I know Its been too long since I updated this fic!
Here is the long awaited Festival chap! well half of it, half way through writing it I realized this chapter would be WAY to long if it was one chap, so I decided to follow my instinct and leave it at an evil cliffhanger and split it into two chapters-so most of the fun stuff will be next chap ^-^.
Announcement: anyway, though I know i'm gonna break a lot of hearts, after this chapter, both AIEW and OL will be on temporary hold. Why, becase I have a new story for Winter, the Frost King, which is a VERY short story so I want to finish that, and also I've been working on Dragon's Rose for almost two years and I HATE taking so long to finish a story so, my goal is to finish those two stories by my spring break (preferably my February one, but NO later than my Easter one) also due to college, I've taken FAR too long of a break from my original work, and since I will be spending a week in Baltimore, i plan on getting as much of m original work: character sheets, plans etc. done as possible and e-mailing everyone on my list the original work (if you are on this list or are interested in seeing my original stuff, for Nevermore and my Fairy Tale series, PLEASE PM me you're e-mail address, just so i make sure everyone gets a copy. thank you)
So again, my apologies but i have a lot to do, and if I get everything done, I'll be able to work on OL and AIEW much more often and get the chapters up faster. Thank you all for understanding. In the meantime, my art work and my character designs for my original works will be available on devinatart (see my profile for link) and I would love feedback ^-^
Dedications: To all my friends and family, especially Pubby-chan who like me has decided to add more good tendershipping to this site, and Chicary for continuing to be the best beta ever! I luv you girls!
Disclaimer: Yugioh and all its characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi, and the Hunchback of Notre Dame in which this story was inspired was written by Viktor Hugo, which inspired the plays and Disney movie, which has also inspired this fic. I do however, own the Grigori idea (which are guardian angels) and Ryou's outfit.
Chapter Six: Festival
"There, you look absolutely breathtaking." Yugi clapped his hands together giddily. The exuberant Grigori snapped the final piece of Ryou's costume in place then stepped back to admire their work.
"Thanks Yugi." Ryou smiled, turned to the makeshift mirror in the corner and spun around, viewing his masterpiece from all angles. In the corner, Yami pushed the loose stones beneath the bed back into place. They'd done their job and kept the secret all these years.
"Who'd of thought that all those years of pricking my fingers and learning to stitch would pay off," Ryou giggled. He finally rearranged his mask - a simple green silk trimmed with gold glitter along the edges - into place. His reflection beamed back. He spun around again, loving how the split tail of his velvet green Frock coat flared over his purple and green striped tights. Gold buttons, closed from collar to navel, glittered in the dim light; purple fur trimmed the cuffs of the sleeves, hems and collar. Beneath the coat, he wore a thick long-sleeved shirt for warmth. It'd taken him years to make it: gathering the materials, dying the fabrics and fur, and the painful stitching lessons from the nuns, but gazing at his work, it was well worth it. He'd spiced the coat up with sharp, butterfly-like wings made from thick black wires, decorated with purple and black mesh in a variety of shades; the tips were painted black. The simple green sash around the waist had actually been a gift from the Grigori when he was younger after the Bishop decided he was too old for frivolous things like birthday presents. The tail, sash and wings fanned behind, adding to the fairy-illusion he'd created. Completing the outfit was a pair of calf-high boots with thick gold buckles the Bishop had given him when he'd outgrown his old ones.
But it was the final piece - the hat - that Ryou was the most proud of. The black top hat had ended up in his grasp completely by accident, but he couldn't resist tying a green ribbon around it. Over the years, it became an explosion of black, purple and green feathers each tipped with gold glitter. He'd even added an old playing card, the Ace of Spades, to spice it up more. Ryou tied his hair back in a low ponytail and tilted the hat over his eye. Combined with his coat, he felt like an English gentleman – at least how he thought an English gentleman would dress. He giggled at the thought of the "uptight pompous heretics" as Marik called them, dressing up in an explosion of Mardi Gras colors.
"Thank God." Yami chuckled, watching his son delightfully dancing in front of the mirror. "I was afraid that thing would eventually rot beneath the stones."
"Of course not!" Yugi protested from his perch on Ryou's bed. "We put so much work into that costume."
