~Silence Is Easy~

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Hawk
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~Silence Is Easy~ Mar 26, 2010 20:37:34 GMT -6

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Post by Hawk on Mar 26, 2010 20:37:34 GMT -6

Right, well, my music prompts were eating the general music prompt section. And they seem to be mainly what I write, so it didn't really seem fair to keep spamming the general one with all of my character unloading.

Soooo, I'm just going to put all my prompts here in their own little thread! It's mainly just snippets about my characters, so if that doesn't interest you, feel free to ignore it as you please~

Last Edit: Mar 26, 2010 21:04:39 GMT -6 by Hawk

[[OHMIGAWDLONGPOSTISLONG. I only like some of these. For various reasons. But I was at a cabin that didn’t even have cell reception all weekend, so here’s what happens when all I have is a laptop with no internet. Read at your own risk, because editing was minimal. And some of them are written really weird. *various other complaints about own writing* Also, my apologies to the Music Prompts page in general, for making it absurdly long. X3;;]]

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Song: Absolutely Zero
Artist: Jason Mraz

“I’m not afraid, you know.”

The words startled Suzaku. They’d been at the pond's edge for over an hour now, Lelouch sitting on the stairs below him, and him standing above. Just staring out at the water, thinking. They did a lot of that now; silent contemplation, just being in each other’s company. It was oddly comfortable. Not in the same way that it used to be before…everything. They could never be like that again, and both knew it. But the ghost of comfort remained, maybe because each was the only one who finally knew everything about the other.

Various responses, each driven by a different emotion, came to mind. He settled on, “My job as your knight is to protect you.” Even tone, no real facial expression. Feigning ignorance. Seemed like the safest course of action.

A quiet huff of amusement met his ears in response, followed by, “You know what I’m talking about, Suzaku.” His voice had none of the grandeur that infused it when he was acting as Emperor. None of that Zero-esque flair that could demand the obedience of thousands with a few words. It was just… Lelouch: quiet, straightforward, still too smart for his own damn good, but not quite as smug about it.

“The Requiem?” he obligingly responded.

Lelouch gave an approving hum in response. “The Zero Requiem…” He practically caressed the words as he spoke them, falling from his lips with something akin to affection.

Suzaku would’ve left it there. Was tempted to, because anything surrounding Zero was a subject that was best left alone between the two of them. Too many bad memories. But, that tone…

“Why?” The question was overly vague, but Suzaku had become a man of few words over the last few months. Words never changed anything. Actions did. If there was one thing he’d learned in the past year, it was that.

But the question didn’t confuse Lelouch in the least. Even as Suzaku continued to stare out at the water, he could feel the violet eyes of the man he now served weighing on him, assessing him. “I wonder if you could understand.”

The sentence hit Suzaku as belittling, whether or not it was meant to. He could feel his lips dip just a bit as the smallest of frowns worked its way onto his face. But just as quick as it appeared, Lelouch was making that same little amused sound he had earlier. “It’s not a matter of your intelligence, or of secrets that I’m unwilling to tell, so you can stop being offended,” he said, amusement coloring his voice for a moment, only to fade straight back into seriousness. “I just meant that you, with your ability to flit from mission to mission as the need arises, might not be able to understand the feeling of being at the cusp of completing a lifelong goal.”

And it was true, Suzaku didn’t really understand. He’d entered into this agreement with a sense of obligation, and only because he had firm knowledge that there was no other way for this to end well. The Zero Requiem, to him, was just filled with endings. The end of overlording Britannia. The end of the Black Knights. The end of his revenge. The end of Suzaku Kururugi. And the end of Lelouch, in all forms.

So, he just stood there silently, staring out at the water, waiting for Lelouch to continue. He wasn’t a man of few words, especially when he started talking. And now was no exception, as picked up just as if Suzaku had responded. “I always wanted to crush Britannia. You’re one of the few who know how badly. And now, after all my work, now…”

Suzaku shifted his gaze to rest the full weight of it on Lelouch as he asked, “Was it worth it?” The question was infused with bitterness, but Suzaku couldn’t help but ask it. That dream of Lelouch’s had cost them. Oh, how it had cost them. If he’d had that damned power of Lelouch’s, he would’ve used it to wipe that wish from his memory a long time ago, and they would’ve all lived the better for it.

The words seemed to have a tiring effect on the man. His natural aura of regality seemed to fade as he leaned further in on himself, resting crossed arms on his legs to support himself. “…I don’t know.” That must have been hard for him to say, because Lelouch prided himself on knowing things. “But I do know that I can’t change the past, and so my focus goes to changing the future. The Requiem marks a new start.”

Just like Lelouch, to see a beginning where Suzaku saw an ending. They never could see eye to eye on anything. “And the Requiem’s worth it?” He posed this question more hesitantly, voice only a step above a whisper as he said it. And he almost thought Lelouch hadn’t heard it, he was silent for so long after. But, just when he’d resigned himself to getting no answer, one came.

“I set out to slay a demon, and in doing so became the devil himself. And now, all I have to do to complete my mission is pay the ultimate price.” The irony in it might have made Suzaku laugh, were it not so painfully true. Lelouch was apparently stronger than him, because he did, just the slightest bit. And then he turned to catch Suzaku’s eye, purple irises gleaming with amusement and resignation and sadness and so many other emotions, but still clear as his convictions. “So, to answer your earlier question, you tell me, Suzaku, how could I be afraid of a sentence that I’ve unknowingly given myself since I was a child?”

He didn’t have a response for that. Just stared right back, silent, until Lelouch gave him a small grin, and then nodded before turning back to gaze at the calm waters once again. And it struck Suzaku again, as it had over and over again in the last month, that when it came down to it, the man sitting with him wasn’t Zero, and he wasn’t the Emperor of Britannia. He was just Lelouch. Just a young man who’d taken on too much, and grown up too fast. Both of them had. And now, they were paying the price.

Still silent as the grave, he stepped forward, rested a hand on Lelouch’s shoulder. It was all he could manage to do, still too torn between too many emotions involving Lelouch to do anything more. But he’d still felt obliged to do something. Words didn’t change anything, but actions did. Suzaku’s one lesson learned. ‘I don’t blame you.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I’ll miss you.’ Suzaku didn’t have enough conviction behind any of those statements to say them, but he hoped the half-thoughts at least were conveyed through the supportive gesture.

And, though Lelouch spoke no more words as they both stared out unseeingly, the hand that reached up to cover his said one last thing, calmly and as clear as day:

‘Thank you.’

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Song: Sleep
Artist: My Chemical Romance

In his many years of roaming the earth, Aeschylus had found many things about people to envy. Much more to abhor, might he add, but abhorring had become a skill of his. That aside, the one thing that he envied the most was their ability to sleep.

God, what he wouldn’t give to just sleep.

The damned secondhand creations were given this ability to black out when they were miserable, to take a step out of life, and all without actually having to permanently give it up. Then again, his Father had always liked the humans better, so it wasn’t that hard to believe that He’d given them yet another blessing.

