¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸. .¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸. .¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.
A Ragnarok On-Line Fan Fiction
"Falling for Hellish Eyes"
By Bloody Priestess
.¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸. .¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸. .¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.
Summary: Assassin Cross x Priestess. They couldn't be anymore different, yet that difference bonded them as childhood best friends but now the difference of their jobs, stand in life, and feuding guilds thwart the blooming fondness for one another.
.¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸. .¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸. .¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.
Chapter Two: Ushered Into Dooms Doors
The Morrocan summer sky was practically aflame with the lack of humidity…
What can you expect when you live in the desert? Zach thought as he arose late one afternoon some four years passed since he and a girl with silver eyes exchanged glances.
The memory doesn't seem to bother him anymore—he doesn't allow it to… It was vigilantly thrust back of his subconscious and slowly gathering dust in a box hidden someplace in the back of mind.
Just as it should be. There was no place for such 'weakness', like looking into the past, for this profession.
He scowled at the rather buoyant thought. But an outsider's eye will see that did not lessen the beauty of his face. The dark, dark blue eyes were constantly alert, piecing and uncompromising like that of bird of prey. Firm lips permanently quirked to side from one too many sardonic smiles render his mouth to its current succulently sensual quantity. He had a face that was well-proportioned and expertly chiseled like that of a marble statue.
But then again, there were so few who really knew what he looked like underneath that obstructing piece of cloth he always draped over his face.
Long, strong fingers wind up his slightly long silver mane as he tried to brush back the tresses of wild from sleep off his face. As half of his hair insolently fell back to its place, he murmured something that sounded like. Note to self, get a hair-cut.
The young man of seventeen winters (or years) sat up from his poor-excuse-of-a-bed—the hard mattress, the stiff bed frame (not mention too small for his lofty, tall stature) and the musty pillows, and excessively patched blankets.
It was not his place to complain. He reminded himself, for the reason that this was the life he sworn to have as a fugitive of the law— an Assassin.
Despite the astonishing amount of money safely stashed away, Zach could not afford to solicit decent accommodations— because a truly respectable inn-keeper price was too high. The price demanded was his freedom. Dark back alleys, the pitiable sleeping conditions and resting accommodations, the constant sight of spilled blood, and the cold, hard cash… This was only the life of his kind and kin knew.
On second thought, Zach reflected at the same time stretching what anyone who could see a magnificently lust-evoking, top-stripped body. The money part isn't so bad. After being so deprived of it as kid, it serves me well—as it allows me to eat three times a day… That's enough— it has to be. That's enough for me anyway.
Bending over to retrieve the messily discarded raggedy purple and brown garb of an Assassin carelessly tossed onto the inn room's scarred, unpolished, poorly maintained floor. The silver hair that smoothed past his face may have blocked his view— But, even the most feathery of all footsteps and most agile of movements from behind him was futile for his overly-sensitive, well-trained ears.
An Intruder.
In half of a heartbeat, he threw himself to a side tumble. Dropping onto his back to land efficiently, he then rolled a few feet before swiftly reaching for his Katar-type weapon, a pair of Infiltrator. He speedily put them on before rolling again to narrowly dodge the shower of arrows.
And in the same fluid motion, he dashed for the small, dingy room's corner and made damn sure to gain sufficient momentum. With both feet, he kicked off the room's wall and propelled himself to the obviously bow-armed intruder. With his armed arms outstretched before him, he drifted gracefully above the rooms' floor, his handsome face composed and focused. Zach twisted in mid-air, maneuvering himself so that he would be with an advantage over his assailant.
He made contact. He sensed the assailant's body giving away to his exerted force and in effect to the natural laws of gravity. The both of them landed on the floor with a loud crash.
He landed on top his foe, as premeditated. With his long, powerful legs functioning as immovable weights to pin the attacker onto the floor, he instinctively hoisted his Infiltrators cold, sharp edge against the enemy's throat ready to strike…
Adrenaline made a final surge through his veins—it deafened his ears, blinded his sight and finally it gave this unbelievable extra boost of strength, power and agility to his muscles. The body's natural drug allowed him to be aware that he was alive and very much capable and ready to kill.