"None of us ever thought I'd have the courage to actually wear it for more than just pretend," Ryou teased, checking his mask one last time before turning to the Grigori. "Well, how do I look?"
"You look stunning," Atem commented first, much to the surprise of his mates. The eldest Grigori's eyes lit up and he hugged Ryou, and scanned him over. "Truly, you do."
Light pink splashed beneath Ryou's mask. "Thanks Atem."
"Now, go knock'em dead," Yami added, ushering him outside. As if on cue, the noon bells began ringing. The four rushed to the balcony outside. An enormous crowd swamped the plaza beneath the church in a flood of costumes and courtiers, leaving only a single strip of sandy cobblestone between the church and the stage. From the opposite clearing, tall figures shadowed completely in black cloaks entered the plaza carrying long poles.
Chanting suddenly filled the air, followed by the faint sound of music. All across the roofs, banners and streamers in gold, green and purple fluttered in the air of anticipation.
"Drats! It's starting!"
"Hurry up Ryou, or you'll miss it!"
"And for Heaven's sake be careful!"
"I will, I promise!" Ryou promised the fussing Grigori. He swung over the balcony and climbed down the front of the Church, using the gargoyles and buttresses like a ladder to the second level.
"Be careful!"
"Have fun!"
"Don't talk to anyone you don't know!"
The Grigori shouted their final warnings like parents seeing off their first child before he left for an apprenticeship. Ryou swore he saw tears glittering in Yugi's eyes, Atem's terrified nails sinking into the stone and Yami's grin beaming. He couldn't help but smile.
Finally, he slid down the last buttress and grabbed one of the streamers. It snapped under his weight. He gripped it tightly and swung over the crowd until he finally dropped right in the middle of the empty clearing.
He felt the intense eyes of the crowd burning at him with stark confusion, curiosity or annoyance on their masked faces. The chanting and marching of the cloaked figures didn't stop. The glowing eyes beneath their masks made Ryou feel unbearably uncomfortable. He jumped to his feet and made a dash for the crowd but was stopped by the people throwing up their hands and arms, cheering and shouting and laughing in glee. The sudden change in demeanor almost gave Ryou a heart attack. The screeching crowd blocked his path, trapping him in the circle like a tiger in a cage. He screamed and backed up, almost crashing into an impossibly tall figure. The figure's face and body shadowed by a black cloak. The cacophony exploded in his ears like a swarm of buzzing insects. The loud voices were harsh and chaotic; the complete opposite of the smooth, gentle tempos of his precious bells.
"Come one, Come all!" The chanting began. It was slow and simple at first. The crowd's exuberance died down, replaced by anticipation. Words blended together, filling Ryou's ears: lyrics speaking of leaving the chains of society, the rules and regulations that governed the ways of living, and of unification. There were no courtiers or commoners, no Gypsies or Christians, nor priests or heretics: today they were all the same. Today, they were all fools of the Mardi Gras.
"Come one. Come all. Come and join…" The robed figures stopped, they pressed the butt of the staffs against the cobble stones with a loud, echoing clank.
Ryou froze. His heart hammered in his chest. He backed as close to the crowd as he could. His entire body shook, suddenly possessed by a nameless emotion like disappointment and excitement, power and helplessness all at once. The entire world stopped in an instant. Everything was stoic and profound, even the air refused to dance. For an instant, the entire world had become twice its normal size and Ryou felt like he'd shrunk to the size of a mouse. It was the final second just before the drop of a waterfall, when all the anticipation, excitement, fear and emotion spiraled together in a single second before vanishing with the final drop of adrenaline.
"Come join the Mardi…"
Bakura kicked the stool across the room and then growled when pain exploded in his toes. "This is completely unfair!" He growled again.
"Quit complaining and get your costume on," Mana ordered. Bakura glared at his sister. She sat cross-legged on a box with her hands and chin folded over a fancy baton. The bangles around her wrists and ankles jingled together when she moved.
Not even caring that Mana was still in the room, he glared at the costume in the corner: a folded pile of green, gold and black, glitter, sparkles and leather. "I am not wearing that in public," he said stubbornly.
Mana rolled her eyes. "Stop being a baby. It's your own fault."
Bakura snorted and resisted the urge to pout like a child. "Oh come on, Chaos knows it's not the first time I've been in trouble with guards."
