A doll's motives

Warmth was spreading through her, coming from the spot where his skin touched hers.

It had been a few centuries…or at the very least, the doll was almost sure a few centuries had already passed from the time she first heard her name again, but the shadow of the freezing cold that once enveloped her being still refused to go away. Instead, it now lingered in the background, threatening to steal away what had finally filled her existence once more. It crawled behind her, ever-present but never quite there, chased away by the warmth he gave her. The male who found her and brought what was left of her back together became the one thing she became unable to survive without, her owner. And she silently treasured every vivid memory that had been created after their meeting. In quiet appreciation, she savored the feelings that had, little piece after little piece, slowly come back into her existence. And the one thing that proved to work without fault was touch. Whether it be a lingering cares or a harsh grip, it all gave her a rush of warmth that would push further away the cold shadows of her forgotten past. Not that them touching was a rare event. The male was always touching her in one way or another, uncaring of setting or time, and Kagome was content to follow his directions.

If being his perfect doll meant keeping the numbness away…then that was what she'd become, playing along with whatever wish he may have.

Just like she was doing right now, as she followed the newly named Undertaker. Letting him pull her along as they went up the stairs of the luxurious manor in front of her. That there hadn't been even the implication of an invitation sent to the Funeral home, nor was it implied the last time the Lord showed up at their shop made no difference. Any thoughts about inconveniencing their soon-to-be hosts were swiftly pushed to the back of her mind. She didn't want to be a bother, and a part of her acknowledged what they were doing was nothing short of rude, but if coming here without any warning despite the early hour was what he wished to do, then the doll would smile for the ex-shinigami and quietly follow. Besides, the Phantomhives were warm as well.

A few months ago, the Lord found his way into their relatively new Funeral home, questions on hand as he followed the trail of whoever had made the mistake of ruining the Queen's peaceful garden, thus catching her Watchdog's attention. Evil noblemen, that is how Undertaker would later explain to her the nature of their unexpected costumer, families of good reputation who tainted their hands to keep London's civilized façade intact. From the rumors the former Death god managed to collect, those families were feared by anyone in the know. And yet, the man spearheading said families had instead frozen on his tracks the first time his sight fell on her, standing behind the reception. Maybe it was the colors on her dress, a light blue with dark accents that contrasted with the dark and grim colors people tended to associate with a place like their shop. Shades of blue were some of Undertaker's favorite colors to dress her in; only crimson ever won. It could've been the visual impact that caused Vincent Phantomhive to stumble and stare at her for a full second before recovering and sending a soft smile her way. Maybe not. Maybe it was her age, her mind aimlessly provided; age was supposed to be important when it came to the roles people played within society, and the doll had been told she looked younger than the 17 years of age her body was meant to be frozen in time at. When compared to the people of this country, her height fell on the short end of the scale, and her soft voice didn't do a thing to offset that image…the few times her voice came out, that is.

Perhaps it was a combination of the two?

Or was it the nature of the shop itself that clashed against her image…no, no, it didn't matter.

If what stopped the lord Phantomhive was just the one, all of them or none made no difference; it held no value. What did matter was that the man had simply smiled and patiently asked his questions. Willing to wait and make a mostly one-sided conversation with the doll after Kagome repeated the words she was instructed to say if anyone came before Undertaker made it back from a burning site. The colors fluctuating between dark blacks and reds to light blues and whites that surrounded the Lord that only her eyes could see managed to stir her dormant interest. With every sentence the young noble spoke, the numbness creeping behind her seemed to be pushed further away, not at the same rate it did she was when in the presence of the undying being that pulled her along, but enough for her to note the difference. And when the former Death god made it back, Vincent had taken his odd behavior in stride, easily agreeing to pay for the information he required with the currency the male appreciated.

Laughter.

High-quality laughter obtained by the Lord's own efforts.

With a laugh of his own, Lord Phantomhive had waved goodbye, leaving behind the promise of another visit and her own confusion.

