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Author's Notes: Hey hey, look at this! This update only took me two months! It's amazing! It's like a miracle, at least for me. Anyway, this chapter is weird. Extremely important, but it doesn't seem like that. Just know that it's very important… It starts the downhill spiral! Next chapter is the time skip, and then… GIL! Gil is officially a plot hole. Kharl couldn't have created him after Rath killed Left Bird, because that was when Rath grew, and then Thatz came right after that… And they weren't together for years, yet Barl has aged thirty of so years! So Gil had to be made at least twenty years before the snowy mountains incident! My summary: Kharl is a liar. Yay. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter at least a little… There's not much action. T.T

Disclaimer: I wished I owned Kharl. But I don't.

Background Music:Suigintou no Yoru (Noriaki Sugiyama)

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Cloaks
By Sarehptar
Chapter Eleven-
Porcelain

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How can I explain the desires that only loneliness can bring? The deep and bleak despair that comes from being alone -not in a physical sense- alone in everyway but bodily? I was, and still am, so separate from everything around me. In feeling, in thought, in ability, in soul... How many youkai aspire for a place in Heaven? On the night you'd murdered your father, we'd shared a short of agreement—the kind that transcended mind and ability and stopped only at the differences of our individual souls. But... I turned again beneath my thick comforter, feeling the intangible rustle of feather and claw on my bare hand. Now, a single disagreement had shone me those differences of soul in excess: no matter our common goal, common emotions, even our common home, the deeper darker parts of our hearts shared nothing. I had monetarily found that demons and humans could connect, only to have the opposite truth thrown back at me by innocent, wide green eyes. In the end, I was a youkai, and you were a human.

Have you ever felt this way—hollow and heavy, as if the air itself is holding you down? I was alone. As you slept quietly only a few doors down the hall, I was alone. Human... Make me a youkai! The words drummed inside my head, a delicate but piercing mantra. Why? No, I didn't need to ask. To you, mortality was not simply aging, it was being human. You hated it, didn't it? Hated your own weakness, your own origin... Like some incurable disease, you regarded humanity as unfailing chains. But little human, you did not know immortality as I did. You did not know the cold that comes with it—the way even blood seems like ice in ones veins, freezing a heart that might have otherwise beat well. I was so alone with you beside me. For a moment, briefest moment, I considered it, I wondered at it: with my power, I could strip from you all vestiges of humanity, all innocence; I could dye your father's eyes a brilliant red. I could build from your weak soul a true companion, a demonic child who would comprehend, feel, a youkai's cold anger, a youkai's swift and merciless passion for life; a companion who would understand the simplicity and perfection of animalistic instinct. Someone to whisper the secrets of immortality to...

An image came to me unbidden, with a sudden and intense longing -raven wings and scarlet eyes and smirking fangs- I had not known how badly I missed the company of my own kind. Was this the feeling that created wolf packs? The reason that demons were constantly at war, joining in grand armies—none of us could stand to be alone? The thought struck a chord of discomfort within me, but I failed to drive it away completely. I struggled to imagine your face with those crimson eyes. There was no happiness in it; even when your image gave to me a fanged smile I felt only a deep repulsion and a deeper regret. Loneliness had made me consider -made me honestly consider- taking from you the very thing that had intrigued me about you in the beginning.

I buried my face deep in my pillow, trying to erase the picture of young demonic eyes. I could never let myself do that. I could never hide away the emerald gaze I had come to enjoy reading so much. I could not drown out your warmth with youkai intelligence. Even loneliness would not force my hand. In the end, we still remain a demon and a human—an unchanging balance of dark and light. The thought that I would only be giving into inherent weakness by changing you had sobered my thoughts: making me despise the idea with as much vehemence as when you had first suggested it. You, little human, had to stay yourself, had to stay the innocent, the mortal... Even if it meant I would always be alone. But, as I finally fell into sleep, the smiling scarlet eyes and the grey despair of isolation plagued my dreams.

The morning was one of uneasy silence: you pattered about, cooking, washing, flittering around the main hall with a sort of nervous apprehension. You were frightened, I realized. You'd been deftly avoiding me all day—were you afraid I was angry?

