MM: T'e, khenmes-ii, khenemset-ii! A'nen- Andromeda, Marik, Per er Muse!
Marik: Wow, your pronunciation sucks.
MM: Thanks a lot, Marik. Anyways, welcome back, everyone! Don't own Yugioh but do own this story! Sorry for the delay; school started, unfortunately. Thus, I have decided to put up both chapters 4 and 5 today to make up for it! Here we go!
Chapter 5
Moods of Midnight
No one answered the door.
Lingering outside, Andromeda knocked again, the rap of her knuckles echoing lightly in the yawning abyss of the parlor. The golden lights seemed to have tired of her presence and dimmed perceptibly, snoozing in electric fatigue. Swaying on her feet, she drummed her fingers against her arm, crossing those limbs neatly across her chest. Quietly, she studied her surroundings, admiring the Egyptian style columns and the soaring ceiling. Her mind wandered off as she realized that Marik must either have a fascination with Egypt or had grown up there. Thoughts of desert heat invaded her, cozying up to her already sleepy mind. The mirages vibrating in the distance, the sand burning her toes, and the clear blue sky, a perfect canvas for the hand of the clouds to paint. She shivered suddenly, noticing the cool of the chamber. Dancing from toe to toe, she wondered if he had already fallen asleep.
"That energy lacking brat. Can't stay up till midnight without snoring his head off," she muttered, knocking again to no avail and finally noticing the pain establishing a world empire across all her knuckles. Letting her back slink down the wall, she closed her eyes and waited, determined to believe that his agenda did not include falling asleep at—she peeked out at the pyramid-shaped clock sitting on a table near the adjoining wall from beneath one eyelid—11:37 PM.
"Maybe I'm just trying to avoid apologizing. Who knows, by tomorrow morning, he might have fired Derek because of me…" Still not knowing what she had done wrong, brave Andromeda stumbled to her feet and patted down her nightgown as if approaching her debut dance. Reaching out with her left hand, she gripped the golden handle of the left side of the double door, sweaty palm sliding across its smooth surface as it jeered up at her, daring her to step in. Suppressing the weak laughter attempting to burst her cool façade, Andromeda imagined pink unicorns dancing in a verdant meadow, where the lions slept next to the deer in peace, and the fluffy cotton of the heavens perpetually boded a brilliant day. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle.
To her surprise, it glided down with one smooth click. For a moment, she froze, hand pressing the handle down until it howled for release, the door still jammed immovably in its frame. Her heart pounded in her throat like the drums of a marching band, her breath scarcely strong enough to stir a feather. The blood shied from her fingers, as if trying to hold her back.
Gritting her teeth, she shoved the door open and darted in.
The door fell shut with a click behind her. Surprised at the darkness that met her eyes, she suddenly blushed, realizing that her hands had flown up to her eyes. Considering the fact that no roar had risen up and no palm had slapped and backhanded her yet, she quickly dropped her hands and scanned the room.
"Hey, no fair! His room is larger and more spacious than mine!" Putting a hand to the wall, she traced the strip of hieroglyphs, feeling the paint suckle on her fingertips, the power of the ancient language flowing over her. The strange notion of the air crowding with something unseen, something that watched her and brushed her skin with its whispering voices, tingled at her veins, and she hesitantly drew her hand away. Casting her eyes around, she ensured that no ghost lived in this tomb like chamber.
Only then did the soft purr of the shower reach her unsuspecting ears.
"Oh. He's not asleep." Finally noticing that his bed appeared quite empty, Andromeda glided over like the ghosts that she feared, and plopped down cautiously. The golden sheets, so like the sands of Egypt, grazed her toes, their softness inviting her drowsing mind for a nap.
The seconds ticked by, and the minutes eventually started to flee into the past, leaving an Andromeda hugging her knees and staring blankly at the bathroom door.
"Wow, he showers long…like a girl," she added bitterly. Like a dog that had stood on its wobbling hind legs for too long, she fell over with a plop and snuggled the sheets, still in a perfect fetal position. Quietly, the bed murmured to her, crooning lullabies in her ear. The cotton caressed her arms, patting her back with the touch of a falling leaf. Her eyelids drooped, leaving her in a world of whirling patterns, colors that danced to no end across the darkness of her eyelids. Gradually, her senses detached, simply another swirl in the millions of colors, a screech of her imagination…
Finally having the courage to step out of the shower, Marik Ishtar toweled himself off lightly and drew on his boxers. Brushing his teeth with lightning speed to avoid having to look at the scars under his eyes dancing mockingly back at him from the mirror, he wondered why he didn't simply refuse to install mirrors in the first place.