Her body was human, but to say she was so as well would've been a lie. She did not understand them, not the people who moved around them, nor those that ended up in their shop. But she had come to recognize the patterns in which they moved, and the evil nobleman refused to fit into the categories her mind had indifferently arranged. Unlike others that formed the elite part of society, there had been no demands, arrogance, yes, but not imperiousness; Vincent had adapted himself to her, happy to accept her non-answers and short replies. Neither did he act like those of lower birth that were, more often than not, the bulk of their clientele. With angry remarks and grief from being forced to hire their services, or the crude comments and wandering hands that would show from time to time, when the people were not invested on the cadaver being left at their door.

The easy acceptance of both, her quiet demeanor, and Undertaker's loud oddities broke away the pattern. It didn't seem to take a toll on him, the lingering feeling of death that clung to the ex-shinigami's presence or the oddness that the doll's unnatural aura would wake in others. And a couple of work-related visits later, the Lord had offered his house to them in nothing but a social aspect. His wife, he'd said, would love to meet her.

It took longer than she'd thought for the former Death god to agree, but after that first meeting, his hesitation all but vanished entirely. The lady of the house delighted in having the doll over, presenting her with an ever-increasing variety of teas and delicacies, showing her around the gardens. From time to time, she'd offer a brooch or hair adornment to them that Undertaker would later work into her usual clothing. Unlike her husband's mesh of colors, Rachel's colors were purely bright. Not that the woman wasn't aware of the true nature behind the family she'd been married into, but she'd managed to maintain her same gentleness and love for life that felt both so foreign and somewhat familiar to Kagome. At times, it almost felt like she was seeing a shadow of something she couldn't quite define, but that oddness made little difference when, along with it, came the warmth she desperately lacked, and her immortal companion was too happy to push her along with the older-looking woman. It worked wonders, according to him.

Because words came to her easier these days when compared to before, the male who shared her eternity also laughed more often. And so, Kagome made sure to embrace the warmth the noble couple provided her. from all the humans they'd come across, no one had managed to awake the same kind of feelings they did.

Loud, discordant knocks in the elegant door shattered her disjointed thoughts, bringing her back to the present as the immortal being at her side attempted to time his banging to the rhythm of some unheard melody. There was little time between them, his hand moving wildly and almost hitting the butler that finally opened up.

"My sincere apologies for the wait." Azure eyes carelessly studied the older man's calm demeanor. The annoyances that didn't show in his face, she could see in the colors around him. This wasn't the first time she heard those words; it likely wouldn't be the last time. "I fear we weren't expecting any guests."

"Don't waste your time, Tanaka." From behind him came the amused voice of the noble Lord, and she relished in the extra warmth that came with it. "Our young little lady over there, I can see caring enough to bother to send some sort of notice before falling on our doorstep. But I am confident hell will freeze over before Undertaker can be troubled enough to send a letter…or if he does, he'll be carrying it with him and deliver it himself."

She smiled lightly at the words. Kagome was the Undertaker's "perfect doll," his "caged, impossible bird." Those and a couple other changing titles were the ones she'd taken to respond to over the past couple hundreds of years, titles she guarded closely, as they gave her back the feelings, warmth, and belonging that once appeared to be an unmanageable task. Perhaps once upon a time, she would've put up a fight to being referred with words that held such possessiveness to it, but those times were long gone, and the doll gladly accepted them, implications included. Lately, however, she was also the Pantomhive's "young little lady," their "petite raven," and while they still paled in comparison to her eternal partner's words, she treasured them all the same.

"Kehehehehe, you know me all too well, milord." After giving the man a dramatic bow, the ex-shinigami stepped behind her. Long arms wrapped around her, one of his hands coming to trap her right limb and moved it for her in a pantomime of a light wave. "Now, now, say hello, Kagome-chan."

"Good morning…Vincent."

"Good morning indeed, Kagome." Lord Phantomhive shook his head, a reluctant smile on his face. "Although, I feel I should apologize, my dear, for I am confident Undertaker's goal is to find us still in bed, and he's just cutting your sleeping hours short."

