "Heralds of Valdemar" series.
YAY! I'm glad more people reviewed!!! ^^ It just makes me ~so happy~ when people pay attention! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! *bounces*
As for the pairings--
This debate is still quite heated on both the shonen-ai side, and the NO shonen-ai side, and still has me considering. At the moment, I think I'm going to involve a compromise: slight shonen-ai, but nothing really story- shaping. Just enough to ignore, if you'd like.
But I have a really warm-and-fuzzy idea regarding a scene *giggles* it makes me happy just thinking about it!
I'm not going to tell you the pairings *eyes flash mysteriously* But keep in mind, that this story's main genres do NOT INCLUDE ROMANCE. It's all a compensation for my sadly lacking love life *sigh*
Also, I was thinking about starting a mailing list for this fic. If you DON'T want to be on it, tell me in your review.
Oh, and here is the money question: What is a Tancho? *smiles* Pockey to anyone who can tell me what it is (I wrote a research paper on the Tancho last year ~_^)
Please write all of your questions or concerns in a REVIEW! Flame me if you'd like!
Thank you for your time so far ^^
giggleplex
PS - . . . Review? *looks sheepish* It's a very pretty button . . .
Sorry for my lapse. Nrr.
Song of the Chapter: "What Your Soul Sings" by Massive Attack. Another "100th Window" song (tell me if you'd like me to e-mail it to you!)
(Sorry this isn't a very long chapter either, DcSolstice T.T I tried I tried!)
Cheers, peers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"There was a boy . . .
A very strange, ~enchanted~ boy.
They say he wandered very far,
--very far--
over land and sea . . .
A little shy, and sad of eye
but very wise, was he.
And then one day,
one magic day, he passed my way.
While we spoke of many things,
fools and kings,
this he said to me:
'The greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love . . . and be loved in return'"
- Massive Attack & David Bowie, "Nature Boy"
~*~*~*~
"Tomorrow, we will ride to Azkaban."
"Of course, the island is just on the horizon, after all."
"The dementors have been notified?"
"Yes, milady."
" . . . the Dark Lord has been notified?"
"Of course, milady."
"Good. Every thing is in order."
"As always."
"Can you remember what or precise mission is, as far as total decimation or a quiet break out?"
"I doubt any break out from Azkaban could be considered 'quiet', love. But I suspect the Dark Lord would be unhappy to find any devious plans to tell the world he has returned, foiled in his 'absence'."
"Ha--he just won't do his own dirty work for him."
"I knew there was a reason I loved you."
"I haven't seen it yet."
"Well, I have."
" . . . "
"Do you ever think about him?"
"Who."
"Your son."
"Pft, he's not ~your~ son."
"I know."
" . . . no. Why?"
"You just seem preoccupied. Do you wish you could free him as well as our suffering comrades?"
"Only to kill him."
"Haha--~sure~, love. Get some rest, darling, we're on a mission from a god."
He knew that killing was a tender mercy to someone in Azkaban.
~*~*~*~
He flew; it was all he knew.
The moment he pushed off clumsily from that barred ledge, he felt all of his sorrows simply--drift away as the wind whistled past. The stars were still scattered about the sky, even though the pinkish hues of dawn had already illuminated the sky slightly, and he headed for the only horizon with ~something~ promised, and not just more water. He had seen too much water.
It was the most wonderful feeling he had never dreamed it could be. He remembered more than just such complicated sadness and depression, and it warmed him up so far beyond physically.
The warmth bubbled up deep inside him, and he ~laughed~ and soared dreamily.
He ~*cawed*~ a tancho's call, but he didn't want to notice that at that point.
Ryou was happy, for no reason at all besides peacefulness, and nothing came to take him back.
//Fly Ryou, fly.//
He cawed again; floating, fleeing.
~*~*~*~
Their camp was quiet that night, as no one seemed inclined to talk about much in fear that they would then ~reveal~ too much, and that was a dangerous thing to do within Lord Voldemort's circle. There were about only twelve of them in all, because they were anticipating no struggle from the dementors stationed around their target, but needed enough cover to keep the convicts out of the hands of the ministry again.
