I have been on vacation for the past week, where I also picked up a
sprained wrist and purple knuckles on my left hand. The splint makes it
though to type fast.
Splints suck! X-P
Yeah. And the writer's block regarding "The Sanctuary" was kind of maddening as well; I stared at a screen for an hour, and all I could come up with was about three paragraphs depicting Rei having a wary scuffle with a sheet of paper. I am SO serious!
If you call this chapter shounen-ai, you're a little too sensitive, alright? I'm sorry, but this isn't going to be a rxyb pairing (though it's one of my favorites ^_~), and this chapter was NOT meant to depict ~that~ sort of love. Still, I think it's very horrid if you abandon a story simply because of a pairing that you don't like, OR RATHER a pairing that you're not /used to/.
So here it is. Read, rinse, review and repeat if necessary ^^
Chapter theme - "What Your Soul Sings" by Massive Attack (the same as last chapter)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"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"
~*~*~*~
He flew for two days, living off of clear streams and various birds.
It barely occurred to him that perhaps he was a cannibal for eating such meat, but it was by far the best food he had eaten in a very long time. The slight nausea-ridden feeling as he was flying in the form of a lanky tancho, a Japanese crane, was easily ignored once he reminded himself of the subtly pleasant fill, and not those agonizing pangs of hunger that used to wake him in the middle of the night.
Ryou still felt as if he were drowning in a haze, still unbelieving of his luck and strange ability. However, there were some things that he was at peace for not understanding, he wasn't a particularly curious person and turning into a bird was familiar enough in the manner that told him that Bakura knew what he was doing.
So he flew, feeling light in the body, light in the mind, and content with the world.
Flying. But he didn't know how to fly . . .
He shrugged it off.
Even normally ignorable physical sensations were wonderful and absolutely cherished to him in those times. As the world around him contorted in lovely British landscapes, living subtly in denied beauty, he sped off in a steady rush of wings and gliding, admiring life. Admiring anything besides madness.
But never beauty; because it was impossible to see sadness without beauty, in all things. Ryou tried to consciously ignore it all, but it had become harder for him to grasp himself mentally, shaking him back to self-induced, wonderful lies where the world was as free as his flight.
Not one person had come after him. He didn't stop to think, he just let the wind take him to wherever the free-flowing breezes recommended--in the general direction of London, of course.
He recognized a city, a very large city, coming into view on the second day, however the lights had blazed to life, illuminating the sky and masking the stars with smog. Ryou hesitated mid-flight at the intimidating sight, caught by the sad state, such a strange place.
Ryou landed a few miles outside London, taking refuge under a gigantic oak tree, whose leaves were vacating their homes and swept up slowly by the wind. It was dark enough that he couldn't figure out the actual color of the leaves, therefore, he still had no idea what year it was, what time it was, or even an idea of what month it was.
As he touched down into slightly soaking grass, he changed instinctively back into his human form, stumbling headfirst from the change of weight. The grass tasted vile, but it was a relief to again realize that it ~tasted~.
Ryou pulled himself up, feeling and hearing his knees grind unpleasantly and his elbows pop. His vision was nearly completely useless after changing back into normal human ones, so he scrambled about, finally settling down by bracing himself against the thick trunk. It was a fortunate instance that the tree was so large, because he barely brushed the side of it besides.
Breathing raggedly and already feeling his arms begin to stiffen up after unaccustomed strain, he allowed his weighted lids to close on their own accord. As his breath steadied, he found the utter silence of the still countryside slightly unnerving, and the rustles from his robes as he sat down seemed unnaturally loud.
He shifted into what he thought was a sitting position, because he was losing the immediate feeling to his bony legs, his head rolling back and neck braced uncomfortably by wood.
Ryou sighed to himself, almost hopelessly.
/I don't understand people . . . / he thought, his head spinning slightly in exhaustion. That man they had met was--different. Even more so than those he had thought he had known when he lived in Japan, all twisting in their facades of courage and love, yet still succeeding.
Luckily.
/I don't even understand myself./ his eyes opened, eyebrows furrowing /What am I ~supposed~ to do? How am I ~supposed~ to act?/
He had lived his life by the experiences of others; always. It was just so much easier to act like others. No one could judge you if nothing you said showed individual feeling--
--Not like his mother did.