"Now, wherever would milord get such an atrocious idea, kehehe." With a laugh, the male allowed her arm to fall back down.

Such a thing was unlikely to be the real purpose behind these visits, but the doll could easily accept the idea that it could have very well been a part of the reason for it. Regardless, she shook her head silently. There was no need for apologies, not when her body did not even require sleep anymore. Whatever energy sustained her could easily cover all of her basic necessities as soon as the doll, or her owner, stopped taking care of them. Something that had been apparently discovered during the early part of their travels, back when the former Death god had had no clue what a human body needed to be kept healthy.

Light amber eyes locked into azure after a short chuckle, and the caged bird could feel a sliver of warmth getting back to her. Reliably chasing away the threat of numbness that followed her every step. Vincent was quick to understand the meaning behind her small actions and short answers, easily responding to the shadow of the feelings she'd slowly reclaimed, uncaring about the seemingly unbalance in the amount of effort put into their interactions.

Like the man holding her complete, Vincent Phantomhive never asked for a single thing out of her, happy to take what little she could offer. Him and…

"Oh, Kagome!"

The airy, melodic voice that reached her ears brought back another ember of warmth with it as her gaze managed to catch the elegant woman making a dash down the stairs. The bright golden of her hair seemed to be just as much of a contrast to the rest of the persons in the room as the colors that surrounded her did. Where blood stained the souls of every single being in the vicinity, the lady of the manor remained untouched. A flicker of light fought to come back to the azure oceans of her eyes when the kind woman looked at her, and just as always when the woman was present, everyone's stances seemed to relax a little. Unlike the serious but gentle Lord, Rachel Phantomhive tended to act with a certain childish quality whenever she wasn't forced to act within a social setting, and along with that childishness came a calming presence that helped soften those around her. The lady's smiles were less restrained, but they were just as warm as her husband's. With careful movements, the mortal woman took the doll's hands in her own. A gesture she'd taken to do after their very first encounter, but only after receiving permission from both Undertaker and one of her slight nods. Just like the Lord, Rachel had quickly accepted the odd dynamic between the doll and her owner, not showing discomfort at how the male would at times move her around for his own amusement.

"I didn't know you were coming." Not a scolding, Kagome noted; fondness was dripping from every word. "Oh, but you have such perfect timing; the winter roses just bloomed the other day. And I was talking with Tanaka, wouldn't a cherry tree look just magnificent near the center of the gardens, especially with the new flower batch. It's fine if I steal our petite raven for a little, right?"

Azure searched within the brilliant emerald gaze that lay hidden beneath silver bangs, looking less for permission and more for reassurance that the male would still be here, waiting for her to return. He would. Undertaker would always wait for her, just like he would always make his way back to her, but despite there being little things she cared enough to hate anymore, being left alone was the one thing the doll truly despised. It wouldn't happen, though; this wasn't the first time Rachel took her to the gardens, intent on explaining the meaning of every blossom they passed. Each and every time, the lady was content despite the subdued reactions she got in response to her short speeches. It was probably unusual for the woman not to receive praise and compliments, and yet, not once had her voice tensed when all she got for her trouble was a slight tilt of her head. Actually, Kagome was almost sure Rachel had made it her personal mission to look for the flowers that elicited the strongest reactions within the doll. And every time it happened, the couple of immortal beings would go back to the Funeral home with a bouquet or two in their hands. Depending on how often they visited in a week, her room would end up full of different kinds of flowers and blossoms that mixed to make fragrant aromas that clung to her clothes even within their shop.

At the male's nod, the lady Phantomhive grinned wide, lightly tugging on the hands she'd yet to relinquish to guide her to the back gardens. The doll made to follow only to be stopped by the sound of cracking porcelain. With it came a panicked gasp and a pained groan. Her hands were released in a heartbeat as the human woman turned and hurried down the hall; the former Death god's fingers were quick to wrap around her arms.

