A/N: Hey, so it's been a pretty long time. I'm really sorry for not updating the fanfic sooner, but if I have to be completly honest, I didn't really feel like continuing it. Because of a bunch of reasons, actually, personal ones and others not so much. But whatever. I had a conversation today that kinda pushed me to keep writing it, so expect more frequent chapters from now on, just like before!
I just hope you still want to read it.
Also, I apologize if this chapter is shorter than the rest. But I wanted it to be like a transition chapter, so that in the next one I can have more stuff going on.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and keep supporting this chapter like you had before!
Enjoy!
I do not own Elsword nor the characters blabla.
Quiet sobs filled the air that chilly night, every other sound seeming to mute itself to let the sorrowful man cry in peace. The image of the collected gentleman shattering in front of her eyes, leaving place to a mere desperate soul struggling against itself, a heavy weight crushing its spirit. She felt the tremor of his body against hers, the warm tears wetting her skin and his distress shaking her from the bones.
Ara held him in her arms with gentle touch, not fearing the dangerous proximity of his fangs to her own flesh, welcoming him, offering her warmth. She moved down slowly, taking him with her until they were kneeling on the stone ground and embraced him strongly, providing the refuge he needed. She let him cry; knowing already that the deep anguish came from within himself and all she could do was to be there and be his witness. Whichever part of him came to be the winner of that battle depended solely on the broken man between her arms.
So she waited patiently, not asking any questions, awaiting for the conqueror to reach the surface and present itself. Soon enough the quietness of his body and the vague trace of lonesome sobs gave away the answer, telling her that the ravenous beast had retreated for now.
"Have you calmed down?" she asked him finally after the silence had settled between them once more and the sobbing sounds were no more than a sad memory. He moved away slowly, keeping his face down until the remaining tears on his cheeks were removed, using his sleeve.
"How pathetic was that" he spoke huskily and a quiet snicker escaped his lips.
"Just a little" she replied with a mocking tone, an eyebrow arched and a sided smile twisting her mouth just slightly. She stood up, patting the dust out of her clothes before grabbing the spear once more. "As much as it pains me to leave you in this condition, I'd say it's time for you to go. I cannot comply to your petition, and you know it. That was never part of the deal" she clarified once the man had stood up as well.
The look he gave her at that moment was an intense, penetrating one. There wasn't any readable expression showing on his face more than a deep seriousness, but she wasn't going to back up this time. If she started to satisfy every little whim of him who knows what could happen to her in the future. Just a well calculated, measured trust could ensure the success of their compromise.
He walked past her without a word, only after letting his gaze weight over her for a full second, his slim figure disappearing into the shadows grimly. She stared in the direction he had left for a minute, as if the trace of his presence could still be perceptible in that deep darkness. And maybe it was to Ara, as an image, as a smell, as the pounding of her throbbing heart. Every new encounter being just as brief, a sudden and fleeting moment of an enormous intensity that lingered in her chest for much longer than the minutes they shared, as if their relationship relied more on memories and pending emotions than any actual, tangible contact.
But she had to keep going. No matter how much her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest or how her skin burned in the places she had received his body, there was a duty she had to fulfill without distractions. So she kept walking through her assigned path, attentive to any noise or sight that could show a sign of any danger, following the route from up the ceilings of the town, scrutinizing the night displayed in front of her. Soon enough, the sounds of deep growls determined her task, and she followed the noises precisely, running across the roofs with light and silent steps.
She reached the principal square, the central point of the town marked by a big, majestic fountain built up with stones as the biggest place of reunion for the villagers. Its darkness was only disturbed by the dim light of the lanterns placed in a circular disposition around the fountain. There she could see the sculpted stone stained with blood, the water tainted by a dark red, and the lower part of a human body hanging from its edge, a big group of grey skinned demons feasting savagely on the remains of the murdered, splashing blood over the ground. Gripping the hold of her spear tightly she charged towards the creatures at full speed, her brows furrowed and the hatred shining brightly in her eyes.