And, what killed him most is that humans could do this wondering thing called dream. If he could fall asleep and have the possibility of seeing her, of seeing them, alive and moving, smiling and happy, running along in the grass and carefree with no idea what was about to happen to them—

Oh, how the humans had no idea what they had. And how he would continue to tear himself to pieces during the long nights, because he would never have what they took for granted.

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Song: Sweet Child O’ Mine
Artist: Guns ‘N Roses

“So, how’s Precocious, LiLi?”

Laeli had to work to keep himself from chuckling at the nickname, instead aiming a stern, if not amused look at his sister. “Must you really insist on calling him that, Liani?”

The woman in question just returned the look in kind, albeit with more amusement than sternness, before turning back to the oven. Hands busy chopping away at red onions as her tail was at work stirring the beginnings of a sauce on the stove, she answered, “Sister’s rights. I’m allowed to call whoever stole your attention away from me by whatever name I want.” Lifting the hot ladle to wave at him mock-threateningly, she added, “And there’s nothing you can do about it, Li~”

“Care to wager a bet on that?” he mumbled, but it wasn’t a serious threat, and they both knew it. Instead, he put a hand on the most conveniently placed kitchen chair, flipping it backwards and sitting down in it. “…He’s just as good as he always is, I’d think.” Just watching her cook made him smile. Limbs all on the move, doing as many things as she could, all at once. It was the exact opposite of his lazy nature. Or the perfect complement, as they’d learned growing up.

“’I’d think?’ You mean you aren’t spending every waking moment with him anymore?” It was said teasingly, and came with another smile shot over her shoulder. “Gotten over the honeymoon stage, then?” Setting aside the knife, she took the couple steps to close the distance between them, and reached up to tug on one of his perfectly-positioned blue spikes of hair. “Or maybe he got too tired of your excessive laziness with anything but hair care to keep dealing with you?”

Laughing, he caught the offending hand with one of his own, bringing the other up to tug on one of her many braids, all of which had been woven together with what was obviously painstaking care. “As if you happen to be one to talk.”

Spinning out of his grip, she mocked offense this time. “-I- am a girl, I’ll have you know. Girls are allowed to spend hours on their hair.” Foreseeing the argument he was about to put forth, probably literally since she was just as psychic as he, she added, “And no, having a boyfriend doesn’t earn you a special exception. Or at least not much of one.” Tail already slipping back to adjust the temperature on the stove, she turned back to pick up the onions and throw them into the simmering pan. “And besides, you know you like my hair like this.”

He couldn’t deny that. “It is very pretty, Ani.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at the praise. Placing a lid on the saucepan and setting it to a low, she finally took a minute to stop all the hustle and bustle, and just lean against the counter. “I did learn from the best, after all.”

After weighing the statement, and his sister’s smug face, he chose to say, “Sorry to undermine the latest in your myriad insults, but I take that as a compliment. Mainly because I learned from mom.” And it was true, every bit of his hair vanity had come from her. She’d loved taking a few hair clips and a bottle of hairspray into her hands, and coming out an hour later with some complex-but-beautiful style. Even now, she’d take any opportunity she could to have something done with it, often asking Kiani, and especially Laeli whenever he visited, to play with her hair as they talked. “She’s doing fine, I take it?”

“Mmhmm, just a bit on the tired side this week. Nothing out of the ordinary. You should bring dinner up to her though, because I’m sure she’d just love some alone time with you.” Letting loose a few giggles, she added, “And you can recount her with tales of Precocious. Which I’ve almost gotten her to call him herself, might I add~”

Rolling his eyes, he resisted the urge to comment. She had to get into a relationship at some point, and he would make her regret her behavior when that time came around. Until then, he would just have to content himself with playing the distraction card, and the sauce seemed as perfect a one as any, so he pointed at it, saying, “It’s going to burn if you leave it any longer, Ani.”

“You always say that, Li, and it always turns out just fine whenever I decide to take it off the burner.” Such a smug little sister. But, while she left the sauce, she had obviously reached her relaxing limit. Brother-teasing abandoned for the minute, she went back to starting dishwater, and pulling out a loaf of bread, and any other dinner work she could manage to simultaneously start. Where she got the energy, he would never know.

After a few minutes of silent observation, he tossed out, “So, when are you going to find yourself a boy that I can give ridiculous nicknames and tease you to death about?”

With a wink, her only response was, “As soon as you find someone that can keep up with me~” And as he watched her, with her tail dropping pasta into water he hadn’t even seen put up to boil, while one hand stirred a sauce that really did smell like perfection and the other pulled three plates out of the cabinet…

There was one thing he was pretty sure of as he walked over to drape himself over his sister, much to her insincere protests: His revenge would be a long time coming.

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Song: Edge of Desire
Artist: John Mayer

The last night, there were no words.

They simply lay on one bed, both still in the dressings of their false positions. Lelouch had his head on the pillows, and Suzaku with his on the foot of the bed. It was as if they were some twisted human version of a yin yang, not quite matching, but still met up in some odd way. Emperor and knight. Killer and victim. Best friends and worst enemies.

And maybe the air was thick with words unspoken. Maybe the only reason they were both staring calmly at the ceiling was because if they tried to do anything else, anything at all, the world as either knew it would fall apart even more than it already had, to the point where it could never be repaired. Maybe there was anger. Maybe there was fear. And maybe there was bone-deep regret, of the kind that would swallow a lesser man whole.

But, these were not lesser men.

And so, they laid there. And they stared. And they counted the minutes, because they were quickly becoming much too few, and much too precious.

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Songs: Ungodly Hour and Goodbye
Artist: The Fray and Secondhand Serenade, respectively

“…You have a place to go, yes?” He’d been keeping quiet for the last hour, giving Anna space to pack up her things, helping by grabbing things stashed away in other parts of the small apartment. Trying to stay supportive even as he could feel himself falling apart. But now all her bags were in the hallway, and she was about to leave, and he just… Well, the truth was he was speaking before he’d really even thought through the reason why.

She’d paused at the words, just a couple seconds, before she was back to stacking her last few bags outside the apartment. “Hannah offered to give me a room for a couple days, just until I could find a place of my own.” The words were quiet, measured, nothing like Anna. Even from where he was standing, ten or so feet away, he could see the slight shake of her hands. And oh, how he wished he could do anything that wouldn’t make it worse.

Pushing a ghost of his true grin onto his face for her benefit, he murmured as comfortingly as he could, “That’s good, I’m sure she’ll take care of you.” He realized belatedly that his feet had begun to carry him closer to her of their own volition, body aching to comfort her even as his mind knew that was impossible. So he stopped himself, and instead leaned against the wall as casually as he could manage. He even wrapped his arms around himself to keep them from any stray movement. And maybe to comfort himself just the tiniest bit as well.

A couple broken sounds that were probably supposed to be chuckles, and she responded, “You know I’ve never needed to be taken care of.”

His couple quiet laughs in response probably sounded only a shade more genuine. He managed to say, “So you keep saying. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”

He blinked as he realized his mistake only a minute later, false grin fading even more as he amended, “Would’ve stopped trying. Doesn’t mean I would’ve stopped…” Belial let the sentence trail off, too pained by the words to continue.

