Dialogue - thoughts
"Dialogue" - speaking
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Chapter 20
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Meryl backed herself up into the kitchen as Vash came charging at her. It occurred to the woman that she was in a very bad situation, one that could very well come out as her being on the wrong end. The dead end.
She didn't like the way his eyes shone, the way they glinted in the light, just like a vampire's. But she had said to herself that she would treat him like any other bloodsucking demon straight from the depths of hell. She would kill or be killed, or avoid the killing part all together and settle for knocking him senseless before figuring out a way to get Vash back. The Vash that made stupid jokes, the one with the goofy smile and dopey attitude that seemed to annoy her to no end.
This certainly wasn't that Vash.
Narrowing her eyes, she went for the knives, all off them neatly lined up side by side in their large wooden block of a holder. She plucked the biggest one from the assortment, only turning her back for a second before turning with the newly formed weapon in her hand.
Unfortunately, it was too late by then. Within a matter of seconds, Meryl was stuck up against the counter, her back arched uncomfortably with both hands trapped, the knife twisted in her fingers and pinned painfully in the half-blood's grasp.
A burning sensation exploded in the back of her neck, one she knew all too well.
Just her luck, the damned K was bleeding again.
Stupid half-blood! her mind yelled angrily, but the pain was overwhelming and any rage she might have had dissipated as the K sent a knife-like stab of pain into her neck.
It felt as though her brain was about to explode.
Grimacing in pain with her teeth grinding together, Meryl forced back a rough scream. She wasn't frightened but more or so enraged. Well, enraged if she didn't feel so…violated and wasn't in so much pain. She felt more like a fool than anything…
…And that idiot broomhead was going to break her back if he didn't get the fuck off her right now!
Finding her anger in the midst of the waves of pain washing through her body, the petite woman ripped her unoccupied hand free from the vampire's grasp and used it to swing a good punch at Vash's face. Her knuckles hit him square in the jaw, and his head flew to the side, his dead eyes leaving her as his vision was distorted.
Quickly then, Meryl used this distraction to wrench her hand free from his grasp, the knife coming with her. She didn't even notice when the blade slid across the palm of his hand, creating a trail of blood in its wake.
Using what little force she had, the small woman shoved the half-blood away and unfurled her back from its painful angle before darting away from her opponent, the knife ready in her hand. She watched as Vash's initial shock of the punch faded, and the regular anger of a vampire took over. That was when she knew when to keep her distance and bare the sword before her.
Turning slowly, the half blood's eyes met hers, and Meryl saw the faintest flicker of recognition pass through their depths before it vanished and was buried beneath the monster that stood before her. She waved the blade threateningly at him, her stormy violet eyes narrowing dangerously. All those years of learning and practicing weren't going to be put to waste just because this one happened to be her friend. But that didn't mean she had to kill him, either. What was her profession good for if she couldn't also save lives in the process?
"Vash…" she said warningly as a low, completely vampire-like hiss emitted from the man's throat.
He only ignored her and bared his fangs, his bloodlust taking him over completely. The little, nagging voice in the back of his mind was momentarily restrained and the thought of blood replaced it. Sweet, warm blood, fresh from the body of a feisty target.
"I know you're in there, Vash." Meryl stated confidently, staying light on her feet and refusing to let her guard up. "Why don't you just settle down, and I promise Milly will be able to fix you up nice and good…"
Vash lunged.
He was amazing, she had never seen something move so fast, let alone a half-blood—that was one of the many brief thoughts that sped through her mind before she suddenly found herself in a tight grip, her arms pinned at her sides, the knife clattering to the floor, the half-blood's hot breath on her neck.
Meryl tried to struggle, but that only ended up with her being beaten senseless by the wall. Who ever knew they were so…hard? Now she didn't even have any breath to breath with, and what's more, she could feel Vash's bloodlust, his weakened energy radiating off him in waves as he felt his feeding time come closer.