Because you're a narcissist, a part of him remarked snidely and received a brutal kick from another part of his mind as he gurgled and cleaned up. Escaping successfully from the mirror, he crashed into his room, the warmth of the shower still steaming off his body.
"Oh, dewa-netjer," he muttered, "Thank God!"
Turning, he yawned, ready to plunk into bed—
"ANDROMEDA!"
Fluttering like an attacked mother bird, the little girl popped up, eyes suddenly shooting up in blank astonishment, wide as two oceans. Her hair bounced up in a wild tangle as her torso shot off the mattress, leaving the russet whirls to fly over her shoulders and face. Panting as if she had just climbed Mt. Everest in one day, she sat, legs hanging haphazardly over the edge of his bed.
Andromeda stared dumbly at Marik, her bum still bouncing from her sudden change in position. The mattress groaned out in protest, but she only sat there, staring at the furious expression stitching his brows together.
"What the HELL are you doing in my bedroom?" Roaring and completely forgetting his goal of seducing the girl, the blond dropped his day cloths in a pile on the ground and put the freed hand to his throbbing temple. The grimace pulled on his face, tugging his beautiful features into a contorted scowl.
"I—I—I" Paling at the demons dancing in Marik's voice, Andromeda shrank into the shadows, a flower quickly fading, a withered autumn leaf shivering in the blizzard wind and choking snow.
Before his thoughts had collected, the Egyptian had hurled across to her. His hand descended, a blur of muscle and perfectly tanned skin. The crack of its contact against her cheek echoed in his bedroom, a haunting melody that shivered through the magic of the hieroglyphs, sending every possible ghost into a fit of gasps.
The moan flew from her lips as her head hit the pillow, her twitching body racked by a sudden onslaught of sobs. Gasping for breath as her tears choked away her words, her suddenly awakened brain shivered, clouded by a gleeful cackle from a fiery place. A snowstorm blew in her mind, the snowflakes digging into her eyes and clinging to her lashes, encasing her in a shell of protective ice. Her hand crawled up her cheek, flinching at the sting of the raw flesh. As if a dozen bees had stung her at once, her cheek caught afire, wailing in misery in her ears. Its dirge rang, again and again, numbing her mind.
"M—M—Marik…" Gasping, she sat up, keeping her eyes off his looming form. She shoved aside that quiver that had shot up her spine, that moment of blank awe when she caught sight of his sleek body, perfectly tuned muscles hiding under his bronzed and shower-heated skin.
Shocked, Marik stared at the trembling girl in front of him, her gown askew and jerked chaotically over her slim and fragile body. A faint voice echoed in his mind, his own voice, calling out for someone who never came to help him…
"Father…Ishizu…Rishid…"
A sigh escaped him, his steeled lavender eyes softening to a docile lilac petal feel. He walked forward, suddenly lost as to what to do. Taking a cautious seat next to her, he gazed at her in silence, watching the crystalline tears drip from her long lashes onto her half-bare thighs. Her soft skin glowed in the inviting light, her hair a mat that kept him out from the pain behind her indigo eyes. Her abs rose and fell quickly, catching up with the breath that she had lost. Only that one sound reached his ear, as if the world had hushed itself at the ring of his slap. Vaguely, he recalled another panting child, on his stomach in a bed deep under the desert sands, wrapped like a mummy in sallow bandages…
"Andromeda?" The lightness of his voice surprised him. Gingerly, he raised one hand. It hovered over her back, quivering between a friendly pat and a defensive hug. As a hiccup sent her bouncing again, his hand decided to pat her. Immediately, she flinched as if a branding iron had touched her back, and Marik shivered somewhere deep within.
"Let me look at it." Grasping both her bare arms, he twisted her around. His fingers trailed across her face, lifting the veil of hair drinking her tears with parched tongues. Pushing the strands behind her ear, he noted the swelling imprint from his hand distending her little cheek. Its edge purpled noxiously, sending his own body into pain as the specter of his own bruises haunted his soul. Softly, his fingers ran across the wound. "I'll get you something for it."
Clenching his jaw, Marik reached into the drawer of the sandy table by his bed, where a lamp held up by a wiggling cobra statue balanced upon its rickety tail. He retrieved the puny round box inside, its cool edges chilling his heart more than a dozen ice cubes on his back. Deep through the tangle of emotions, the recipe and spell for the balm drifted back, the image of his sister creating it and rubbing it over his wounds, the mint scent pervading his nostrils as he realized that his bruises had vanished…
"This'll…help." Dipping two fingers in, he rubbed the greasy ointment over her cheek, feeling her jaw tighten beneath his touch as the balm disturbed her flaming skin. Even as he finished rubbing it into the purpling spot beneath her temple, the swelling by her chin had evaporated. Within a few seconds, the healing stretched out its fingers, tending her skin with infinite care and sewing together the broken blood vessels, slurping up the drying blood causing such a mess beneath her skin. A minute later, the only red he could see on her face was that of her eyes.
