I'm back again! The reason that this chapter has come out a bit later is because I've written a short story fan fiction (It's about Gajeel's first day in Fairy Tail)! So I decided to make this chapter a bit longer as a thanks for waiting. I really appreciate all you guys reading this, I've had followers and lovely reviews and stuff I just never expected! So thank you everyone! Here's to a long adventure!
When the truth had finally been revealed to him, Zancrow didn't know what to feel. Ashamed? Guilty? Angry? It was one thing hearing it from someone who was in favour of his actions and another thing entirely hearing it from someone who sounded so mournful, as if he never wanted to speak of the incident again. So he had even tried to harm the guild master too… Zancrow wondered why he thought that his actions were justifiable back then. Put like this, they seemed so obviously wrong! Yet why did he feel that his actions were wrong now? He was another person completely. Thoughts cut short by the master clearing his throat, Zancrow looked up attentively and listened.
'Do you have any idea why you cannot remember these events?'
Maybe… It was true… It sounded odd in his head, but perhaps it really did happen.
'I think that, well, I died…' he said somewhat matter-of-factly, but apprehensively, not wanting to sound like a fool.
The expression on the old wizard's face was one of mingled surprise and confusion.
'Died?' he said incredulously. 'Are you suggesting that you can rise from the dead?'
Makarov Dreyar's suspicions were beginning to become true. If Zeref had got to him first...
'-Well yeah, but then those two told me that I had seven empty years, and they told me about Grimoire Heart and Zeref,' Zancrow had continued.
'And you did not want to stay with them?' replied Makarov, a little lost by Zancrow's hurried explanation, which he had missed half of.
'No, I despise Grimoire's way of thinking. I left.'
It was surprising to hear him talk about his ex-guild like that. By all accounts, Zancrow loved that guild more than life itself.
'I see,' began Makarov. 'And you decided that you would join an official guild and start again? Or is there another reason why you came here?'
Zancrow looked the guild master in the eye and finally gave a response.
'I didn't want to be a part of Grimoire anymore. Their thinking just isn't right. So I found myself thinking that maybe I didn't want to be part of a dark guild no more. So I leave Grimoire and I start travelling; wondering what I was going to do with myself, where I was going to stay, how I was going to get my money and where I was going to go. I mean, I was looking for, well,' he cut off hastily, knowing he'd said too much, 'So as soon as I find myself thinking about all my problems, your Gray turns up and starts offering a mage in need a place to stay. So I told him I liked the sound of this Fairy Tail, and I follow him right here. But, I swear to you, I'm not here for revenge; I just came here because it was offered to me, honest.'
A little more at ease now that he was practically alone with the guild master, Zancrow had relaxed into his more offhand way of speaking. However, Makarov hadn't missed his little slip-up.
'You say that you were looking for something. May I ask what that something is?'
Looking extremely uncomfortable, Zancrow searched for the right words to explain what he wanted to say:
'I suppose that… one perk of being in Fairy Tail is that there are lots of wizards. And… lots of wizards means lots of different people to ask. Ask about what I am, I mean.'
It wasn't very subtle answer, but Zancrow wasn't exactly the most subtle person on the planet. Makarov was perplexed but even more wary. What was he talking about? Zancrow seemed to have an inkling about what he was, as did Makarov.
'What you are? Are you referring to the fact that you are a God Slayer?'
Zancrow reached into his pocket and pulled out the innocent looking black notebook that he had fought tooth and nail for in reply. It looked quite unimpressive considering what he had to go through to get it, but it was his only – and valuable – clue to his past.
'This book'll explain everything. I can't make full sense of it and I haven't looked all the way through it, but it provides some answers and some questions that I want answering.'
The Flame God reached over and put the book into the master's small palm. Makarov turned it over in his hands, then opened it to the first page, which read:
'SOURCE OF DEMON BLOOD: CHIROPTERA.'
