Like randomly hugging reviewers. ::does so::
Korieana - Mindless enthusiam is warmly accepted! And yes, Yami Kura DOES care about his hikari. I think most of them have a brotherly relationship w/t their hikari's... Maruken, I'm glad you're enjoying it!
Ugh, this chapter has not been kind to me... I think I glossed over way to much that I wanted to cover. But life goes on... as do I... on and on and on... But you have most of what I wanted.
Also, I've been thinking up random scenes and plot twists (that will only happen on a Friday when I go swimming. I plot while I swim). I have established that fans of certain characters will hate my guts. ::tries to whistle innoscently:: ::Can't whistle::
Please note, the scene in the Pegasus part (You'll know what I mean when you get to it), was pure author pandering. ::looks sheepish:: Suze Peggy fan.
They were half way there when they felt it - the master's mind returning to life, flowing around them like a strong breeze.
("Seto?" a child's voice asked, quiet and uncertain. The speaker approached him, concern in ever line and gesture.)
His scent was a little different, a little less human and a little more normal, more dragonish. It seemed that he was finally getting to understand how useless his ridiculous human body was.
("Seto? What's wrong?" The child was reaching out a hand to touch him, then evidently thinking better of it.)
He soared around them, gleeful and proud by turns, not truly there, a mere suggestion of a shape.
("Seto? Are you in there?")
He roared suddenly, turning to face them with fierce anger and joy in his beautiful eyes. He was born to be one of them. His human form resembled his true one. He had no interest in the other humans, he longed only to stay with the dragons, who understood him and knew him. The ones he truly cared for.
(The child was scared now, pleading and desperate. "Please Seto wake up! Don't disappear! Don't go!")
They reached out to his mind with their's, trying to offer comfort. All they received were confused images - themselves, the sky, the real world of freedom - superimposed with those of someone's young, tears trickling down his cheeks - superimposed with those of the same young staring at him in confused fear...
("Stop it Seto! You have to come back! Snap out of it!")
The young one didn't understand. They had waited so long for the master to realise, they had feared that they'd lost him forever - they weren't going to let the humans steal him away from them again!
(Small hands reached out, snatching at the places where arms should be, scrabbling in a vain effort to cling to his brother, to pull him back from the brink where humanity ended and the true masters began.)
The master roared again, the half formed image clenching into a tiny ball. For a moment they felt his disorientation, and tried to wrap their minds around him, to hold him, to keep him, to trap him if necessary. Desperate to keep him no matter what...
(The small human tried to wrap himself around the ghostly image of his brother, to hold him, keep him, trap him if necessary. Desperate to keep him no matter what...)
They felt the master's mind wavering, and his form flickered, and they poured more of their strength into the bonds.
(He felt his brother flicker back to him for a moment, and clung to him as tightly as possible, tears streaming down his face, pleading for his brother not to leave him alone.)
But they'd miscalculated, they'd underestimated the dragon-ness of their master. His loyalty was unswerving, his devotion absolute. He would not leave one whom he'd made a promise to.
("You promised Seto! You promised you'd stay with me!")
They roared, the sky filling with their pleas. The masters only reply was to press them to return to their home, as he was doing.
("... Seto?" A soft voice, weak with relief and hope.)
They screamed in anguish, then felt the bonds drop as the object they sought to contain vanished beyond their grasp once more.
("Seto!" Pure joy, and small limbs wrapping around his body as though to crush him.)
Their anger gone, replaced by bitter disappointment, they obeyed and returned to their home, slightly reassured by a half-heard promise to come to them later.
The only promise he would ever be able to keep with any certainty. The only thing that would keep the dragons from storming the city and taking their love by force.
For they loved their master with their hearts, souls, and bodies.
And they pitied the human who was keeping their love from them.
Ishizu slipped out of the room and closed the door, not wishing to intrude on the brothers any more than she already had.
She'd been worried when they'd walked in and seen the transparent - ghostly - image on the bed, and the boy had been terrified. She'd stood by helplessly as the boy seized and pleaded, but it had turned out as it was intended to. She smiled slightly at the thought of the last image she'd had of the pair, Kaiba sat in his bed, with his brother kneeling on him and clinging to him happily.
But the thought shifted, and her thoughts drifted to two different brothers -
"You are thinking of Marik and Odion aren't you?" a quiet, accented voice murmured.