"Garfakcy," I finally called through the dusty haze your cleaning had kicked up. You turned to look at me, wringing the dust rag, eyes overly bright.

"M-Master Kharl, I just... I didn't mean to..." Were you afraid I'd throw you out? Something worse?

"I'm not angry." Your stuttering crumpled, and I tried to offer you a comforting smile. It was a miserable fake, but that was my fault. I hated lying so blankly, but as I have surely learned, sometimes the truth is best omitted. I was furious, in truth, but only at myself. (I could never be mad at you really, and you seemed never to have grasped this.) I was only regretting showing you that magic. I should have left the little thing dead.

"Oh." You offered simply in returned, but I could see a look of sheer relief wash across you. When you turned back to dusting, it was with a much happier air. I was happier too, in a way. With humans, problems could be solved so easily. It was not so with youkai. I was very glad in that moment that I had been clear-headed enough to save us both the regret of a bad decision.

Whatever thoughts had been dancing across my head were lost suddenly in a raucous huff of sound from the dust cloud hovering about you. I knew the sound, and it frightened me to the point where a tiny chill must have run down my spine. This noise was coming from you... That sound, so common among you humans, I had only heard from dying things. Demons do not, often, cough. The book I'd picked up off the kitchen counter slipped from my hands. Coughing meant pain. Pain meant blood, and death.

"Garfakcy!" It wasn't a shout really, but some note of discord must have been apparent in my voice, because your little form, which had been doubled over, one small hand pressed to your lips, turned halfway to look at me through the slowly settling haze.

"Master Kharl?" You questioned my call, stumbling a little as you quelled the fit. I wanted to ask what had happened to you, if you were injured in some manner... But the way you stared at me, clear eyed, wide eyed in mild curiosity, alert. No one in real pain could possibly stare so levelly. I held my tongue for a moment, and then realizing I had simply left you with no explanation, I covered my mistake quickly.

"I'm going to be using the library today. Please try to keep quiet."

"Of course Master Kharl." But you coughed loudly, as if to spite your own agreement. I froze, and then forced myself to ignore the sound.

The library was golden spears as the cold morning sunshine filtered through the tall high windows. The light danced with particles whose sole purpose seemed to be to glitter and swirl in mindless circles, like flickering smoke. The entire place smelt of ancient paper, binding glue and silverfish. I loved it. Collapsing into my cushy and well-weathered armchair, I reached for the first book on the top of the stack I had not bothered to return to the shelf. It was a crumbling but lengthy leather-bound tome written in the slanted and even hand of a youkai lord. As I hadn't known of him, he'd probably been dead for years. It struck me as slightly grim to be perusing the lives of the non-living.

A muffled cough interrupted my thoughts, and it was a struggle to remain in my seat. This noise simply wasn't healthy... But I had felt a bit ashamed at overreacting before, and I was loathe to repeat the incident. If you were not overly concerned, surely you could not be in too much pain. I shook my head once, to clear away the lingering worries, and threw myself back into the memories of the demon lord and his half human son.

It was past noon when you finally knocked on the doors.

"Master Kharl, lunch-" a deep barking cough split your sentence, "-is ready." I set my book down, far less gently than I should have. Despite the intrigue of history, your cooking always managed to catch the majority of my attention. Perhaps it was not only your skill, but my lack of it. It might have stung a bit to be bested by a human, but the superb taste of all your dishes -from pancakes to teacakes- more than made up for it.

What I saw when I finally opened the large oak door set me on edge again. Your gaze was not as it had been earlier; in fact, your green eyes seemed almost filmy and unfocused. Your face, normally a cheery olive tan, was pale in places and bright red across your nose. Red on one's cheeks meant embarrassment, but you'd done nothing silly all day. You stifled a cough as best you could, because as perceptive as you were, you'd caught on to the fact that it was the coughing I'd disliked. A cold feeling burnt me, like ice left on sensitive skin too long, and I was certain something was wrong with you.