"Source of demon blood?" Did that really mean what he thought it did? Flicking forwards to a later entry, he read about Zancrow's violent moods, the blood that he had consumed and he realised with a stab of pity and anger, that Hades had really decided to do something so evil. Here before him was a Cruel One, the name given to half-men, half-demons. Supposedly, they were a failed experiment, the way in which they were created often caused them to go insane, losing all sense of reason and rampaging until slain – often by their own allies. They were all meant to have died out four hundred years ago and besides, no human alive today has any knowledge of how to make one, how could Zancrow possibly exist? Apparently, Hades had dabbled in some very dark magic… By human standards Zancrow was rather unstable, but he seemed to be remarkably sane for one of his kind. Makarov didn't want to upset that very fine balance – one little thing could easily send him over the edge. It would be best to withhold this information for now – the pain of leaving Grimoire Heart, the anxiety of not remembering who he is, losing his master… One more blow could be the straw that breaks the camel's back. It would be best for him to find out on his own. Makarov sighed and finally elicited a response.
'This makes no sense. Demon blood?'
'I was wondering myself what that would do to a person. Master Hades must have made me his personal experiment,' Zancrow replied, a touch of frosty betrayal in his voice.
'I am afraid that I cannot tell you anything about this. It seems that Hades was trying to see what the effects were of demon blood on a human – to what ends, I don't know – and recording his findings in a notebook.'
Disappointed, the half-man, half-demon made one last attempt for information:
'So… You really don't know anything about this book? Nothing about me? At all?'
Makarov knew that it would be best to keep Zancrow under surveillance - there was no knowing what he might do, his kin were by all accounts unpredictable – despite the fact that he had claimed that he would not go back to a dark guild, he could change his mind at any minute. And of course, he could still be a liar, sent by Grimoire Heart to spy on Fairy Tail. Watching him seemed to be the best choice.
'I am afraid that I know nothing of this demonic business. I am sorry that Hades would do something like this to you, but I can't help you with your past at all.'
Zancrow was confused. He was so sure that the guild master would have some answers – he looked so knowledgeable and wise! Zancrow supposed that looks weren't everything... But he desperately needed somewhere to stay – and this Fairy Tail seemed like his only option. It was so very late now; yesterday when he was sleeping on the island, the stars had only just come out when he had lain his head down to sleep. It must be past midnight by now – this was his last stop, it would either be sleeping here or sleeping on the streets. He needed to ask to stay at least, despite the fact that the master had told him he could never be trusted here.
'If you can't help me with my past, do you think that I could ask about something else…?' he questioned uncertainly, looking up.
'About something else? If it's about your guild I am afraid to say that I knew precious lit-'
'Can I stay here tonight?'
Zancrow had blurted out the question before Makarov had even finished his sentence. A little embarrassed of his outburst, he looked up quickly to see Makarov's reaction and then lowered his head, pretending to be fully absorbed by the loose thread on the sofa. Stupid! He shouldn't have sounded so desperate!
Makarov looked carefully at the curtain of hair that had been surreptitiously shifted by Zancrow to hide his face. There had been pleading and desperation flickering for just a second in his eyes, and Makarov knew it to be genuine. The sixth guild master of Fairy Tail was surprised by his attitude – a key member of Grimoire Heart that had seemed so cruel and merciless could also be so childish and lost on the road of life. It was heartening to see a side of Zancrow that was more human than what he was used to. As these thoughts raced through his head, the Flame God Slayer himself jerkily twitched his head up to look at his expression again. Seeing that it looked rather calculating, he added:
'I mean – if I just stayed here for a night, I could be gone by tomorrow morning. I've had such a long day that I couldn't do anything during the night even I wanted to-'
It was true. He had bags under his eyes and looked rather pale and exhausted, in need of some rest.
'-which I wouldn't anyway. I may be a criminal, but I'm not low enough to start taking advantage of people's hospitality, I swear it.'
Zancrow looked determinedly at Makarov, a steely glint in his eye. This, again, was true. There were rules, even in Grimoire Heart, and something in Zancrow's own subconscious seemed to retain that knowledge. If someone had taken you into their own house and cared for you if you were sick or in need of help, you would thank them greatly and honestly, leaving them in peace once you were well again. It was pure evil – even amongst dark guilds – to harm anyone who had provided you with care when it was needed most and it was expected that you would pay that person back if ever possible. Dark guilds may do dark things, but they can't fully resist human nature.