Fighting the urge to just let her eyes roll back and fall into unconsciousness, Meryl did something she had found very effective in the past. She kneed him, in the stomach. Hard.
And—praise the lord—she suddenly found herself free as Vash stumbled back from her, gasping with his eyes, his dead eyes wide and unseeing.
The next movement she made was toward the discarded knife, but as Vash moved, quite accidentally, into her path, she decided there had to be something else. So, she went for the next best thing. The lantern, a sturdy glass box protecting a candle set firmly in place. It was glowing merrily despite the circumstances, sitting happily where she had left it last.
Meryl practically dove for the thing, snatching it up by its handle just as she sensed the vampire coming out of his daze. And boy was he every angry.
However, that wasn't her problem. She had no thought of including a hungry vampire's thoughts when he was going at her neck. So in her next move—completely disregarding Vash's later feelings on the action—swung around with the bedside lantern by its wiry handle right at the half-blood's head. It connected with a dull thud, completely throwing the blonde off balance and probably even knocking a few teeth loose. The force of the swing brought Meryl's small body around again and she spun for a second before coming back to her senses.
She let the lantern drop without another thought, and was surprised when there was no sound of breaking glass, gut a loud bang and a strange shift in the light. The candle lived on.
Meryl's next idea was to go for the knife again, but even as she turned, trying to find the weapon in the half-light, Vash had snatched her neatly off the ground.
It came as a slight surprise when she was slammed up against the wall. Not because she wasn't used to it by now. Of course not! This was happing all too much lately.
However, she hadn't expected him to recover that quickly from the lantern's blow.
But there he was, staring at her like some sort of wild animal, eyes wild despite their dullness, a feral snarl on his lips…and a stream of blood running down his chin from mouth.
If she hadn't known any better, Meryl would have almost thought he had already bitten her, or someone else, for that matter. After all, the only time she encountered vampires with bloody mouths was just after they had sucked someone dry.
Vash, however, was different. She knew that, and the sight of the blood brought her back to a cruel reality.
Vampires didn't bleed. Vash did, and she remembered that there was, in fact, a good-hearted man beneath the surface of the bloodthirsty one before her.
He didn't seem to want to make an appearance anytime soon, though.
The grip he had on her snapped her out of her thoughts, and the petite woman found herself dangling in the air again, arms pinned at her sides and no place for her to go. Not only that, though. Vash seemed really, really hungry. And that definitely wasn't a good thing.
The pain in her neck was almost unbearable, too, sending shooting jolts of fire up and down her spine and rendering her muscles into useless, wobbly jellylike slabs of flesh.
"Vash…" she said lowly, warningly, as the half-blood drew closer, dipping his head down to bite her.
It didn't have any effect.
She tried again, wrestling weakling against him. "Vash! Let go of me!"
Meryl could feel his breath on her neck, and a flash of deja-vu passed through her again. She could feel her heart in her ears, pounding blood into her brain. It alerted her to the fact that she was indeed alive, and she had no desire to become a rotting corpse anytime soon.
"Stop!" she hissed, pushing at him weakly as her strength began to wane as the fire in her neck felt as though it was burning her to the bone and melting her skin. It sickened her. "Vash! Stop!"
By now it was quite clear that he had no intention of sparing her life.
Meryl closed her eyes to ward off the tears threatening to spill, and she felt him hesitate, felt his breath leave her neck for a moment as he seemed to think over his decision.
Vash's head was reeling with thoughts, and surprisingly…emotions.
That itch in the back of his mind was annoying him to a point of insanity. Yelling and crying like child, begging and pleading for him to stop, to stop this madness before he did something he regretted.
What was there to regret?
He was hungry, weak and sick of it. He was going to drop dead if he didn't have blood…and soon.
And still the voice was disagreeing, trying to persuade him to stop, to leave the woman before him, to let her free. But he wasn't going to listen. That voice, he recognized it, hated it. It was weak, wanting to spare the human woman. It sickened him.
No! NO! Please…please! his mind was screaming now, but what were all the polite "pleases" for?
