hey guys... I'm sick :( and I have finals next week. Because of my two biology classes, I have to know 32 chapters of biology before their respective finals. Do you know how many hours that takes? A lot. Do you know how much sleep I need? A lot. You know how much sleep I'm getting? Very little. Did I mention that it's freezing cold here?
-and that is why I'm sick. :'( So, sorry that I haven't uploaded in a long time, and I'll apologize in advance. I have no time for anything; in fact, it was my Dad who convinced me to take today easy and not study as much, and he's the guy who wanted me to go to school when my temperature was 103, so that's saying something! So, since I'm not the type of person who can sit still, here's the next AoE chapter.
To everyone with finals out there - We got this :) And (because I'm still freaking out over Catching Fire) may the curve be ever in your favor. (Frozen was a really good movie too! It was so sweet. :D)
Enjoy the chapter, and let's give a big welcome to Yukio in . . . Gehenna?
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Yukio's POV
...
Darkness.
There was only darkness here.
Yukio squinted his turquoise eyes against the gloom and waved his arm in front of him, desperately seeking to find some solid form in the black haze. A part of him wondered if this was what Gehenna truly looked like - a formless void - or if Mephisto really screwed up big time. . .
There was a lone figure, a silhouette, standing on top of a hill blanketed with white. The sky was clear blue, the air so cold that it burned. The white sparkled in the pale light.
The silhouette slowly turned towards him, and Yukio's eyes widened. "Mother," he whispered, and thin smoke puffed with his breath. He reached out a hand, bare and cold, but he couldn't feel a thing. "Mother," he whispered again, and took a step.
The snow was so soft, it was almost cruel . . .
Yukio blinked and rubbed the image out of his eyes, his breathes coming in short gasps. The sensation of the frigid cold still tingled on his skin, though the sensation was beginning to fade away to only a distant memory. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed together as his heart fluttered in his chest like a caged bird.
What was that? he wondered, raising his gaze. The darkness was thick all around him, the midnight haze a solid thing against his vision. He took a few more steps . . .
The night air was hot and humid, and sweat trickled into Yukio's collar. In his trembled hands there was a gun; he couldn't see it, but he could feel the familiar brush of metal against his fingers, could feel its familiar weight and ridges. Across from him, on the other side of the rooftop, was a figure he knew only too well.
He lowered the gun. "Rin?" he asked, hope blossoming in his voice. "Rin, is that you?"
Rin raised his gaze, but instead of peering into eyes the color of the deepest ocean, he stared at the eyes of a demon instead. In an instant, Yukio realized just what exactly he was staring at. First he saw Rin's thin, slitted irises with a pupil the color of blood. Next were his hands; sharpened claws, fully extended, with red clotted underneath the nails. Red stained his arms up to the biceps and dripped onto the cold metal of the floor. His face was emotionless - no, not emotionless, but bored - and there was a single crown nestled in the blue flame that sprouted from his head.
A shiver spilled ice down Yukio's back: it was a crown made out of baby bones . . .
A scream rose in Yukio's throat, but he managed to swallow it at the last second. "What was that?" he wondered out loud, his hand covering his face. He raised his gaze upward, or was it truly upward? Was perspective truly uniform in this black world, or was it based on an individual? If it was the latter, what Yukio might consider upward may really be down . . .
. . . and I have so sense of direction, Yukio realized with a curl of dread, I will never leave this place.
...
Angel's POV
...
He hated.
Angel kicked his foot out and connected with only black mist, a mist that engulfed his leg a moment later. Angel drew it back, more pissed off than he had been a few seconds ago.
"Damn that Mephisto," he muttered under his breath, then whipped his head around. There had to be an exit around here somewhere, had to be a sort of trick to this black place.
But, as far as he could tell, there was nothing here but darkness. Unending, unfathomable darkness.
"Damn it," Angel muttered below his breath again, then raised his voice and shouted, "Yukio!"
There was no answer.
Damn it. Angel repeated those two words in his head like a mantra as he took another step forward; the black haze moved to where he had once stood a few short moments later. "Yukio!" he shouted again. "Amai - "
A hand suddenly slapped over Angel's mouth, but before the Paladin could behead whatever had grabbed him, a familiar voice hissed in his ear, "Hussshhhhh. You'll wake them up."
Amaimon, Angel realized. The hysteria that had bubbled in his chest slowly faded away. "Who's them?" the Paladin demanded, hand reached for his sword.
The demon's luminous eyes blinked once in the darkness, then he turned away. "The Angels," he said simply. "They make sure that none of the souls are able to leave Purgatory."
"Purgatory?" Angel's voice rose a bit, but a piercing glare from Amaimon lowered his voice again. Angel hated being on a short leash, but he hated being dead much more than that. "Amaimon, tell me one thing . . . why the hell are we in purgatory?"
"If a soul is too weak to make it straight to Gehenna, Mephisto sends the soul to Purgatory first," Amaimon explained simply. "If the soul goes straight to Gehenna, the shock would be too much and their soul would shatter."
"Useless," Angel replied haughtily. "My soul is much too strong."
Amaimon turned his haunting eyes back to Angel, and the air seemed to chill ten degrees. "It wasn't your soul that was the problem."
...
Yukio's POV
...