Avery sighed, sharpening a wicked dagger for no other purpose than to have something to do with his hands. The camp's central fire pit burned with no sign of natural weakness at the slight breeze, but the purple flame was by no means natural. It burned strongly until dawn, where the constantly insomnia-struck Death Eater banished it with a lazy swish of his wand.
Others were asleep but he had charmed himself long ago, back in his fifth year, to not need sleep any longer. His cleverness was renown among Hogwart's alumni, and it was perhaps that which made him a candidate for a Death Eater in the first place. None of his old classmates would directly associate him with the quiet boy who spent too many unhealthy hours in the company of books, now, but it was nice to reminisce--to only himself, of course.
Still, he did miss sleeping at times.
He sat on a conveniently placed tree-stump in the shadow of a gigantic oak, whose wise branches hid him slightly from the view of their camp. His right leg was bent up to his haunches as his left stretched out to the leave- littered forest floor; drawing simple shapes on the ground under it's own accord.
Avery's dusty blonde hair tickled his cheeks, reminding him in an irritated fashion that it was growing a bit long and constantly unkempt. It was sometimes useful to have hair in which you could hide your eyes under, because eyes were so difficult to control, but the split-ends were scratchy, course, and diffidently not worth it.
With a decided sneer, he reminded himself that he would look like that troublesome Potter boy before too long.
The blade slipped, digging itself deeply into the tree-stump.
Yes, that wretched little boy who had yet to discover how insignificant a barrier he really was. How could those Pheonix-fools believe that something as slight as a half-trained child could ever stand up to the Dark Lord of legends?
If his master had not insisted on toying with him--it would make their horrific conquest ~so~ much easier.
Avery yanked the blade cleanly from the decaying wood. /Though I have long since learned that nothing is done the easy way under the Dark Lord's supervision./
It was in Potter's sixth year that he had injured the Dark Lord enough for his soul to stray slightly for a while. The event was a passing of great relief among wizards, but they still did not suspect the truth.
The Dark Lord would never die.
Avery grinned to himself, still sharpening the blade.
And in the time that he 'strayed', he had brought back ideas, he had brought back wonderful plans. With the experience of a dark place, and the powers of shadows. None of them understood it, but the faith recalled by the Dark Lord's stressing of power was enough for each and every one of his 'immortal' disciples to trust in it.
But none of them could trust him; that was why they did his bidding with absolutely no questions asked.
His steely gray eyes closed for a moment, as he smelled the pine and sea water, tasted nature. It was an unhealthy forest, he decided though he didn't really care, with too many sorrows mulling around such doomed life. He could smell the depression of the trees, it's faintly metallic scent prodding slight pity.
But then, he sensed something ~more~.
Avery's eyes shot open as his body rose in a taught crouch; holding his silver dagger in front of him warily to the trees. He took advantage of his quiet step to sneak closer to the something, keeping his mind and expression blank in case of a sneak attack.
He waited.
"What?!"
Yes, there was diffidently someone out there, foolish enough to actually ~speak~ in such a tense environment as this. Of course, the unwilling victim probably didn't share such 'gifts' as Avery--
--How could someone not notice this?
Abruptly, while he was contemplating the situation, something shot out with a rustle from the bushes.
He ducked with a roll silently, as his attacker recovered agonizingly quickly and lunged at him again, snarling, as the rotting leaves rustled in annoyance.
Avery was thrown back with a hiss of surprise, only somehow managing to swing his sharpened dagger upward, as his attacker dodged back--
--Grabbing his face with a claw-like hand, sharp nails pressing into his cheek and drawing blood down his pale face. The face above him was masked by the view of the rising sun, but he understood it's mutual discomfort from their situation.
Avery grinned.
His dagger sparkled on the attacker's throat, preventing either of them from moving for the time being.
~*~*~*~
Ryou's bare feet touched down on rough sand, and he stood there for a moment, savoring the feeling of the rocky beach between his toes. His eyelids were closed in ecstasy, and his untroubled but inquisitive mind behind them still wondered if this was all a dream.