Ryou frowned deeper, shaking it off to an unreadable expression, even to the darkness. /Bakura never had any problems with this sort of thing, but I've never met anyone who had to break out of prison./ he flushed despite the cool night breeze, in pure shame.
//It is hard, aibou.// commented his Yami. He still seemed weary for some reason. //But you must find success . . . with yourself.//
Ryou stiffened. /So hard./ he agreed.
He hugged himself in despair, suddenly realizing that no one around him could see him, even if there ~were~ people around him. With the reassurance, his face slackened from it's half-smile into a weary frown of cold nature, facing the stars.
/Life is so hard when you bring attention to yourself./ he buried his nose into his knees, comfortably balanced.
The wind quickened for a slight second, but not to a natural biting quality; rather, a caress on the back of his neck. Still unmoving, but vaguely aware of everything, Ryou felt a slight unnecessary breath on the back of his neck.
"You have to learn to free yourself, Ryou." Bakura's voice whispered from behind. It was hard to tell if it was actually him, or the voice of the zephyr which had turned cold again, like the deep quality of the voice "Masks, facades take energy, but so does power." He felt the presence lean forward.
The boy allowed his feathery hair to hide his eyes, which were so hard to hide from his Yami.
"And you do want power, like everyone else, don't you?"
"I'm not sure what I want." Said Ryou.
The dead cool breath stretching to the back of his neck came with little gasps; a throaty chuckle, but not in a mocking manner. He didn't blink as a strange sweeping feeling ran up his legs and down his arms, which had nothing to do with the cold or his ragged prison garb. For a second, he felt suspended without gravity where he was sitting.
The boy felt a tentative touch on his forearm, alerting him to his Yami's magic-devouring individual 'form', and he held his breath.
"You'll never really know what you want," Bakura swallowed, sounding very grave "until you understand yourself."
His death-touched arms crept around Ryou's shoulders with an intake of breath from the both of them. He locked his fingers on the other side, marveling in concern at how thin his shoulders were, and the slight shake that wracked his entire body through his arms.
"You have to ~love~ yourself."
He tried not to sniffle, but Ryou couldn't stay entirely silent in the arms of his Yami. However, only one tear flooded from his eyes.
It was even hard to cry.
"I d-don't know . . . " Trailing off, his stutter could not be filtered by his precarious self-control. The arms around him tightened; and while not warm as he reminded himself hugs should have been, it was comforting to what so little comfort he could recall in his lifetime.
Bakura's semi-transparent head fell onto Ryou's shoulder, his whisper of hair tickling his cheek.
Ryou fell asleep in his own arms; the arms of his Yami, of ~himself~. Crying and contented.
~*~*~*~
He awoke with a shiver.
As Ryou moved, his skin was very cool to the touch, and his Yami's form was no where to be seen. Still early, he saw the beginnings of an unremarkable sunset and the dawn of a day he knew was going to be unnerving.
There were people in London, and he was never ready for people. It hit him with a pang that the going to the city wasn't particularly useful to any purpose--actually available to him, as he had no money, no ID, and no friends.
Still, what else was there to do besides Bakura's bidding? Strangely enough, he was still wary of the ages-old spirit, and was ready to avoid all of such confrontation in the past, as well as he could in the future. He would do his best to slip out of dangerous situations once Bakura's control would be revived, Ryou decided.
//Hmmph.// Bakura made a sound of disgust in the back of his mind.
Only a glance allowed him to register the fact that there was no food around him to be found or scavenged, so he loaded energy awkwardly to braced legs, jumped--
--and with a flap of brilliantly white wings, he flew toward the sight of the sunrise, and the oddly grotesque landscape it was currently awakening.
~*~*~*~
It was simple pickings for someone who had close ties with a legendary thief--especially being a bird at times, because no one suspected ~birds~ as deliberate pickpockets, it was absurd.
Ryou found a dirty looking pond in a park around the outskirts of the city, where he played the applicable part of a water bird up for early morning fishing. He was astounded by the number of people who were already awake and running or eating, or even nursing warm cups of gourmet coffee; the steam from both drink and breath swirling dreamily through the bare branches above.
The habitation of people was evident throughout the entire area, as it was littered with nothings and 'tamed' in an unnatural way. They wandered about, walking, running, standing, sitting, smoking--
His beak chattered once, and he tried not to look at them. People made him feel uncomfortable, and always wary because of their unpredictable nature regarding betrayal.