Ishizu jumped and spun. Stood opposite to her, back against the cold stone wall, was one of the few people she could class as a friend.
"Shadi..." she whispered, a smile gracing her face for the first time in much too long.
The tall man bowed to her, his dust coloured robes swirling around him. Ishizu stepped forwards and lightly brushed his arm.
"I have missed you," she told him. "Will you be here long?" Another thought occurred to her. "How did you - "
Shadi reached out to her, and suddenly the world seemed to lurch slightly sideways. When she recovered her equilibrium, he let go quickly and let her look around. The world around them seemed dimmed and muted. Two of her Weapons walked around the corner, talking, and all she could hear was a vague muttering.
"Did you see the throne room?"
"Whatever did that must have been huge!"
And then they were gone, and Ishizu was turning back to her companion, a wry smile on her face.
"You are right as always," she told him. "It was a ridiculous question."
"Something has occurred here," Shadi informed her, his voice seeming to be more real than this shadowy out-of-step world. "I came to investigate." He seemed to be struggling with himself for a long moment, then finally lost his internal battle. "Marik sends his love."
Ishizu smothered a smile, with a sudden pang of longing for home - where wearing her veil to save her the trouble would not gain her strange looks. Marik must have enjoyed making that request of the tall desert dweller.
"Marik has not sent me a message for a long time," she commented neutrally when she thought she had some modicum of control over herself. "I was beginning to fear something had happened to him."
"Your brothers are fine. Odion was a little weary of trying to keep your brother under control, but apart from that all seemed to be well."
Ishizu smiled at him once more. "I am glad you came. I hear from you even less than I do my brothers."
Shadi's expressionless blue-grey eyes met hers for a moment, then looked away. "I am sorry. I have been busy."
"I know, that is why I do not insist upon hearing from you as I do from my brothers." She hesitated for a moment, wondering how her next question would be taken. "Would you... would you like to come to my room?" Seeing Shadi blink at her, she explained. "It is more comfortable there than standing in the corridor. I would like to hear more about this... occurrence."
"Of course," Shadi said, a trifle too quickly. Ishizu glanced at him quickly, wondering if that was a blush lurking about under his skin, then blinked as a large golden hand was offered to her.
"I know where your room is," he said simply. "I can take us there if you wish, if you do not want to walk."
It was Ishizu's turn to blink, then she accepted the hand. The man seemed surprised at that, but closed his eyes and focused on summoning the portal.
Ishizu had done this before. She had been travelling through portals for as long as she could remember. But that didn't mean that she did any better now than she did the first time.
Ishizu yelped as the floor opened beneath her, stumbling forwards and grabbing for something to stop her fall. Shadi automatically brought up his free hand to catch her.
And that was how they ended up in the centre of her bedroom, clasping one of each others hands, one of her arms looped around Shadi's neck, with his free hand resting on her waist.
Trying to hide her embarrassment, Ishizu looked around her, waiting for the disorientation to leave her so she could leap back with the appropriate squawking. But one thing struck her before she could.
"Shadi? Why did you bring us to my bedroom?"
Mai swooped through the sky, grumbling to herself as much as she could with her mouth closed. It was Rule Two of flying. Thou shalt keep thy mouth closed so thy does not have to try to negotiate flying with hacking up flies and such.
Rule One was "Thou shalt aim at the ground and always miss."
Someone was toying with her. Someone must have been aware of the dangers of shape-shifting. Someone must have understood what would happen to her! Someone must have known that giving her a more human body would give her a more human mind!
Shape shifting was an imperfect art. It was more complicated, but longer lasting and more practical, than illusions, but it had two serious drawbacks. It gave you the mind of the creature you changed into. A human mind might not seem that much different from a harpy, but the differences were there. A simple example? How about hormones and emotions?
Harpies did not really understand emotions. They didn't understand the concept of "love" or "gratitude" or "sadness" or "disappointment," for the simple reason that they didn't feel them. They understood "owing someone," but gratitude was beyond them. Most emotions were in that same place; completely beyond the extensive reach of the harpy race.
But anger. Yes, they understood anger very well indeed.
So that was Mai's first reaction to this human body gracing her with strange things like hormones. It was affecting her judgement.
The blonde came to rest on the battlements, crouching on one of the huge blocks of stone, and hugging her knees. She could have been a twisted gargoyle, a succubus instead of any of the other more hideous demons.