But he knew it wasn't, with a tiny giggle, dreams in ~that place~ were worse than reality. And this was so much better than both.
He laughed with great power now, testing his rarely-used voice out again, a little deeper than what he recalled from before. Ryou forgot all sense of practicality and raced around the beach, teasing the waves to come closer, and finally just leaping and galloping and skipping over to the large mass of trees; gates by old eroded logs.
The shade crowned him delicately as he still smiled, bending under brittle, low-hung branches that threatened to hurt him. He elevated to just standing on the balls of his bare feet, and he stalked with amazing agility and stealth to another clearing in the forest. Dimly, he wondered how he could walk so silent after staying in his tiny cell for so long.
/You're welcome, Hikari-baka./ even his other half was amused.
"Oh thank you." Salt water began flooding into his lower eyelids "~Thank you~." He whispered.
Involuntarily, he slumped forward to his knees, rubbing his eyes and instinctively stifling most of his sobs. Ryou wasn't sure why, and had sparsely the idea of the actual purpose of crying.
But for once, it felt so ~good~ to let his tears and fears run out of his eyes and stick to his face. The helplessness was maddening as he tried to control his racking sobs, parching his throat and tiring his body, stop, but he only wept harder, just reveling in somewhat distorted happiness.
He barely noticed the slight warmth around his shoulders from his Yami, until he felt warm tears fall like generous, warmed raindrops on his head, which his only responded to by burrowing himself deeper into the apparition of Bakura. The spirit, though in possession of no independent body of his own, could still cry with untainted, raw magic.
They both wept; for happiness, for luck, for peace.
However, all great things end, and after a while, Ryou pulled himself straighter with a shudder in his breath and wiped his tears on the grubby sleeves of his prison uniform. He felt Bakura return to his soul room, but didn't look up to see it, caught up in the aftershock of his lapse of
Happiness.
/Bakura--/ Ryou hesitated /what will we do now?/
//I don't really care. But I know where we're going after this.//
The hikari boy stiffened a little with a scowl. His life was becoming controlled by others, just like before.
He had no intention of going down easily this time.
/No./
//What do you mean ~no~?// Bakura responded, irritation appearant in his voice.
Ryou tore his gaze spitefully to the side, his eyes narrowed, and thinking that perhaps his Yami's kindness wasn't really what he had thought it was.
"I'm not about to fall back into another one of my stupid destinies!" he hissed to him with an isolated finality.
Bakura was taken aback
//I would ~never~ lead you to destiny, Ryou.//
"How could I know that you're speaking the truth?!"
The Yami's transparent image appeared again, looking down to his slouching Aibou with an unreadable expression. A feeling that was strong enough to show, and become readable to the often times oblivious Hikari; sadness, regret.
Ryou took a step back in startled surprise.
"Because we are 'destined' to fail, aibou. Our soul will always be 'destined' to fail." He whispered, and they both knew just how true the words were. They stared at one another for a second; two halves of a greater whole--but still separate. Two souls who didn't always understand each other.
Bakura faded into the shadows once more, bowing his head in earnest.
Ryou shivered with another shaky smile, an apologetic one this time, raising his head to the filtering branches that blocked the sky. A bird trilled into the morning, but otherwise, the relative silence seemed unnatural, oddly enveloping and still. Forests were not supposed to sound like this.
//There is someone nearby,// the tomb robber's echoed voice warned //be still. We do not yet understand the significance of their presence.//
"What?!" Ryou cried, before he could stop himself, whipping around in distress.
/They've come for my again, oh gods . . . / he could feel himself shaking in hysteria and pure wretched anticipation. Ryou's head went limp. /Oh, oh, oh, I can't fight them, no no no./
//Ryou! Listen to me!//
His memories became too much to bear, despite his absence from the prison, his capture, his mother, he thought of them with slightly wild eyes.
/Come, they've come they've come they've come./
//Aibou, I'm taking over.// he notified himself, without further preamble.
Then his fingers were not his own, his eyes were no longer his own, and he drifted eerily to his soul room in complete trust of his Yami.