"Bakura, you're too reckless!" Mana scolded. "You're always going off and getting into trouble and one of these days you're not going to be able to get out of it. Chaos knows that, Mahado knows that, I know that." She repositioned herself so she was now lying on her stomach. "You don't. One of these days you're going to get yourself killed, Bakura."
"No, I won't." Bakura protested. "I'm not that selfish."
"I beg your pardon?" Mana asked.
"If I get killed or captured or anything like that, I'd terrify you three and if I did anything to hurt you, I'd never forgive myself, even if you three did." The white-haired gypsy crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the tent. "Like I said, I'm not that selfish."
Mana sighed, then smiled and got up. "You're too sweet, Bakura." His sister kissed his cheek, and then dashed through the curtains before he could yell at her. "Now hurry up, you're almost on!"
Bakura growled and stomped his foot. "How the hell is she older than me? She acts like a child!" He ran a hand through his hair and snatched the costume from the box, pieces scattering at his feet. He took in what Chaos asked him to wear and grimaced, visibly. "I'm going to kill Chaos for this."
"GRAS!"
Then it happened. The final burst.
A tall man with abnormally pale skin, dressed in shiny midnight and red clothing with dramatically long black hair spilling from beneath an outrageous black and red hat, leapt into the air over the robed figures and landed in a handstand before flipping over. The second his feet touched the ground, confetti, sparklers and fireworks exploded. Shouts of delight exploded into the air. Confetti and streamers blanketed the sky like shattered rainbows. Banners fell freely from the poles the robed figures carried decorated with vibrant colors and symbols. Instruments roared to life. All while the man in black, the Ringleader, flipped and sang and started the celebration.
The robed figures burst free from the shadowy cloaks, exposing outrageously colored costumes before they vanished into the crowd. Entertainers suddenly flooded the streets. Ribbon dancers in glittering golden outfits spun ribbons like tendrils of wind around them. Following them, jesters juggled fruits and shiny objects while others threw batons and flung fire sticks into the air. Men in jester costumes on stilt-legs as tall as houses walked awkwardly into the area. Dogs jumped through hoops and walked on huge balls. Birds flooded the air, flying in arial formations. Musicians blew trumpets, banged drums, and rang bells. Music and colors exploded; all of them working together in some bizarre, chaotic parade with the Ringleader at the center.
Ryou's eyes widened with both excitement and fear. Entertainers, shoppers and party-goers crashed into him whenever he tried to move. Before he could blink, he found himself swept into a circle of laughing dancers, then he found himself among a circle of children watching a puppet show. It was too much; it was like seeing for the first time. But for Ryou, it was like the first taste of pure freedom. He was no longer restricted to the Tower, and could laugh, sing, dance, and play all he wanted and no one could stop him. The mere concept almost made his heart burst with excitement.
Suddenly, the man in black burst in front of him. Ryou screamed and stumbled backwards, crashing into a woman in a dress. The man next to her shoved Ryou back into the party. He stumbled and grabbed the rim of his hat and pulled it closer against his head. Last thing he needed was to lose it. Not only was it one of his proudest creations, but without it, his white air stuck out like the first star in the pitch black sky. He hadn't found the Bishop yet, or his brother but the last thing he wanted was to take the chance.
Ryou smiled, watching as nobles, peasants and guards dance together in a huge circle holding hands; all of them in costume and laughing without a care in the world. Why can't it be like this every day? Ryou asked himself. Why did Mardi Gras have to be only once a year? Why did it have to be the one time people were allowed to throw away their prejudice and converse with others. According to the Bishop "The Mardi Gras is a necessary evil, it's the one day of the year people aren't bound by their morals and righteousness, so it gets the devil out of them," Ryou imitated in his best voice. He giggled slightly. "Any more and they would take advantage of it. One day is enough." Ryou shook his head. "He's wrong; it isn't about pleasure or fun." He concluded, strolling away from the chaos and watching people who any other day would deny the other's existence, coerce and chat. "Mardi Gras is the only time where people are free to be themselves." He smiled and leaned back, not noticing there was nothing solid behind him, only cloth. Losing his balance, he screamed and stumbled into a make-shift tent.
He tried to grab anything he could but the back of his leg hit something. His ankle lost its footing and his feet flew into air. "Ah!" he screamed and grabbed a curtain for support, but the rings snapped from the pole and everything collapsed on top of him.