Their small group moved at once, following the lady's lead only to stop at the sight of broken pieces of china and scattered roses laying around two young boys. Of the two, one was picking himself off the floor while the other fluttered in panic. Twins, the doll thought idly. Identical in appearance, but her eyes could notice the slight differences between them. Not in their features but in the colors that surrounded the children's aura. There was just a little more brightness to the boy who was hastily apologizing and standing in front of his brother. Slight pain came from her arm as the grip around it tightened.

Two sets of identical sapphire orbs, so similar to Rachel's, rose to get a better look at the small crowd that began to gather in the hallway, and panic appeared to arise in them both, this time.

Kagome didn't quite notice when she sneaked her way out of Undertaker's fingers, but the doll kept walking, making her way to the twins. Azure eyes refused to move from the rivulets of crimson dripping from the palm of the kid that had landed on the floor. The sound of the expensive fabric of her dress' long sleeves being ripped echoed loudly in the silence that had taken over the room when she started moving. Uncaring of the water or the porcelain shards on the floor, Kagome knelt next to the children. Slender, experienced fingers took the small blood-covered hand. Gently wiping the red away, her careful gaze made sure there was no broken china within the cut before wrapping it in a newly ripped strip of white fabric. A motion she no longer remembered learning. Bright sapphire was locked on her. The strands of raven hair felt soft as the doll made sure not to use her crimson-stained hand to pet both children.

They too, were warm.

Usually, kids didn't find their way to the Funeral house, not unless they were the ones that would inhabit Undertaker's specially crafted coffins. But she had seen them while they tried to blend in with whatever human society made the bulk of the country they stopped at. And yet, not once had the doll felt the urge to try and interact directly with them. Now, as she felt the warmth within her growing and pushing the cold so far away that it felt like a distant memory, Kagome could only smile back at them.

"…so pretty…"

"Will you play with us?"

As if waiting for someone to break the silence, the room came back to life after the duo of identical voices made themselves known. Maids fluttered all around, rushing to try and clean the mess on the floors, and direct their employers away from the hallway that needed their attention without being rude.

"You boys do realize neither of you has introduced yourselves yet, don't you?" Finally, her eyes turned back to where Vincent was trying to hold back his laughter. "And you two aren't supposed to come down when we have uninvited guests."

Heat rose to the children's cheeks as the boys offered even more subdued apologies to their parents. Ever since the Lord opened his house to them, Undertaker had taken to the habit of making random unannounced visits. Hard as one may look, there was no clear schedule, but there was a trend when it came to the hours the former Death god liked to drop in. Unless lord Phantomhive needed to confer with them and the select people that aided him with his Watchdog's duties, the doll would be dragged here in either the middle of the night or close to dawn. Not once had the doll bothered to question the reasoning behind such a decision. Staring at the set of twins squirming under their parent's eyes, she knew them to be the reason. As if confirming the deduction, both Rachel and Vincent glanced at Undertaker, a silent question in their eyes.

"Ah, forget it," the Lord shook his head after receiving an imperceptible nod. "Kagome, darling, these are our sons, Ciel and Sirius." The kids nodded, smiles back on their lips and curiosity lighting their eyes. "Children, this is Kagome; she works with Undertaker here and has helped me with work on occasion. They are friends of ours."

"…are you a doll?" the boy she'd made sure to memorize as Ciel asked. Childish impatience had him turning to his parents even as his wrapped hand moved to pull on her skirt; the pain had, apparently, been forgotten. "Can she play with us?"

"Kehehehe, smart boy, aren't you?" Warmth blanketed her as familiar arms came to wrap around her. "Kagome-chan here is the most perfect of dolls."

"Yes, our petite raven is quite unique."

"But it's not us you need to ask, Ciel." Rachel's reprimand was soft but undeniable. The gentle lady gestured towards them.

Accustomed to his tight grip, the doll shuffled to look at the male trapping her. Her quiet question was the same as always. Be it Rachel or Vincent, or even the sudden burst of warmth the children had given back to her, nothing compared to what she felt when in the grasp of the runaway Death god. As his doll, she moved only for him. Hidden emerald eyes bore into her. There was a storm of thoughts swirling inside his gaze before he gave his reply. For a second, the doll almost wondered about the reason behind why this particular decision was taking him so long. And then, the male giggled once more and nodded.