And obviously Anna was too, if her lack of response was any sign. She just continued to fiddle with her bags, slipping a lipstick into one pocket, a book into another, all the while her small hands just continuing to shake…

“I’ll send along anything that you’ve forgotten, so you don’t need to worry…” ‘About me,’ he wanted to add, but he wasn’t sure if that would make her feel better, or just hurt her more. But, the way she practically flinched at the phrase made him think that she’d caught his implications nonetheless.

But, all she said out loud was a quick, “Thank you.” Then, after one last assessment of her pile of bags, she added in an even quieter tone, “Well, that should be everything, then…” She wasn’t moving, though. Just standing, still as stone and facing the doorway. And she felt so – so broken…

“Anna…” Just that one word was all he let escape him. But, even to his ears, it sounded so miserable. And obviously to Anna as well, because her stone façade cracked in on itself, shoulders hunching in as she lost the battle with trying to stay composed. But, even then, she didn’t turn back to him at all, didn’t change her mind. That was how he knew she was firm in her choice, even as she was being torn apart by it. It reminded him of when he’d first met her, and some distant part of him that wasn’t crushed with despair respected that strength she’d never lose.

“I’m so – so sorry, Belial…” The whisper was thick with tears that were only barely restrained, and her pure sheer want for so many things – for the two of them to be able to stay together, for things to be fixable, for him to be normal, and even just for Belial himself – was slamming into him in waves. It was enough to drown in, so much that he practically couldn’t breathe.

But, he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let it end like this. And so, he closed the distance between them, and hugged her. Not one that was too tight, just the hug you’d give a friend that was going away. And he pushed that false grin onto his face, and he said, “Ssssh, don’t you worry about me, Anna. I’ll be fine, always am.” Not the truth, but the lie would be his last gift to her, something to lighten the heavy load of emotional baggage he was sending her away with already.

She just shook her head, and turned just enough to look him in the eye for the first time in their long exchange. Then, tears slipping down her face, she reached up and cradled his cheek lightly, meanwhile rising up on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “You take care of yourself, you hear me?” she whispered while still holding his face, voice so stern and fiercely protective for how choked up it was with tears. “And you never forget that even if I can’t be with you, I will always love you. No matter what.”

He wished he had the strength to say something back. But, it was all he could manage just to hold back on asking her to stay. If she could just stay… Eyes closing because he couldn’t manage to meet hers anymore, he brought his forehead down to rest against hers, just for a few seconds, and no more. One last comfort. Then he loosened his arms, stepped back. And he managed to give her one final smile to send her out the door.

And then she was gone, and he was left with only a heartbroken “Goodbye” and those last memories as he slid brokenly to the floor.

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Song: Sunshine
Artist: The All-American Rejects

For reasons Luke couldn’t begin to understand, every inch always had to be a battle where Asch was involved.

“You have a hole through your chest, for Yulia’s sake! Can we just put off the whole, ‘You’re a dreck,’ ‘Yeah, well, you’re a jerk,’ thing until after I’ve put some bandages on it?” Face a portrait of exasperation, he added, “Then you can go ahead and insult me to your heart’s content.”

But still, the sword didn’t lower.

Luke’s only response was to cross his arms and give the stubborn man a sour look, all-too-ready to be petulant back. If Luke was good at anything, it was being petulant. Especially when he was annoyed. “Is this about me being your replica? Because I get it, you’re the real Luke, and I’m just a failure of a stand-in, so—“

“I am not Luke! Not anymore!” Luke was pretty sure Asch was trying to scare him into shutting up, but the tired slur his words had gained, probably earned through pointless blood loss over the last few minutes, miraculously underscored any inklings of fear.

Trying for patience, something Luke definitely didn’t possess, he tried to stay calm as he said, “Okay, fine, not Luke. Whatever.” Cocking a hip, he aimed a why are you so stupid look at Asch. “Honestly, I don’t care if you want to call yourself Dirt at the moment, so long as you just let me take care of that injury.”

For a minute, he almost thought that Asch was going to continue on in his pointless battle of who-can-be-more-persistent-even-though-I’m-the-only-one-bleeding-all-over-the-snow. But then, the sword slowly started to come down. Luke wasn’t sure if Asch actually wanted it to or not, but it was enough of an opening that he decided to take it.

The only thanks he got, as he slipped an arm around Asch’s back and started to help him move towards the nearest hotel, was a begrudging, “Stupid replica…”

He’d found himself smiling just the smallest bit in response. Some things never changed.

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Song: Irvine
Artist: Kelly Clarkson

Pheia’d tried to end it all once.

It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, all violent and overdramatic. He had been seven, and hadn’t even understood the idea of things coming to an end. But he’d been at home alone again, for the god-knows-what-th day. And he had been sad. And it hurt.

Now, he’d known the cold made you numb. Not that he knew what numb meant either. Just knew that it took the feelings away. Made it like his fingers weren’t there, or his nose, or his ears. And so, his childish mind concluded, it could eventually make it be the same way with his heart. And even though he knew cold could do bad things when it made you numb, he didn’t understand that an end was forever.

And so, he’d reached up and pulled open the back door to his small house. His little ears cringed back the moment the cold air hit his face, and he was tempted to do the same. But, as nice as the heat was, it didn’t help with the hurt. So, he’d pulled on his beaten pair of little-kid sneakers and his threadbare jacket, and trudged outside. Sank to the ground. And then laid back, and just… stared. Stared at the sky, and its cloudy greyness.

The shivers started to overtake him after only a couple minutes. One second he’d be fine, and then the next he’d be shaking like crazy. He could feel the water starting to seep through his jeans, and soak into his hair. More like liquid ice, because it was so cold. But that’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? Cold, to numb everything away…

He’d held onto that thought to keep himself out there, down in the snow. Couldn’t quite keep himself from turning onto his side and curling into a ball, but it didn’t make much difference anyway, past to get some control over the shivers. And it was more comforting that way, like he was just taking a nap in the cold.

It felt even more like that a few minutes later. The shivers had mostly gone away, which was good. Made it even more easy to stay out there. And besides, he couldn’t even feel his feet and hands move anymore. That was a good sign, right? If he could just stay out there a little longer, just get a little bit colder, then maybe…

But, see, the other side to being a kid is that you don’t have a very strong will. Or, at least Phe didn’t, because around the time when his face was beyond the tingling stage, his body had started to ache from the cold. Ache all over, especially when the more and more infrequent shivers had racked his body. Damned if he didn’t want to reach that all-over numbness, but the cold hurt him. He didn’t realize that would happen. And even though the pain in his heart hurt him more, he couldn’t do anything about that. He’d ended up in a kid’s version of a battle of wills, and he’d never had a very strong will.

Mental battle lost, he’d ended up abandoning his plans in favor of crawling back inside. Even as he went, he was already crying. So weak, so pathetic. And so alone. He’d wished he was stronger back then, that he could’ve just made it through those last few minutes or so where he’d black out into a lack of feeling.

And even now, he sometimes still wished the exact same thing.

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Song: All We Ever Do is Say Goodbye
Artist: John Mayer

“I… don’t think this is going to work out.”

---

“It’s just… some time apart, mmkay? I just need some space…”

---

“GET OUT!”

---

“If you didn’t love me, all you had to do is say so.”

---

“If you won’t leave, then I will!”