"No…no, please Vash." It was that damned woman again, beseeching him to let her go.
But he was so hungry! How did these people expect him to live if he didn't have blood!? And the short woman's pulse! It was racing in her neck and throughout her body, the blood pumping eagerly through her veins…the mere thought of it sent him into a longing.
Let her go, now! Let her go!! his mind was howling, and if it had been another person the vampire was sure they would have been pounding mercilessly on him. It was better, then, that the voice was trapped in the confines of his mind where it could be easily ignored.
A grim smirk flitted over his bloodied lips, and he leaned forward again, baring his fangs in a feral grin.
Meryl could feel them. She could feel him as his fangs touched her skin, not penetrating but ready. Something was holding him back.
No, No, NO! Let her go you idiot, let her go!!
Vash hesitated, merely to feel the pulse beneath him, to hear the ragged breath of his next victim. And, of course, to try and banish that itching and ultimately annoying voice yelling at him to stop. Really, he wasn't that stupid. The moment he listened, he would be gone and that…human…half would be in control again. He couldn't let that happen now could he? He would starve himself to death just to see the people around him live.
"Vash…" Meryl tried again, trying to shay away from his fangs. Her voice was a mere whisper, but she was quite sure he could here her. In fact, she was positive.
Slowly, he brought her hands up to grasp his arms where they pinned her upper arms. "Vash…listen to me…" she whispered, trying to staunch the flow of tears threatening to overflow. It didn't work.
He could smell her tears. They were trailing down her cheeks to land on his neck and face. It was utterly disgusting. Shameful that he should let a human's tears touch him.
Yet, the voice in his head was still yelling. Listen to her, fool! Let her go, don't bite her!
"Don't you dare bite me!" the petite woman was saying, managing words bolder than she felt. "I swear, I'll never forgive you…I-I'll come back meaner than I am now and wont rest till you're dead!"
The vampire wanted so much to just bite her, just to shut her up. To see if she was so bold when the life was being taken from her. Unfortunately for him, something was holding him back, perhaps that damned voice. Perhaps hers. Something, though, made him pause in the act.
He hissed angrily.
Meryl squeezed her eyes shut to stop her tears, but they stung even under her eyelids.
"Stupid broomhead…I know you can hear me." She managed in a hoarse whisper, saying what she hoped would bring back Vash, not the man before her but the half-blooded fool she knew. "I know you're there. I can feel you. You're not gone. You can't I know you wont. Please, don't let me down."
Now, that hurt, Vash realized with a sort of half-strangled gasp, and he felt his fang abruptly shorten as if he was no longer hungry. He was, but not for her blood…for some reason not for her blood.
"Don't let me down, Vash…" Meryl whispered to him, tightening her slim hands on his arms.
Slowly, the half-blood raised his head, his head pounding angrily as both sides of him fought over control. Pulling back, he almost reluctantly met her eyes, and Meryl was slightly shocked by the colour.
A greenish blue so bright it could have put the Caribbean Sea to shame.
Bright. Alive.
Now it was quite clear who had won the battle.
Slowly, the blonde's grip on her arms loosened, and he let her down and stepped back with a look of horror on his face. He looked disgusted with himself, with what he had done. Meryl couldn't find her voice to say anything. Silent tears streamed down her face, and the sight of them only made Vash's look of self-loathing heighten.
"Meryl…" he said in a choked whisper, eyes filling with tears and spilling over.
She wasn't so much surprised at his tears than the sound of her name on his lips. It occurred to her she had never before heard him actually say her name, and once in a while she would question silently to herself if he even knew her name.
Now she knew he did.
"I'm so sorry…Meryl…" he sobbed, seeming to lose the strength to stand and sliding to the floor with his face hidden in his hands.
The petite woman could only watch him for a moment after she resolutely wiped the stray tears from her face. She had stopped crying sometime after he had fell to the floor. Now, he resembled a child weeping over a lost pet, or maybe a broken toy. The sight was pitiful, but somehow she managed to find some pity in her heart and approached him, albeit warily. When he didn't spring up with bloodlust firmly attached on his face, she carefully knelt down beside him.
