Title: le tango de desperia
Summary: Because she lives on destruction of the heroic.
Pairing(s): MedusaMaka, Hints of SoulMaka
Author: Pippin!
For: Anon!
Comments: erm yeah, so this is my attempt at MedusaMaka...I think Fierce did better on hers but she posted it on her own profile so yeah...here's mine xD Hints of everything and slight manga spoilers, if you don't know who noah is DON'T read. (cookies if you guess what i was listening to xD)
Length: 940
Edit: In regards to my previous work (the SoulMaka, KidMaka) a lot of you are asking about the ambiguous background...if you want to do your own be my guest, please inform us beforehand though and make sure you disclaim where you got the idea from xD
Pretty people never lie, heroes should never die.
Maka's breathing is shallow, her palms are sweating and she wishes so desperately to wipe them on her skirt, to wipe away the atrocity of failure.
When the blood runs down her cheek it is as if she melts.
Medusa is amused, she can see it in the slight sway of her hips and the slight upturn of her grotesque lips.
"A kiss for the victor?" she goads, with a deft movement the woman overturns Maka's shaking hand a places a small kiss on her wrist, feeling the fluttering sensation of a life hammering beneath the spun glass.
A knot constricts in the girls throat and she attempts to swallow.
She can still feel that chaste gesture, even now, as it rocks its way through her soul. She will not forget this moment; she swears it a hundred times over.
--
When Maka is enraged and powerless she bites her lip, curls and gnaws at the flesh until it is too pink, raw and broken that not even a quick lick would stop the bleeding.
Stein reprimands her for impulsive actions, for disregard and sedition (hypocrite) she cannot help but begin to bite down as the scent of that woman clings to his body.
He pats her on the shoulder and twists her toward the door and in the solace Maka thinks about propriety until it is stalking her dreams.
--
When Maka looks at the mutilated remains of what was once a simple garden snake she cannot stop the gasp of horror that escapes her lips and the bitter tears that clog her shaking body make her want to scream all the more.
She draws back sharply, dropping the crude weapon.
No one says what they see, but Maka is terrified.
No one speaks but a part of her wishes someone would.
--
"I can make it go away," Maka stares at him; the light of day was only just beginning to fade giving the balcony a red-golden hue. For a second Kid's eyes look eons older, then a cloud passes over and the illusion is gone.
"How?" It takes her a while to say, her worried face is carved deep into her skin and as she stares into the painted eyes of the angel she realizes deep down she knows exactly how.
Almost tiredly Kid leans toward her, a takes her wrist gently in his chilled hands and ran a thumb over the burnt spot on her flesh.
"I can make you forget…" her muscles tense almost undetectably but this is Kid, and Kid see's everything. He takes her in his arms in a way that was reminiscent of her mother, cradling her loosely against his chest and his heartbeat is so slow and impossible to detect.
"Did you want to?" She whispers against his chest, his arms tighten for just a second, smiling wryly he lets her go with an expression she does not quite understand etched on his very soul.
"Perhaps," he says after a time, pretending to smile and think about his answer – staring into the distance as nostalgia ensnares his frame, dunking him deep into the memories he refused to divulge.
Her fingers wind through one another, her palms are surprisingly cold.
"2 months in that book," he eventually tells to them both, "2 months I would have spent no other way."
He shuts the door and goes, taking the light with him.
--
When Maka brings apples home from the grocers Soul makes a condescending noise in the back of his throat and fails not to flinch as the juice runs down her chin.
She is paler now, smaller – almost sunken in and as the boy runs a hand across her forehead he regrets not being strong enough to help her, she is sort of – blank. Empty. And she won't get out of bed when he tries to wake her up.
"Soul…" she croaks, a small and silent sob welling in her throat when she is able to shuffle, pitifully, into the kitchen. He takes her in his arms and nurses her, for it is all he knows how to do.
She sounds wrong, sick.
Dry tears make more stains on his jacket and all the boy can do is pick up the pieces…
--
It takes Black Star a week to track down the witch, 3 days for Kid to corner her and 20 minutes for Soul to get her to talk.
"Please," he growls, "please, she's broken and you need to fix her-" the witch laughs, loudly and cruelly and whispers in her ear, with his blade crushed against her neck.
"I don't fix people, me – with the broken heart?" she is mocking them, his human hand tightens around her shirt and for a second he considers ending the problem with a fountain of red.
He doesn't really remember running, he can recall Kid finally making him stop.
--
Maka's ears are throbbing; the pain of her locked jaw is overpowering and reminding her of what is keeping her human.
"Why did you come for me Maka?" Why are you so weak?
She traces the outlines of her own bones in her shaking hands with terrified eyes and tries not to scream. The sudden silence is different, smothering – if Maka could formulate a coherent sound it would be shrieking.
The world waits, Medusa grins and Maka pries her hands from the metal of her partner, not looking back as Soul breaks.
You win…
--