Hello again, and thanks to karina001 and waterlit for the reviews. If you guys also post often on here, you know how much impact they have on my willingness to write. The story should be a bit more action-y from here on in, which is partially good (because who doesn't love a good asskicking) and partially bad (because where dialogue is my love, action is my bane. I can never get it like it is in my head). Regardless, I hope you enjoy it somewhat.
Sorry if I get a bit verbose, but I rewrote a decent bit of this at night, meaning that my brain-to-fingers filter wasn't running at full capacity. Also may I say that my description is as bad as my action, so any critique is appreciated.
Izabella had been a local girl, unlike some of the others here. But, in an unfortunate accident involving a cat, she had briefly been no more.
She'd helped run this tavern since she was five years old and blond-haired, cutting biscuits from dough to pass to her mother. The half-timber walls were her home, with the ceiling sagging over the bar counter and the tar-black joists that looked precariously balanced. She instinctively avoided the dip in the fifth stair, worn in the wood from years of wear. Even now, she did.
She set her foot on the sixth stair without missing a beat. It was a pity, because she'd enjoyed these ones. It had been a while since she could cook as she loved to do, and these unfamiliar arms had sorely needed the training. She remembered in the build-up to these weeks the joy of finally chopping an onion without slicing her fingers, and the glorious feeling of knowing the length of her legs and the balance of her head. Some of the older ones said they could remember that too, when they finally adapted to their current bodies.
The cat had been the next in a generation of the ones they kept around to clear out the mice and provide a bit of heat when the frost bit hard. This one had been a mackerel tabby, with orderly black stripes through brown fur and a suit-like patch of white down his throat, giving the air of some stuffy magistrate passing through. He was still very soft, though he was a bit more hostile with this body. He'd loved her old body so much that he'd twined around her ankles each morning.
The accident really had been unfortunate. She'd loved the hair she used to have, frizzy and dark as the wooden crossbeams. Her sister had straighter hair, strawberry blonde was what her mother called it. She might once have been jealous of that epithet, but the feeling seemed vague and unreal in this new reality. Her mother hadn't been around for a while, and she couldn't figure out if she had turned into dust or taken another skin. She hadn't seen either her mother's body or her father's, back when he died. They were distant memories now.
But not her sister.
Her sister had been kind enough to call her back, enabling her to carry out the Earl's wishes in the body of her unfortunate sibling. It felt a bit cruel, but ultimately using her sister was a kindness. She lived on in the sights of the travellers who passed by, and remained immortal as the last thing they saw. Izabella herself was just a messenger. An emissary of the true power in this world — not God but something similar. An entity in thirteen parts, the Lady called it, and chief among them was the Earl. They — she — he — all occupied her thoughts, entwined in the lesser memories of her home, her family.
Still, they did not rob her of her memories, merely superseding them. Her sister remained in the background of each new snippet of information, and she still remembered how soft, how cute the cat had been. She would have been happy to die at the hands of something exemplifying the virtues of innocence, of wide eyes. That was one thing that remained with her. Yes, it was unimportant, but she couldn't ignore all the childish beauty in the word. The cat, his compatriots, the immature bodies of some of her allies, the children she had shown upstairs. Particularly the way they played off each other, like the two cats that sparred in the courtyard beside the inn only to gang up on any passing dog. The symmetry merely added to the appeal of the idea; one hot, one cold, one light, one dark. One of the other akuma had explained the principles of yin and yang, of the eternal balance. She found that apropos.
In the stretch of light, there was a pool of darkness, and a bright star amidst the black.
The eighth and final step.
It pained her to have to exterminate them so callously, but the Earl and his kinsmen had the final word. Combustion was all that awaited disobedience. She had been ordered, even after her appeal, to continue. This supervising Lady wasn't so kind as some of the others - the Lord called the Fiddler was a piece of work — but she was kinder than some, so Izabella had decided to carry out the task quickly. After all, the Lady's springing step and her wide eyes complemented one another almost as well as did the children.
A low, heavy doorway, with the door hanging loose on its hinges. No new shipments of supplies had arrived since the town had been secured, so Izabella had been forced to do the best she could with string.