"Go ahead, Kagome-chan. I do have a couple of things to work out with our kind lord." Behind her, the male tightened his grip before laughing and letting go of her.

"Well, since things turned out this way, why don't we bring out some of your games outside and have some tea brought to the garden." Rachel was clearly unwilling to lose her chance at showing off her newly bloomed flowers. The lady's grin, almost an exact copy of her sons', faded a bit as she took another look at the doll. "Oh dear, that dress is a bit of a mess, we'll pay you back for it, of course…ah, but I doubt my clothes will fit our little lady, do any of the maids' is around her height, dear?"

"Hmm, I think we're out of luck there, darling…" Vincent's gaze went through the handful of maids still moving to and from the hallway, clearly trying to see if there was anyone close to the doll's size before shifting his focus to Undertaker. "If you don't mind, I can call our seamstress here. I'm sure Nina will be delighted to have the chance to work with someone like Kagome. As long as you have the time to wait here until lunch, then you'll likely end up with more than just one dress."

"Do we have the time, do we? I don't think we have anything scheduled, do we, Kagome-chan?"

The doll shook her head once more. It wasn't often that their living clients called ahead, and their nonliving ones didn't need them to hurry up and go back to work on them. She was in no hurry to leave the warmth of the Phantomhive manor either.

"Tanaka, make sure to make the necessary arrangements. And children, make sure to be gentle with her, alright?" The butler nodded and rushed to pass the master's orders. "We'll catch up to you in a minute."

"Yes!" The kids chimed at once.

Two small grips took hold of her hands, one a little more hesitant than the other, but both just as warm. Feeling her expression soften, the doll allowed herself to be tugged up the stairs, followed by a lightly laughing Rachel. Detailed explanations of the kind of games that could be taken outside filled the silence, and the doll could feel a hint of a smile make its way to her lips as they showed her cases and colorful toys with their mother's soft recommendations.

It hurt.

Pain bloomed as the warm blood spilled from the wound being held open by a pair of long black nails, and the doll reveled at the sensation of feeling such ache while her breathing gradually went back to its regular rhythm. Pain mixed with the remnants of pleasure enveloping her in an ocean of warmth that chased away the numbness. Crimson stained the sheets beneath her, leaving behind a sticky mess that only served as a reminder of what she'd just experienced. His fingers let go of her skin, allowing it to knit itself back up only for a different kind of pain to shoot through her arm.

Sharper, more metallic. The cut of a Death scythe.

Pressing her eyes shut, the doll turned her head to where she felt his heat came from, not caring that right in front of her, the lost past of Higurashi Kagome was playing within her cinematic record. The former shinigami still enjoyed watching it every so often. It was highly entertaining, according to Undertaker. A whole theater of tragedy and disaster mixed with a cursed blessing. Or a blessed curse? Of that, she wasn't sure; then again, the distinction hardly mattered. Each and every time, soft giggles would echo throughout the night while his weapon repeatedly sliced her open in cuts that would vanish without a trace. It was the pain the doll preferred to focus on, or better yet, the feeling of his skin and long silver strands of hair against her bare skin. She could see it if she wished to. Her eyes continued to show her what a human's gaze wasn't meant to see, from spirits to demons, and even the cinematic records taken directly from a person's body. If the male's caged bird wished to, then she could see the past that had been forgotten. Undertaker had never prohibited it, although he'd also never encouraged her to do so either. A part of her wondered if this too was amusing to him. To watch her close her eyes as soon as the cold sting of metal tore open her flesh, but still refused to move away from his warmth. It was her decision to never open them, one of the only things she'd decided on her own from the very beginning.

She didn't want to.

She didn't need them.

Why would she wish to recover the memories of someone who'd died centuries ago? Memories that were lost as time washed over her were unnecessary.