"Hey!" A harsh voice growled, laced with furry and embarrassment.
Bakura quickly grabbed the mask and shoved it in place. He clutched the front of his coat closed and whirled around. He glared furiously at the lump moving around on the floor beneath the fallen curtain.
"I'm sorry, I didn't…" Bakura watched the boy pull the blanket free from him. The force tore his hat from his head, causing a waterfall of long white hair to spill to his shoulders. The boy panicked and clumsily grabbed the hair tie and pulled his hair into a low ponytail, then fished around frantically for his abandoned hat. Bakura blinked, wondering if he should stay mad or help the pathetic creature. But then his pride kicked in and once the boy found his hat and shoved it over his head, Bakura reacted.
Ryou didn't have a chance to recover before someone grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him to his feet. His captor's face was hidden behind a thick mask but he met eyes as sharp, clear and green as emeralds.
"Listen, you pervert, just what the hell do you think you're doing!" Bakura demanded furiously, but paused when he found a child-like face, wide with confusion and fear, hidden beneath a simple cloth mask, the only decorations being small gold glitter swirls around the eyes.
"What! No!" Ryou pulled away and threw his hands up defensively. He shook his hands and head back and forth, and made a sign of a cross over himself. "I'm so sorry! I was outside and someone bumped into me, and I fell and I tried to steady myself, I didn't…oh dear, I'm so sorry." He blurted out apologies and incoherent stutters, until he was spun around and steadied by strong hands.
"Wow, wow, calm down." Bakura gently grabbed the boy's shoulders and shook him. He carefully readjusted the wire wings on the boy's costume and skimmed the panicking youth over.
Ryou paused immediately, calmed by the sudden tenderness and concern in it.
Now that he was calm, Bakura looked the boy over. He looked young, but only a few years younger than himself. His sweet, round, face still held onto the last of its baby fat and sported pink round cheeks and shiny, pallor skin like someone always in the sun but was unmarred by it. The costume he wore exposed a lean figure, slender but strong muscles pulsed beneath Bakura's fingers. Glittering tuffs of star-white hair peeked out beneath the mass of black velvet and feathers that made up his hat. The mask shielded most of his face from view, but beneath the fabric, Bakura found brilliant chocolate eyes, radiant against the green of the velvet and the white of his skin.
He blinked when he saw those eyes. Full of the innocence and nervousness of someone isolated from normal society, but carried the wisdom of someone who'd seen things no living person should see. Dark things.
"What's your name?" Bakura asked with a crooked, raised eyebrow, but there was awe in his voice.
Ryou couldn't breathe for a moment. Of all the people he'd met and encountered, both good and bad, he'd never seen such eyes as the man's before him nor the emotion in them. They were strong and fierce, yet concerned and kind and honestly worried about his well-being, but they did their best to keep that a secret. Shadows danced in them, like someone with many secrets he wanted to forget.
But the eyes were only one part that made up the man's brilliance. His feathers were sharp and angular. Glittering spikes of silver hair fell around his neck. That stunned him. As far as he knew, he was the only living person with hair that color. Seeing the beautiful, silvery color of the man's shiny hair even in the shadow of the tent, the thought now sounded arrogant. The man's stride was tall and proud, his smile and face neutral but his eyes spoke more than a thousand voices.
"Um…" Ryou couldn't answer at first.
Bakura brushed his bangs from his face and gently placed them behind his ear.
"My guardians call me mon Ange," Ryou explained. "You can call me that."
Bakura raised an eyebrow. "But that's not your real name?"
"I don't give out my real name to strangers, least not until I get to know them," Ryou explained, trying not to let this sudden feeling cloud his good judgment.
"Understandable." Bakura nodded. "Then you can call me Esmeralda."
"That suits you." Ryou smiled. "Um, are you a gypsy?" he asked.
Bakura's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Of course not," Ryou protested, "I was just wondering if you were performing today. If so, I'd love to see you again later. I haven't been to the Festival on my own before, so it'd be nice to have a familiar face."
Bakura raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You sound pretty resourceful for someone who's never been to the Festival before, Ange."
"I'm cautious," Ryou replied, cupping his arms behind his back, careful of his wings.