"Stop it stop it stop it!" Yukio shouted. The black, misty figures were reaching out for him now, their shadowy hands reaching for his throat. He could see their hollow eyes pierce him and go straight through, dragging out every memory or secret he ever had. The shadows gaunt figures pressed against him with their mouths open in a silent wail, begging for release from this place.
One hand reached for him and brushed against Yukio's shirt. In a wild motion he swept his arm across it, and the misty figure faded away to formless black smoke. "Leave me alone!" he yelled, but the shadows didn't listen. They came closer, closer, closer . . .
The demons were coming closer, closer, closer, and Yukio swallowed a scream to instead raise his gone. He shot once, twice, three times, and the ricochet almost made him fall over backwards. Two demons fell, but the third shot missed. A hand against his back steadied him, and the young Yukio gritted his teeth and shot a fourth time.
It went straight through the temple.
The demon, mid-run, faded to dark mist. Yukio sat down, breathing hard, still aiming his gun straight again. A hand on his shoulder snapped him back to the present, and Yukio glanced upward.
Shiro was looking down at him, his face a mixture of disappointment and pity. Yukio's heart clenched, and Shiro stood to his full height and took a step forward. "Let's go," he said, and Yukio got to his shaky legs and hurried towards his father . . .
The images were getting longer, and when Yukio came to again, his hands were holding his head. His breathes were short and his eyes stung; blinking away the water, he got to his feet and began to run.
"Angel!" he shouted, dimly remembering that the Paladin should be here too. But where? Where was everyone, and more importantly, where was here? Yukio stopped short, his head on a swivel as he looked back and forth, up and down, back and forth, up and down, back and forth again over and over again. "Angel!" he shouted. "Amaimo-"
A hand suddenly covered his mouth, and Yukio went rigid. Slowly, he mustered the courage to look at whoever had grabbed him.
Two pink eyes, the color of desert roses, stared blanking at him. Faint rosy hair framed a thin, pale face that was focused entirely on him.
Yukio swallowed; a part of him was terrified, but the other half was relieved just to see another face. He would have asked who she was, but her hand was still over his mouth and he couldn't find the words to speak anyway.
Slowly, very slowly, she leaned closer to his ear and whispered, "Quien es tu?" She removed her hand, and Yukio was finally able to face her completely.
His eyes widened. An angel, he thought. He had never seen an angel before, only in stained glass windows that were, more often than not, shattered. Pure-white wings sprouted out of her back and a simple white gown drifted about her thin ankles. This angel was the only point of light in this dark place, and Yukio felt strangely at ease. Suddenly, it dawned on him that she had asked him a question and he stammered out, "I don't understand what you said."
She blinked, then asked in his own language, "Who are you?"
"Yukio Okumura," he replied. "I - I'm looking from my brother." He wasn't sure why he added that last part, but every thought and worry from his heart seemed to be bubbling up from the surface. In an instant, he was at peace and had a strange desire to be held like a child again, to have his head patted and be told that everything would be okay.
It took all of his self-control to stay rooted in place, though his hands trembled slightly.
The angel slowly smiled, a sad smile that dimmed the brightness of her eyes. Yukio's heart went tight and he longed to comfort her, to say something sweet to her, but the words wouldn't come to him. Admittedly, he had never been the best at being the comforting type.
"I am looking for my son," she whispered, wiping away a single tear. "But I can't leave this place. I cannot find him here."
"I - I can find him for you!" Yukio exclaimed. The words burst out of his throat without him thinking, but he didn't mind. Anything to make her smile, anything to make this angel before him shine brightly again. "What's your son's name?"
The angel smiled, and warmth blossomed inside of Yukio. "Raziele," she whispered, and the next instant she disappeared as a shout broke the otherwise heavy silence over this dark place.
"There you are," Angel exclaimed, seemingly coming out of nowhere to grab Yukio's arm. Yukio nearly jumped when he saw Angel, but when he turned back to where the true angel was, she had vanished. "We were looking all over for you!" the Paladin continued. "Hurry - Amaimon knows how to get out of her." The demon nodded.
"Err . . . right," Yukio murmured, then - after one last glance - turned to follow Amaimon and Angel and he realized:
I forgot to ask for her name.
FINALLY done with this chapter. Honestly, I was going to make it so that they all go straight to Gehenna, but THIS is so much better.
Anyway, just sitting at my desk right now listening to Christmas music and writing this story. All of my roommates are sick (except for one, but she's never here anyway . . . which reminds me, my other two roommates are never here either. It's literally MY DORM. I'm the only one that lives here full-time).
Well, going to work on my other story now, then go and sleep. I have finals next week, but oh well. I've been pulling 4-5 biology chapters a night, not to mention that last weekend I sang in four concerts and another all-day concert on Tuesday, AND had to write an essay for my honors class, AND had to study for my two biology classes. Did I mention that I got a 95/100 points on the midterm?
Not to pat my own back, but damn I'm just doing so dang good. I've earned sleep tonight, because these last couple of days of going to bed at around 2:00am because of classes is running me down to the ground.
Anyway, to everyone with finals this week/next week/ whenever: You got this. Stay healthy, sleep, and don't study too hard!
Much love, stay awesome, and Merry Christmas! * 8 :D (it's a :D face with a hat *8 )
-Rand0mSmil3z