She walked soundlessly towards the older one. She had said to take that one out first, they'd said. He might not look it, but he's dangerous.
Two narrow beds at the back, against the wall on either side of the window. Two in front, on either side of the door. Bare wooden flooring, and pale cream walls spliced through with thick beams of black. Her home was beautiful.
Her human shape distorted as she leaned over the old man.
It would be difficult to explain what happened next, so to put it simply:
There was a brief moment as she panicked at the sight of movement.
There was a less brief flare of light. It glinted off the window and cast shadows that claw their way up the walls.
There was a distinct lack of Izabella — if the thing could have been called Izabella in the first place.
Tiedoll dusted his hands for the effect of it, and stood up.
Marie was a good child, but he was still a bit too trusting. The Order would not have sent the four of them there if resistance hadn't been an absolute certainty. The first rule the Generals learned was never to trust anyone. The second was to prepare for every possibility, up to and including death.
He wasn't as good at the first as Klaud, nor as good as Marian at adhering to the second. Still, he got by.
First, he woke Marie up, then Kanda, then Daisya. The latter necessitated a hand over the mouth, due to his habit of jabbering as soon as he entered consciousness.
"Mmf–"
Tiedoll put a finger to his lips, and removed his hand. The only light in the room filtered in the window from the moon, casting a shadow only Kanda's eyes could see. It was almost like a vigil, with the three of them hunched around Daisya's bed.
"I'm sorry, Daisya, but making noise is not a good idea at the moment," he whispered.
Daisya straightened up, glancing over the end of the bed where Marie had already laid out a coat and a pair of boots.
"It's way too early to leave," he complained in a whisper, "Did someone try to kill us, or something?"
As Kanda turned to grab a bag, Daisya gingerly slipped on to the floor. He wasn't wincing any more, but to be fair his doses of painkiller had been steadily increasing over the past two days. They needed all of them at full capacity.
"Precisely," replied Tiedoll.
"Hah!"
Daisya's stage whisper shouldn't have surprised the General. It was all he could do not to sigh.
"Do we finally get to fight something?"
"I'm afraid we might have no choice."
A few moments later, his three apprentices had donned their uniforms and come to a form of attention in front of him. After a few knocked shins, Daisya's eyes seemed to have adjusted to the darkness.
"We're going to see if there are any other akuma out there. Marie, please use your strings to test for them if there are none Kanda can see."
Marie nodded.
"If necessary, I'll split off from you three. In that case, stick together and don't worry about me. The town should be full of akuma. If worst comes to worst, run away. Remember: it's always better to live."
With the impromptu briefing, Tiedoll turned on his heel. He was sure none of his apprentices had noticed the faint grin that crossed his face. The Exorcist Generals were wise, yes, but the position was a military one.
And a little excitement wasn't so bad.
The four headed carefully for the front door, and Tiedoll opened it.
Almost casually, he thrust a hand full of Innocence in the face of the waiting akuma before walking out.
The stars were bright out here, tossed casually across the heavens. In the dark, the town was turned to stone in shades of steel and pearl grey. The sight would have been quite beautiful, if not for the rows upon rows of akuma that faced them.
Thankfully, the Maker of Eden provided a temporary shield from the hail of bullets. General Tiedoll was prepared.
"I think," he said thoughtfully, "We may have to split up. I'll go east. Marie?"
The other exorcist nodded. They knew the plan.
"Good luck in one…two…three…"
Tiedoll peeled off, running east down the dirt road towards the centre of town. He prayed quickly that, for a moment, Daisya would act sensibly. And Kanda, for that matter. The two of them were more alike than they were inclined to admit.
A sixth sense led him to throw up a shield just as dust sprayed up behind him
...
To the west, the grass grew longer and already Marie's strings played a symphony that distorted the spray of bullets. Diabolus in musica; the tritone that had once been condemned as unholy. Ironic, he thought, that it was now an instrument of God.
Kanda and Daisya had bitten into the swarm, the former slicing into the akuma Marie had bound, the latter aiming at the more distant ranks. A good position. Kanda covered him, and he could take out masses of akuma before they got to Kanda.
The ringing of a bell rolled out on top of the screaming strings, like the mourning of the insane.