Sooo it's been over a month since I last updated this story . Aaah-hahahaha I can't help but laugh.
Anyway, my travels are officially over. :) I almost didn't make it back home (if you're interesting, look up the Sydney storm in october - my plane was trapped on the runway for four hours, the airport flooded, and I had to pull two all-nighters in a row due to flight complications...) Anyway, I'm back home now! I have a job, a new phone, and have been catching up with friends this past month. It's been good. :)
Anyway, about this story, I have a mission... I want to finish the entire thing TODAY (it is 11:10am right now) and I'm going to work my ass off to do it. Each chapter takes 30 minutes to upload (or so the website says), so don't flip out if the updates aren't instantaneous.
And to the people who haven't pestered me about updating ... you da real MVPs! Thank you so much for being patient with me!
Oh, and I got an instagram! :D (my old phone wasn't capable of such technology) and for now it's just pictures of my day-to-day life, but if you're interested about what my cats look like or a picture of my feeding a Koala, send me a PM. :)
((so I made pancakes and a hot chocolate in preparation for this chapter-posting marathon ... twice now I've spilt on myself. #classic))
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The blow came out of nowhere, and Raziele slammed against the ground. His mouth tasted bitter and gritty, the tiny kernels of sand between his teeth, and bounced once before flipping to skid on his feet. The rocks ripped apart the soles of his leather boots and left behind its tattered carcass. His feet bled, as did many sores and welts that now decorated his left side.
My god, it burned.
"Had enough, Raziele?" Beelzebub jeered. "Or did you want to die in pain ... like your mother?"
Raziele's eyes, a light coral pink shade, deepened to a bloody red. "Shut up," he growled, getting to his feet. His left arm trembled as the disease and pestilence damaged the nerve and crept up the bone like spiders. The skin was beginning to grey and blacken, with rich violet bruising coating the flesh in a perfect hand print. Raziele's face betrayed no emotion as he accepted the fact that he might never be able to use that arm again.
He raised his gaze; Beelzebub stood a few meters away from him, a smirk on his gentleman face. His suit was unblemished, his hair kept and neat, his skin smooth and soft. Only his smirk, half-crooked with the white glint of fangs, betrayed his demonic nature ... that, and his ruby irises that danced with barely withheld glee and madness.
"You're insane," Raziele spit. His lips felt numb.
Beelzebub's smirk widened. "No more so than you, Momma's boy," he said, then darted forward. Raziele, now weaponless, ducked under Beelzebub's outstretched hand and jabbed upward, catching the demon's side. Hand-to-hand combat was his specialty, and as Beelzebub turned midair, unfazed by the landed blow, Raziele skipped backward to smash his elbow into the King of Rot's nose. Blood gushed from the wound. Red dewdrops sprinkled the ground like wet rubies. Raziele smiled at the wound as he thought to himself, I might actually win ...
... until Beelzebub drew himself to his full height. The air around him suddenly began to darken and move, move like writhing maggots, and suddenly Raziele's left arm spiked with pain. He cried out as the skin began to bubble and burst, and as the pus and blood ran down his arm, he fell to his knees and bit his lip to mask his screams.
Beelzebub took a step forward, then another. Blood ran freely down his face. "You put up a good fight, half-breed," he murmured, stopping in front of Raziele. The half-demon raised his gaze, dazed from the pain, and Beelzebub curled his fingers underneath his chin. "But," he continued, his hand going still, "you lost the moment I placed my hand on you. Death has already carved its home out of your flesh, and you, child, will be its host. Now rise, Plague," Beelzebub whispered. "You are mine."
Raziele, his eyes unseeing, his heart unfeeling, slowly got to his feet in accordance with the spoken law.
...
Somewhere in the Purgatory, an angel wept.
...
The gun trembled in Yukio's grasp as he stared, speechless, at his elder twin brother, a brother who had been kidnapped from Assiah, made into Satan's toy of war, and had been beaten, neglected, abused, tortured and starved, and yet - somehow - came out of it all like a fire taking hold of the night. Bright, alive, and deadly, Rin sapphire eyes were darker than winter storms as he stared into the barrel of the gun, his expression blank.
Yukio knew that he should have been relieved, perhaps even falling on his knees and embracing his brother that had lived against all odds. And yet something held him back and he could not - would not - lower his gun.
Yukio swallowed hard. "Rin?" he murmured, his voice nearly cracking. "Rin, are you all - "
- and suddenly Rin's arm moved and, faster than Yukio could react, his gun slammed against the earth, the barrel cracked in half. Startled and weaponless, Yukio took a half-step back when suddenly Rin locked his hand around his throat. Yukio locked his jaw, an automatic gesture, as his eyes widened. For the first time, he realized that his brother was more than alive.
Blood had splattered across Rin's face and dried there. His hands locked around Yukio's throat was slick with warm blood as well, and his clothes - an unfamiliar style of armor - had been bent, burnt, scraped and, in some places, rent in two. Blood blossomed from Rin's chest and yet he was not gasped for air; instead, his eyes remained like stone as he gazed into Yukio's eyes.
And then he smiled.
...
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Yes, short chapter, but after trying to figure out Rin's POV for the better part of two hours, I decided enough was enough. I'll start working on his POV with a clean slate; until then, be patient! Besides, this chapter had a lot of content despite the few word count. :) Next chapter may or may not be longer, depending on what happens.
Continue being awesome,
Random