The harpies were matriarchal, with women in all the more prominent and dangerous roles. Men - their rareness making them all the more valuable - were kept hoarded away by those fortunate enough to own one.
Mai didn't.
Female harpies weren't much for socialising. The lower classes offered pure devotion to their mistresses - they were on a slightly different level to males, and vastly different to the upper classes - but they couldn't be a friend. Ruby and her sisters had been described as her shadows, and that was exactly what they were. Followers. Companions. Not friends. Not even close.
Mai's human body was telling her one thing about that situation.
She was lonely.
Oh, the harpy in her would deny it, but her human mind - louder and more... idiotic, like all the rest of them, gods help her - kept that up as an insistent whisper.
Mai hugged her knees a little tighter, losing herself in the world below her, in the match-stick figures of those on the streets and courtyards, in the faint echoes of voices.
Maybe that was why she'd come south, even when she realised what it involved. The need to find a companion - someone for her to talk to, so the human in her would be content and leave her in peace.
And that was the other drawback of shape shifting. The form you chose stayed with you even when you cancelled the spell. There was no way for Mai to escape the presence of the human body now that she had it.
(Did she want to?)
But of all the people she'd met today, was there anyone who could be considered for the dubious honour of being her... her what? Companion, consort?
(Friend?)
The human with the violet eyes, the one that seemed so like a harpy, with a soft, knowing glance that didn't miss anything. Yes, he'd made quite the impression.
But her mind insisted on drifting back to a different man, the tall blond, the obnoxious fool who'd dared...
Dared to save an enemy's life?
Mai laughed harshly, then returned to her reverie.
"I can't help it," she murmured to herself. "It's not my fault. It's this stupid human body. That's all." She nodded her head, her crinkled blonde hair fluttering around her. "Yep, that's all. So I can just stop worrying and ignore it." She nodded again, then a sudden twisted thought came to her.
'Imagine the fame of being the first woman to ever trap a fire knight for a pet...'
Mai had the grace to blush. She also had the sense to suppress that thought as much as possible and start plotting how to stay in this human shape and yet get rid of all those ridiculous stupid hormones that were causing her so much trouble...
It had taken a while to really explain to the knight what had happened. It took even longer to figure out why Téa was giving his brother wounded glares.
Yugi sighed and clambered to his feet. Tristan was helping Téa scrape up all the glass shards, and muttered an instruction to be careful of his bare foot without really taking it in.
The short boy shrugged and lay on a stool to fish his boots out from underneath it. Yami wasn't looking - a blessing because he would definitely lecture him on not moving with his injured ankle - so Yugi flexed his foot to test how much it really hurt. To be honest, it didn't actually hurt. It also seemed to be... smaller than it had been a few minutes ago. Yugi puzzled over that for a few moments, then shrugged and tugged his boots on.
The blond guy who'd been with Tristan was collecting the pieces of glass and squishing them together like a pile of clay. The glass was glowing a brilliant white, like Bakura's eyes had been a few minutes ago. Yugi shrugged once more. Someone had said he was a fire knight, so that explained a lot. But he hadn't expected to see a guy working glass with his bare hands. Not without a lot of alcohol beforehand and plenty of screams and cries for Bakura afterwards.
Speaking of the healer...
Bakura was still sat on the floor, huddled against the wall with his knees against his chest and a wry grin on his face. Yami was lathering his hands with a strange ointment, and wrapping bandages over the top.
The smaller boy sneaked past, eavesdropping as he headed to the door.
"I'm completely drained," Bakura said, with something that could have been called a bark of laughter if the listener had never heard laughter before. "I don't think I'll be up to doing anything for weeks." His eyes darkened, and he looked up and the ceiling. His lips moved soundlessly as he studied the beams.
"What?" Yami asked, looking at him. "I didn't hear you."
Yugi knew that wasn't what his brother meant - Yami was a very good lip-reader, and didn't need to hear someone. What he meant was Stop staring at the ceiling so I can figure out what the hell you just said.
Yami was very good at hidden meanings.
Bakura shook himself, and refocused on Yami. "Oh, nothing," he said with his usual bright smile, holding up his hands. "I was just talking to myself."
Yami gave him a decidedly sceptical look, and then called over his shoulder "And where do you think you're going?"
Yugi froze on the doorstep ('So close and yet so far...').
"You wouldn't be thinking of sneaking off to your work while everyone had their backs turned, would you Yugi?" he asked, his head turned slightly towards him, but not really looking at his brother.