//Oh, for the love of Ra, Aibou!// Bakura snapped gruffly //You'll never see these people again!//
/I'm on the run!/ as he always had been, from feeling and emotion.
He snorted //Not from ~them~.//
A few he could see had pointed him out as a stark and utter contrast to the usual neighborhood of water fowl, and one even took a picture so openly Ryou was certain a little pink showed through his snowy plumage.
Not even bothering with a retort, he hid himself in front of instinct, making sure his actions betrayed nothing.
Even so, he couldn't pretend not to feel a bit guilty when he stole the wallet of a man sitting on the bench comfortably as he leaned on his pale- haired lover, but it was necessary.
After landing in a deserted alleyway, flooded with the ambrosia aromas from nearby restraints, his claw-like hands gripped about two-hundred dollars gruffly, leaving the wallet on the street with the ID and credit cards still inside. Ryou hoped worriedly that whoever found it would turn it in immediately upon discovery.
The nearby clothing shop was a shady adventure, deeply associated with dark styles and a thirst for anarchy, but it was certainly better than the telling prison robes he was wearing before. His Yami actually seemed contented with the big baggy pants of which hung entirely too many zippers and straps, as well as the plain shirt in the same precise shade of black, and especially the dark trench coat which was the only warm thing he could buy inside of the store. Finding the female cashier's look embarrassingly appraising, Ryou vacated it as quickly as he could.
The style was odd for him and his pale complexion, but he put up with the stares by not looking at anyone until he found a quaint little diner on a street corner two blocks down.
Though the waitress serving him did not seem too concerned for anything besides his large order of breakfast, after he ravenously devoured it all, she brought out another plate with a wide smile and a knowing wink. Finding that the second meal had not been charged on his tab, he thanked her profusely, before again getting out as fast as possible.
Ryou had the sneaking suspicion that being on the run from a place like-- that, was not the ideal position to be lingering around people deserving of nothing more than peace.
So after a white haze of wandering, trying to avoid people, he found himself sitting on a bench, watching people and extremely bored. He didn't want to use the money for anything and take advantage of another's wealth, and he also didn't want to waste any funds he could use in the future.
Ryou mostly watched people, before actually falling asleep with the barely- warmed sunlight on his face.
//Do you mind?//
His Yami sounded irritated when he blinked after his initial jolt of awakening. Shifting a bit forward, he placed his weary eyes in the tender hold of his palms, blinking away blurriness.
/No, not really./
Bakura prowled about the city with cold vigor and no more purpose than Ryou besides taking advantage of the careless British folk unwary with their funds. The boy in black with the malice-filled eyes swerved and skirted expertly about the local street-markets even, much to Ryou's indignation, a ragged old street busker who had little more than ten dollars collected in his ragged guitar case.
Then he grinned, making sure Ryou noticed that after only a few eventful hours, their money had nearly tripled.
Once Bakura was satisfied, he found other things to do, mainly keeping a sharp eye out around a nearby flea market, of which he was determined to visit for some unfathomable reason.
The Hikari consciousness drifted in absolute boredom, until a fresh wave of anticipation came through, alerting Ryou to a discovery of Bakura's.
He held up a pendant in pure satisfaction.
Even through the eyes of another, it was the sort of thing Ryou was sure he would avoid; the contorted depiction of some sort of bird, grinning manically in a swirled-standing glory. It was about the height of a walnut, but a great deal more slender and hung on a cheap piece of thin rope, as if made for a necklace.
As it caught the light, Ryou noticed it was made from some sort of deep dark purple material; clear and slightly transparent. If he didn't know any better about Bakura's taste, he would have suspected the thing to be a 'prize' from a fifty cent machine.
He sent a feeling of personal inquiry regarding the significance of such a gaudy piece.
"Objects of power seem to have a way of coming back to me." Was all that Bakura offered in direct explanation. After that, during Ryou's long interrogation, with the only answers involved 'maybe's, 'whatever you think's and the like, he dropped the subject. Needless to say, the attempts were fruitless and the Hikari gave up broodingly before too long.
He barely noticed the pendant flashing to unnaturally bright silver, dazzling in the sleeve hidden fingers of Bakura.