You turned and walked away just as I opened my mouth to comment on it, and I wondered vaguely if you knew something was not right and were trying to hide it from me. We ate lunch in relative silence, except for the clinking of silver on porcelain and the jeers of Left Bird who had come to beg for some of your cooking as well. Finally, when I began to think we would go through the entire meal without saying anything, you muttered, and your voice was odd, weak and scratchy,

"It's really hot today." My fork rattled loudly as I dropped it onto the fine China plate. My light eyes darted subconsciously to the window. Outside, the leaves of the trees were jerking about erratically in a harsh wind. The sunlight was cold and pale. Yesterday afternoon's gusty chill had become the precursor to a squall. By your standards, the dining room was freezing.

"Garfakcy," I could stand it no longer, "What is wrong with you?"

"Uh?" Your glazed green eyes tried and failed to focus on me. I noticed then, your thin arms were wrapped around your frame. Shivering, your whole body was shivering. Where a tiny grip had pulled up the fabric of your sleeve, I could see goosebumps on the olive skin of your wrist. You were cold. Why complain of heat?

"I-" a coughing fit interrupted your words, "I'm... I'm..." Speaking seemed almost beyond you. Something of a fine sweat had broken out across your forehead, and your breath was uneven. I felt, not for the first time since your arrival, completely helpless, weak, distant, separate. What was wrong, what could I do? Why did I, the youkai, lack desperately necessary answers? I hated being afraid, but I was that moment, afraid for you and afraid that I was doubting myself again already. If you were a youkai... I hated the thought and didn't want to think it. As I watched you shiver, I felt that if I even tried to touch you, you might break.

The silence pressed on both of us, you stumbled to your feet, pushing your chair back weakly, as if even moving now caused you pain. As routine, you gathered your dishes, horribly slowly, trying to hide the trembling of your hands. You turned wide glassy eyes on my, staring, or trying to, directly into my own.

"I'll..." The words came sluggishly through your lips as if they were traveling a long distance to reach me. "I'll be-" the sentence was never finished. With languidity that could not possibly have been real, your eyes slid completely out of focus, your eyelids shuddered shut; your entire body collapsed, slamming into the floor with a painful sound. The fine porcelain dish fell with you, shattering upon impact, peppering you with shards and cuts. I was frozen, I stared but couldn't really see the scene at all. How? What? My thoughts ran in circles faster than I'd ever thought before.

"God!" The exclamation slipped free without my ever having consciously formed it, and even I was not sure what I'd meant. A plea? An accusation? The word, whatever manner I said it, thawed me. I threw myself from the chair, leapt around the table and fell beside you in the span of half a human breath. A large shard of the plate buried itself in my knee, but the pain did not even register. Breath, breathing, alive. The fact failed to slow my heartbeat. "Garfakcy, open your eyes!" I was surprised to see my own voice so shaken and loud. "What is this!" You tiny form was as still as a corpse, with the exception of the slow and unsteady rise of your chest. I shook you once, roughly, horrified at the doll-like way you lolled about. The pale flesh of your hands was icy.

I knew then, I'd known the moment you'd fallen—I had made a terrible mistake. I had ignored you, tried my hardest to believe that nothing was wrong. Supreme demonic power, experience, knowledge... All that and I failed to understand the problem, failed to offer the necessary aid. I ripped my outer cloak away and wrapped it around you swiftly. In one jerky motion I pulled you from the floor and running blindly, carried you from the room. Useless. All my youkai instincts and gifts had been unable to diagnose that malady that seemed capable of stealing away your life. Human, this was because you were human. I knew where I was heading as I burst through the castle doors, trailing blue material and lilac locks.

I was only a demon, only understood the things that could be explained in youkai terms. What I had always relied on to keep me alive had failed miserably to keep you safe. Ironic. Helpless in my own perfection. The woods flashed past me, and I could feel blood flowing freely from the porcelain sliver embedded under my kneecap. I knew where I was going—to the place of mortality, the home that should have been yours, the place where human problems could be solved. The roofs of the human village raced into view, hazy in the lifeless sunlight, holding strong against the gusting winds. Here, imperfection will save you. A healer, there had to be one... I would find him, if I had to go through every mortal in the village to get there.