"Me? Nononononono," Yugi said quickly. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"No," Yami agreed, rising. "You might do it, but you wouldn't think about it." He finally turned to his brother, and the shorter boy quailed slightly. "Because if you had thought about it, you would have realised that I would have come after you and arranged for you to stay here until you were better."
Yugi frowned. "I can look after myself," he started.
"Against bandits, monsters and the various dangers of the open road, I agree," Yami said pleasantly. "But have you yet figured out exactly how to stop me dunking you into the water barrel? I used to do it when we were little - don't think I can't do it now you're all grown up!"
Yugi's frown quivered, and he struggled not to smile at the long-winded threat. That's what his brother wanted him to do. Yami wouldn't dunk his brother. They'd only done that when they were really truly filthy and needed to get rid of the worst of the dirt before the adults saw them.
"Aw, cut him some slack Yami," Tristan called. "He's smart - he wouldn't go off like that."
Yugi mentally thanked any gods who cared to be listening for making his friends so gullible.
And then cursed them for not doing the same to his brother.
"Of course," Yami said quietly. "Which is why he was trying to sneak out before I noticed him. Why didn't I realise before?"
Yugi opened his mouth to defend himself - and was interrupted by Bakura.
"Let me see," he said simply, holding out on of his newly bandaged hands.
Yami half-turned, looking back at the healer. "But you said just a few minutes ago-"
Bakura gave him a tired smile. "Just trust me,"
Yami stared at him for a long moment - a look in his eyes that had made others look away in seconds muttering apologies - and Bakura's flame-proof chocolatey eyes didn't look away.
For what could possibly be the first time in his life, Yami stood down.
Yugi edged past his brother, walking with no trace of the limp that had given him away in the first place. He leaned against the wall in a strange balancing act and offered his foot to the healer.
Yami scowled and turned away. "I'd better get to work," he said curtly. He scooped up his long coat and stormed out of the restaurant. "I'll see you all later," he called back. There was a dull thud, apparently from Yami kicking something.
Yugi's eyes went - if possible - even wider. "What - ?" he started in whisper.
"He was worried about you." Bakura said in an offhand way as he tugged off Yugi's boot. "You should have seen him when he came to get me after he found out about your ankle. He was... terrified." The healer's gentle hands started to unfasten the bandages. "Everytime you go, Téa comes to me for a sleeping draught. If she didn't, then your brother wouldn't sleep at all until you came back. That's how much he worries about you. He doesn't want anything to happen to you." The healer shrugged and steadied Yugi as he nearly fell - the healer had brushed the bottom of his foot, and Yugi was excruciatingly ticklish there. "I went against him this time. He didn't like it."
Yugi blinked at him. "That makes a lot less sense than it should." he said plaintively.
The healer's voice lowered to a mutter. "Ah... now it makes sense... I thought I'd healed someone..."
Bakura looked up at him and smiled. "Let me put it this way. You're fine, and I've annoyed your brother. He's not going to be happy because it turned out that I accidentally fixed your ankle." Bakura shrugged and handed Yugi back his boot. "In return, do you think you could arrange for someone to give me a lift back to my house?"
"Duke's never going to believe this," Tristan muttered as he scooped up bits of glass.
Téa sucked in a breath, and for a moment Tristan thought she'd cut herself, until he looked at her face and realised that he'd just said it aloud. "Oops... Sorry Téa..."
"It's okay," she said, obviously forcing a smile. "I don't mind."
Téa didn't approve of Duke in any way, shape, or form. It wasn't that he owned the infamous Devil's Bar on the other side of town, or his reputation, it was just... well, she'd never explained it to him, and Duke swore blind that he hadn't gone out with her or any of her friends (and then Tristan had thumped him because of the regret he was expressing about it).
Tristan didn't approve of Duke sometimes. But Duke was okay when he wasn't being a pain or a flirt, so Tristan put up with him.
"He's a friend Téa," he said quietly. "Just... give him a chance, okay?"
Téa bit her lip. "I always do," she said softly. "Anyone you like is fine by me. But... there's something wrong with him, and it worries me. If he's mixed up with anything bad, I don't want you to get involved. That's all."
Tristan wrapped an arm around her shoulder in a one-armed brotherly hug. "It's okay Téa, you know I can take care of myself."
Téa snorted. "Yeah right," she said, giving him a wobbly smile.
"Hey!"