---

“…I’m sorry, Belial.”

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Song: Absolutely Zero
Artist: Jason Mraz

Balance the percentage that Milly had promised to the Equine Club with the dollars that could be skimmed off the top of the Newspaper Committee’s budget, and then carry over what’s left into the stored money for the festival that hadn’t been planned yet, but was bound to occur…

Sighing, Lelouch lifted pen from paper to tap it against his lip thoughtfully. The numbers just weren’t coming out as they should. A problem with his math, maybe? Or perhaps he had made a mistake in copying down the principal amounts? Setting the writing utensil to the side with parallel precision in relation to the paper he’d been making notes on, he began flipping through pages in the book sitting at his side, checking various accounting records made by the Student Council over the last year.

After a few minutes of flipping, he found his answer. In copying over the spending for the last council party, he’d incidentally slid the decimal point over an extra place, adding an extra zero into the dollar total instead of having it in the change where it belonged.

A zero. Of course that would be the culprit, the cause of his mathematical issues. As he lifted his pen once again to write out his mistake, he couldn’t resist letting out a couple silent chuckles at the coincidence. Zero, bested by a zero.

But, the humor was quick to drain from his face as his mind began to wander, fingers tallying up new totals and carrying new numbers of their own accord. It really was ridiculous for him to be bested at zeroes. He’d become the master of them, and not just in title. His life was made up of zeroes now, almost as if giving himself the name had been some kind of twisted curse. Zero homework assignments turned in since he began his work with the Black Knights. Zero food eaten in at least a day now, because there just hadn’t been time. Zero words exchanged with Nunnally in days, because he’d been home after she was asleep and out the door before she’d even woken up. Zero sleep, zero time, zero personal space.

Zero honesty.

Zero real friends.

Almost as if mocking him, the balance sheet he’d been working through now balanced perfectly evenly. With not a cent extra or lacking, the total to be written in at the bottom was… Drawing in the number that seemed to define is life now, he couldn’t hold back a second wave of dark humor. This time, the chuckles left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Zero he was indeed.

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Song: Another Lesson in Love
Artist: Danger Radio

3:21 in the afternoon. That made it, what, 5:21am in China? Daiyu let his head slip down to the kitchen table, eyes closing as he tried to damp down the urge to just call anyway. It wasn’t like anyone in his home would fault him for it. But, he also had no respectable reason for the early call…

Bringing the hand currently cradling the phone up to table level, he pressed a side button on it to light up the display. He’d had the phone in his hand for the last hour, just counting the minutes. And, sure enough, when he tilted his head to the side just enough to see the screen, it read 3:22. Only one more minute had passed. Groaning, he set the phone down on the table for a moment, and rested his arms on the table too. Wished time would speed up already.

He didn’t know what had brought it on this time. Maybe it was just that he hadn’t worked a job in the last week or so. Or that he hadn’t had anyone over to the apartment. Or maybe it was the detour through Chinatown that he’d taken on the way home a couple weeks back finally catching up with him. Whatever the reason, he just felt… needy. It was a recurrent thing, something he’d had ever since he was a kid. One minute, he’d be playing with his ball in the garden, and the next he’d be feeling like he couldn’t breathe, and running off to find his parents. His mom’d used to tease him, saying in her delicate voice, “Your heart’s just too big for your head to handle sometimes, right my little cub?”

But, it was one thing to be that way when you were a kid. It was an entirely different thing to handle as an adult. Blindly reaching for the phone again, he pulled it into the sanctuary of darkness he’d created on the table between his arms and head. 3:26. Still too early. Daiyu released a little whine in protest, happy there was nobody around to hear it. And also unhappy, because he was just killing for company.

But, he didn’t want to play the dance-around-the-truth game he had to play with all of the normal friends he’d made over the last few months. Hiding a tail was tricky business when you were just killing for a hug. And those that did know probably wouldn’t be in the mood to deal with him when he was like this…

3:28. He hit the phone into the table once, in a display that he would openly admit was childish. Really, what he needed now was the people that would just understand. Most of the time, his family felt practically stifling with all their doting. That was why he’d struck out on his own, only letting his parents pay for the roof over his head, and making the rest of the way himself. But now, he just needed a little bit of that coddling – just a few minutes. His mom would know just what to say, and he’d feel a little better just hearing her voice, and then everything would be better.

Sure that it’d been at least a minute, he slid the abused phone back into his arm-cave. And was startled a second later when it started to ring right in his face just before he’d checked the time. Ears and mind all out of whack from the surprise, it took him a couple seconds to register that he should probably consider actually answering it. And then another couple seconds to get over the surprise of who the caller ID said was on the other line. Hitting the button to pick it up with an expression that was somewhere between incredulous and hopeful, he answered with a small, “Hello?”

“Hello, my little cub,” rang through the phone in Chinese, with the same delicate voice that he knew almost as well as his own. It made him almost tear up, he was so happy to hear it.

“Hey, mom,” he responded, slipping with ease into Chinese as well.

“I hadn’t heard from you in a few days, and wanted to know if something was wrong. And it obviously is, so you tell your mom what it is and what I can do to fix it before I force it out of you.” How moms always knew these things, he’d never know. But he was too grateful for it right now to question it.

Already feeling a bit better, he slipped back to lounge more comfortably in his chair. And couldn’t help the grin that was already slowly starting to return to his face as he worked out a gracious, “Thanks, mom,” even as he thanked the universe that even if he lost everything else, he’d always have a family who loved him to fall back on for support.

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Song: I’ll Be
Artist: Edwin McCain

Every person that was magic by nature had an element they were tied to. It wasn’t something that they could choose, but something that was a part of them, just as much as the color of their skin or shape of their face. And, if they were properly trained, there came a point where person and element just – snap – clicked into place.

Jayris’ hadn’t been as… conventional as most. In normal cases, it took even an adept mage a few months of training to find their element and take control of it. He’d been just three years old and in the bathtub, and had smacked a hand into the water because he’d really wanted it to go up in the air. Needless to say, his nanny had been more than a little startled when she’d walked into the bath chamber to find little droplets of water floating in midair, just because a toddler had willed it so.

Then again, the emerald eyes should’ve given her more than fair warning.

That aside, maybe it was because of the ease he’d had with finding his own element, or maybe he lacked patience. Or, for that matter, maybe his charge was to blame. Not through any fault of his own, because Kaiden was a good young man, well-mannered and kindhearted for his age. Maybe he just lacked the natural talent, or had no head for sensing the world around him. But, whatever the reason, Jayris just couldn’t seem to get the Fendraen prince to come into his own.

Much as he favored the boy, Jayris had been about at his wit’s end when he dragged him out to the training meadow on this particular day. Though given the duty to protect the royal heir, he’d also been setting aside time every week to practice with magic, trying to give Kaiden something to protect himself with as well. For all his effort, all the youngest Efendra had accomplished was parlor tricks and entry-level magicks. It was the work of any duddard with half an ounce of power. This boy had the brightest turquoise that he had ever seen, for Vyrne’s sake, as close to green as you could get while still having some royal blue…

The little prince seemed to pick up on his frustration, because he’d been practically silent throughout the lesson. When he finally did speak, it was in a voice as hesitant as it could possibly be. “Could I… ask you a question, Jay?”