Makarov looked as if he was considering Zancrow's offer but he knew what decision he had to come to. At Fairy Tail he could be watched and he could have food, shelter and income. If – in the unlikely situation – he ended up being a liar, information could easily be hidden from him (they didn't have to tell him everything that happened in the guild), so no risk to them.
'You may stay. Not just for tonight, but for as long as you wish.'
Zancrow looked up so quickly he cricked his neck, hardly daring to believe it.
'However,' Makarov continued, injecting a more severe tone into his voice, 'I am only allowing you to stay because it is convenient for the both of us – you have somewhere to stay and some income whilst we may keep an eye on you in case you are not what you claim to be.'
Here Makarov fixed him with a stern glare and Zancrow, used to Hades despite the fact he could not remember him, didn't even quail under it. Not sure whether to take this as evidence for his innocence or guilt, the master of Fairy Tail elaborated on the terms and rules he expected Zancrow to conform to and follow.
'You may take once supervised mission a week, and only with an S-Class mage in your midst. S-Class missions, of course, are out of the question. It doesn't matter how big your group is, you must have at least one S-Class mage, understand?'
Zancrow nodded slowly, thinking hard. One mission a week? And no S-Class? Even he knew that was barely enough to keep him alive! Zancrow would have to get used to working hard. In Grimoire, they took money from lesser dark guilds in order to fund their cost of living, so they could afford to live rather luxuriously and deal with whatever they felt like dealing with. He knew nothing of this still, but the way he had lived still remained a part of him. The truth was, he had never had to lift a finger, only work hard when he was told to. He had certainly never had to bust a gut trying to get together earnings in order to feed himself and he had certainly never stressed about what missions to take. Zancrow merely finished his nod and chanced a fleeting glance at Erza and Mirajane. They looked slightly emotionless, determined not to give anything away to him in their expressions.
'You may also stay in the Fairy Tail boy's dormitory, but you must still pay the rent of one hundred thousand Jewels a month. If you ever get into serious financial crisis, you may have some help provided depending on your situation.'
One hundred thousand Jewels?! How the hell could he get that together and still pay for food?! And by situation, he expected that the guild master must mean no spending money on 'unnecessary' things. So no booze. Not that he'd ever had any, but still – no booze.
'For tonight,' Zancrow looked up, wondering what other bad news the master would tell him this time, 'You will have food provided for you as you do not seem to have your own, but you will be expected to come here to start work at eight o'clock sharp every day, excluding Sundays.'
'Right,' replied Zancrow, perhaps a little curtly. In all honesty, he was just puzzled. How was he meant to work out money and rent and food and Sundays and food and rent and Sundays and money and food, what about food?! He supposed that he would get into a routine and work it out eventually, but for now… well, who knows.
'In about five minutes, Mirajane,' Makarov gestured to the beautiful white-blonde girl who smiled and waved at him, 'Will be at the bar. She will provide you with food for the night and directions of how to get to the dormitory.'
There was a finality in the master's tone that told Zancrow that it was time to leave. Without anyone telling him he could do so, he stood up quickly and turned towards the door, heading straight for it. He flung it open, scratching the back of his head with the other hand, walking with a confident spring in his step. Stopping suddenly in the doorway, he looked over his shoulder and said,
'Oh, and Master Makarov,' his face cracked into a malevolent but somewhat cheeky grin, as if he had gotten exactly what he wanted, 'Thanks.' He turned and left, leaving a stunned silence in his wake, punctuated by his cheerful, but still unnerving, cackle.