If I had been thinking clearly, I would have realized the absurdity -and the danger- of the situation. A youkai was about to burst into a human village and demand attention. Demons in a mortal town usually meant death certificates to be signed. If I had stopped to think clearly for just one moment -and there is my fatal flaw, I fail to consider carefully at the most crucial moments- I would have taken the ash and disguised myself; it would have Avis racing toward the city square with an unconscious child in his arms. It was that moment Fate chose to throw down its cards. I should have noticed sooner, is it clear now how off center I'd become, that my nose failed to take in something I should have noticed from the middle of the woods? I had taken the Life Spirit of Arinas from that bastard king. The village had already been in decline...

When I stumbled into the square, it was completely devoid of life. I stopped short, took it in, concern and worry turning into a deep and gnawing horror. I could smell it then, the lack of new scents. What had been a living, breathing village a few weeks ago was now a ghost town. My grip on you must have become tight, because I felt cloth tear beneath my claws. The helplessness which had fled since I'd set out for the village roiled and grew almost to the part where I wanted to shout. Would you die? I know I must have shivered at the thought. How awfully ironic that my own failure to perceive... Without the Life Spirit, this country would die. Everything humans needed would fail to grow. That had been months ago now; of course they would—a sharp hiss ended the thought midway. Instantly I spun on my heel to face the sound. In that one moment, when my light eyes focused on the cause of the noise, I knew Fate had been on my side all along.

"Youkai." The voice was cold, wary, frightened but stiff, and above all, familiar.

"It's you." And I knew the barest hint of a smile had crept across my face—probably not the wisest action, as everything demon about me seemed to frighten the only human left in this wretched place. The woman, long black braid swinging gently, began to back away, slowly as if not to startle me into motion.

"'ake wha'ever you like from 'is village, but don' you even 'ink about eatin' me monster!" There was a steely sort of determination in her eyes and I was instantly glad that she should be the one to find us. I took a step toward her, trying (and failing apparently, for she took two large steps back) to look non-threatening.

"It's me, Avis." Thank God for good memory, at least that had not abandoned me like all my other senses. The woman blinked, and stopped her retreat, until her own memory answered, and she spat-

"I'm no fool. 'at boy Avis was a blond, and a human 'oo!"

"I bought a pink apron from you and paid with gold pieces. You told me to watch out for youkai." Now the woman's look changed into one of furious disbelief. When I took a step closer however, she did not back away. "That day I ended up in your shop because I'd spooked the baron's horses. I said I'd been traveling. I have no time for this; you absolutely must believe me now." All this had been said in a gusty fast voice, almost in time with the wind blowing over us.

"But 'ow?" And then her voice became steely again. "You lied 'o me."

"Would I have made it into your shop at all if I hadn't?" I knew my impatience and nervousness were not helping the situation. For a moment she seemed to consider me as a whole, struggling to compromise Avis and the demon she'd just met. Finally, the defensive posture lessened just enough to be considered almost normal, and she muttered,

"Wha' in all seven 'ells do you wan' 'ere in 'is village?"

"Help." The word had tasted like poison on my tongue, awkward and unreal. I couldn't even believe I'd actually said it. My pride, you must imagine, took an extremely heavy blow. It wasn't until I'd spoken this however that she noticed the bundle in my arms was actually breathing. Our conditions changed dramatically in the space of ten seconds. Logically, if I was asking for help, I was not an immediate threat. Curiosity as to what was in my grip must have won out over lingering fear because, though her slow steps betrayed cautiousness, she approached me. With shaking and jerky hands the human pulled at my cloak, twitching visibly as it caught on my claws. It was not so much as gasp as a deep breath that escaped her when she saw you, and I think it was a sound of deep relief. This was not a tiny demon in distress but a mortal child, something she could handle.

With the same wary movements she pressed her hand to your burning forehead, hissed, and drew back.

"'e's ill. Awful fever." Her voice took on something akin to a scold that failed to hide all her tremble. "To le' it get 'is bad... Are you blind?" Then realizing I might have taken offense to such a comment, she took a quick step backward.

"Youkai do not fall ill. Can you cure it?"

"'e doctor's already gone on, bu' 'e's probably lef' enough behind to fix 'is mess." Reproachfully the dark haired woman almost glared at me and walked around us toward one of the smaller roads. "'s 'is way." Holding you gingerly, I followed, feeling a little ridiculous. A youkai allowing a human to lead? Somehow I failed to notice that a normal youkai wouldn't be bothering to cure a human at all.