"Well, I'll be performing soon and after that, I'll be performing with my family in the circus, if you'd like to stay for the show. If you're still around, I'm free for the rest of the day." Bakura offered.
"That's perfect!" Ryou clapped his hands gleefully like a child with a new dream to follow. "The dances are my favorite part of the festival. Are you dancing, Mr. Esmeralda?"
"Just Esmeralda," Bakura said harshly, "I'm not that much older than you. And I'll be dancing and doing the acrobatics," Bakura boasted proudly.
"Wonderful!" Ryou cheered. "I love acrobatics! I'm superb at them, not to sound arrogant,"
"You know acrobatics?" Bakura snorted in disbelief.
Ryou glared at the remark. "As a matter of fact, yes, I do. I've performed several acts of gymnastics since I was a child."
"Yeah, where?" Bakura mocked.
Ryou smirked. "The towers and roof of Notre Dame." The stunned mystification on Bakura's face made Ryou's grin curl at the corners and, for once, he let the pride consume him. It felt good.
Bakura couldn't speak. His formed a small o-shape of surprise. Even now, he couldn't tell if Ange was joking with him or if he was serious. The grin on the boy's face made it harder to tell. It was serious, but at the same time, facts made the claim impossible to be true. No one could get to the roof of the church. The only ones there were nuns, bishops, cardinals, and…the rumors.
Realization made Bakura's eyes bulge. The light in his eyes made Ryou a tad nervous. Bakura poked his chest and proudly announced. "You're the Angel of Notre Dame? The one who rings the bells and lives in the tower and stuff?"
Ryou's eyes widened with horror, his mouth formed a protest, but before he could speak, the tent entrance flung open and a sweet voice announced its owner's presence. The tension and conversation broken, "Bakura you're—" she paused in mid sentence.
Two sets of eyes deadlocked with those of the girl standing in the entrance. Her large blue eyes expanded at the sight before her. Her arm went rigid with nervousness. "Um…Bakura, who is this?" she breathed, clearly unsure whether or not she wanted to know the answer.
Neither boy moved, their faces matching masks of shock. Bakura's jaw twisted in sheer anger at his own mortification and fury at being caught in a position beyond his control. Ryou's face was the exact opposite: his hands flew to silence his surprised gasps. Tremors of horror racked his entire form unsure what to do, and horrified by it.
"Am I—" Mana asked, unsure how to voice the question.
"No!" Bakura said quickly and smacked his forehead. "Mana, this is Ange. Ange, this is Mana, my sister."
"N-Nice to make your acquaintance," Ryou offered a nervous, shaking hand.
Mana blinked then giggled and bounced over to him. "My, you're very polite." She shook his hand. "Don't be so nervous. Any friend of Bakura's is a friend of mine."
"Bakura?" Ryou turned to the man he knew as Esmeralda.
"My full name is Bakura Esmeralda," Bakura snorted and crossed his arms angrily. Ryou flashed a small, nervous smile. Bakura couldn't help but smile at the sight. "So, do I get to know your name now?"
Ryou giggled and brushed a stray bang aside. "Not yet." He winked.
"Uh," Mana interrupted. "I hate to interrupt, but Bakura you're on soon."
"Oh, of course." Ryou nodded and started to leave. "I'll see you both later," he waved.
"Remember," Bakura dashed after him, just before Ryou was about to disappear. "Meet me after the show! I want to see those acrobatics you bragged about."
"Will do!" Ryou laughed before vanishing back into the festivities.
Bakura turned around, only to meet the smirking, know-it-all face of his older sister.
"What?" Bakura asked suspiciously in a poor attempt to hide his embarrassment.
"You like him." Mana smiled.
"How do you know?" Bakura glared at her, feeling his cheeks burn.
Mana burst out laughing. "Because it's written all over your face!"
Ryou was blushing the entire way back to the festivities. Everything seemed dim and minimal compared to his encounter with the lovely silver-haired gypsy. He was still blushing and couldn't stop giggling. It was strange, he'd never felt so happy or nervous before. Maybe he should ask the Grigori when he got back. He doubted the Bishop would have any idea what was wrong with him.