He wandered through the guild, calm as you please, looking for somewhere to sit to wait for Mirajane. The meeting with the guild master had put him completely at ease. He had convinced them that he was trustworthy and now he finally had somewhere to stay on a more permanent basis. Mission accomplished. He had no worries. Except for the issue of the guild members hating his guts. But Zancrow wasn't particularly fussed. He only needed them to cooperate with him; as long as they did that, he wasn't bothered. Casting his gaze around the guild in a very carefree manner, he spotted an unoccupied table near the middle of the guild. He'd be the centre of attention but at least it was a table to himself. He'd be the centre of attention no matter where he sat, so it didn't matter, at least the table had no one else at it. They must be talking in there, he thought, staring at the door with an unfocused, glassy look and sitting at the table. Zancrow was exhausted, truly reaching his limit now. He'd been fighting, walked all the way here and had to talk himself out of a sticky situation. This day's been really draining on my energy… not to mention my pride, he mused, thinking of the begging and apologising he had done. He leant on his elbow now, letting the heavy weight of his head be supported by his arm instead of his aching neck. He was slowly falling asleep, his eyelids drooping closed periodically, his chin slipping off his palm, until he woke with a start as his arm gave way completely and his face almost slammed into the table. He therefore vowed to keep his wits about him from now on, especially with all these potential enemies around him, berating himself on letting a mere thing such as sleep get the better of him.
Looking around – keeping a constant vigil in case someone decided to take advantage of his momentary weakness and attack him – he noticed that everyone was giving him a wide berth, shooting him suspicious and accusatory stares, concerned by his change in behaviour. And then suddenly he felt something very strange. He had locked eyes with a pure white cat when he had been keeping a look-out, and something in her glare bored into him, deeply into him, making him feel as if something outside of his conscious was fighting to get inside his head. Was it a memory? It didn't feel like one, but at the same time, it very much did. Carla herself gasped, one of her predictions she had seen so long ago coming back to her. A hand, limp and white in death lying on the ground. She had seen this ominous sight just before the S-Class exam, but never did she dream that she would see the owner of the hand alive and well before her. It was him, she knew it. Carla could still see the premonition as clear as day.
'Carla?'
She jumped, looking towards the speaker. It was Wendy Marvell, looking concernedly in Carla's direction.
'What's wrong?' Wendy asked.
Carla decided that it was probably not best to tell anyone that this man seemed to be able to rise from the dead, and she should especially not tell Wendy. She didn't need to be troubled by disturbing mysteries such as this.
'Nothing – nothing at all Wendy.' Carla crossed her arms and looked away as if she had found the question mildly offensive.
'Oh…' whispered Wendy, going back to watching Zancrow, her face failing slightly. She knew Carla far too well to know that there was certainly not 'nothing' going on. From the shocked but faraway look Carla had been giving him, Wendy could tell that this Zancrow had sparked one of her predictions. She knew that Carla would never tell her, but obviously this man's destiny was closely linked with theirs, or else Carla wouldn't have seen anything… Didn't Natsu-san say something about trying to rip our guild apart? she remembered. There was something strange about Zancrow though. He smelt funny. Like the cool air in the middle of the night tinged with the faint smell of wood smoke, with something thicker and muskier underneath that made Wendy want to lean forwards and breathe it in but at the same time gag and put her hands over her mouth. Spotting Gajeel in the corner of the room with his eyes half closed and his fingers pinching his nose, she knew that he could smell it too. Natsu looked too angry to take even the slightest notice of what he smelt like. Oddly enough, he was sitting in a dark corner of the guild, away from the action – but his eyes flickered furiously over the scene in the middle of the room, his fists taut and his teeth bared, shaking slightly. But Zancrow couldn't have been acting more differently. He seemed to be lapping up all the attention, grinning slyly whilst sarcastically picking at his nails, occasionally lifting his head to glance at a guild member or to look at the request board, eyeing up a mission. He was getting quite impatient, beginning to glare at the door he had come out of, willing Mirajane to come out now and give him food. He had been promised food and he was going to get it. A couple of minutes passed in this way, Zancrow beginning to feel drowsy again, but keeping himself vaguely alert just in case. The guild was just starting become quieter (as the initial shock of Zancrow walking in was wearing off) when suddenly, a flaming fist slammed onto the table, jerking Zancrow fully awake. It was Natsu, and he could stand it no more. Hatred and fury etched in every line on his face, he demanded,
'What the hell are you still doing here?!'
