Title: Crucifix
Author:tir-synni
A/N: Not beta'd WxV, KxV Queensryche inspired ficlet.
She said if she was alone, any place was the same.
You always smile all cheerfully . . . but it's so empty, it hurts to look at you.
I'm right next to you; I won't leave you all alone!
I wasn't able to help the most important person of all.
I see you hurtin' . . . and grinnin' just to bear it.
No matter how hard I try . . . I still can't learn when or how to say good-bye.
I'm still learning why.
I've been told I stand outside of time, watching you grow and live and die, but it doesn't feel that way to me. Even if this butterfly doesn't age, the dust on my wings grows colder and thicker, and with everyday, it gets harder to fly.
Moonlit twilight, Mary's palms kissing in the dying light
False prayers on holy lips
Singing hymns to uncaring myths
Whispering pistols, hissing smoke
Pray little Mary
Pray Virgin Mary
Let those palms kiss in the twilight
So long ago, She died. To this day, I'm not sure what she was to me. Some would call her a surrogate mother. I've lived among humans for more than a century, but I'm still struggling with the concept of familial ties. Knives bragged to me–so long ago–that it was another sign of our superiority over humans, that we weren't bogged down by their physical and emotional weaknesses. I pointed out that he was my brother, and didn't he love me? He silenced me with his lips, telling me never to compare what we felt for each other to those pathetic spiders again.
Once Brad compared Wolfwood and I to brothers. I only smiled and changed the subject. I never could quite grasp the concept of incest either beyond the genetic implications. Fortunately for me, most humans never quite grasped the full meaning of my smiles.
He did. She did. He does.
. . . She does.
Virgin thighs spread in holy sacrament
Crimson lips parted in hallowed smiles
We're dancing with the saints tonight
Virgin Mary, light your fire
A homing beacon for your sheep
With your smile, light the night
And look away from your sacrifice
There was something about you. I can't quite explain it. You saw through my smile, you knew its meaning. I wish I could hate you for that. That's mine, you know? My protection, my sanctuary. You tore that from me, when I had no right to tear anything from you. Others who know your story–my story–might argue, but that's missing the point, isn't it?
I think I see myself in your smile. What do you see in mine?
After all this time, what's it worth?
. . . Where will it end?
Your life's full of nothing but trouble.
You're "Chapel," correct?
Once again, I'm staining my own hands with blood.
Prayers fall like dust from my lips. I feel tainted with every word.
Heh. Maybe it's because I'm fuckin' tainted. I'm drowning in my sin, a priest whose gun speaks prayers more eloquently than his lips.
Is that blood behind me? Is that my imagination? Blood, drenching the sand. Is that my blood? Perhaps that's why I feel so cold.
Mary, Mary just a whore for the underground
They made you pay in guilt for your salvation
For some reason . . . lately . . . I'm always cold. I've been even colder since I've seen the warmth of your true smile.
Mary, sweet lady of pain
Always alone
Blind you search for the truth
I was there . . . I saw Augusta. I thought I saw God. God's rage. I earned it, Mankind earned it. So why, when I think of you, can I only see that damned smile?
I see myself in you, parallel lives
Winding at light-speed through time
I saw myself in your smile.
The sins of man are all I taste
Can't spit the memory from my mind
I can't cry anymore
And the Lord help me, but I can't tell you which smile of yours haunted me more.
Midnight . . . she sings praises in the Hall
To saintly faces hallowed be their names she can't recall
Sister Mary, virgin Mary, silent with her sin
For the first time, despite all I know the master can do, what that madman can do, all the blood and death I've seen, I believed. And I believed a hell of a lot more than that with each true, rare smile that tinged your lips.
What the hell do I believe? I don't know.
BloodAndThunderDiabloFragileScarsSlaughterCafeGatheringoftheDevilsEyeofInvisibilityFifthMoon
UnderASkySoBlue
UnderASkySoWhite
Rem
HighNoon
"Is this from the Hand of God?! Answer me!!! Vash the Stampede!"
"Rem . . . Rem . . . I . . . We . . . Maybe . . . should never have been . . . born."
Distant aqua eyes watches a dark-haired figure walk away.
A holy killer wonders who he just left behind.
"What a strange guy."
"Yeah. . . ."
Are you still out there, waiting for me? Do I even want to know anymore? Why do I care?
If I shoot him now . . . then she'll die.
This one . . . is yours. And this one . . . is yours. Then, then one . . . is mine. It's not much, but will it do?
Come what may, you can just ask your heart with all your might for the right thing to do.
"I see myself in your smile . . . and for some reason, that pains me even more."