As we went she kept throwing nervous glances back at me, and I wondered if she was hoping I'd have vanished or if she was checking to make sure I wasn't losing my temper at the long walk. We reached the abandoned healer's home, and the shopkeeper pushed roughly on the door. It refused to budge.

"Damn, locked." She looked toward the windows, searching for some means of entrance. While she did this, I stepped to the door and, with less effort than it takes a human to lift a sheet of paper, tore the knob and lock from the frame. The woman jerked visibly at the action, but for a mortal, I had to admit, she was holding up fairly well. With the lightest brush of my hand against it, the door swung open into a dark and very empty home.

Much of the furniture was missing, taken by either the doctor in his flight, or by thieves in their own. The only remaining pieces were those too large for a human to lift, and these were coated with the first fine layers of dust. The air was still and the entire place smelt of chemicals and illness. In normal circumstances I would have found the place unpleasant. Today, I was happy to find the scent of medicine so strong—the healer had not taken everything.

The shopkeeper hurried away, opening doors in the long hallway and finally beckoning to me. The room she had chosen was bright, white-washed with a long mirror across the East wall that reflected perfectly the garden visible through a wide West window. The reflection looked like some sort of moving painting, crafted so well as to catch the true impact of wind through trees. The majority of the small room was occupied by a stiff looking bed with a cream blanket and crisp white sheets. I laid you there, and that blue and gold patterns of my cloak looked odd against the wool and odder still against your flushed face.

"Do you know the correct medicine for this illness?" I asked, without bothering to look over at her.

"Ay, my 'usband had 'he same 'ing once. I'll find it fo' you." She hurried back into the hall. Momentarily I thought it considerate of her to spar me the asking—then I realized it was simply eagerness to leave the room that had prompted her offer. I gritted my teeth a little, invisibly. Her fear was grating on me. If I had any intention of harming her, she would have been dead ages ago, and this lingering nervousness, however instinctive it must have been, was positively annoying. You had never acted that way. Miffed, I focused on watching you and found myself unnerved by your weakness. Normal youkai do not get 'fever'—I'd never seen the likes of this before, and like almost everyone, I have long harbored a hatred for things unknown to me. It had already crossed my mind that you might die from something so sudden and strange to me. I tried to imagine then, as I waited for the human to return, what my life would be like if you did disappear forever. There was an awful blankness in my mind, and I could only fill it with monotony and routine. I disliked the thought that I might need someone else to keep me stable, but... I had been alone before, and I never wanted to repeat the experience.

She bustled back into the room, hands closed around a tiny crystal vial. It could have been full of water, but the chemical smell that filled the room quickly betrayed its true nature. Without speaking to me at all, she crossed the room, uncorked the bottle and poured half the translucent liquid through your barely parted lips. Expertly, she forced your mouth shut, a moment before you reflexively began coughing. I thought for a second that the undoubtedly vile taste had awoken you, but it was only natural reaction, and once the flavor had faded you fell back again, eyes shut and face just as red as before.

"I' will 'ake time." She fell silent and so did the room, with the exception of your labored breathing and the nervous tapping of her boot. I expected her to leave then, I wanted her to leave. Now that her purpose had been fulfilled, her tiny role in our lives acted out, I only wanted to be rid of her scuffling feet. She was nice enough as humans go, but I never did like mortals much. She almost shocked me by simply standing there, staring. When I met her eyes, I knew the look instantly—it was one of mild curiosity. "I'm no fool." And her voice was steadier than I had heard it. "I know 'o 'is boy is." She smiled, a little knowing grin that surprised but did not alarm me. If she knew anything about you, it was unimportant. My silence did not seem to bother her -it was probably the only thing about me that didn't unnerve her- and she stood there, plucking a loose string on her sleeve. Finally she prodded me again. "Avis isn' your name, is it?"

"No." My smile was small and distant.

"You gave me all 'at money, 'nough to stay fo' months w'en everyone else 'ad to go..."

Soon there would be nothing left. The wells would run dry, the crops would rot. As much as this woman disinterested me, she had saved you where I might have caused your death. "Things are going to change soon. Even your home, I imagine, is not worth the cost of your life. You should go." And it was gentle prod on my own part. Leave me alone now, in words that I had made sound almost caring. Really, I meant them in some sense. It wouldn't do to let her get eaten by demons, and it was certain that they would soon overrun this village, empty as it was. Whatever meaning I'd coated the command in, she seemed to understand, because she took a large step toward the hallway.