"Vash…stop it." she said firmly.
He only shook his head, sobbing horridly into his hands. "I'm sorry! Please…please forgive me…"
Meryl did not answer. "I told, you. Get up." She repeated, this time more kindly.
Her voice, and the fact that she didn't seem to have any reaction to what had just happened only made Vash cry harder, his tears flowing steadily like a stream now. If she had run screaming, if she was beating on him now, if she had slid to the floor and sobbed like he was, it would have made him feel better than he did now. The silence broken by her calm voice was horrible.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Meryl took a deep breath. Then, she pulled his hands slowly from his face and gripped them firmly, almost painfully in her own. He looked up to regard her; bright eyes fogged over with tears and rimmed red. His tears were still falling freely. He sniffled lightly, searching her face for some sort of explanation.
When none, came, he opened his mouth to apologize again, but was cut off.
"I told you to get up, Vash. Now." She repeated for the third time, her voice steeled against him, as well as her face.
He did, struggling weakly for his footing as the small woman dragged him up. Then, without word, she snatched up the lantern and used her free arm to support him. As if her small body would have made a difference if he suddenly collapsed.
Pulling him along with her, she lead him into the hallway, ignoring the stairs.
For one panicked moment, Vash thought she was going to lead him to the door and force him out onto the streets. But she didn't. They stopped at the spare bedroom, where the half-blood had slept when he had first arrived.
Face somewhat grim, Meryl opened the door and helped the weak vampire through. Then, setting the lantern on the nearby dresser, she let Vash's arm free and went to the bed. After pulling the covers back from their neat arrangement, she turned to look at him, her face still closed to any emotion.
They simply stared at each other for a while, both waiting for the other to speak.
The small woman was the one to break the silence with a weary sigh. "What are you waiting for, broomhead? A time machine? Nothing's going to change what just happened, so I suggest you get in the bed and stop worrying yourself. It'll save us both a lot of pain."
Vash continued to stare at her for a while longer, a look of bemusement on his sorrowful face before obeying. He sat on the bed, but didn't lay down.
"Aren't…aren't you going to say something?" he asked after a moment.
Meryl took the lantern from the dresser and plopped it onto the nightstand by the bed. Then, crossing her arms over her chest, she eyed him.
"What's there to say?"
Vash's eyes glittered for a moment, his gaze purposefully avoiding her own. "I…I am sorry, you know that."
"I know that." Meryl nodded, her face still a mask, her cloudy grey eyes barred from any insight.
"I don't know…what happened." The half-blood said lowly, his voice weak as well as his strength.
Meryl sighed again and uncrossed her arms in exasperation. "I'm used to it, broomhead. Bloodsuckers are at my throat all the time. You can beat yourself over the head all you want but it wont make a difference, just remember that." She closed the space between them and gently gasped his shoulders, turning him and pushing him down onto the bed. "You're not deaf, are you?"
"No." Vash responded, eyed suddenly very heavy. He didn't protest as he was forced to lay down.
"Well, in that case, I assume you just have selective hearing." Rolling her eyes, Meryl pulled the covers down more and Vash obeyed the silent command and pulled his feet up onto the bed. It was lucky he already had his oversized nightclothes on, or she would have left then. But she didn't, and instead covered him, eyes softening slightly as she noticed his own were half-lidded. Heavy with sleep, she guessed. "Now go to sleep. Don't wake up any earlier than you feel you have to, and I'll have Milly come over with something to…help you out."
Vash shifted under the covers, his voice soft. "What do you mean?" he managed to ask.
Deciding to sit on the side of the bed, Meryl looked down at him. "Milly's very good with medicine. She doesn't like the hunt so much as she likes to work with medicine and vaccines. She's my partner for other reasons, you know, not just to blow people away with her huge gun. She's pulled me out everything from near death to common fevers through the years." The small woman explained patiently, not knowing why, exactly, she was telling him so much.