And then—
A throaty chuckle from his assailant made Zach shot an icy stare at his attacker. The woman had calmly stashed her Rogue Masters bow and Oridecon arrows. Her "state of calm" did not fool him but he said nothing. Allowing her to carry on with her sense of security would leave her person vulnerable and unguarded—so much the better for him.
"I'm impressed, Bloodbath… very impressed." She said in that unabashed lusty, throaty voice of hers.
His nom de plume made him narrow his suspicious, dark blue eyes in apathy as got up and off her. Since this woman called him by his street name, he knew now and for a fact that she's here to conduct business…
He eyed her again—she was dressed in a skimpy, fur-trimmed, red bolero, skimpy dark shorts with black fish-net stockings and high-heels—this woman unquestionably a Rogue.
He tried to connect a name and face from his memory. It was hard for him to do so—given that he received so many blows (specifically the killer BASHES from Knights and such) he encountered that he feared it conceivably had damaged his memory. He dare not speak of this fatality and handicap of his to anyone. It was a matter of survival and of …pride.
She laughed at the sight of him appraising her, "Forget me so soon, Bloodbath? I'm hurt…" She coyly twisted a lock of her long, blood-red hair with the 'dirty' middle finger, "It wasn't long ago that you and I shared your bed." She gestured meaningfully as she leaned back unto the heaps of his disordered bed. Making herself very comfortable and…
Zach inwardly breathed out a sigh of relief. She had mistaken his forgetfulness for cruelty. "What in the hell does my bed got to do with your name?" He questioned snidely. He knew for a fact that what she said about she and his bed was a lie. He could never forget who he had taken to bed. Never.
He needn't bother to ask how this woman found him—it is pretty obvious that she was part of a powerful and influential Guild to have learned his whereabouts. Bloodbath was always cautious. But then again… when one had the backing of the most high-ranking, the most influential, and the most vicious… Everything is possible… for as long as you're willing to pay their steep price.
Her dark-red-rouged lips curled into a malicious smile as she sat up on the bed and inquired almost innocently, "What indeed?"
He stood tall and unabashed with the fact that he was barely clothed before a loose woman who had no qualms of her lusty gazes down his body. He could feel the weight of her stare as he walked over the beds side-table and lights himself a cigar, all composed. (AN: Smoking is dangerous for your health!) "You come with a purpose. C'mon say it—you're wasting my time… The sooner you spit it out, the sooner you can get the hell out of my face."
The female Rogue nonchalantly nodded, suddenly all business-like.
She's thoroughly unfazed by the harsh tone and dialogue spoken unto her. Zach observed with exceptional keen and insight, Familiarity and frequencies had made her immune and insensitive to all the reality that's she's being looked down upon. He immediately crushed the budding feelings of compassion. I have no room for that… anymore.
However, somewhere deep within his achingly, blood-stained heart, Zach prayed to the mighty Odin that a similar circumstance would not suggest itself to him. He'd rather personally ferry a thousand of souls with glee to the underworld in exchange for having immunity for being looked down upon.
"Well…" She began, flashing him an ugly-looking scar fashioned like an Egyptian hieroglyphic-eye enclosed in a circle with spiky edges on the circles outer side that was imprinted on the base of the left side of her neck. "This is my guild's emblem, Dooms Doors—of which I'm sure you have heard of. I am Hela Gavan, the so-hailed 'Goddess of Death' and the humble left hand of the Guild Master, Enid Juvse, who requests you to join our guild."
"Why?" There was no undertone of flattery it was just and simply was a pure, straightforward inquiry.
He damn knew of Dooms Doors and all its members' capabilities. The guild was based deep in the Morroc Dessert, where it was near impossible for adventurers to stumble upon it on chance alone. And the rumors of their castle, Mesopotamia was infamous—
One of which claimed that the very foundations of the said stronghold was built with the same material of Thor's exceptional gloves. So was the reason that when the mighty God came to instill punishment on all those in Mesopotamia where he brought upon a devastating tempest. And so the once white-stoned castle turned to black after the enraged deity repeatedly threw down his lightning bolts.
"You cannot deny your exemplary skills as an assassin, Bloodbath. With your skills working for our guild—you'll be notorious, wealthy, and feared a thousand times over as you are now, more times over than you working alone and—"
"I work best… alone." He cut her off in a soft, cold, deadly manner. "I never was fond of people looking over my shoulder when I work." His words, on the surface were urbane, almost polite…
Just on the surface… She thought with a chill.