He was thrown out of his musing by the throng of people stampeding towards the center stage of the plaza. Multiple, larger bodies banged against his sides, throwing him back and forth like a rag doll against whatever was in front or behind him. Eventually, his chest slammed against one of the plaza walls. Seeking shelter from the mob, Ryou pressed himself against the wall and looked over his shoulder to check his wings. The wires were bent slightly, but other than that, they looked fine. He waited for the crowd to simmer down. His eyes turned to the source of the crowd's excitement.
The Ringleader and a purple-haired man dressed in outrageous purple armor, danced in a circle surrounded by people who clapped and cheered. The Ringleader spun his long black and red staff around him like a baton and danced around it as if it were a dance partner. Next, he slammed it into the ground and flipped onto the stage. He landed in a crotch position. Rainbow streamers and polychromatic confetti exploded as he got to his feet.
"Lord Chaos!" The crowd cheered in pure delight.
Following him, the man in purple armor burst from the crowd. He jumped onto the stage as elegantly as a panther and began dancing so fast his feet barely touched the ground. His purple cloak and hair fanned around him like dark wings. When he stopped, an explosion of smoke and butterflies made of light burst behind him. The crowd went wild, chanting his name "Lord Mahado!"
When the smoke cleared, a third dancer, a blond girl who Ryou recognized as Mana, danced across the stage. She threw flowers behind her that popped and turned into birds. The crowd cheered in delight at such a spectacular trick.
The three of them danced together across different sections of the stage in a spiral of twists, turns and steps. Chaos rang bells hanging on the streamers and banged drums. Mahado threw spheres into the air that exploded into multi-colored puffs of smoke. Mana spun her baton, threw it in the air and caught it in her hand, before landing in a split. Ryou clapped his hands in pure delight.
Then, Chaos sang, "Join the thieves and mistresses, join the priests and gypsies. Everyone is free and wild at the Mardi Gras!"
Ryou gathered around the stage with the throng. Using his small size to his advantage, he wove through the crowd until he reached the front of the stage. His fingers sank into the wood in anticipation. His eyes bulged with childish wonder and pure amusement. He inhaled sharply and exhaled just as fast in gasps of stunned mystification. The dance, the tricks, the music, the magic, it was spectacular! The gypsies danced with pure freedom: unbound by laws or restrictions. They were free: free to dance, free to sing, free to be wild and play tricks and have fun and do what they wish without any fear of persecution. They were one with their universe. They were freedom itself.
Trapped in the spell of Mardi Gras, no one noticed the guards entering the clearing. White horses and men in black and silver armor escorted a heavy black iron carriage. The carriage stopped and Raphael opened the door. Two men stepped outside. The Bishop stepped out first, looking regal and commanding as ever, dressed in white clothing assented with gold crosses. Were it any other day, the people would be feared and awed by his presence, but not today. He strolled into the clearing, his face a neutral mask. He allowed Raphael to guide him to his seat: a makeshift throne showered by curtains where he had the best view of the spectacles. Behind him trailed Malik, still wearing his black and silver armor. His posture was the opposite his brothers: dictatorial and controlling. Aggravation poured into each stop of his boot as he followed Marik. He watched Marik sit down in the cautioned wooden throne and took a seat in the chair next to him, crossing his ankle elegantly over his knee and slouching back in his chair.
He growled, watching the cheering and happy faces of the lowly townsfolk and the gypsy dancers on stage. He instantly recognized two of them from earlier and his aggravation increased. "Why do you just sit on the sidelines, brother?" Malik asked, but the harsh tone of his voice made it sound like a demand.
Still, Marik decided to humor him. "The Mardi Gras is the one day of the year we're suppose to act out, yet all you do is sit here and watch everyone else enjoy themselves. That can't possibly be fun for you, so why do you do it?" Malik tried to mask the jealousy and anger of the party-goers in his voice but failed miserably. Marik could read the undertones as clearly as he read the Bible.
"For the same reason you want to be down there, indulging in such sinful behavior, my brother." Marik flashed a smile that curled at the corners. His sharp lavender eyes gazed upon the people, the colors, the sounds, the shouts, the cheers and the dancing. "The Mardi Gras is a necessary evil, like money and class systems. On the surface, it seems like a good idea, but it encourages sin and corruption. The Mardi Gras is the one day a year the people are free to break their restrictions and indulge in their earthly pleasures, following the sacrifice they've chosen for Lent. It gives them freedom, then they return to their lives of purity and fasting. I choose to remain away because I choose to…fast as you call it. I choose to be above normal humans and follow only the will of God." Marik turned to Malik with dark eyes. "Just as you wish to be down there, indulging in your old habits and follow only the whims of yourself, rather than, for once in your life, practice some restriction."