Forcing down a yawn with a deep breath, Vash shook his head tiredly, "Normal medicines wont help me at all, short girl."
Pointedly ignored the nickname he had given her, Meryl stood up and leaned over him. "I never said she worked with human medicines, broomhead. She was the one who developed my silver bullets and makes my stakes. She knows more about mystical antidotes, poisons and serums than she does on human diseases and sicknesses."
Vash didn't respond, and she noticed his eyes were closed, his face now completely relaxed. The small woman regarded him for a moment, an odd expression falling over her face before she carefully leaned down. Cautiously, waiting for him to wake at any moment, she stroked his forehead and trailed her fingers into his mussed blonde hair. It was flopping hopelessly around his face and the pillow.
Meryl allowed herself a small smile before she took up the lantern and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Tonight she would have to be extra careful. With Vash out like he had been knocked over the head with a boulder, who knew what could get into her house.
--
In the midst of darkened shadows, something moved.
A flash of ice blue glinted in the streetlamp's distant light, and a short, barking laugh followed quickly.
"Fool." Muttered a voice, but anymore words were cut off as a second person joined the first.
"Are we almost ready, Master?" a deep voice asked, and icy blue eyes turned to stare at another.
"Almost…" there was a slight pause. "Give it a day at the most. If they seem to be starting anything before that, you know what to do."
"Yes, my lord." The second person moved off as the first gave a feral smile.
"Crushed are the spiders that interfere with my plans."
--
Meryl dreamt that night as Vash slept feverishly in the spare room and shadows crept around the streets, avoiding the light given off by meagre streetlamps. It hadn't occurred in a while, and the mark on the back of her neck bled freely as the nightmare proceeded.
It was dark everywhere, so dark. Everything was an inky, pure black. There was no light to be spared.
And it was cold. Freezing cold, like the depths of hell had been iced over. Now she stood in its depths.
Alone.
She didn't want to be here…but…
She couldn't remember…
…How had she gotten here? The memory was too far away.
One minute she had been…
…wait…where had she been, again? Someplace warm, someplace safe? She didn't know anymore…
All she knew was that she was here now.
Here…where was "here." She was warming to the idea of a deadened hell, reserved just for her.
For the world, she didn't know why, though.
But it was dark…and she was running, her cloak flapping wildly, loudly behind her.
Running from what?
To where?
She could feel the ragged breath in her throat, the frozen air biting at her lungs and stinging her face.
There was no moon in this place, but still she could make out where she was going.
There were trees in the darkness; she knew they were there. It was just so dark. Silence engulfed her, but her heavy breathing warded it off, the pounding of her heart a deafening thump in her chest. The blood was pounding ceaselessly in her ears, muffling the sounds of her on feet.
The noise she made was warning the inky, thick blackness not to come any closer…
It obeyed, understanding she was reserved for another.
There were footsteps, cracking…
Was there something behind her?
Yes, she could sense it its presence, its feet moving quickly, lightly on the forest floor.
A forest. She was in a forest. This was no hell. No hell she had ever heard of had trees.
Trees whizzed quickly past her moving form, or were the trees the ones really moving?
No, she was the one running.
Running from what? To nowhere? In a place where there was no moon?
The trees and bushes cleared. They thinned into a field.
It was so dark.
But she could see…
How could she see in this darkness, though, with this blackness all around her?
But it was there.
The field was neat; the grass was trimmed, short, and tough. She looked back into the inky darkness. She could see it jump into the field. Cloaked in black, it was perhaps darker than the night.
What was it??
Why wouldn't it leave??
She didn't know, but she did know she had to get away…
Some underlying urge was pushing her on.
But it was so dark, and she didn't know where she was…!
Blue.
Wait, what was that??
Eyes.
Cold, blue eyes.
Hating blue eyes that glared out from the darkness…
Just looking at them made her feel cold, colder than she already was. Plunged into a bath of freezing water…
She looked forward.