"And nothing's wrong with that," the blood-red haired rogue said hastily, sensing this fearsome aura around the killer. And in unexpected alarm of finding out for herself why they reputed him 'Bloodbath'. "All we're asking is for you to consider our offer. If you wish it, you can come and see the guild house—blindfolded, of course…"
"And then what?" he asked, his voice strangely dead neutral. "Allow you to catch me off guard? So seize the opportunity to annihilate me?"
Hela didn't answer in fear that she might further infuriate Bloodbath and thus, further displease Guild Master. She knew that if failed to bring this Assassin to the lair—the Guild House, there will no forgiveness for her. She shrugged uneasily.
That action did not go unobserved by his sharp senses and yet he retained a very placid expression. In his unnervingly stillness, he betrayed nothing of the drop of empathy he experienced at the sight of the Rogue's distress.
He dropped unto the bed (quite opposite to the side where Hela was sitting) and began to slip back into his crummy deep violet and dusty-brown rags—the garments of an Assassin over his body.
He's bluntly ignoring the offer—my message! She thought agitatedly for a way to shift his full attention back to her and to what she was saying. "You may deny in words but words have no significance in comparison to actions. If you do come, you'll see first hand what Dooms Doors can offer—what it can and will do for you. Isn't there a cliché that goes 'Actions speak louder that words'?"
"There is such a cliché." The silver haired young man answered blandly before taking a long drag then tossing his burnt out cigar out his room's open window, "But apparently you haven't heard of the saying, 'Without words— nothing'll stir the mind to take action'."
The Rogue paused for moment, trying to recall the author of that rather enigmatic line. At long last she replied, "No, I have not."
"Of course you have not." Zach snickered contemptuously, "I just made it up. Was that cliché of yours supposed to seduce me into joining your guild?"
"If it doesn't—I will." She said coyly, slanting back with her arms supporting her purposely seductively arched body.
"You can try all you want." Zach voiced humorlessly, his dark blue eyes ice-cold with indifference as they graced over her pose. "But your attempts will be or naught. I'm not easily seduced."
Her pale-amber eyes were weights upon him but if he did felt the weight of her stare, he wasn't giving any suggestion of sensitivity to it. "We will see…" Hela couldn't help but take notice of the sexy rustling of his garments fabric. She allowed the melodious shuffling to overwhelm her senses—when they weren't as loud was she wanted them to be, she shut her eyes. "And if I am proven to have spoken falsely, you can cut my tongue off…"
The sound of her last word was quickly died out at one fell swoop she again felt a rather cold piece of sharpened metal under her throat and the voice that followed was cool, disdainful and horribly, horribly familiar. It could have been Death's very voice. "No one will ever have true control over me, Rogue."
"Apparently, you haven't met Dooms Doors' Guild Master, Bloodbath." She was extremely taken aback not with what she said but rather the composed manner she said it.
Zach saw the surprise written all over her face, read and interpreted it correctly. Perhaps, when the spirit has fully accepted death, it ceases to care.
"Fine." Taking a handful of her blood-red locks, he yanked her heartlessly to her feet. "Take me to your leader… and we'll see if you're worthy to keep your tongue where it is."
"Hook," The young Assassin didn't see Hela's mouth curl impishly as she thought, "line and sinker."
End of Chapter Two
Author's Notes: (n/n/2003) Okay—Zach's last line was kinda cheesy (of me anyways). Waddya think, guuyssssssss?
Hmn, so you guys, ought to know by now that this ficcie (fan fiction) isn't for the faint of heart, the conservative kind, nor is it for the intolerant of the 'bad things'… Hee hee, I'm warning you guys as early (or could it be, 'late'?) as now because things will begin to get ugly… and a tad bit… uh, nasty. Uh-oh…
But I continue to hope and pray that y'all will bear with me and this fan fiction of mine.
And if you'd kindly sign-in or simply leave your email addresses as you review I'd gladly answer your questions, give a (or two) reply to your suggestions and thank you personally for the review… Just tell me so and I'll personally drop YOU a line.
Well, oh well… With all that said and done, all I have left to do is to thank you guys. Well, thank you very much and may the mighty Odin bless you and the trickster Loki spare you.
ROk On! Ü!