Téa wrapped her arms around his chest. "I worry about you all sometimes." she mumbled, referring to the Moto brothers and himself presumably. "You all do such dangerous jobs or mix with such weird people..."
"And we can all take care of ourselves," he informed her, squeezing her tighter. "Don't worry about us."
Joey chose that moment to look up from his glass concoction - it was looking less like a globe, and more like a bowl.
"Jeez, what is it wit' you humans an' huggin each other?"
Tristan pulled a face at Joey over the top of Téa's head, and Joey rolled his eyes in return.
"Humans," he muttered to the glass. "An' I thought women were bad."
Seto sat in bed, obediently eating his dinner. Mokuba had insisted, and had given him a look that could have brought gods down onto their knees in an urge to obey his every whim.
Yes, Mokuba's infamous puppy-eyes triumphed once more.
Seto felt a bizarre sense of triumph himself though: he'd managed half of what was on the plate, even though his stomach had started rebelling after only a few mouthfuls.
He laid down the fork, and managed a small smile for his little brother. Mokuba had been fussing over him all afternoon, like a dragon over her young.
"Seto..." Mokuba started, sounding as dangerous as a midget ten-year-old could.
"No more. I'm full."
"You didn't even finish - "
"Mokuba, please."
The raven haired boy gave him a wary look, well aware that his brother could just be faking it (He'd done it before, Seto remembered with a guilty pang.).
Finally though, Mokuba collected the plate and gave it to the Weapon outside the room, before returning to sit on his big brother's lap.
As tired and ill as he was, the blue eyed man had to admit that it felt strangely comforting to just sit in the slowly darkening room with his little brother's head tucked under his chin, letting himself relax.
At least, that was the plan, until Mokuba felt the need to break the peace with the question that must have been inevitable:
"What happened today?"
The king stared into the trusting cloud-grey eyes, and realised that he should have tried to work out his answer before. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened - his memory of that morning were more than slightly confused - but he was still vain enough to not want to admit that to Mokuba. It was still one of those things; big brothers are omnipotent.
So he sat there, trying to pull together the jagged, separate images into one coherent picture. It wasn't usually this hard - Seto had a practically eidetic memory most of the time. Something strange must have happened to mess that up.
"I was in a meeting," he started slowly. "The fire knight arrived this morning. I spoke to him, then he left." His voice was the flat monotone of someone reciting a shopping list. "The harpy was supposed to come in, but she didn't, so I turned my attention to the dragon." That was where things got fuzzy. Pegasus showed up... and there was something about a healer... and Mokuba had started crying... and he'd been flying... and the dragons had been happy...
"I came back," he offered.
Mokuba accepted that with a broad grin. "I guess that's what I was asking," he murmured, snuggling into his brothers chest. "Night Seto."
And Seto Kaiba, fierce and heartless king and master, wrapped his arms around his brother and shifted until they could snuggle down under the covers, a small, soft smile on his face.
The afternoon had passed without further incident, Pegasus was informed that evening. They'd "hung out" at Téa's Restaurant for the rest of the afternoon, just fixing the bar up after the earlier trouble. The knight had finished the bowl, and somehow - Tristan hadn't been paying much attention, something he was ashamed of, as he should be - managed to... "un-evaporate the booze" as Tristan put it.
The end result had been a very strange and pungent cocktail, something Pegasus requested to be sent to him if Tristan could get some. The boy had looked disapproving, which - considering the company he kept - seemed rather hypocritical. As the lilac-haired commander informed him, accompanied by a petulant frown and then an almost-giggle as his second-in command flushed and scowled.
But that wasn't important. He'd sent the boy off to keep an eye on things, eaten a light supper, and drank a glass or three of wine. As he left his chambers, he strapped his sword to his waist, and tied back his shoulder length hair. Now, he was ready.
No one was on the practice courts this late. No one would go by and discover him. No one would get to see the great Maximillian Pegasus shed his cloak, shirt, and boots and start to fence against the shadows themselves.
His face and bare chest were soon covered in sweat as he seemed to dance through the empty room, sword and hair a glowing counterpoint to the darkness.
In the daylight, his actions would have drawn a crowd of curious onlookers (What? The great Maximillian Pegasus can actually FIGHT?!). Tonight, it only drew one.
Pegasus smiled and, without interrupting the dance, pulled off the eye patch. Instantly, the world rearranged itself, and the watcher was obvious.