Zancrow – becoming gradually more annoyed, but strangely cool and calm at the minute – merely replied with,
'Waiting.'
'Waiting for what?! What do you think you're doing, sitting here in our guild?!'
It was horrible how he said the word 'our', as if Zancrow was an outsider who was pushing his luck. Well, to Natsu, that's all he was. Worse than an outsider: an enemy.
'I'm waiting.' Zancrow replied more defiantly, loathing smothering the calm tones he had tried to create. He stood up slowly, locking eyes with Natsu all the while and glaring at him with intense animosity, a snarl curling his lips. Natsu leant in, a scowl twisting his features and his lips pulling back over his teeth. They were face-to-face, growling at each other, squaring each other up. Neither one was prepared to back down this time – they would see this through until someone got badly hurt. But Zancrow wasn't thinking straight. He forgot that Makarov was giving him another chance. He forgot that he needed to make a good impression. He forgot that this could get serious and that buildings could be destroyed. He forgot that no one would bother to tend to his wounds. And most importantly of all, he forgot that he would draw attention to himself from the council if he fought right here and right now. All Zancrow was focused on right now was how much he wanted to slam his fist as hard as he could into that smug, pink-haired face leering in front of him. He just wanted to let rip and give Natsu a fight to remember. Zancrow didn't even feel guilty when it came to what happened on Tenroujima with Natsu. As far as he was concerned, Natsu got exactly what he deserved. He'd wanted a battle, he'd got a battle. Not to mention the fact that he cheated! Zancrow would show him the true power of a Flame God Slayer, right here and right now. The Flame God felt flames licking at his fists in his rage. Feeling their anger peak, the two fire wizards slammed their palms onto the table at the same time and yelled at each other in unison,
'What the hell is your problem?!'
Surprised, they relaxed their expressions for a moment, then promptly began to snarl at each other again, glaring deeply into each other's eyes, refusing to drop their offensive gazes. When they were nearly nose-to-nose, about to raise fists to sink into the other's face, Mirjane walked through the door closing it politely behind her and went to stand at the bar, waiting for Zancrow with a small smile. Briefly glancing at her over Natsu's shoulder – eager to not break eye contact for too long – Zancrow knew that their confrontation was at an end, the master would be coming out of that door at any minute. Scowling at Natsu one more time, he leant in even closer so that no one else would hear and hissed,
'You got lucky, asshole,'
then shoved him out of the way and strode towards the bar, breathing heavily. The whole guild collectively sighed in relief. If those two had chosen to fight right now, the guild building wouldn't have stood a chance of standing up to their attacks and they'd only just gotten the place back. Natsu was watching him go with an expression so full of malice and antagonism that it was almost comical how much his face could contort with the weight of the emotion he was feeling. Zancrow himself shook his head sharply to clear it of the anger and to cool himself down, finally reaching the bar and Mirajane, who was thankfully not glowering at him as if the only thing she desired in life was to see him drop dead where he stood. She merely smiled at him sweetly and serenely, then reached under the counter and brought up a small plastic bag, presumably full of food, and placed it on top of the counter. Zancrow looked warily at the food, not sure if it was meant for him or if she was getting it out for someone else, or maybe even teasing him with it. She smiled again and said,
'It's all yours Zancrow!'
Startled at being spoken to so nicely for the first time in days, Zancrow slowly reached for the bag and then snatched it – grunting his thanks – stuffing it into his small backpack which he slung over his back, ready to leave.
'Now as for the dormitory…'
Over the course of the next couple of minutes, Mirajane described to him exactly how to get to the boy's dormitory and what to do once he got there. Apparently, he had to look for the hill to the east of Magnolia, opposite the hill on the west which was where the girl's dormitory was. Once he was near the outskirts, it would be easy to see them both. When he got there, he didn't have to make his presence known, he could go straight up to his room and rest. His room was the last door on the right upstairs. He would be woken by a gong that was rung every morning at seven o'clock and was expected to be at the guild for around eight o'clock (Mirajane had told him that despite what the master said, he didn't have to be there for eight sharp, he could turn up whenever he wanted and no one would make a fuss). The rent was collected on the last Sunday of every month and was to be given to the man called Sabnock without fail on this day or else there would be… consequences… As he turned to leave when she had finished, hoping to get to his dorm before the sun starting rising, Mirajane exclaimed,
'Oh hang on! I forgot to give you something!'