"Thanks," she grumbled, her hands on her lap and playing with her nails.
For a moment, only Marik's calm breathing answered, each swoop of air carrying upon it a tick of time. Then he chuckled, the sound like the yelp of a playful puppy as it rolled upon the lawn.
"Andry, you're such a silly girl. You're too strange for your own good."
Turning amethyst eyes upon her, he reached up, tilting her chin and forcing her indigo gaze to match his own. His hand flowed down her jaw line and neck, making a straight line down toward her breasts. She wriggled uncomfortably, eyeing its progress and ignoring the shimmering numbness it spread across her torso.
"You always come up with these inspired plans to make someone—like me—feel better about myself, and they always fall into absolute shambles," his husky voice accused, deepening as his hand ran across her bosom and around her back, fingers grasping her tiny waist. His free hand caressed her healed cheek, and his eyes followed onto her face. Amused, he noted her tiny and full lips, parted to let her rushing breath through…
"You're such a fool."
Somehow, his face was suddenly much closer, his forehead almost resting against hers, the tip of their noses fencing for the same spot. She could feel his breath against her mouth, that exotic scent pervading her senses.
Through the million feelings churning her stomach, Andromeda watched the wistful smile cross his face, lighting up his gorgeous eyes with something that clawed at her soul. A deep haunting dug into those violet irises, a sadness and madness, a loneliness and a hunger. The emotions whirled like maelstroms, drawing her in to drown within their lavender depths…
His lips grazed hers, its firm pressure sending flashes of flutters lancing across her chest. His hand crawled to the back of her head, refusing to let her turn away. The kiss deepened, and he grew possessive, his tongue wetting her lips with a tickling flicker and sliding into her mouth. His arms tightened, pulling her cool body into the warmth of his own. Her breath shook as it abandoned her lungs, making Marik's lips curl up into a wicked grin against hers. Excitement flashed in her breasts and delight exploded in her mouth as he devoured her slowly, his weight gently pushing her down until she sank into the softness of his mattress.
Pulling away, he studied her pining form curiously, straddling her hips with hands planted on either side of her head. She could feel his warm breath lick her ear, his lips brushing her skin.
"Such a tiny, helpless little fool…"
His kisses fell upon her neck, each nip upon her silky skin sending a gasp up her throat. His hands massaged her arms, then ran down her sides, whirling in small circles on the side of her breasts. Pleasure and fear mingled together, forcing her to moan as she wrapped her arms around his torso, his steamy skin sending shivers through heart. The lavender-myrrh aroma that cloaked his form sank into her skin, its wafting fumes riding up to send her brain into an ecstatic daze. She stroked his back, loving how his muscles shifted beneath her fingertips as he turned his head, his mouth now consuming her round shoulder. His passionate tongue greedily colonized her body, trailing dangerously low as it moved down her chest and met the necking of her gown. Warm, moist lips suckled her tanned flesh, leaving icy rinks of cool where it had passed and lava pools broiling her skin where he teased her.
As he lied down, his weight covering her protectively, she tightened her arms, feeling his masculine chest press upon her curved one, his narrow hips grinding gently against hers. Small bombs exploded all over her body, stiffening her supple form and leaving her to tingle in every limb, the attempt to wriggle under his body translating into a feeble whimper.
Giving in to his kisses, Andromeda moaned as he stroked her thigh, pushing up on the fringes of her nightgown. His strenuous fingers tightened playfully at that provocative place, sending her arching against him as her indigo eyes shot wide open.
Laughing quietly at the startled expression across her face, his lips met hers again, his tongue quickly prying his way in to roam the chamber beyond. Rolling off, he watched in amusement as her skin filled with goosebumps and she crawled towards him, snuggling up against his chest. With one hand, he pulled the sheets around them, and the other ran its thumb down her tummy, resting finally upon the jutting of her hip.
The mattress rested, respecting their harmonious bodies. The sheets curled around them without a sound, afraid to disturb the tiny seedling of the heart attempting to grow.
Lazily, the blond flipped onto his back and snapped his fingers. The lights flicked out obediently, leaving them wrapped in a shroud of caressing darkness. Moonlight seeped in, filtering past the curtains to flood the floor, its most curious strands wandering over to illuminate Marik's sleek hair, turning it into an ocean of molten gold and silver. He eyed Andromeda as she lowered her head next to his, her fluttering breaths against his shoulder and her silky-maned hair cozied up to his neck. Her arm slid idly over his upper body, admiring the strength of his powerful chest and the flatness of his abdomen.