A “hm” was his only response, leaving the boy to make of it what he would. Apparently he took it as an acquiescence, because he continued on, voice still drowned in hesitance.

“Can the element you first connect with…” The wind picked up for a minute, making him pause as he waited for it to pass. Then, after a deep breath, he said all in a rush, “Can it ever be wrong? Like a mistake, and all along you were truly meant for another element?”

Jayris had to restrain himself from scoffing at the ridiculous notion. He covered by taking a moment instead to lift his hood, hiding away the fox-ish ears which had begun to twitch in the erratic wind. Not that anyone could see them with the magicks he had placed on them, but the movement was distracting nonetheless. His voice still betrayed a bit of his exasperation as he said, “Of course not. At least, never that I’ve heard of.”

“Oh…” For reasons the Vyrne’astan couldn’t even begin to fathom, Kaiden sounded so depressed when he said that one word. It made him feel guilty for being so harsh in his answer, especially to the one who held his affections more than anyone else in this country.

“Well, that’s not to say that there haven’t been mages who learn to get control of multiple elements.” The little prince seemed very interested in the words, turning to look at him as if begging him to continue. But he visibly deflated by halfway through the next sentence. “It’s the work of lifetimes though, something that they devote countless years to accomplishing. Every one I’ve seen is in the late stages of life.” By now, it would be an understatement to say he was confused by the young man’s avid interest in what he was saying. “Kaid, much as I don’t mean to offend, a year hasn’t even afforded you one element yet, so I don’t really see why you…”

And that’s when he noticed it. He’d been staring out at the edge of the field while he spoke, because it had felt like something was off. And, as the wind was almost pulling at his hood hard enough to pull it off, he’d just realized that not a single branch was moving in the trees around them. Meaning that either a very strong earth mage was playing with the trees, or…

One glance at the Fendraen prince was all he’d needed to answer his question. He was staring right back at him, albeit rather embarrassedly. And in his hand, a small bit of dirt was spinning in midair, as if caught in the most miniature of tornadoes he’d ever seen. “…My father, he really wanted me to have a stronger element, and… Well, I’d just hoped that maybe, if I tried hard enough…”

But, Jayris just waved the words off, already on his feet and leaning closer to the miniature show. With a quiet sort of awe, he said, “Oh, Kaid, your element is perfect as it is.” And it was the truth. In his country, air mages were highly valued. There were very few that the air blessed with its skills, you see, and there was so much that they could do, like control the weather and send messages across countries with a wave of the hand. Always a match to a peaceful soul, he remembered, and one who was kind by nature, but also wise in their kindness. He should’ve seen it from the beginning. And if the king didn’t think it was a blessing, then he more a fool than Jayris had initially thought.

Caught up in the moment, he reached down and lifted his charge up, spinning him a couple times in his excitement. “Perfection, Kaiden.” Smiling as he felt the wind swirl around them for a moment after he’d set the young prince down, he looked straight into his eyes and repeated with true sincerity and no small measure of excitement, “Perfection.”

And Kaiden had just given him the most beautiful of smiles in return, caught somewhere between shyness and pride. And then he’d reached up and, with a wave of his hand, blown the heavy hood right off of Jayris’ head. “You look better without it anyway,” he’d said teasingly, and then reached up to tug on one of the ears that Jayris had paid such a high price to make invisible.

So much for the idea of him having no natural magic talent.

And then, while Jayris was still stunned into stillness by the myriad surprises that he’d had in the last minute, Kaiden just laughed and started to run off, wind following at his heels. So carefree, but still kind enough to hide away his own magic, and smart enough to keep the secret of his guard…

It was enough to bring Jayris back to himself, already feeling his affection swell to a dangerous level as he made to catch up to the little prince. And it was no wonder that Jayris never thought to wander again in the years that followed.

----------

Song: Come Home
Artist: OneRepublic

“Hey.” The small word was infused with affection as Belial mumbled it at the tombstone. After brushing a couple leaves off the small stone, he settled down to sit in front of it. Same as usual.

“So, where shall I begin, hm? I can’t remember what I’ve told you lately…” Taking a moment to settle in, he slipped one leg under the other, wrapping an arm around them to keep himself propped up. It’d been months since he’d come to visit the cemetery, too busy doing this and that. Grinning a bit at his unintended pun, he picked up the one-sided conversation once again. “Well, Mia and I had one of our obligatory fallings-out again. I won’t bore you with the repetitive details, but suffice to say it centered on the typical differences between my lifestyle and hers.”

A quiet sigh, and then he added, “I wish she could just understand sometimes, you know? Not that I make it easy, walking into her apartment…” Trailing off embarrassedly, he continued after a short pause, “Well, you know. I do my best to take care of myself like you ask me, but every once in a while…”

He took a minute then, mainly to let his own self-imposed awkwardness subside. Took in a couple breaths of the autumn air, and slipped back to lie on the grass. It was so cold that it practically crackled under him, nowhere near the feeling of a comfortable blanket that it provided in warmer months. But, it sufficed enough. Not bothering to get back up, he decided it was time to continue. “You know,” he started, taking a second before continuing as if to gauge his invisible companion’s mood, “…I think I might just be fashioned to be alone.”

Raising a hand as if to ward off the beginnings of an argument immediately after the words left his mouth, he quickly went on, “I know, I know, you’d disagree with me in a heartbeat. Fight me tooth-and-nail about that conclusion. But really, Anna, let us face the facts, shall we?” Sitting up just enough to look at the stone in front of him, he raised a hand, and ticked off the first finger. “One, I live off of lust. And while I may have romantic ideas about it, it doesn’t make for the foundations of a steady relationship.” In a more subdued voice, he added, “As the two of us found out the hard way.”

Another finger ticked up. “Two, I don’t age. I don’t change. I’m timeless, and how could that ever work out with someone in the long run?” His grin as he went on had been fading, but it made a momentary comeback, albeit a bittersweet one as he added, “You know, I don’t even know if I can die. I couldn’t even promise to pass on at the same time as the person I loved.

“Three, as you so astutely pointed out to me once,” he said as he brought up the third finger, “is that I don’t exist on paper. I have no social security number, no ID, no birth certificate. I could never legally marry someone, would have a hard time finding a job in this day and age to support them…” Belial took a moment to run the numbered hand through his hair as he laughed rather joylessly. “It would be like I didn’t exist.

“And that’s just the beginning, Anna.” Giving up the process of counting, he fought to keep his voice pleasant as he continued. “For instance, I’d have to be around whoever chose to be with me all the time, and who wants no free space? And the energy toll would be demanding, either on the person themselves, or on their trust as I spent nights trolling through clubs just to get enough residual energy to keep moving.” He’d taken to picking at bits of grass as he went on. “And if I didn’t get enough energy, became more lethargic as a result, then I would just be making them feel guilty for something that isn’t their fault…”

Belial recognized the familiar feeling of reality starting to close in around the edges to overwhelm him, so he let himself trail off. Took a couple breaths, and just sat in the silence for a bit. Then, grin already rebounding on his face, he added, “See? You can’t have arguments against all of those.” It was said in such a way that it was almost a question, or maybe a challenge. They were words that demanded a response.