Her life, if it could even be called that, before Undertaker was nothing but a blurry haze of days bleeding into each other while her existence continued to persevere in that freezing, empty void. Enveloped in frigid numbness that wouldn't allow any feelings to come in or out. Even after that fateful day, the day a sliver of her had been returned along with her name, there were still days that blurred together. Only the clothing he gifted her with served as a way to differentiate when and where they were before the former Death god began his attempts to fix her up.

And before that…

…before that, there was nothing but the fading echo of pain inside the void.

Crimson tainted flashes would show up the few times she'd tried to think back on it on his request, always with it, the threat of numbness tried to creep closer. Whatever happened before being found, it had killed Higurashi Kagome, shattered her into pieces so small that nothing recognizable had been left behind. Her body nothing more than an empty vessel, moving only by instinct. Why try to recover what had broken the human and morphed her into a hollow doll?

Useless.

Unneeded.

Unwanted.

That's what those memories were. Little more than something else Kagome could offer Undertaker as a form of entertainment, something he could use to amuse himself. What little her mind had pieced together from the random bits of information the male let slip was nothing more than a jumbled mess of words and concepts she held no interest in. Time travel, relics, or the like may have been related to the reason why, while still being human, Kagome had managed to escape from her mortality, but she purposefully avoided joining the dots. Just as she avoided wondering how was it that her body healed itself even against her own wishes.

Her skin would knit itself back up, organs would regrow in only moments, blood would replenish itself. Not all of those things had been tested through the time she could remember, of course, but Undertaker had confirmed he'd seen her survive far worse within the cinematic record that still played above her. Her body had been shredded, only for it to regenerate in a few moments.

"Hmmm, he'll need some more of this soon enough." His voice came just a breath away from her ear, amusement still dancing within the words.

Her heart skipped a bit at the comment. Azure eyes opened with the certainty that Undertaker only spoke once the film was over; he liked his doll well enough as she was right now. No, even it wasn't so; she'd happily allow him to mold her into whatever form he wished as long as he kept the cold away. With a soft nod, her gaze looked for emerald; his fingers had yet to move from the edges of the cut, stopping her flesh from healing itself. Long nails dug into her bare skin, allowing the precious liquid that had become an essential part of their project to spill into the sheets.

Their latest prototypes had shown them just how much of a difference there was when they decided to add her own blood to the main catalyst to make his bizarre dolls to move. Without it, the reanimated corpses would move for sure; as long as the body was patched up and the new cinematic record remained within the body, that was all it really needed. Or it would be, if their goal was to simply have a reanimated corpse that was little more than a mindless beastthat continued to hunt for the souls they lacked. For them to behave as they used to, to really be brought back, a lot more work was needed. Dozens of tries in, he'd come in with a new approach, adding her own blood to the corpses, and it worked…to a degree. It seemed to help keep away the mindless urge and bind their personalities to their bodies, but it was far from a perfect or permanent solution. That said…things were advancing, and soon, soon, they could wake Ciel up.

It was a pity that there was no way for her to be the only supplier, but the amount of blood required would leave her pinned to the equipment since the bizarre dolls couldn't produce their own. If they wanted things to be sustainable, then there was no other way than to use the liquid obtained via the Music hall and the other facilities. Of course, her blood would still need to be donated every so often.

"Soon," the male giggled once again, unrestrained, unhinged. A beloved sound. "Soon enough, we'll be reunited with our beloved family."

Yes…

It wouldn't be long now, and they would be able to recover the warmth and color that had been stolen from them. The years of hard work while restoring his body, making sure to keep it alive and growing, and in good conditions as they searched for a way to bypass the unimportant issue of his missing soul. At last, it was time for him to wake up. The children that had become such a strong source of warmth for her would be within her reach once more. They may have lost dear Vincent and Rachel, but they hadn't lost it all yet, and they would take back as much as they could.

Kagome had somehow broken the chains of time that trapped every other human…if she had managed to escape them…then why should she not be able to find a way to bring someone else back.