/You're not going to put that thing around you--~our~ neck, are you./ Ryou commented.
Bakura gave another one of his exaggerated indignations of a sort-of snort out to the open.
//I,// he thought back, vainly, but in good humorous spirits //would never do such a thing as ~I~ do not have such a bad sense of style as you do. Our neck belongs to our Ring.//
Ryou laughed before he could stop himself, with such an overflow of bliss that it bubbled out of his physical body as well, startling Bakura, as well as the others around them. Glaring around at them all, he stalked off to another block with fresh faces and ignorant shoppers.
He slipped the pendant around his wrist without another broach of the topic. Ryou was fine with it, as he was extremely embarrassed for happiness. Which was proving a lot harder to obscure than it used to be.
Their body wandered a bit more before it was dark enough for them to wizen themselves up for the night's way of life, and the thoughts of any place to stay.
As the street lights flickered on, Bakura migrated toward the extreme sides of the street, blending in perfectly with his dark colors. He held his head low.
//What now.//
/I . . . don't know./ Ryou admitted.
He let a slow breath whistle from between his teeth in anger, but managed to preserve their precarious bond together, which was still so far from perfect or entirely accepted. _Yet_, as they both hoped.
The sidewalk was uneven with the overgrowth of roots. Bakura tripped a few times from his new buckled boots in the semi-darkness; only a few streetlamps still worked around there. With the combined worries of two paranoid souls, it became impossible to resist craning their neck and keeping an eye out for anywhere and everything.
/You choose./ said Ryou doggedly.
A cat jumped out, leaving them senselessly alert for a moment afterward. This was not the nice part of town.
//We need to get out of here.// Bakura stated. //With no wand and no knife in times like these, we'll be pathetically helpless.//
/Wait--wand? What are you talking about?/
He didn't answer, instead set on turning the corner away from what was probably the sounds made by an unpleasant sort of group of people. The coat waved behind them, carried by the wind and Bakura's brisk walking pace, which he was trying to keep as smooth as possible.
The sounds were becoming louder.
Another nessicary turn gave them the unneeded glimpse of a dead end directly in their path. It was scattered with various forms of sloppy graffiti, that actually looked fresh enough to be disconcerting. He cursed vilely, turning as the murmurs of guffaws and dark amusement came closer.
A nearby trash can saved them from unfortunate discovery. Bakura only moved when he was certain they had moved on to other mayhems.
He turned--
--Only to be caught by the gaze of another.
//Blood eyes.// Bakura noticed, wildly looking around for a route of escape.
"Oh, going so soon, son?" he grinned, showing a mouth of carnivorous teeth "I was going to invite you in for a cup of tea . . . "
His eyes remained mocking to the body holding two troubled souls; /You can't get out./
Amazingly, it was Ryou who took over, looking back calmly. Their interceptor held no lies in his expression, just an interesting feeling of mad loneliness, if he noticed right.
Ryou frowned. He knew loneliness.
"I would be pleased to accept your invitation."
Bakura screamed warning obscenities in his head, but his Hikari kept firm control of their body. Only a slight tremble from the relentless manner his Yami was fighting him showed outwardly, as he stiffly moved forward under his own power.
The strange man in the peculiar red coat led him down a busy residential street, setting a smooth pace that Bakura would have envied if he controlled himself.
//What the hell do you think you're doing?!//
His eyes flashed like jewels under the artificial yellow lighting, turning back to stare at the one in black, who simply stared squarely back.
"Welcome to my home, little Ryou Bakura."
It was too late to run. Bakura screamed inside his head, and it echoed painfully.
But he walked in without turning back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sara, darling, to be on the mailing list I need to know your e-mail address ^^;;; Oh well, I hope you've read this chapter anyway ^^
Okay, I tried to pace the flea-market scene, but it might have just ended up feeling rushed ^^;;; I can't tell, what do you guys think?
Please review, especially if you can help me improve my writing! I would greatly treasure any feedback, both positive and negative.
Thankies for sticking with it so far!