But, as happens when talking to someone that’s gone, none came. It was just Belial, and a stone marker, and the leaves twisting in the wind. It made reality close in just a few inches more, and for just a minute, the sadness he kept locked deep down inside him spilled over. What he wouldn’t give to just get a response from her. Just to talk to her for a few minutes…

Gone was the false grin, because he was now too busy practically fighting back tears. He found himself saying, quietly but almost desperately, “God, I miss just talking to you like this. Just miss you in general. I hope you know that.”

The wind picked up for a second, and he pretended that maybe she was the cause, that maybe it was her responding in kind…

And then the grin was back, and he was standing back up. Cap tightly on his darker emotions, he’d returned to being the same carefree Belial he always strived to be. With a little, “Oh, almost forgot,” he pulled some carnations out of his back, and set them down on top of the stone. Gave it one more affectionate caress, on behalf of the person it represented.

Then, with the promise of returning again soon, he was off.

----------

Song: The Lake
Artist: Aqualung

“Become the savior who freed the world from its enemy, the emperor, Lelouch vi Britannia…” Gesturing at the mask, Lelouch concluded, “…Zero.” The irony of the statement didn’t escape Suzaku, but he didn’t see the need to point it out. There were a number of other things he was tempted to say instead, but the false king’s next move startled them all out of his mind.

Reaching forward with lightning speed, something that Suzaku had never known Lelouch to possess, he slid a hand along his cheek, cupped his face lightly. Suzaku could feel his eyes widening of their own accord even as words tumbled from the false king’s mouth. “You will be a wonderful Zero, Suzaku, so much better than I ever was…”

And even though the words carried a tone of nothing but acceptance, Suzaku thought that if he looked close enough, he could almost see the seeds of something shining through the edges of Lelouch’s violet irises. His own eyes narrowing, he scanned Lelouch’s face, determined to catch the elusive emotion that he was sure he couldn’t have simply imagined.

But, as quickly as the break in ranks occurred, it was over. The hand was falling away, and Lelouch was leaving the room. And Suzaku was left with nothing but a Zero mask in his hands, and the feeling that something profound had just slipped through his fingers.

Last Edit: May 28, 2010 22:56:30 GMT -6 by Hawk

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~Silence Is Easy~ Mar 26, 2010 21:01:26 GMT -6

Quote

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Songs and Artists: 'Pitter-Pat' by Erin McCarley and 'Saint Anthony' by Senses Fail

Mia just couldn't adjust to the silence.

She'd had two days of Belial walking around, filling her apartment with his forced lightheartedness and that damned grin of his that just wouldn't slip, talking up a storm about meaningless shit while really saying absolutely nothing at all. It was a never-ending thing this time around, like he'd pulled on the innocent-Belial mask too tightly, and just couldn't seem to remember to take it off now that he was able to.

But, as was inevitable with him, he'd fallen asleep an hour ago, face down on that hideous brown couch of hers. And she'd been much chagrined when she realized that the lack of his idle chatter left her feeling like something was off. She'd flit from room to room, and then back to room again, unable to settle into one place, but also unable to conjure up the mood to go out once again. At least, not alone.

So, instead, she'd settled on drinks. A nightcap to start. A drink carried to her room.

That had been over an hour ago, and one nightcap had turned to three had turned to five. Running as hot as she did made it so difficult to get a buzz going after all, she thought with no small appreciation of the double entendre. As a seemingly delicate hand wrapped around the neck of the Absolut bottle for number six, she couldn't help the sharp grin that rose the corner of her lip. Humans were right about idle hands being the devil's tools, apparently. Though, really, in the realm of demonic, her choice seemed pretty tame.

Not that Captain Killjoy, Bellsie of the limited liquor, would approve. Following the path of her thoughts, she looked over at the man in question, and couldn't help but pause, bottle rolling against the counter and between her fingers as she took in his still form.

He looked just the same as before. His feet were still encased in shoes and buried under the cushions at the end of the couch. His body was arranged in the same way it always was when he was sleeping, all limbs tight to himself, like he was trying to minimize the space he took up. His arms were wrapped around the pillow that his head was buried in, face hidden by the dark sea of his hair. And there was the same certain stiffness to his slim but sculpted back, and an irregularity to his breathing that had always made him seem never quite at rest, never quite peaceful.

That was one of the oft-regrettable things that had probably formed her soft spot for the foolish man: the way he had of looking so fragile while he slept. Almost childish, which should have been an odd look on someone his age, but managed to fit him perfectly.

Mia could feel the biting expression she wore as her own mask softening already, something that the sleeping man alone could bring out in her. Yes, he definitely wouldn't approve, she thought, and felt she'd gained a sort of minor victory as she tilted the bottle up, pouring a couple inches of clear liquid into her glass. Then, setting the source of her pastime down, she lifted up the shot - more of a double shot, really - and gave it a cursory type of inspection, just as she would with a casual fuck, before tossing it down her throat in one burning go. That was how shots were supposed to be taken: straight back, with no time to process the alcohol before it hit you.

A belief she tabled at bars, mind, because attractive women didn't pound shots. Belial'd asked about that earlier in the night, one of his myriad questions to attempt to distract her from the fact that he hadn't so much as strayed from the table since they'd gotten there. He was going to run himself into the ground someday, she thought as a frown marred her formerly contented countenance. All work, and no play literally made Bellsie a much more dull boy, after all. Unhealthily so...-

'...Have you ever thought about death, Mia?'

That particular memory of earlier that night came unbidden, of cigarette smoke winding between them and the words that were whispered into the silence as the smoke continued to curl. Of Belial's eyes, dark as midnight from the low light and the liquor, and filmed by the memories, by the weight of the world and the weight of nothing at all. He'd had his own couple shots by then, an attempt to appease her. She'd thought they would loosen him up. And they'd worked, he'd loosened alright. Loosened too much.

Just the ghost of the thought of it alone was enough to make her breath catch. Her hand, she realized, was turning white from how tightly she was clutching her glass.

'Ever thought about dying?'

The question had been murmured, a tipsy slip, said almost quiet enough that it was as if he was asking the question of himself. And, much as he'd covered it with a couple chuckles and a joke a few seconds later, she couldn't shake what she'd seen in him for those few moments. Couldn't shake his expression, half-blank, with the corners of his grin turning down, as if rebelling against its existence. Couldn't unhear his voice, thick with thoughts and emotions where it was usually so light and airy.

The Belial who'd spoken those words clashed with the Belial that lay before her now, looking so young and innocent. She wondered if this was how far his mastery of masks had gotten him, to the point where even in sleep he faked something more simple than what he was. Because there was nothing childish about the Belial she'd glimpsed earlier, not at all, she thought as a 'kch' sound pushed itself through lips turned down in disdain.

Slamming her glass down with rather more force than necessary, her eyes immediately darted up when the man in question shifted, an arm tightening on the pillow under him before settling back down. She resisted the urge to send the glass flying with a sweeping motion, to startle him awake with the scream of breaking glass. But, much as the shattering of glass against a nearby surface would please her, she was centuries above childish tantrums.