The long blade swung on a level with the watcher's neck.
The watcher turned faster than was humanly possible and blocked him.
With his arm.
Pegasus pulled the sword away, inspecting it resentfully. "That was stupid," he informed the other. "Look at this now!"
The black substance - he hesitated to call it blood - coated the blade completely, despite how little had been shed. It wasn't shiny as much as it was matt, and seemed to absorb the light that filtered through the high windows.
The figure shrugged, then with more of that impossible speed snatched the blade out Pegasus' hand and plunged it straight into the wall he was leaning on.
Pegasus' single brown eye widened. The visitor hadn't put the sword into the mortar, he'd plunged it into the stone itself, right to the hilt. Seeing Pegasus' astonished gaze, he gave a feral grin and twisted it.
"My god," he whispered softly. "What are you?"
The figure drew the blade from its stone sheath and inspected the hole. "I am the darkness. Stop acting like what I do surprises you." The voice was quiet, smooth with rough edges, almost husky.
The figure looked up at him, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Your little spiky-boy told you about what he thought happened."
"How did you - "
The black figure smiled at him, then seemed to melt. In seconds, he'd gone: there was nothing but a shadow.
A shadow with a sword. A shadow that vanished into the gloom.
Pegasus stepped forwards, turning as he did, watching the shadows beneath him as though they could give him the answers he seeked.
A shadow moved. A shadow that moved with no body to help it.
Pegasus reached up slowly and lightly caressed the place where his left eye should be.
The shadow loomed behind him.
Pegasus didn't go with his usual theatrics. There was no words, no acting, no sheer over-the-top antics.
The sword was brought up.
The lavender haired man smiled.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident, which seriously pi- annoyed Yami. As if he wasn't angry enough already.
Now, he was stood leaning on the battlements, watching the twilight swirl around him, a small knife tumbling through the air as he thought.
Yugi's ankle had been fixed. That was good.
Toss. Catch.
The boy was now trying to sneak out before his brother caught him and made him suffer. That was bad.
Toss. Catch.
Bakura had been able to fix whatever happened earlier. That was good.
Toss. Catch.
There was something up with Bakura. That was bad.
Toss. Catch.
There was a Fire Knight here, and he seemed to be pretty good friends with Tristan. That was good.
Toss. Catch.
There was also a harpy in the same area. That was bad.
Toss. Catch.
There'd been no one hurt in the incident in the throne room. That was good.
Toss. Catch.
No one knew what happened in the throne room today. That was bad.
Toss. Catch.
Yugi was leaving town, and escaping all this weird sh-stuff. That was good.
Toss. Catch.
But there'd been trouble in the area he was going to, and no other messengers had come back. That was bad.
Toss.
Yami's hand came up to catch the knife, but it didn't come down. The man spun ('How could I get distracted? There are people here who would LOVE to get their hands on me while I was distracted! Those women SCARE me...') and looked up to see who had grabbed his knife.
"Good evening your majesty."
Kaiba shrugged. He was wearing a long coat like Yami, but looked as though he'd just got out of bed. His eyes were tired, but there was something in them that hinted that he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.
Yami moved over, and the two men leaned against the wall, looking at the city beneath them. The silence was very eloquent.
They both started when a figure flung itself off the top of a nearby tower, but calmed down when wings sprouted from the figure's back and it spiralled gracefully down to the ground.
"One of the harpies." Kaiba grunted.
"There's more than - " Yami started, then shut up quickly. Of course there was. Kaiba wasn't given to using more words than necessary, and usually answered two questions in one.
The silence resumed, it's eloquence not diminished even a little.
Joey stretched and glared at his project. It just wasn't working. But at least he had an excuse.
Human's were idiots and couldn't build a decently sized fireplace.
The blond scowled at the fireplace, sleep in his eyes. This room was freezing. And Tristan seemed to think that he'd be sleeping on that squishy thing in the corner.
Not bloody likely. Not unless people wouldn't mind him turning it into kindling.
Joey gave up. People might think of him as a stubborn idiot, but he wasn't stubborn enough to keep on at something that he knew wouldn't work.
Let's face it. If Joey can figure out that it's a lost cause, then it must be!
The boy opened his bedroom door, and grabbed the first person he saw.
A woman with dusky skin and blue-black hair. Pretty as humans went he supposed. Didn't look surprised to see him.
"Good evening sir." she murmured with a graceful bow. "I take it there is a problem with your room?"