*whisks off to angsty "Before I Fell Over the Rainbow" land*
^o.o^
giggleplex
"Yami Krissy" , "Rowan and Sakura" , "Nine Bucks" , "crystal- chan" , "Tsukiko" , "onlyHAUNTED" , "Sachi-chan" , "DcSolstice" , "Lyn/Lin" , "Usa-chan Yuy" , "summer psycho"
Splints suck! X-P
Yeah. And the writer's block regarding "The Sanctuary" was kind of maddening as well; I stared at a screen for an hour, and all I could come up with was about three paragraphs depicting Rei having a wary scuffle with a sheet of paper. I am SO serious!
If you call this chapter shounen-ai, you're a little too sensitive, alright? I'm sorry, but this isn't going to be a rxyb pairing (though it's one of my favorites ^_~), and this chapter was NOT meant to depict ~that~ sort of love. Still, I think it's very horrid if you abandon a story simply because of a pairing that you don't like, OR RATHER a pairing that you're not /used to/.
So here it is. Read, rinse, review and repeat if necessary ^^
Chapter theme - "What Your Soul Sings" by Massive Attack (the same as last chapter)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"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"
~*~*~*~
He flew for two days, living off of clear streams and various birds.
It barely occurred to him that perhaps he was a cannibal for eating such meat, but it was by far the best food he had eaten in a very long time. The slight nausea-ridden feeling as he was flying in the form of a lanky tancho, a Japanese crane, was easily ignored once he reminded himself of the subtly pleasant fill, and not those agonizing pangs of hunger that used to wake him in the middle of the night.
Ryou still felt as if he were drowning in a haze, still unbelieving of his luck and strange ability. However, there were some things that he was at peace for not understanding, he wasn't a particularly curious person and turning into a bird was familiar enough in the manner that told him that Bakura knew what he was doing.
So he flew, feeling light in the body, light in the mind, and content with the world.
Flying. But he didn't know how to fly . . .
He shrugged it off.
Even normally ignorable physical sensations were wonderful and absolutely cherished to him in those times. As the world around him contorted in lovely British landscapes, living subtly in denied beauty, he sped off in a steady rush of wings and gliding, admiring life. Admiring anything besides madness.
But never beauty; because it was impossible to see sadness without beauty, in all things. Ryou tried to consciously ignore it all, but it had become harder for him to grasp himself mentally, shaking him back to self-induced, wonderful lies where the world was as free as his flight.
Not one person had come after him. He didn't stop to think, he just let the wind take him to wherever the free-flowing breezes recommended--in the general direction of London, of course.
He recognized a city, a very large city, coming into view on the second day, however the lights had blazed to life, illuminating the sky and masking the stars with smog. Ryou hesitated mid-flight at the intimidating sight, caught by the sad state, such a strange place.
Ryou landed a few miles outside London, taking refuge under a gigantic oak tree, whose leaves were vacating their homes and swept up slowly by the wind. It was dark enough that he couldn't figure out the actual color of the leaves, therefore, he still had no idea what year it was, what time it was, or even an idea of what month it was.
As he touched down into slightly soaking grass, he changed instinctively back into his human form, stumbling headfirst from the change of weight. The grass tasted vile, but it was a relief to again realize that it ~tasted~.
Ryou pulled himself up, feeling and hearing his knees grind unpleasantly and his elbows pop. His vision was nearly completely useless after changing back into normal human ones, so he scrambled about, finally settling down by bracing himself against the thick trunk. It was a fortunate instance that the tree was so large, because he barely brushed the side of it besides.
Breathing raggedly and already feeling his arms begin to stiffen up after unaccustomed strain, he allowed his weighted lids to close on their own accord. As his breath steadied, he found the utter silence of the still countryside slightly unnerving, and the rustles from his robes as he sat down seemed unnaturally loud.
He shifted into what he thought was a sitting position, because he was losing the immediate feeling to his bony legs, his head rolling back and neck braced uncomfortably by wood.
Ryou sighed to himself, almost hopelessly.
/I don't understand people . . . / he thought, his head spinning slightly in exhaustion. That man they had met was--different. Even more so than those he had thought he had known when he lived in Japan, all twisting in their facades of courage and love, yet still succeeding.
Luckily.
/I don't even understand myself./ his eyes opened, eyebrows furrowing /What am I ~supposed~ to do? How am I ~supposed~ to act?/
He had lived his life by the experiences of others; always. It was just so much easier to act like others. No one could judge you if nothing you said showed individual feeling--
--Not like his mother did.