Her spear pierced through the torso of one of them with incredible strength, its body impaled by the middle of the shaft. The rest of the group started screaming fiercely at her, showing blood-bathed fangs threateningly, high pitched shrieks filling the air. She moved swiftly, not minding the new weight added to the handling of her weapon, using the sharp edge of her spear to slash their bodies, tearing them open, mutilating them, cutting their heads or picking them up with the tip of the blade and smashing them against the ground over and over again, a black liquid splattering all over the place, contaminating the once clear water of the fountain.
She fought restlessly and fiercely until the demons were reduced to mere residues, their disgusting flesh scattered around the central square as dirty stains of black and grey showering the cold stone. Supporting her spear on the ground Ara pushed the dead body of one of the demons with her foot, making it slide down the shaft with a creaky sound, a trace of blood forming as it was moved down until reaching the ground. She used the edge of her clothes to clean up the dark stains left on the holder of her spear, attentive to any noise that could resonate through the night, ready to attack once again if needed.
But nothing else happened; only silence filled the atmosphere and the putrid smell of fast decomposing flesh was the only thing she could perceive at that point, the nauseating odor filling up her lungs. She felt disappointed. The rush of the killing spree was making her veins pump under her skin with adrenaline, her fingers itching with anxiety. She was accelerated, almost possessed with that smell and the hot blood and the melting flesh, her stomach contorting inside of her with the invigorating pain of a deep hatred.
Ara let her breathing calm down slowly as she stood in the middle of the plaza, staring absently at the blood covered ground under her feet. Several images came rushing through her mind, memories of loss, pain and betrayal flooded her head with overwhelming sounds and loathsome sights of past days. She felt her blood boil inside of her and her limbs shake with a deep anger, desires of revenge and the long awaited closure.
When she went back to the mansion there was no sign of disturbance in her mien, just a serious and composed expression hardening her beautifully featured face. Only the silence and quietness of the big house welcomed her that night, and this time she didn't bother figuring out where her comrades could be or what they could be doing, none of that really mattered. Surely, some of them were still fighting out there, some might even be already asleep. She went straight up to her room instead, stripping out of her dirty clothes as soon as the door closed behind her, leaving a trail of laundry behind her on her way to the private bathroom. She was going to wash that disgusting blood out of her skin, even if it meant that she had to scratch her skin out in order to make it disappear. Ara waited until the hot water filled the bathtub entirely before immersing her body inside, the water quickly adopting a grayish tone as it mixed with the remains of blood.
Pressing her upper body tightly against her thighs she hugged herself, bringing the knees to her chest. Her fingers caressed the skin of the arm delicately, moving up until they had reached the neck. She discovered once again the two single marks, poking them and feeling them up softly with the tip of her fingers, as if it helped her remember, recreate. The wounds burned under her touch as if they were alive and throbbing, those sensations were still clear to her.
With her eyes closed she evoked a single image, a single face. Her chest tightened.
A/N: So, in regards of the last reviews I received, I wanted to point out a few things.
If you want to read it as if it was Sakra Devanam the protagonist instead of YamaRaja, go ahead, of course you're free to do so. But I still hold my position about my interpretation of YR. I've had this discussion before and honestly I don't want to have it once again. Your perspective is valid and I respect it, but let me kindly disagree with it.
On another note, this is, of course, a fictional story. Vampires don't exist, demons don't exist, people with magic powers (like Aisha) don't exist and so on. So you shouldn't expect me to apply real life rules to this story exactly as they exist in the real world. All that is said inside of this story is with the sole purpose of making and giving sense and purpose to it. Again, I respect your opinion and I completly understand the point you had mentioned. But I never intended this story to be perfectly realist.
Anyway, I apologize once again for not updating and hope to still count with your support!
Your opinions and feedback are encouraged and very much appreciated. If you would like to discuss something with me over inbox i would also be glad to read you there.
Hope you enjoyed.
Until next time.