"Why am I a fool?" she asked, cherishing the way his arm embraced and trapped her fragile form in a cove of thrilling safety.
He stared up at the canopy of his bed, thoughtful for a moment. His free hand fingered the Millennium Rod that had just appeared under the sheets. Wondering if he would have to use it tonight, he watched the moonlight bath her skin, claiming it jealously now that his lips had lifted from it.
"Because…you just are," he answered gruffly, resisting the urge to tickle her until she screamed. His thoughts drifted, and he wondered what would have happened if she had stolen into the shower with him…
"That's not a good reason at all!" Tugging on his hair, she adjusted her spot and closed her eyes.
Squeezing the Millennium Rod, he sensed its power stealing surreptitiously up his arm, sliding out through the other into Andromeda's body. Gradually, her mind fogged, erasing thoughts of everything but the blond next to her and the wispy tendrils of sleep. The miasma swathed her body, too, slowing her breathing and the pounding of her heart. Clandestinely, he levered at the door to her mind, peeling back to veil to stare at the naked essence within. It rumbled, shocked by a painter's easel dashed with emotions, each a violent rage of colors splashed across the canvas of her soul.
The smirk lengthened across his face, tugging back the villainous viper twinkle in his crinkling eyes. His words escaped the prison of his mind, soft notes meant to rise to heaven upon the moonbeams, a heaven where orphans nestle in magicked clouds and angels guarded their delicate forms. Where day shone but didn't blaze, where wind rustled perpetual green meadows, open blooms, and singing larks, where night still glowed with tranquil light. A place that did not exist.
He touched her cheek with callous fingertips, lying wide awake for a long, long time as she meandered through the world of dreams.
"Because, Andromeda, only a fool would ever love me…"
Dragging on his most business like outfit, Derek shot out the door at nine AM and sat in a high chair next to Rishid, adjusting his painfully tight collar, by ten fifteen. Presently, right on the dot down to the second, the door to the casual meeting room popped open, allowing three men in very well tailored suits into the mellowly twinkling lights. With a flourish, they stood before the cushioned chairs across the table from the other two and smiled. The middle man, aged about thirty, had a longish face and bore a genial grin that turned the corners of his eyes up. White teeth sparkled, blending into his pale skin and standing out prominently against his dark brown hair and eyes. The two on either side of him appeared like twins. Both had the same gelled back dirty blond hair and the crystalline blue eyes, finely etched jaws forcing their mouths into more constrained smiles than their boss's.
Climbing to his feet, Derek's blue eyes skimmed the three, suddenly conscious of the fact that his brunette hair fell in a much less well organized pattern around the frame of his face.
"Welcome to our humble little island, Mr. Lawrence," Derek greeted, extending his hand.
"Greetings, Mr. Academ," the client responded, taking the hand and them giving it quite a professional squeeze, leaving Mr. Academ's fingers rather sore. Rishid, on the other hand, endured it quite well and remunerated him with the same pressure. Mr. Lawrence knew that the Academ was new, and would humor any minor infractions.
Masochists, Derek thought to himself, shaking his head as he tried to remember everything about this client.
Rishid's eyes watched Derek Academ perspicaciously. His prowess at solemnity would never waver, but it still worried him that Derek may one day find out about Marik's more…black market oriented clients. After all, Mr. Lawrence had known Rishid for a long time and, because of his good heart, Rishid had never had the courage to tell him of how the Rare Hunters actually obtained the cards, but even right at this moment, many darker regulars filtered through the lower rooms, paying exorbitant amounts for cards stained with larceny or blood.
Taking their seats, Derek grinned at his clients and produced the Dark Magician and the Dark Magician Girl, covered with clean sleeves. For a moment, his eyes dwelt upon them, reminiscing about Yugi Moto and those friends of his…those Magicians had been his favorite cards.
"Mr. Lawrence, I understand that you are here today to purchase these," Derek commenced unnecessarily. Quickly, Mr. Lawrence's goons snatched up one card each, examining them with infinite precision and aptitude. Quietly, the other three watched as the two processed the cards through their laptops, tracing the codes that would allow each card to display upon a holographic projector and the embossments that verified their authenticity.
"They're quite excellent, sir," they responded duly, returning the cards onto the table.
Nodding, Mr. Lawrence lifted his head to Mr. Academ.
"Well, of course. Mr. Ishtar has never disappointed me with his promptness and quality…and his price," he added, lifting both brows at Derek.