Ryou frowned deeper, shaking it off to an unreadable expression, even to the darkness. /Bakura never had any problems with this sort of thing, but I've never met anyone who had to break out of prison./ he flushed despite the cool night breeze, in pure shame.
//It is hard, aibou.// commented his Yami. He still seemed weary for some reason. //But you must find success . . . with yourself.//
Ryou stiffened. /So hard./ he agreed.
He hugged himself in despair, suddenly realizing that no one around him could see him, even if there ~were~ people around him. With the reassurance, his face slackened from it's half-smile into a weary frown of cold nature, facing the stars.
/Life is so hard when you bring attention to yourself./ he buried his nose into his knees, comfortably balanced.
The wind quickened for a slight second, but not to a natural biting quality; rather, a caress on the back of his neck. Still unmoving, but vaguely aware of everything, Ryou felt a slight unnecessary breath on the back of his neck.
"You have to learn to free yourself, Ryou." Bakura's voice whispered from behind. It was hard to tell if it was actually him, or the voice of the zephyr which had turned cold again, like the deep quality of the voice "Masks, facades take energy, but so does power." He felt the presence lean forward.
The boy allowed his feathery hair to hide his eyes, which were so hard to hide from his Yami.
"And you do want power, like everyone else, don't you?"
"I'm not sure what I want." Said Ryou.
The dead cool breath stretching to the back of his neck came with little gasps; a throaty chuckle, but not in a mocking manner. He didn't blink as a strange sweeping feeling ran up his legs and down his arms, which had nothing to do with the cold or his ragged prison garb. For a second, he felt suspended without gravity where he was sitting.
The boy felt a tentative touch on his forearm, alerting him to his Yami's magic-devouring individual 'form', and he held his breath.
"You'll never really know what you want," Bakura swallowed, sounding very grave "until you understand yourself."
His death-touched arms crept around Ryou's shoulders with an intake of breath from the both of them. He locked his fingers on the other side, marveling in concern at how thin his shoulders were, and the slight shake that wracked his entire body through his arms.
"You have to ~love~ yourself."
He tried not to sniffle, but Ryou couldn't stay entirely silent in the arms of his Yami. However, only one tear flooded from his eyes.
It was even hard to cry.
"I d-don't know . . . " Trailing off, his stutter could not be filtered by his precarious self-control. The arms around him tightened; and while not warm as he reminded himself hugs should have been, it was comforting to what so little comfort he could recall in his lifetime.
Bakura's semi-transparent head fell onto Ryou's shoulder, his whisper of hair tickling his cheek.
Ryou fell asleep in his own arms; the arms of his Yami, of ~himself~. Crying and contented.
~*~*~*~
He awoke with a shiver.
As Ryou moved, his skin was very cool to the touch, and his Yami's form was no where to be seen. Still early, he saw the beginnings of an unremarkable sunset and the dawn of a day he knew was going to be unnerving.
There were people in London, and he was never ready for people. It hit him with a pang that the going to the city wasn't particularly useful to any purpose--actually available to him, as he had no money, no ID, and no friends.
Still, what else was there to do besides Bakura's bidding? Strangely enough, he was still wary of the ages-old spirit, and was ready to avoid all of such confrontation in the past, as well as he could in the future. He would do his best to slip out of dangerous situations once Bakura's control would be revived, Ryou decided.
//Hmmph.// Bakura made a sound of disgust in the back of his mind.
Only a glance allowed him to register the fact that there was no food around him to be found or scavenged, so he loaded energy awkwardly to braced legs, jumped--
--and with a flap of brilliantly white wings, he flew toward the sight of the sunrise, and the oddly grotesque landscape it was currently awakening.
~*~*~*~
It was simple pickings for someone who had close ties with a legendary thief--especially being a bird at times, because no one suspected ~birds~ as deliberate pickpockets, it was absurd.
Ryou found a dirty looking pond in a park around the outskirts of the city, where he played the applicable part of a water bird up for early morning fishing. He was astounded by the number of people who were already awake and running or eating, or even nursing warm cups of gourmet coffee; the steam from both drink and breath swirling dreamily through the bare branches above.
The habitation of people was evident throughout the entire area, as it was littered with nothings and 'tamed' in an unnatural way. They wandered about, walking, running, standing, sitting, smoking--
His beak chattered once, and he tried not to look at them. People made him feel uncomfortable, and always wary because of their unpredictable nature regarding betrayal.
