Disclaimer:I do not own, these characters belong to who ever owns them... the story itself belongsto my wonderful friend Saak-chan,I love her andthis is for her christmas gift, read her stuff and drop me some reviews okies?
"How is the guest?" Mokuba was in his knees in the middle of a large room full of books, the walls were lined to the ceilings with huge volumes in all languages.
"He is awakened master, Malik is bringing him to get changed." Mokuba's hair fell into his large blue eyes hiding their icy depths. The one called master sat in a large red chair in the middle of the room; he looked at his servant kneeling on the floor. He nodded at the boy, his own white locks shifting with the movement.
"Master, why is he here?" Jou had been standing in the doorway; he had not been called for but came anyways. Unlike Mokuba Jou was not perfectly submissive, something that always earned him dissatisfied looks form the obedient singer.
"I brought him here like I brought you here" Bakura stated bluntly, he had his reasons; and those were not for servants to know. Besides those who have lived only a blink of an immortal life would never understand the urge to feel again, the subtle pull of a beating heart.
"Yes master" they coursed, Mokuba rose form the cold floor, his skirts swaying hypnotically. Jou bowed his head; together they left the room.
Bakura sat alone in the library, there were to many things to do, and all the time in the world to do them.
"Hello, my name is Malik" The boy walked into the room smiling pleasantly at the confused and displaced boy.
"H-hello, my name is Ryou" Ryou looked at this new person, were all the people here dressed like they lived in the 1500s? Malik wore dark blue pants and black nondescript black shoes. He wore a white shirt that was lined up the front with snowy white ruffles and the sleeves also flared out delicately into a sea of ruffles. His platinum blond hair was shoulder length and his light purple eyes held the warmth of the sun; which Ryou only now realized what was lacking from the others.
"Follow me, we need to get you dressed" Malik opened the door wide, the room led into a long hallway with few doors here and there; there were no windows on any side of the hall. It was a confusing walk, Ryou couldn't get back to the room had he tried, once he thought he heard a distant flute playing, but it was gone as soon as he had heard it. So many questions chased through his head, again he could not muster the courage to ask them, he wanted to know more about this place, about the one they called master. So much he wanted to know, he didn't understand a word that was going on. It was like he fell down the rabbit hole and couldn't get back out.
"In here" Malik smiled and led his through a huge door, Ryou marvelled at the room around him, the room was less of a room and more of a closet, along the walls were chests and trunks around the room, but there were no mirrors. "Here, pick something to wear" Malik was bent over looking though a chest to find something in particular. He pulled out what seemed to be a mass of lace, pure white lace.
"Ummm" Ryou had never before worn a dress, but Malik didn't notice his indecision, instead he arranged the dress so he could look at it compared to the boy he was planning on putting in it. Ryou's breath caught when he was able to look at the dress in it entirety, it looked like something an angel might wear, long flowing skirt, layers and layers of softly sliding lace and long sleeves.
"You'll look great" Malik wandered over to him, holding the dress out, he pushed Ryou to a corner where he put the dress on a chair and began to tug at the old tee-shirt that Ryou wore. Ryou blushing sweetly pulled the shirt off exposing thin chest to the cold air that circulated though the room.
Malik's eyes watched the boy's face, the way those cheeks coloured, so much like one of the roses that bloomed in the garden; red, warm, and so quickly passing. Like the lives people outside these blessed walls lived, hard, fast, dangerous; it was a world that Malik had learned to leave behind so long ago; but here stood the blushing boy, with cheeks like the roses; and suddenly he was reminded of it all.
"Is something wrong?" Ryou was slightly freaked out, Malik was staring at him, it made him want to shiver, there was something in those eyes now, something beyond the ever present rays of the sun, there was a sadness, a cloud.
"No nothing, try this on" Malik shoved Ryou behind an old fashioned dressing wall and hung the dress over it so Ryou could reach it when he wanted to. Malik looked at the floor, what was that? That feeling of loss, that sudden longing; there was no way he wanted to go back, there was no way he could he lived here with master. He was trapped here in this cage made of the sweetest captivity.