No, she wouldn't stoop to that, not tonight. Save the impending fight for tomorrow, she thought as she lifted the bottle to pour another shot - triple, this time. And save the snapping-point energy for when he was actually awake to take the brunt of it, like he deserved, not in some sort of half-startled, uncomprehending state. A bitter expression that almost resembled a smirk rose on her face at the thought, because that was really the only way they communicated at this point. Bellsie in subtle nuances that she never could quite grasp, and her in cutting nettles, words that bit into him and sunk in. She hoped to god they sunk in, because otherwise...

Pounding the drink back, she wrapped slim digits around the bottle, and dragged it off the counter. Gave Belial one more indecipherable look before turning to return to her bedroom. And as her bare feet padded their way down the hall, she couldn't keep her mind from swirling with images - of blue eyes struggling to stay open, stuttered words spoken with a brevity that was almost eerie, breaths struggled for instead of easily gained - and how commonplace they'd become in her life . And, layered above it all, a yearning of the soul she hadn't felt in Belial in years, exuded along with a couple of breathy almost-confessions.

Lucifer help them both, because God certainly wasn't going to.

Hawk
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~Silence Is Easy~ May 31, 2011 1:19:14 GMT -6

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Post by Hawk on May 31, 2011 1:19:14 GMT -6

[[Goddammit, these songs are so these two. And just generally goddammit.]]

Song: Love the Way You Lie pts. 1 & 2
Artist: Eminem and Rihanna

The bottle - prone at her side just moments before - was up and flying from her hand. He winced, eyes shutting defensively even as it smashed into the wall just inches above his head. He could feel the shards of glass raining down on him even as she screamed in a voice that mirrored the shattered glass, "You cannot simply charm your way out of bullets, Belial!" He hazarded cracking an eye open, and was met with a pure inferno blazing in the eyes of the woman looking back at him. As bright as the fires of Hell, he imagined.

Or hoped he imagined.

Unsure as to whether moving would upset her more, he stayed in place. Stood his ground, he'd like to think, but it wasn't strength of intentions that kept him in place. He'd like to think it wasn't fear either, but one could never tell with the two of them. "Maybe not." The words had come out uneven, voice breaking on the last syllable. Nothing like what he'd intended. Speaking of joining a second World War, one that threatened to make a mockery of the War to End All Wars, and he sounded the very definition of a coward. He cleared his throat, made it a point to speak with the conviction he felt about the issue itself - if not in the face of the woman standing in front of him - as he tried for a second time. "Maybe not. But, Mia, we could survive through that which could kill another-"

"'We'?" she repeated. The volume of her voice had lowered, but her tone was like the edge of a razorblade. He could feel every word cutting into him with high-pitched precision as she went on. "Belial, we are not comparable! A shot to my chest, even at my worst, would be but a scratch. But you..."

She took a step toward him, one that looked involuntary. But he could never be sure with her. The line between acts of true emotion and calculated steps towards a goal had blurred decades ago. Centuries, even. Regardless, he broke their staring contest of sorts, unable to continue looking into eyes that felt like they were burning into him, through him. "Belial, I am what my Angel made me. But you are what you make of yourself, which is at best a passable magician, and at worst..." Another step closer, and Belial found he was fighting the urge to cringe back. "Heaven bless me if at worst, you aren't the caricature of a man at death's door! Must you toe the line constantly closer?"

Belial felt his back hit the wall before he'd even registered leaning against it as she took yet another step towards him. "Lamia." It slipped through his lips before he could stop it. She hated hearing her full name, and he knew it. Usually respected her wishes. So why had he used it now? A call for attention? Some sort of minor revenge for her cruel words, or perhaps an entreaty that she stop? Not even he was sure. Regardless, she seemed to have been startled into freezing a couple steps away from him for the moment, so he racked his mind for the logic that had seemed so straightforward before he'd entered the room. "Mia, I could withstand what would kill another soldier - a soldier that is someone's son, perhaps someone's lover or husband..."

"It isn't your place to save every human hell bent on wasting their life in honor of an intangible idea!" Her advance had stopped, but still she leaned ever closer, the words falling from her lips flavored with venom that tasted of disapproval, of scorn and frustration. "Freedom, peace, equality..." She reached a hand down to swipe up a pamphlet he'd set on the coffee table on the way in, waving it in front of his face, boldfaced type blaring proudly, 'Deliver us from Evil' "Even 'evil!. The humans behave as if these- these pipedreams are achievable goals. If they want to pretend that these vague ideals can be bought with enough lives, more power to them for being foolish enough to believe that. And if they think that 'evil' wears a face and can be brought down with enough guns, or drowned out with enough spilled blood, so be it. But," she paused, balling the piece of paper up in her hand, "I will not have them suckering you into this same foolishness!"

"Mia--"

"People die, Belial!" The words reached a new pitch, more shriek than speech. Her hands were both fisted at her sides, and he could feel the lust for violence, the air of rage and other roiling dark emotions rolling off her in waves. "They're born, they live their lives, and they die. So it has been, and so it will always be."

"But not me," he said. It was meant as a defense, but rang melancholy.

"Yes, not you! You aren't human! Humans die, you live on, such is the way of life! I'm well-versed in it, trust me. And I'm afraid if you don't accept the goddamn truth of those words..."

He waited for her to go on, but she seemed to have run out of steam, tension leaking from her shoulders, fists loosening until her hands rested flat at her sides. And, though he'd been frightened of her touch for some inexplicable reason just moments before, he now found himself lifting a hand, reaching it out towards her. Just as quickly felt her slam down a mental barrier, cutting him off as effectively as slapping away his hand would've. Opposite sides of the same coin, they were. "...Mia?"

He had to strain to hear the words, they were so painfully quiet in comparison to her former assault. "...The human's Savior made sacrifices for his people. And you know what he earned for all his effort?"

He had no response to that, and so opted to act as if he hadn't heard. "I'm sorry, but I'll be going in to the recruiting station tomorrow, with your blessing or without." Risking the step forward, he reached out his hand again, this time actually connecting with her shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Can't very well abandon my home country, after all - once we push the Japs back, that's where we'll be headed next. Better circumstances would've been nice, but it'll be nice to go back nonetheless. Hopefully the Allies don't mind my antiquated French." He felt his lips turning up, grin pushing its way into existence at the almost humorless joke. "And just think of all the lectures you'll be able to send me via letter while I'm away." The grin felt forced and wrong even to him, as if making light of the situation was equivalent to making light of everything about the horrible conflict he was about to enter into, but he couldn't help it. Smoothing over everything, fixing it all with a lightness he didn't feel, that was the only way he knew how to cope.

She just looked up at him, eyes that had lost almost all of their spark searching his face for something, but eventually coming to rest on his crackpot grin. When she finally spoke, it was in a matter-of-fact way, lacking all the fight that she'd come into the discussion with. Cold, factual, unsympathetic. "Martyrs are nothing but fools." He didn't miss the apparent disgust with which she spoke the last word. "And you are, without a doubt, the champion of them all."

Then, without another word, she turned out of his grip and walked down the hall. Slammed the door to her room behind her so hard that he thought he heard some part of the wood inside it crack. Latched the lock into place. And he was left standing, arm still outstretched, appealing to nothing but thin air.