//Oh, for the love of Ra, Aibou!// Bakura snapped gruffly //You'll never see these people again!//
/I'm on the run!/ as he always had been, from feeling and emotion.
He snorted //Not from ~them~.//
A few he could see had pointed him out as a stark and utter contrast to the usual neighborhood of water fowl, and one even took a picture so openly Ryou was certain a little pink showed through his snowy plumage.
Not even bothering with a retort, he hid himself in front of instinct, making sure his actions betrayed nothing.
Even so, he couldn't pretend not to feel a bit guilty when he stole the wallet of a man sitting on the bench comfortably as he leaned on his pale- haired lover, but it was necessary.
After landing in a deserted alleyway, flooded with the ambrosia aromas from nearby restraints, his claw-like hands gripped about two-hundred dollars gruffly, leaving the wallet on the street with the ID and credit cards still inside. Ryou hoped worriedly that whoever found it would turn it in immediately upon discovery.
The nearby clothing shop was a shady adventure, deeply associated with dark styles and a thirst for anarchy, but it was certainly better than the telling prison robes he was wearing before. His Yami actually seemed contented with the big baggy pants of which hung entirely too many zippers and straps, as well as the plain shirt in the same precise shade of black, and especially the dark trench coat which was the only warm thing he could buy inside of the store. Finding the female cashier's look embarrassingly appraising, Ryou vacated it as quickly as he could.
The style was odd for him and his pale complexion, but he put up with the stares by not looking at anyone until he found a quaint little diner on a street corner two blocks down.
Though the waitress serving him did not seem too concerned for anything besides his large order of breakfast, after he ravenously devoured it all, she brought out another plate with a wide smile and a knowing wink. Finding that the second meal had not been charged on his tab, he thanked her profusely, before again getting out as fast as possible.
Ryou had the sneaking suspicion that being on the run from a place like-- that, was not the ideal position to be lingering around people deserving of nothing more than peace.
So after a white haze of wandering, trying to avoid people, he found himself sitting on a bench, watching people and extremely bored. He didn't want to use the money for anything and take advantage of another's wealth, and he also didn't want to waste any funds he could use in the future.
Ryou mostly watched people, before actually falling asleep with the barely- warmed sunlight on his face.
//Do you mind?//
His Yami sounded irritated when he blinked after his initial jolt of awakening. Shifting a bit forward, he placed his weary eyes in the tender hold of his palms, blinking away blurriness.
/No, not really./
Bakura prowled about the city with cold vigor and no more purpose than Ryou besides taking advantage of the careless British folk unwary with their funds. The boy in black with the malice-filled eyes swerved and skirted expertly about the local street-markets even, much to Ryou's indignation, a ragged old street busker who had little more than ten dollars collected in his ragged guitar case.
Then he grinned, making sure Ryou noticed that after only a few eventful hours, their money had nearly tripled.
Once Bakura was satisfied, he found other things to do, mainly keeping a sharp eye out around a nearby flea market, of which he was determined to visit for some unfathomable reason.
The Hikari consciousness drifted in absolute boredom, until a fresh wave of anticipation came through, alerting Ryou to a discovery of Bakura's.
He held up a pendant in pure satisfaction.
Even through the eyes of another, it was the sort of thing Ryou was sure he would avoid; the contorted depiction of some sort of bird, grinning manically in a swirled-standing glory. It was about the height of a walnut, but a great deal more slender and hung on a cheap piece of thin rope, as if made for a necklace.
As it caught the light, Ryou noticed it was made from some sort of deep dark purple material; clear and slightly transparent. If he didn't know any better about Bakura's taste, he would have suspected the thing to be a 'prize' from a fifty cent machine.
He sent a feeling of personal inquiry regarding the significance of such a gaudy piece.
"Objects of power seem to have a way of coming back to me." Was all that Bakura offered in direct explanation. After that, during Ryou's long interrogation, with the only answers involved 'maybe's, 'whatever you think's and the like, he dropped the subject. Needless to say, the attempts were fruitless and the Hikari gave up broodingly before too long.
He barely noticed the pendant flashing to unnaturally bright silver, dazzling in the sleeve hidden fingers of Bakura.
/You're not going to put that thing around you--~our~ neck, are you./ Ryou commented.