The only outward change was a little glow from the disguised ring, and suddenly, the expression was cold, completely masked. Bakura walked carefully, it was like a second nature to him still after all of those years in exile, his hands itching for his beloved dagger which no longer hung in deadly anticipation at his hip.
He conjured the Eye with a twist of his spidery hand, a relief for hiding it after all of these years, considering if he should attempt to take advantage of it's power, erratic to him as it was. It didn't take long for him to come to his decision. Zork Necrophadisu was still a part of him, wasn't he?
His fingers massaged the gold, feeling the warmth spread through him; the intoxicating experience of such beautiful power.
*. . . unwilling victim . . . foolish . . . *
//Ryou . . . ?//
/I trust you./
He smiled maliciously, then dove for the presence.
Bakura did not expect the other to be skilled, but time had taken it's toll on his patience, and he still recovered quickly from his first failed attempt to immobilize the man on the other side of the bushes. His spontaneous manner of fighting left the opposing person dazed for a minute.
He twisted and swiped up at the possessive spirit with an unexpected weapon, a clean dagger that was sharp enough to gleam.
The Yami responded by reaching down and grabbing his clean-shaven face with sharp nails that cut through his skin like a dinner knife, drawing five individual points of trickling blood around his cheek.
However, the opposing dagger was stationed expertly at his throat, he could feel it.
The pause that followed was at least as long as the scuffle had taken. Neither of them flinched when a crow unexpectedly took flight somewhere above them, which told a lot about each other.
"Not bad." Bakura said in that deep, rich voice he had. He seemed very sure of himself, and Avery was slightly concerned for himself with such mad reassurance coming from this boy.
His face was hidden behind waist-length white hair, bleached with something other than any sort of physical dye, he was certain. He was unnaturally lean, yet still quite obviously strong with whip-cord-like wiry muscles despite his malnutrition and unkempt state before him. The boy was dressed in some sort of ragged, gray robes that hung off his thin frame like a hand- me-down, but they were no hassle to his maneuverability as they should have been.
He was still smiling, a frightening leer masked with mystery, and Avery had no idea why. Such mystery was making him slightly uncomfortably, though he didn't dare show it outwardly.
"You would have killed me easily if you held a weapon." Avery sneered.
The boy's upper lip curled a little.
"And I would have to admit that your means of fighting are by no means honorable." He said, still not moving.
"Well, I'm not an honorable man." This kid had no idea who he was messing with. That thought allowed him to contort his expression to a mirror image of the boy's. "Just give up, kid."
The Death Eater flinched as his grip tightened, piercing more flesh. He knew his sign of weakness was a mistake as the boy's sneer widened a little. This was beyond mischief, it was absolutely sadistic.
"Would you like me to destroy your pretty face?"
Who the hell was this kid?!
"I can bear that. ~You~ on the other hand, good sir, cannot afford to have your throat slit if you plan on surviving beyond our little encounter." Avery reminded him, cheerfully.
The sneer faded to an expression of deep mistrust.
"Just lower your hand, and I won't hurt you."
"Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe your word?"
Avery chuckled "Bright, are you boy?"
"I'm still not going to let you go." The voice turned as chilled as ice.
Avery sighed. "Look, I'm not going to kill you once you lower your hand. Not that a muggle device could take someone's life in the first place."
"Prejudiced, I see. Not a comment that should be given lightly to a fool who doesn't have his wand."
/Wand?/ Ryou questioned.
//Not now.//
He mentally asked for support from the Eye, which it gave again, a bit hesitated. This Avery man was not an honorable idiot, but he could tell he was telling the truth about not killing him. For more amusement's sake than anything, but still truthful.
The blonde man waited. Bakura took his nails from his cheeks, looking at the blood on his fingernails. Ryou would have felt queasy if he had a body as his other half licked off the blood daintily.
Avery's hand lowered as well, watching the boy without much expression.
"Your blood is bitter." Bakura noted.
He bowed his head "Aye."
The white-haired boy flashed another odd smile, this time signaling slight recognition in Avery's eyes. That smile was familiar, somehow.
"I am sorry for attacking you." Ryou said cautiously.
His strange accent, only slightly differing from Avery's own made him start in surprise.