Oh? What kind of something? Zancrow looked back over his shoulder to see Mira holding a simple black hooded cloak out to him. He hastily took it so she didn't have to hold it out for too long and slung it over his shoulder without putting it on.
'You need to wear this everywhere you go in Magnolia and in places that are crowded in case you're recognised.'
She cocked her head and looked at him shrewdly for a second, evaluating his appearance.
'I think that you might want to consider cutting your hair or dying it and maybe think about wearing contacts as well,' she said, cocking her head to the other side and Zancrow found himself mimicking her and tipping his head to one side too, trying to work out her expression. 'I mean, you're quite memorable, but people don't know that much about Grimoire Heart, do they…'
Zancrow shook his head which was still to one side. He didn't really want to cut his hair or dye it at all and he hated contacts (things on your eyes? No way!), so he supposed that he would just have to be very careful with his cloak. He looked down at it. It was plain black, quite thin, with a thicker hood that wouldn't blow back in the wind. It was very long, so it would cover his body completely. Putting down his backpack, he tugged it on and pushed the hood back. Anyone else would be boiling hot with a shirt, trousers, long boots, a long coat and a cloak on, but Zancrow barely even took notice of the heavy clothing. Picking up his backpack and putting it on underneath the cloak with some difficulty, he once again began to make his way towards the exit of the guild, everyone openly staring at him as he did so.
Once he was outside, he flicked his head this way and that, trying to locate the hills. They weren't in sight, and Zancrow remembered what Mira had told him about having to go all the way to the outskirts of town to be able to see them. He groaned and shrugged his backpack higher up onto his back, knowing that he wouldn't be seeing a warm bed for a while yet. Having no compass, he simply made his way to what he thought were the edges of Magnolia, keeping his eyes peeled for a sign of anything that looked remotely like a hill. After perhaps half an hour of walking, the birds beginning to sing, he finally, finally caught sight of two hills opposite each other. He had to make a guess about which one was which, and he thought he'd try the one he saw on his right, considering Mira had told him the hill was to the east, plus it just looked more manly ('How can a hill look manly?', I hear you cry). It was random guess, but he had a 50-50 chance of getting it right. It took a further half an hour to reach it and by now, all the birds were beginning to awaken and make a racket, whilst the horizon was tinged with peachy orange. The stars were fading and it wouldn't be too long before the sun would rise. Zancrow supposed that it must be near five o'clock and sped up, hoping to catch a couple of hours sleep at least. He found that when he reached the foot of the hill, looking up at what seemed like an old manor house, it wasn't quite so steep as it first appeared. It was quite a steady climb, but when he reached the top he was absolutely exhausted. He looked up, panting slightly, catching sight of a sign out of the corner of his eye.
'FAIRY HILLS',
it read, with a small male symbol next to it. Oh thank God, he'd found the correct one. Almost laughing in relief, he made his way towards the front door, shouldering it open without knocking and peering inside. It was quite gloomy, but rather homely. The walls were made of stone and dark wood, the doors that lined the hallway before him a shining ebony. His footsteps echoed on the red-carpeted floor and he lightened his steps, hoping not to wake anyone. They all seemed to be in the guild anyway, perhaps they liked to sleep in their guild sometimes instead of this lonely dorm. The wide hallway led to a thin but strong wrought iron staircase which twisted and spiralled upwards to a second floor which was again, a long hallway lined with those gleaming ebony doors. He'd spotted a door to his left that was ajar downstairs, that was just before the staircase, and peering inside, he'd noticed that it was some kind of kitchen but he'd moved on up the staircase, in no mood to explore. Upstairs, he dragged his feet towards the last door on the right, seeing that there was a small piece of paper taped to it. Ripping it off, he looked down at the note.