Bakura gave another one of his exaggerated indignations of a sort-of snort out to the open.
//I,// he thought back, vainly, but in good humorous spirits //would never do such a thing as ~I~ do not have such a bad sense of style as you do. Our neck belongs to our Ring.//
Ryou laughed before he could stop himself, with such an overflow of bliss that it bubbled out of his physical body as well, startling Bakura, as well as the others around them. Glaring around at them all, he stalked off to another block with fresh faces and ignorant shoppers.
He slipped the pendant around his wrist without another broach of the topic. Ryou was fine with it, as he was extremely embarrassed for happiness. Which was proving a lot harder to obscure than it used to be.
Their body wandered a bit more before it was dark enough for them to wizen themselves up for the night's way of life, and the thoughts of any place to stay.
As the street lights flickered on, Bakura migrated toward the extreme sides of the street, blending in perfectly with his dark colors. He held his head low.
//What now.//
/I . . . don't know./ Ryou admitted.
He let a slow breath whistle from between his teeth in anger, but managed to preserve their precarious bond together, which was still so far from perfect or entirely accepted. _Yet_, as they both hoped.
The sidewalk was uneven with the overgrowth of roots. Bakura tripped a few times from his new buckled boots in the semi-darkness; only a few streetlamps still worked around there. With the combined worries of two paranoid souls, it became impossible to resist craning their neck and keeping an eye out for anywhere and everything.
/You choose./ said Ryou doggedly.
A cat jumped out, leaving them senselessly alert for a moment afterward. This was not the nice part of town.
//We need to get out of here.// Bakura stated. //With no wand and no knife in times like these, we'll be pathetically helpless.//
/Wait--wand? What are you talking about?/
He didn't answer, instead set on turning the corner away from what was probably the sounds made by an unpleasant sort of group of people. The coat waved behind them, carried by the wind and Bakura's brisk walking pace, which he was trying to keep as smooth as possible.
The sounds were becoming louder.
Another nessicary turn gave them the unneeded glimpse of a dead end directly in their path. It was scattered with various forms of sloppy graffiti, that actually looked fresh enough to be disconcerting. He cursed vilely, turning as the murmurs of guffaws and dark amusement came closer.
A nearby trash can saved them from unfortunate discovery. Bakura only moved when he was certain they had moved on to other mayhems.
He turned--
--Only to be caught by the gaze of another.
//Blood eyes.// Bakura noticed, wildly looking around for a route of escape.
"Oh, going so soon, son?" he grinned, showing a mouth of carnivorous teeth "I was going to invite you in for a cup of tea . . . "
His eyes remained mocking to the body holding two troubled souls; /You can't get out./
Amazingly, it was Ryou who took over, looking back calmly. Their interceptor held no lies in his expression, just an interesting feeling of mad loneliness, if he noticed right.
Ryou frowned. He knew loneliness.
"I would be pleased to accept your invitation."
Bakura screamed warning obscenities in his head, but his Hikari kept firm control of their body. Only a slight tremble from the relentless manner his Yami was fighting him showed outwardly, as he stiffly moved forward under his own power.
The strange man in the peculiar red coat led him down a busy residential street, setting a smooth pace that Bakura would have envied if he controlled himself.
//What the hell do you think you're doing?!//
His eyes flashed like jewels under the artificial yellow lighting, turning back to stare at the one in black, who simply stared squarely back.
"Welcome to my home, little Ryou Bakura."
It was too late to run. Bakura screamed inside his head, and it echoed painfully.
But he walked in without turning back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sara, darling, to be on the mailing list I need to know your e-mail address ^^;;; Oh well, I hope you've read this chapter anyway ^^
Okay, I tried to pace the flea-market scene, but it might have just ended up feeling rushed ^^;;; I can't tell, what do you guys think?
Please review, especially if you can help me improve my writing! I would greatly treasure any feedback, both positive and negative.
Thankies for sticking with it so far!
*whisks off to angsty "Before I Fell Over the Rainbow" land*
^o.o^
giggleplex
"Yami Krissy" , "Rowan and Sakura" , "Nine Bucks" , "crystal- chan" , "Tsukiko" , "onlyHAUNTED" , "Sachi-chan" , "DcSolstice" , "Lyn/Lin" , "Usa-chan Yuy" , "summer psycho"