Ryou dressed quickly, embarrassed at how he stood out among these elegant unusual people. So far he had met the ice, the heart, and the sun; that boy with the blue eyes and the raven hair he had been like ice; his disposition was cold and unwelcoming. The violinist, his amber eyes shone of soul, of a heart of warmer emotions; his eyes spoke of life. This boy was like the sun, everything that he could imagine having to do with the sun was imprisoned in the light of this boy's eyes. Yet none of them looked like the sun touched ever them, all pale skin and delicate complexions.
He had slipped on the dress; he fixed a few little problems. To his amazement it fit perfectly, like it was made for his body, wearing it was like fitting his soul back together, a small piece of it that had been chipped away. He twirled to himself and wished there was a mirror here to look at his reflection.
When he walked out Malik looked at him and smiled.
"It was made for you" Malik opened the door and again led them into the large dim hallways that worked to connect the many large rooms that made up the house he was staying in. Ryou had decided no to ask about the comment, though all of a sudden he was dying to see his reflection, so far he had encountered nothing he could look upon himself in; not a single mirror nor reflective surface. Then it hit him…what did he look like? Not knowing this was like… there was nothing to compare it too. His hands felt foreign, were those his hands? What did his face look like? Was he pale like these boys? His hair was white, and it was long but he could tell nothing more, slim hands rose to feel the contours of what should be familiar but were unknown.
Ryou collapsed on the ground silent tears rolling down his cheeks, Malik turned at the sound and rushed to his side, crouching level with the crying boy.
"Who am I?" Ryou asked light purple eyes, they did not answer back, those eyes remained sunny, but cold, cold like those blue eyes of ice. Eyes dead to human emotion, he threw himself at the wall away from such inhuman eyes. "WHO AM I!" he yelled at the wall pounding his fists on it. It was too much he wanted to know, he needed to know, where was he? Who was he? Ryou, that was a name, but what was a name? It was something they called him by, but it would not change if it were something else, it was a title. Overwhelmed he sobbed openly, he wanted home, where ever that was, he wanted his home, he wanted to feel safe again he didn't want al these people who looked at him like he was some kind of freak.
Malik watched him, it was interesting, how long had been since he had seen tears? Even longer since he had shed them. Tears of pure blood cleanse the soul, when you shed all the old there is nothing left. Malik had shed his tears long ago. But watching this boy sobbing, again he was reminded of the chaotic world outside these walls. Tears shed every day but not a soul cleaner for it. Ryou's sobs had lessened but still all Malik did was watch, his purple eyes never once left the pathetic figure of the boy.
To Malik it felt like a wave, a sudden filling of an empty gap, he revelled the feeling of it washing over his skin, closed his eyes and opened them again, there in front of him stood master. The only feeling that could even compare to the sensations master's power provoked would have to be Mokuba's singing. There was a thud and Ryou stopped his movement and slumped against the wall, Malik looked at the boy, whose eyes had closed, wet tracks marred his face.
"Go, tell Yugi to prepare a meal for him"
"Yes master" Malik bowed and left to find the smaller boy.
Bakura looked down at the boy on the floor, his pretty guest was sleeping again. He kneeled on the floor beside the boy and sat him against the wall so he faced the opposite wall; there was a look of unrest on that face.
Do you fear death that much?
Bakura brushed hair away from the pale face and moved his head in, his tongue darted out and lapped at one moist cheek, he could taste the salt.
"When a person cries they purge themselves of sin, a tear is nothing more then water the essence of life and salt, for salt is the essence of sin"
Bakura spoke softly to the sleeping boy and lifted him in his arms; the white dress was a shocking contrast to his own dark clothing. The heartbeat against his chest was strong and stable, pushing the blood though the boy's system.
"Blood is a whole different deal" Bakura paused after he set Ryou back down on the couch in the room he had started in. "Blood is death in it's purest form"
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