I smiled, just a little wider, and this seemed a final sign to her. It must have been the threat of white fangs, because she turned abruptly and left the room in a rustle of skirts and no backward glance. There might have been a very quiet 'Thank you' whispered in her disappearance, but it's possible I added that in retrospect. Wherever she went, I have no interest in knowing. Across the ocean surely. Do you even remember her? I always have—it's hard to forget saviors.

It was hours before you awoke. The winds had blown in clouds; the sun had set, and rain came in sudden rough spurts. When you sat up stiffly, it was very late. I'd lit the lamp on the side table, and the whole room had taken on an oily orange glow. You surveyed the place slowly, with eyes still more glazed than clear. Finally, when you'd convinced yourself that this was not a room in the castle, you fell back against the pillows with a hoarse sigh.

"I feel... like shit." I almost giggled, almost. You would be fine now—that foul language was the unstoppable Garfakcy I knew. I didn't bother telling you where we were, I'm sure you'd already figured it out. The room was very quiet, but it was not the nervous silence of shopkeeper. Finally, you muttered in the scratchy weak voice that was trying hard to keep steady, "What happened?"

"You fell ill, and I brought you here." It was a severely simplified version of the real events, but you deemed it satisfactory.

"I'm sorry Master Kharl." I waved the apology aside. I was sure, many years from then, I would look back and laugh at the entire affair. You unrolled yourself weakly from my cloak, and suddenly hissed in pain. Your hand flew to your shoulder, where a pale shard of the ruined plate had cut through your shirt and buried itself in your skin. I leaned forward, and with deft claws, removed the sliver as gently as I could. As I did this, you noticed what I'd forgotten myself. "Master Kharl, you're bleeding!" That wasn't true of course, the wound had congealed hours ago. Nevertheless, the action of removing the shard from you reminded me that I too had foolishly let myself be cut. With less care than I had paid to you, I pulled the much larger sliver from my knee. It would heal quickly now, with nothing to impede it.

For a moment I regarded the stained shards of porcelain. The jagged edges were both dark with blood. Finally, when you had begun to stare at them too, I asked part from curiosity, part from awe,

"Can you tell the difference?" Your eyes, clearing slowly, took it in, the dark on pure white, the thin sharp edges...

"No, I can't."

What surprised me most was I could not tell the difference either. The blood spilled over the pure white plaster seemed identical. For a long time I was silent, turning this revelation over in mind. How could demon's blood and human's blood be so similar? How could... How could... Fatigue claimed you while I said nothing, and you slipped into a much easier sleep. I could not do the same at all. How could we be similar at all? At our most basic aren't we supposed to be most different? I didn't understand this, I wondered at it, unable to stop myself from thinking. I had no idea then where those thoughts would lead. I had no idea that, when I absently scribbled those ideas on paper, they would become the basis for a book capable of changing fate. How can we be the same? How are we different? The Demon Bible began with blood on porcelain.

In whose image am I made?

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Author's Notes: Okay, okay, did that make ANY sense? It made loads of sense in my head… And not so much sense on my keyboard. But you do see why this is an important chapter? Everything has changed. And now, I get to write the real Kharl! The chapters may come faster now, since I don't have to make up every single scene myself… Heh yeah, I had to cover Garfakcy's first illness. It was long due. Oh and yes, the OC. Now she's gone for good, I promise... I hated her very much. She's gone across the sea, and will found a line of black haired women that will include Kuon Sheena and Pyore. End of story.

Review Responses: Yes, I know we aren't really supposed to do these on our chapters any more, but I'm not about to change my habits now.
Yami-chan and the Unrealistic: I'm glad you liked the last chapter so much… This one was way weird. I hope you didn't hate it! Thanks for reviewing!
RandomRathFan: Kharl is… Kharl. There's no other way to put it. He's just so special. Loves him, yes I do:) Anyway, thank you very much for reviewing, and I hope this chapter didn't make you hate this story… v.v At least you didn't have to wait forever, right?

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