"Well, yeah, kinda. It's not the room itself, but don't you have somewhere with a decent fireplace?"
The woman didn't look surprised or puzzled. She just stood, looking through him for a moment, her blue eyes turned inwards. Finally her eyes focused on him, and she gave him a small smile.
"There are no large fireplaces in the palace," she informed him softly. "But I do know where there is a large fire, if that would do?"
"Sounds perfect," he said with an answering grin.
She lead him silently through a maze of corridors, until Joey found himself stood in a large courtyard. Normally, he would have looked around, perhaps investigated the amazing food scents around him, but his attention was called to the centre of the square.
"Bit small..." he observed. "But it should be okay." He turned to the woman. "Thanks lady."
The woman's eyes crinkled at the corner. Her lips didn't move but he had the feeling that she was smiling.
"My name is Ishizu," she murmured.
"I'm Joey."
Again with the eye crinkling. "Good night... Joey."
"Night."
As he started to move away, he heard a soft muttering, and a woman's laugh. "You are jealous Shadi, admit it," but when he turned around Ishizu had gone.
Ah well. He had more pressing matters to attend to.
Both Yami and Kaiba jumped a mile. The fire in the courtyard had flared up far higher than it should have, probably would have been stroking them if it hadn't been far from the walls.
They hurled themselves across the walkway, staring down in disbelief.
People were screaming and milling around the fire, staring into it as though something horrible was lurking inside it.
Finally, a head was poked out and a loud voice demanded "WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THE NOISE ABOUT!?! CAN'T A GUY GET SOME SLEEP!?!?"
"Fire knight," they chorused in relief.
"I forgot they felt cold more easily." Kaiba admitted.
"We should probably go down and calm them," Yami sighed in disgust.
Kaiba apparently shared his sentiment, for he growled and yawned at the same time, before stomping down the walkway.
"Kaiba!" Yami called after him.
Even though he couldn't se the man's face, he just knew he was smirking. That was why he wasn't surprised when the man whirled and threw the knife straight at his face.
Yami's had shot up and caught it by the hilt.
Kaiba smiled.
"A pity," was all he said. Yami grinned back. He knew what Kaiba meant.
Well done.
Duke nearly hit Tristan when he ducked under the bar. If he hadn't been pouring drinks and taking money from a crowd of eager girls, he probably would have.
"Don't you know what time it is?" he demanded.
"Yeah, my bedtime."
Duke gave him a glare. "You're lucky Yugi came in and told me you were baby- sitting or believe me you'd have hell to pay right now."
"Whatever," the brown haired boy said with Duke's own dismissive air. Devlin caught the reference and had to grin.
"Your dinner's in the kitchen. I was in a hurry, so it's probably not the best meal in the world, but if you're hungry..."
"Thanks man," Tristan said, almost touched. Duke hated cooking. "Is it all right if I crash first?"
"Do whatever you want," the black haired boy told him. "I won't be coming up till three."
"Leave the girls at the door," Tristan called down as he made his way up the cramped stairs. The steps themselves were uneven, so you had to watch where you stepped. Drunken girls were usually unable to manage it. "Some of us would like to sleep!"
"Are you trying to ruin my evenings?" Duke yelled back. But he was laughing. If he did bring girls home, Tristan usually just hid himself, made more food before he went to work and left a hangover cure next to it.
Tristan wasn't joking when he said crash. He was tired. So he simply dumped his jacket and shirt, kicked off his boots (thinking regretfully that he was hanging around Duke too much if he was starting to leave his clothes lying round), and flumped onto the sofa.
He'd moved in with Duke a while ago: they'd both needed somewhere to stay, and neither could manage the rent on their own. But that had been when Duke had been a lowly barman and Tristan had been an army grunt. They'd moved on to bigger and better things since then, and Duke had been left the building by it's previous owner.
Tristan rolled over and yawned, snuggling down. The black haired boy had let him stay on, even when Duke had his own place, and no need for someone to help with the rent. The guy was all right.
Téa probably had a point - Duke had a few enemies, and his finger in most of the illegal pies in town. Tristan had lost count of how many times he'd had to kick butt on Duke's behalf.
Probably why the guy let him stay.
Yeah... Tristan was... Useful... Good a... reason... as any...
And the thought drifted away into the realms of "permanently forgotten" as he finally dozed off.