That was 1941.

They didn't speak again until long after treaties were signed half a decade later.

Last Edit: Feb 9, 2013 23:34:14 GMT -6 by Hawk

Hawk
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~Silence Is Easy~ May 31, 2011 1:29:33 GMT -6

Quote

Post by Hawk on May 31, 2011 1:29:33 GMT -6

Song: Always on Your Side
Artist: Sting and Sheryl Crow

As Suzaku was waiting for the moment his world would end, he wasn't thinking of the future. He wasn't thinking about what the new world would bring. Didn't give a damn, to be honest. Wasn't considering the possible flaws in their plan, because Lelouch didn't allow for flaws, least of all from himself. And seeing as this was his magnum opus, mistakes were nigh on impossible. Wasn't thinking about options of escaping his own part to play for that very reason. They were both too tied into the fate they'd woven themselves into to dream of escaping now.

No, what he was thinking about was hide and seek.

Years ago, back before children had to weigh their countries against their families and numbers had become insults, there had been a time when his world was confined to the grounds of his family dojo. When each day passed by in laziness instead of fear. Back when he couldn't recognize the smell of death and didn't see blood every time he closed his eyes.

They would play hide and seek for hours, just the two of them. It was their go-to game when politicians came to visit or officers stopped in to give reports, because of its relatively quiet nature. Sometimes Suzaku would hide. Mostly he played Seeker, because he wasn't near as crafty at finding spots to hide and Lelouch would find him after only a couple minutes. Back then, he would close his eyes and count down from sixty. And it would be bearable, because images like Euphemia's eyes glowing with the power of the Geass or a crater the size of 25 million deaths weren't burned into the backs of his eyelids.

He'd hunt for hours, high and low, sometimes bringing Nunnally along on the hunt, but more often than not running around on his own. Because that had been the most strenuous test of his life in those days: Could he find Lelouch's hiding place?

He would travel the length of the property, and then re-travel it again if he failed the first time. Sometimes, if it took long enough, Lelouch would start to leave him hints. Leave a shoe or a group of picked flowers in a noticeable spot to tell Suzaku he was getting close. He'd smile at the hints, and then look around, wondering if Lelouch could see him. Whether he was smiling with him. Back then, he'd like to think that he was.

Now, he just wondered where hell Lelouch's hints had gone as he'd grown up. Why he hadn't left signs for Suzaku to follow when he'd run and hidden behind the mask of Zero, hadn't hinted the truth to him until it was much too late. He wondered if they'd disappeared because he'd stopped believing in Suzaku at some point, or if perhaps the hints had become more sophisticated and he'd just been too thickskulled to see them.

When they were children, he'd look and look for Lelouch, up until the point where he'd be exhausted. But he'd never have to give up, because if he was ever about to quit, Lelouch would "accidentally" cough or a bit of his white shirt would peek out from its former obscurity, and then Suzaku would be crowing in triumph and running towards his friend, both of them laughing at their successes before starting the whole process all over again.

This time, it wouldn't end in laughter.

And there would be no next time.

He could hear the procession in the distance now, and his hand tightened on the sword hilt in his grip. No, this time there would be no seeking. The long, ugly game that they'd played with the world as their board was long over, it was just that nobody knew it yet. Hide and Seek had been traded along with their innocence, and a convoluted form of chess had taken its place. And now, they'd reached checkmate.

As Suzaku crested the hill of blacktop, began his run towards a victory that felt like anything but, some small part of him wished this was just another game. The White Knight forcing the Black King into checkmate.

Because in chess, after all was said and done, all the pieces returned to the same box.

And Suzaku could think of nothing he wished for as ardently as he did to join Lelouch in his coffin.

----------

Song: Winner at a Losing Game
Artist: Rascal Flatts

He saw her in the snow.

If he closed his eyes, he could picture her spinning until she fell into the snow laughing, wearing the red jacket they'd found for her at a consignment store. It'd had so many pockets, it had made her say with the closest she came to sarcasm, "It'll hold everything I have, and I'll never be able to find any of it when I need it. Perfect." She'd hung it back up, but he could tell she loved it, so he'd walked back the next day and bought it for her.

He saw her in the sunlight. If he caught sight of a beam of it, cutting through leaves in the shadows of the forest, or caught in the air of a dusty room, all he could think of was the way he could pick her out from hundreds in a crowd because of her own particular glow. Like she was the sun that he revolved around.

He saw her in the darkness, just like the night they kissed for the first time, and many times after that. He saw her in the rain, which reminded him of broken umbrellas and dancing through puddles until they couldn't feel their feet and laughter, never-ending laughter. He saw her in the twirl of a dress through dancing halls, heard the memory of her voice resonating through old tunes if he listened close enough.

And he most of all saw her in the spring, because Anna was spring. She was life and newness and vitality, the shock of lightning mixed with the calm of the perfect mid-afternoon breeze.

In truth, he saw her everywhere, in everything.

Which was ironic because, in truth, he would never see her again.

----------

Temptation was a bitch. That’s what Phe thought as he looked over at the bottle of Merlot sitting innocently on his bookshelf. More glanced at really, quickly and out of the very corner of his eyes. He couldn’t really even see it, but his mind’s eye could, even without the glancing. He’d bought the wine a couple days ago, an accessory to a present, but it had served as nothing but a major distraction so far.

With a frustrated sound, caught somewhere between a sigh and a growl, Pheia turned over and crushed his face into his pillow. ‘Remove the temptation.’ That was one of the first things he’d been told when he’d decided to cut back on his drinking. It was a great bit of advice, but one that he’d generally pissed on by keeping his bartending job. God knows, jobs for people with no high school degree didn’t just fall out of the sky, and he wasn’t about to go broke for some half-assed attempt at something like salvation…

Booze in the apartment was a different story. He’d never been a big at-home drinker, but he’d known that would become his habit when he stopped sneaking shots during bar shifts. So, dry house.

Staying sober wasn’t really even that bad, most of the time. Pheia’d always relied on alcohol as a crutch, his excuse for being an asshole and pushing everyone away. But, see, when you let someone in… Well, it makes you realize how much being alone sucks. And so it was with himself, Phe thought. Every once in a while, though…

Well, he thought, the past has this habit of not fucking off, even when you want it to. Damn ghosts of people he knew, things he’d done, his parents… And it all just got worse at night. In the past, he’d just passed out when he’d downed too many shots. Falling asleep regularly meant so much thinking, reflecting… It made him want that abrupt blacking out so much…

Blindly reaching next to him, he grasped whatever second pillow was closest to him and shoved it on top of his head. Then he pulled the covers over the top of it, to boot. He would not be beaten by some damn beverage. He was through with being the victim, the second-class citizen. The one that everyone pitied. Growing up had been a long time coming, and he wasn’t about to take a step backwards, not in this. It was with that thought, accompanied with ones of the people – the person – he was held accountable to now, that he passed the many long minutes, fighting off one dark thought after another until exhaustion finally dragged him into unconsciousness.

On the shelf, the bottle remained unopened.

Last Edit: Jun 25, 2011 1:59:25 GMT -6 by Hawk