Too late.
There it was, standing there and staring hatefully at her. A mere shadow in the pale light.
A mere shadow that held so much anger, so much hopeless hate and revulsion…she stopped abruptly, wanting to get away.
She turned, trying to run away. But there it was again, icy blue eyes glaring manically out at her.
He was clothed in a dark cloak and hood.
Wait.
He…?
Her breathing too loud in her ears, she turned again…
Thumping, thumping, thumping…her heart was thumping louder than before.
Threatening to burst from her chest.
She turned. Met by icy cold eyes. She had never encountered such hate.
Wanting to get away, she ignored him, running past him…giving him a wide berth…
…searching frantically for a way out…
He was there in front of her, staring.
She needed to get away!
But he moved, walking toward her.
Blue eyes surrounded her, crushing her mind and filling her with hate.
It hurt…!
She whirled, running away, coldness engulfing her.
But he was there, staring at her, glaring at her.
She backed away, avoiding the eyes…
She wouldn't look. He wouldn't see.
He stepped forward, pushing his hood back.
She could see his shadow on the field, tall, imposing.
It was so cold; she didn't want to look at him. She turned; ready to run, but he confronted her.
Even in the darkness, even by the dim light originating from nowhere, she could see his face…
It scared her.
It was too familiar.
…It looked like Vash's…
Vash…was he…?
No, it couldn't be…
She tried to yell, tried to get away, but those icy, hating blue eyes held her.
Vash didn't have blue eyes…He didn't hate her…
Did he?
Did he?
Didn't he?
She wanted to run, she needed to get away from him!
She did, ran across the rough grass, the stalks hurting her feet.
Her bare feet…
She dared to look back, dared to see him again…
He wasn't there.
She turned forward…
Aqua.
Bright Aqua eyes staring out at her from under a hood. Identical to the one the other man wore…
Stopping now, she stared. She recognized them…Vash…it was Vash, she was sure.
He pulled back his hood, smiling happily at her. He looked so much like the other man…but it wasn't him.
This was Vash.
She was walking now, her feet moving without her accord. She was smiling too, opening her arms to welcome him.
Vash smiled at her.
She stopped abruptly, fear in her chest.
Did he?
Did he?
Did he?
Didn't he?
But didn't he hate her??
She stopped. She stared at him, wondering what her thoughts were doing. Trying to betray her?
Still, Vash smiled. She watched, anxious, wanting to say something. Her voice wasn't there.
No voice.
Vash smiled, his eyes warm. They threatened to melt the cold around them. She wanted to move, to go see him.
Her legs did not obey.
And Vash smiled. She thought it odd he would smile for so long.
Then she found out why.
Blue.
Blue eyes, she didn't see them. She sensed them, but by then it was too late.
The man with cold, blue eyes had stabbed her in the shoulder. And there was pain, enormous amounts of pain. Her vision was foggy, but she could still see Vash. She watched as the blue eyed man walked to join him, and they both were looking at her now.
So alike…
She managed to pull the knife from her shoulder, but how she had no clue. It was in her hands now, though, bloodied and dripping red.
There were initials on the knife.
Two sets of initials…she thought that strange. But the pain was overwhelming. Warm blood was dripping down her back, tickling her as it went. It was warding off the cold.
She looked at the initials: K. Saverem and V. Saverem. She already knew the that one was Knives's. Knives…
The two before her, one smiling, one frowning.
Vash and…Knives? They looked so similar…she started to walk away.
She was backing up, her eyes on the two…the two brothers…warm blood seeping into her clothes, trailing down her back.
Vash and Knives Saverem. Brothers.
Vash was smiling warmly at her. Did he? Did he hate her?
The ground behind her suddenly let away, leaving nothing but air, nothingness.
A cliff…she hadn't realized there was a cliff…
She didn't even scream as she fell, down into darkness.
She was too shocked…
--
--Cayenne Pepper Powder