Gahhhhhhhhhh! my formatting always gets eaten...this is so irritating! .
I wrote more Rabi X Miranda " I just realized that they have a 7 year age difference between them O.o…..oh well, love conquers all! Set during volume 8. For kaz
D-Gray Man is the property of the very talented Hoshino sensei (though I do wish I owned kanda )
Drained Time
She is tired, so very, very tired; limbs weighed down lead-heavy; blood rushing into her head, so much so that she can no longer keep it upright. Her disc spins, once, twice, thrice, the hands of the clock ticking, ticking, her time is running out, their time is running out. They will die, she knows. But she is tired, tired, tired, tired and she cannot do this anymore.
Rinali puts a cold compress on her forehead, trying to cool the body overheated from exertion as the internal mechanisms are pushed beyond the limit of what is humanly possible. She feels the exhaustion in her nerves and flesh and bones and she cries, the tears leaking from her eyes for she has no energy left to dam the torrents in.
Caught and caged in this little bubble of forgotten time, she tries to remember to breathe, but it hurts, her lungs are tired and her heartbeat is slow and sluggish. Rinali tries to lift her away from the hard chair but Rinali's legs are broken and shattered and her own weight is more than they can bear.
Long slender arms reach out to steady her and swiftly move, sweeping her off her feet and she is floating with only those arms around her. Blinded by her curtain of tears and fatigue she grabs, dazed, at the closest safe purchase she can find. Smooth cloth falls at her touch and she clings on to it desperately, fingers digging deep with what little strength that is left. The arms hold her.
XXX
There is nothing he can do, force and power is useless in the face of winding time because all things bow before the turn of the clock's hand. He bites his lip, nails scratching against the soft flesh of his palm as he stands rooted at the doorway detached from the reality of the quivering bundle on the chair. This sense of helplessness that overwhelms him is foreign, and he finds himself unable to cope.
He catches her before she falls and picks her up, tenderly, carefully. She is their life anchor. Rinali drags herself painfully up upon the chair and watches the quivering bundle in his arms with forlorn eyes and despair. She is crying in his arms, but there is no sound and he does not hear her breathe. A tug on his scarf and it slides away from his neck, she clutches at it, almost frantically.
The door to her room creaks open easily and he settles her down, pulling sheet over sheet, wrapping her in a cocoon where no one can touch her. When his fingers brush against her bare skin, it burns him with its sun-dust heat. He presses his hands against her, scared, trying to cool the blazing intensity of anger and sorrow that threatens to engulf him.
When he makes to leave for another cold compress, her weak touch stills him with its unspoken plea. Stay. This is all he can do, even with wind and water and fire and earth at his call. He lies beside her, arms around her waist and her back, holding her as she cries.