Malik growled angrily at him. "But it's Mardi Gras! The one day you're suppose to—"
"Did you not hear what I just said?" Marik exploded. The two brothers glared at the other, their matching eyes mirrored the others, filled with anger and hate. Marik pulled away first, regaining his composure. Malik said nothing and turned his eyes back to the festivities, deciding to make the most of his wasted time.
Then suddenly, the music stopped. The dancing ceased and the three performers landed on the ground in an arrow shape. Then Chaos rose like a shadow.
"And now…" He danced across the stage, swooping his long limbs in flowing motions like the shadow of the setting sun rolling across the land.
"Come one…" Chaos sang in a low, deep voice. He dragged out the words as he moved, creating a mysterious tension "Come all."
As if on cue, Mahad and Mana rose like blooming flowers and stepped backwards onto the stage. "Hurry, hurry, here's your chance…" Chaos sang in hushed mellows, dancing towards the Bishop and his brother.
The three magicians suddenly drew cloaks from nothing and wrapped them around their shoulders, covering everything but their eyes. They moved in sync, backwards and forwards, making welcoming motions with their hands.
"See the wonder, see the dance," Mahad threw his cloak over his shoulder, mimicking Chaos' mysterious tone. An atmosphere of well-kept secrets arose with each word.
"Come, see the mystery and enchant," Mana added, shaking her hips like a flower in the wind. The cloak wrapped tightly around her body, clinging to her curves.
"See the power and romance," Chaos added. He covered his face with the cloak, then moved it aside and spun around to emphasize the aura of mystery. The crowd pushed and shoved closer towards the stage. Ryou felt his chest compress when he was shoved against the heavy wood, but ignored it. He, like everyone else, kept his eyes glued to the spectacle before him, waiting with anticipation for the magnificence the magicians promised.
"Come one, come all," the three backed up until they were back to back in a circle. Together, they dropped their cloaks to their sides and moved to the left.
"See the most beautiful being in all of France!" Chaos boasted with a wink.
"See the one they call the King of Thieves! One look and he will steal your heart," Mahado continued. "One look in his eyes, one sound of his voice, one look upon him and you will be his and his alone. Never will you forget his face, forget his stare or forget his dance."
"Come see him sing, see move, see him make a spectacle to enchant."
"Welcome!" They chanted together, raising their arms and stretching their hands. Multicolored spheres glittered between their fingers. "The Bakura Es-me-al-da-!"
They dragged out the last syllable of his name, then with a loud "DA," they vanished.
No one saw their arms move, only explosions of purple, pink and blue smoke and they disappeared with the smoke they conjured. Then the smoke began to move. It swirled to the left, guided by a gust of wind. Then it shot upward, then to the left again. A figure spun around and the smoke retracted like snakes pooling at his feet.
A new figure joined the festivities. One arm was held straight above his head and the other parallel at his side. Batons, like twin silver blades, spiraled in his hands until he caught the handles in mid-air. He stood still and perfect as a statue, commanding the attention of all of Paris in a single instant. Even the Bishop broke his reserve and leaned forward.
Then he spun around and revealed his true form.
All restriction broke. All expressions and faces were ones of pure emotion and astonishment. But for Ryou, it was different. There, dancing with all the power and commandment of God himself and looking absolutely breathtaking, stood none other than the gypsy boy he'd met not two minutes earlier.
"Bakura Esmeralda." Ryou breathed.
Well, not as evil as my other chapters, but I still thought that was a good place to end it. Next chap will be all the fun stuff, and I guarantee, it will be NOTHING like you guys expect :evil grin:
As always, read, review, comment, critique and ask questions and if you feel the need to flame or hate it, don't be an ass, ans just say "It sucks" TELL ME WHY! I can't fix it if i don't know what's wrong!
Also again thanks for understanding why i need a break. I hope in the meantime you will enjoy my other fics. I will NO abandon this story or All I Ever Wanted, I just have to finish a few other things first. Thank God for long winter breaks!