Smiling, the orphan brother let the bargaining begin.
Rubbing his eyes, Yugi Moto sat up in bed, stretching his stiff arms. Shivering in the sudden cold nibbling at his cheeks, he hugged himself, wide eyes staring at the open window. The crispness of morn siddled through the opening, knocking him upon his sleepy head. The noise of night shift people returning home after an exhausting "day" at work crept through cautiously, floating by his ear to colonize this new arena.
"Huh. So that's where the wind came from. I don't remember opening the window, though," he murmured to himself, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the bed as his golden bangs drifted lethargically into one eye.
Yawning with a stretch of his short arms, he watched as his Yami projected himself by his side, grinning a good morning.
"That wind struck me out of slumber, Yugi," he said, watching as his hikari closed the window and plopped down. "I—"
Yugi shot up at the crinkling sound and found himself staring down at a harmless envelop, folded across the middle slightly and sighing reproachfully from its recent rendezvous with Yugi's rear.
"What's this?" Curious, Yugi picked up the envelope, scanning the rows of violet handwriting.
"It's addressed to you. It says 'Pharaoh'," he added, sitting down next to his transparent Yami and ripping open the post to pull out the stationery. The golden, sandy paper glittered in the morning sun, the violet ink shimmering as if still moist.
"It's about Andromeda," Yugi murmured, quickly reading the contents in a hushed tone to the Pharaoh, who couldn't read anything but Egyptian hieroglyphs.
"'…I have the girl that you claimed to love. Quite frankly, I can say that she no longer cares for you or your hedonistic notions. Soon, you will meet her…then you can decide for yourself if her love for you has ever been real…'"
Rapidly, his eyes grew wider and wider, his incorporeal, ghostly hands tightening through the comforter of the bed.
"'…you will regret your sins. You will know how it feels like to lose someone; for too long you have reveled in the affluence of your palatial luxuries while I toiled, deprived of life and fresh air, for your pathetic corpse…"
Frowning, Yami leaned in, distinguishing here bits that may piece together his memory. Suddenly, Yugi stopped, pointing at a line of hieratic slashed across the middle of the page. Screwing up his eyebrows, his subconscious ability to read the script flowed back.
"Mehi-en-wi? A'nen kheftey-ek. Sekha-tjen ib-kem-ek. Sekha-tjen bin-ek…It means 'Have you forgotten me? Your enemy returns. Remember your black heart. Remember your evil'…"
Shaking his head in utter quandary as the words refused to make sense for him, Yami buried his head in his hands, then shot to his feet and paced the room, pondering. Yugi continued reading.
"'…I will see you at Battle City, Pharaoh. Andromeda's life lies in your hands…it's not signed," he added, scanning the bottom for an autograph and the envelope for a return address, or at least a name.
Standing before the window, Yami's translucent fist descended with a crash upon the sill, sending the spider upon the potted plant scurrying for cover. The soil leapt up out of the pot as if the pottery had caught on fire, then fell with a littering crash into the surrounding vicinity. Wistfully, memories saddled his mind, flurries of indigo eyes, russet hair, and soft warmth as they danced to the music of angels, lost in their thoughts under the dim lights…
"It can't be Kaiba; he doesn't write Egyptian…it may be that Tomb Robber…if he ever got himself an education back in Ta-Mer: Egypt…"
Thoughts washed over him in rip tides, each swell opening its gargantuan mouth, rattling the stones that paved the links of his mind as it soared up, engulfing him and drowning his sanity in a bash of cold, briny water. Then it retreated, dragging up the pebbles that layered his wits, each rock clicking madly and sending an echo that ran to the top of Mt. Everest in his lugubrious brain. Wolves howled their doleful presage, pines shook and rained their stickling His gaze grew wild as it traced the passage of the vehicles outside, blankly searching the windows of each for a face resembling Andromeda's own.
His hands scrabbled at the pane of glass as Yugi walked over to him, wondering how this ominous letter had landed on his bed anyways, by bird, by wind, by a hidden hand…
Head snapping back as if shot in the heart, Yami's eyes searched the stoic cerulean skies, glaring at it for the answers it hid, for the evils that it so coolly witnessed.
"Andromeda!"
Marik: Hey, look! The Piraa is all upset over Andromeda! And I have her! MWAHAHA!
Mystic Muses, hacking at the rope that a sadist had tied around her wrists: Yes! That's the point!
Marik: Well, I'm happy: i-resh. Soon, we shall continue the torture of Andromeda Academ and Yami, thank you very much!
MM, dropping her dagger as the ropes fall off: YES! See you next time, bener—sweet—readers!