/I know that smile./ Avery suddenly realized
Avasiah's smile. Cold, beautiful Avasiah's smile.
And suddenly, he understood who this boy really was.
/'He is deaf to magic.'/ His beloved said once to the Dark Lord in disgust.
A very dangerous little boy, now hesitant and thoughtful in his mannerisms.
/Deaf to magic./ he recalled, taking a step back. Not a squib, no, something beyond a wizard, but deaf to it all. That would explain the ~magic~ bleached hair, but he was much more dangerous than he seemed to expect.
"Get lost kid." Was all he said.
They boy didn't move at once, instead reflecting a blank sort of look in his unnaturally pale face.
/Where do I go now?/ Ryou asked.
//Your choice.// Bakura grumbled.
He thought for a moment.
"Ah--Mr. Avery?" he asked, not daring to look at him "Which direction is London?"
The blonde man watched him quizzically for a second.
He pointed. The boy looked thoughtfully in that direction, before turning the other way.
"I'd rather not cross the rest of the world before I reach my destination." He said over his shoulder with a sly smile before turning to walk.
Avery grinned. /Clever. Pity he can't help us; as useless as a mudblood./
"Hey kid." He called out, halting the boy's stride. Just as he turned, Avery allowed no mercy before throwing his dagger.
Bakura caught it's gold hilt, eyes narrowed.
"You will gain nothing with such pitiful attacks."
"It's yours." Avery said, startling both spirits. "Here--" he tossed the leather belt to keep it in, and his black, nondescript cloak.
He caught both of the additional items with a frown, before relaxing with a thanking smile that lit up his face brilliantly.
/If only Avasiah would smile like that./
"Thank you, Mr. Avery."
"Good luck."
The boy left the clearing without another word.
/Now,/ the blonde man thought distractedly, scratching his head /how did he know my name is Avery?/
Strange. He shrugged it off, returning to the Death Eater's camp.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few responses:
***Rosz of the Angel - Ma-a-a-a-a-a-aybe. *shrugs* I haven't really thought about the HP pairings, yet.
XGP - I'm glad you have still read my fanfiction, despite the fact that you're not the biggest fan of angst ^^ As for the love thing; I am one of those people who finds a little thoughtful romance absolutely adorable, and sometimes the best feeling in the world. As far as I know right now, I will try my best to tone down any shonen-ai hints to a bearable level to you; but I just sincerely hope you won't abandon my story because there is a guy/guy pairing involved. Besides, you don't seem like that kind of person! ^^***
Woo--that was a close and completely oblivious encounter on both sides (in the story).
The "deaf to magic" idea will be explained soon enough.
I got the idea from Kate Elliot's "Crown of Stars" series (good good GOOD books), so if you've read them, think Liath. The hair bleaching, on the other hand, belongs to milady Mercedes Lackey. Some of you other fantasy novel loving wierdos should understand that from various parts of her "Heralds of Valdemar" series.
YAY! I'm glad more people reviewed!!! ^^ It just makes me ~so happy~ when people pay attention! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! *bounces*
As for the pairings--
This debate is still quite heated on both the shonen-ai side, and the NO shonen-ai side, and still has me considering. At the moment, I think I'm going to involve a compromise: slight shonen-ai, but nothing really story- shaping. Just enough to ignore, if you'd like.
But I have a really warm-and-fuzzy idea regarding a scene *giggles* it makes me happy just thinking about it!
I'm not going to tell you the pairings *eyes flash mysteriously* But keep in mind, that this story's main genres do NOT INCLUDE ROMANCE. It's all a compensation for my sadly lacking love life *sigh*
Also, I was thinking about starting a mailing list for this fic. If you DON'T want to be on it, tell me in your review.
Oh, and here is the money question: What is a Tancho? *smiles* Pockey to anyone who can tell me what it is (I wrote a research paper on the Tancho last year ~_^)
Please write all of your questions or concerns in a REVIEW! Flame me if you'd like!
Thank you for your time so far ^^
giggleplex
PS - . . . Review? *looks sheepish* It's a very pretty button . . .