Duke waved off the last of his staff, checked the bar one more time, before he drifted up the stairs. The uneven-ness was a security measure. Very few people could negotiate them without banging themselves somewhere. Tristan could, but he made a racket of it. Duke could, and he was completely silent.
The green eyed boy stretched as he reached the doorway, and grinned slightly as he saw Tristan sprawled out on the sofa. Knowing what a rush Tristan would be in come morning, he shifted the plate to somewhere easily spottable, then started to collect the scattered clothes.
Eccentric business with a billion dates he may be. Bizarre, gorgeous and available he was (He never let the billion dates prevent him from getting a billion and one).
Someone who enjoyed living in a pigsty? Nope.
When he returned, he realised something.
Uneven steps to warn of visitors only worked if your visitors used the stairs.
"Is he a friend of yours?" the shade asked, lounging in Duke's chair. White teeth sparkled out of the blackness of the form. If it had eyes, it kept them shut.
"Yes. Leave him alone." Duke's tone was cold, as was his blood.
'I made a deal with a devil and Tristan's here and this wasn't supposed to happen and if he wakes up I'm in so deep and if this guy hurt's him I'm gonna - '
"Don't worry. I've no interest in your friends." The husky voice turned mischievous, the teeth sparkled at him again. "Yet."
The message was clear. Do as you're told.
"What happened to that girl you took?" Duke asked, not moving from his position by the door.
He didn't see it move, but somehow it had got to the sofa and was leaning casually against the back, twirling a knife.
Don't ask questions either.
"What do you want?" Duke asked wearily. He didn't care how much he needed this guy. He didn't have to be nice to him.
The spirit thing opened it's mouth to reply - and the cat next door started up it's caterwauling again.
Instantly the thing left.
'That's all it takes? Why didn't I just get a cat before - '
Then Duke was clenched up on the floor, hacking and choking, clutching his stomach as his heart seemed to be trying to force it's way up his throat.
And it stopped, just as soon as it had started. He found himself on his knees, staring at floor boards that were now stained with his blood.
The attack had come like the first ones. Over before they'd begun, but more painful and terrifying than anything else.
And then the demon was back, the cat tucked under one arm, looking at the blood with the eyes of one who'd just seen his deliverance arrive.
"I have what I came for," it said, dragging it's eyes away from the floor. "You go to bed. I will come back if I need anything else."
"Tristan - " Duke started.
"Your little friend will be fine," the creature said impatiently. "I have no interest in people like him. GO."
And before he realised what he was doing, he was stumbling to his bedroom and diving under the covers like a child fearful of what lurked beneath his bed.
The monster wasn't under the bed. It was on it. Hugging his knees to his chest, green eyes wide, praying to any gods he could think of to keep his friend safe from whatever it was Duke had unleashed.
Bakura stumbled to the centre of the room, eyes half closed, body in no condition for the torture he was putting it through.
And right now? Standing upright equalled torture.
But he had to do this. Had to activate the wards to keep him away while he recovered. If he could just do this, then he'd be recovering much faster.
It was like he'd said before Yami stalked out. He was completely drained. That was what he'd planned.
The room spun around him for a moment, before stopping. Bakura frowned. He couldn't remember having a lamp swinging from any of the walls. And hadn't he been in the centre of the room? Why did he have a wall digging into his back?
His last thought before he lost consciousness properly was 'Is that... meowing?'
He slipped into the building underneath the door, the cat still clutched in his arms. It was important. It was what he'd need tomorrow.
His slave's blood had helped him. He'd been blasted by light twice in one day - something that he wasn't pleased about. But drinking some of the blood the slave had wasted on the floor had helped him recover enough to get here.
Pegasus had continued with the job offer after blasting him. The sword, still stained with his blood, now far better than anything mere mortals could produce, had sealed the bargain.
He hoped there was still some blood left in the woman's corpse. He didn't think he'd be strong enough to go find another victim.
Bakura had fallen asleep on the floor again.
It brought a wry smile to his face. His hikari was always trying to do too much and then suffering the consequences for it.
That must be where he got it from.
The darkness scooped up the limp form, and carried it upstairs.
Someone had to look after the boy. If no one else would, then he would have to. Because what was a shadow, if there was no one alive to cast it?
Constructive criticism/mindless enthusiasm ::coughcoughkoriaeanacough:: is extremely welcome!
Everyone saw the Peggy part didn't they? Just my inner fangirl taking over. ::shakes head in disgust::