'This is your room, Zancrow
- Mirajane'
These Fairy Tail wizards are efficient, thought Zancrow, crumpling up the note and cramming it into his pocket. Looking it up and down, he pushed the weighty door open, wondering what he would find inside. The doors were spaced rather widely apart, so he hoped that the room would be big, but he daren't get his hopes up. Once he was inside, he found that the room was certainly not what he had been expecting. It was rather dark, just like the rest of the house, dark wood and a little stone making up the walls, no wallpaper. The floor was made up of wood planks that looked like oak, and it was beginning to warp and sink with age. Despite the room's obvious age, it was still spotless. The room was much wider than it was long, a kitchen area with an small oven and sink in the nearest left-hand corner and a stone counter in front of that where he could prepare food. In the middle of the furthest right-hand wall, there was a very old looking, black chest of drawers where he could put his clothes. Right in front of him, in the middle of the longest wall, he saw a large square window with a very small, dark wood windowsill. It was again, rather an old style of window, the large square pane split into four smaller squares. Under it and to the right was a large bed with white sheets and pillows, the only modern looking piece of furniture in the place, a bedside table and a lamp to the right of it. Zancrow thought privately that he liked it even more than his room on the Grimoire Heart airship, it felt more inviting and warm.
Heading left towards the counter, he plopped his rucksack on it and pulled out the bag of food. It smelt amazing, the slightest movement made the smell of spice waft across the room. Ignoring it for just a second (with some difficulty - he was ravenous), he pulled off his cloak and coat and dropped them on the bed, stretching and scratching himself as he went back to the food. He ripped the bag open with his teeth (well no one was watching) and sniffed what he'd been given. It was a tub full of chicken pasta, with all sorts of hot spices in. He could even see a couple of chillies in there. About to put the bag in a bin, he noticed that there was something else in there. Pulling out a lighter and a small can of lighter fluid, Zancrow was suddenly confused. What was he supposed to do with these? Was there a fire he could light in his room or something? Looking around, searching for a fireplace, he realised what he was supposed to do. It was to make fire for himself! Once he'd heated up his food, he'd put lighter fluid on it and light it with the lighter. Of course, that would be fire that he could consume as it was not his own flames. With a flash of annoyance, he realised that Mira must only know how to make this because of Natsu. He didn't want anything that Natsu thought was good. But too hungry to resist, he sighed, popping off the lid of the tub and inhaling deeply. It smelt so spicy and rich. Picking the container up, he gently heated up the dish with just his hands. He would never need to use that cooker, he thought with a sense of pride in his abilities. Once it was warm, he dripped a few drops of lighter fluid on top and lit it with the lighter. It roared as it ignited at once, the flames licking the sides of the container. Not even bothering to go and look for cutlery, Zancrow ate right out of the tub, not even using his hands. He wasn't that messy, but he ate strangely like a dog. The fire tasted good, if a little artificial, but the pasta was marvellous. It was spicy as could be and he relished the chillies most of all, taking the most time over them. In a very short amount of time, the tub was licked spotlessly clean, Zancrow wiping his mouth happily. He had been starving, not eating properly for ages. Wishing now that he'd saved some, as he wanted to make it again, he wandered over to the window and opened it slightly to let in some night air, then trudged over to his bed and collapsed backwards onto it, warmer and sleepier than ever. What a hectic past couple of days he'd had, but finally he had some kind of rest. Not for long though - he would be going on a mission in less than a few hours. Putting his hands behind his head, he congratulated himself on winning over Fairy Tail. He knew that he could do it. Grinning, he looked up at the ceiling, then realised that he had very little time in which to sleep. It was time to get some rest. Still fully dressed, he wriggled under the covers and pulled them up, trying to get comfortable. The bed was very soft and he fell asleep almost immediately. As he started to drift off, he heard the gently howling lamentations of the wind swirling just outside, making the window rattle hollowly and a soft throbbing sound, almost like the sound of a pair of wings beating against the breeze. Too tired to take any notice, he feel asleep in a heartbeat, the nightmares about to begin.
Poor Zancrow, he's not getting much sleep at the moment is he? As always, thanks for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it!