As for Sirius…her poor Sirius, that insisted on claiming his brother's name even when darling Ciel was resting in the coffin right behind him…they would get him back too. But before they could do that, they would need to get rid of the butler before the beast could make a move to fulfill the Faustian contract that would mark the young Phantomhive's end. Strong or not, the starved demon would not steal away what remained of their family.

Anger had rushed through her veins in an almost unprecedented manner the first time she felt the beast's tainted energy tangled around the young boy's soul, a sentence that would surely be carried out. Only Undertaker's silent reminder that their plan was already underway had managed to help her shove down the uncharacteristically strong emotion that had been pushed by the echoes of the instincts that refused to disappear from her flesh. Because how dare he… How dare that pathetic creature that crawled through the depths of hell try to lay claim to one of the persons that belonged to them, to her.

Humans didn't live long.

She knew that, of course. The doll had been aware that time would've taken them all away from them. At one point or another…but not like this. Not this soon…if the demonic butler thought he could try and steal from her, then she would be the one to destroy it. With her soul being such a rarity, it wouldn't take much for him to look for her instead of the other way around. Neither immortal being would allow such a thing…and if death tried to keep her away from dear Ciel, then that would be just another obstacle to get rid of.

For a second, she could almost hear them. The echoes of screams on the back of her mind. The yells with a voice that sounded so much like her own. Screaming that this wasn't right, that what they were doing was wrong, twisted. That she shouldn't allow this to continue. To mindlessly obey the male that even now was placing himself on top of her once more. It was right about one thing, she supposed; they were very much going against the natural order of life and destroying whatever came in their way. Making a mockery of whatever god was supposed to control them.

As always, the voice tried to continue.

Saying this was the sort of thing she was supposed to stop. That Undertaker was the kind of being that should be stopped, destroyed without a second thought. No hesitation. That was what she was meant to do…

It was her duty.

"How soon?" Kagome asked, ignoring the voice.

"Oh my, my little caged bird is getting impatient, kehehehe." His touch ignited the heat within hear again. And she basked on it, on the sound of his own breathing growing heavier alongside hers. "Soon enough."

Duty was what broke her in the first place.

The only thing left in her husk of a body when everything else faded was that fading feeling; it was duty that brought the cold and the numbness into her existence.

The doll did not care for duty.

Not anymore.

So, as she had done countless times before, she easily pushed down the voice to the depths of her mind. The place where the darkness of her past would chain it back for another good period of time. Instead, she focused on thepunishing grip he was applying to the one scar that refused to vanish. The one mark the former Death god would often call the reason behind her fate and trace with care.

Yes, she didn't need her past, didn't need her duty…the warmth of his skin against hers as his grip tightened around her legs and pleasure started to mount once more, this was all that mattered, nothing more...the natural order, right or wrong…it was all meaningless if she could keep that warmth. If they could retake what had been so cruelly stolen from them, it would all be worth it.

A/N: Could it be...after months and months the second part I mentioned is finally here?!

Really, though, so sorry for leaving this kinda forgotten...although this wasn't actually forgotten, ironically enough the first draft for this has been ready and done for months, it was the editing that ended up taking so long because for one reason or another I ended up doing it in batches of 500 words...ups. In any case, here it is!

Also, if anyone's curious about the cover art, I made that during classes or after exams in times I probably should've used to study further but well, inspiration struck and that was that. If anyone cares to see it in better detail the image is in both my pixiv and deviantart accounts (both with Anya-6 as user names) under the same name as the fic. I'd love to be able to leave the links here in any other way than what is down below but well... just does not want to let links to work at all, regardless there they are down there.

www. pixiv en / artworks / 96232219

www. deviantart anya-6 /art / Death-s-inspiration-906906962

Also, completely unrelated but my god that last episode of demon slayer was just a perfect way to end the season, it definitely felt shorter tho. I've been thinking about starting a full length crossover fic tho I do wonder if anyone would be interested in it...I'll probably do at least a one shot regardless.

As always thank you guys so much for reading and any and all reviews/criticisms/comments are greatly, greatly appreciated.