Interlude 1 | Fix me, please
because I'm broken beyond repair
He lost everything.
Lost his mother.
Lost his father.
Lost his entire family.
Lost them all to the fucking Akuma.
Watched them devoured, watched them ripped apart, watched them die, begging for help.
He doesn't even remember anyone, doesn't remember anything except Mana carrying him away from the fire, from the crumbling buildings, from the shower of ash and soot.
He thinks he may have lost his sanity at that time, too.
and I wish that you were here
Useless.
That's how he felt as Mana writhed in agony, screamed in pain, clawed at his head until blood leaked from the cuts. Watched, helplessly, as his brother slowly succumbed to his Memory.
And then knew, when the headache wouldn't go away, that he was putting Mana through that same helplessness.
He hates the Awakening the most.
Stigmata etched across his forehead, across Mana's forehead, into their minds. Too neatly, too cleanly, too perfectly-- like someone stitched them on with a needle and thread of pitch. But they're there to stay.
He's already tried to scratch them off more than once, to no avail. They keep coming back, just won't go away.
Permanent.
Hates them.
holding my hand like you always do
"Mana."
Silence.
"Mana, I hear something."
Thick.
"...Mana."
Stifling.
"My, my. ♥ What is this~?"
A pudgy man breaks down the door, nudging aside the chips of wood and stuck doorknob.
"Oh dear. ♥ It seems that our youngest brother had some problems.. ♥"
"Mana.. Mana, Mana! I hear it, I hear--"
"There there, little one. ♥"
A gloved hand strokes his head, petting his dirt-brown hair like one would a pitiful dog.
"It's okay."
Mana smiles from behind him.
"He said he can help us, brother. He can help you."
Disbelief. Help? Help me? Me?
"..Help me?"
"Tsk.. ♥ he's worse off than I imagined. Oh, what a pity!"
"You can help him, right? You said you would!"
"Hush, Mana. Of course I'll help him. He's family, after all. ♥"
Family.
Help.
Savior.
"Mana.."
He smiles, broken, bitter, pained, insane, but he smiles.
telling me 'i love you' like you always do
He is the weakest of the Noahs, by far. Mana has the abilities, but no will to fight. The youngest lacks temper, perhaps even the strength to wield the abilities of The Fourteenth's Memory. But he's willing.
Willing to kill and destroy.
He prefers a rapier. Thin, sharp, quick, small. Just a simple lunge can pierce a heart. Spear a limb. Take out a lung. Puncture an organ.
He loves looking at the blood, but he hates gaping wounds. Most of the time.
The rest of the times, his victim is lucky to die with an arm still attached to the body.
A rapier isn't quite for cutting. It breaks them easily. Especially with the way he wields them. But the Earl's fortune is more than enough to purchase another rapier.
He remembers his first rapier. His first kill. A jab or two, hear her scream, twist her hair, pull, slash, stab, kill--
but you can't anymore and I have to accept the fact that
It's quite obvious that the younger half of the Fourteenth Noah will never be in his right mind. He's jittery, socially inept, and his hobbies, are, well...
Not very nice.
A weeks after his awakening, the Earl finds the young boy in his room, humming a melody for the bird perched nearby as he gingerly taps on the surface of a glass jar.
"Young man. ♥ I've found a way to make you better. ♥"
The half-Noah stops immediately.
"..Better?"
"Yes. ♥"
"....Better?"
It's a hard concept to swallow. Better? Than what?
"Better. ♥"
"..That's impossible."
And he starts tapping again, imitating the blue jay's warbles.
The eyeball flowing in liquid simply stares back.
"What makes you say that? ♥"
"Because," he taps harder, nudging the jar to the edge. "Because."
It falls over and shatters on the ground, frightening the songbird away. The glass glistens, wet, reflecting sunlight onto the rolling eye.
"Broken."
He isn't referring to the jar.
"We'll fix it. ♥"
He scowls.
"Broken." Silence. The bird isn't singing anymore. It's not there. "...Mana.."
"Do you want to see him?"
He nods furiously.
"Well." The Earl grins. Not that you can tell the difference. "You can't. ♥"
Frozen, utterly. Frozen.
"Because, boy. You're broken."
But Mana doesn't care if I'm broken.
"He does care. He doesn't like you~ ♥"
The room churns, warps, the jar is whole again. The eye floats placidly, bobbing. Turning.
Watching.
The Earl expands, swelling and swallowing the entire room. A balloon pops.
His hand rises, grasping thin air, dragging out a dagger and slashing at the jar. It jumps back and gurgles. The top pops open and the eye within it twists, grows.
Out climbs a young, Portuguese girl.
"That's mean, brother~" Rhode Kamelot huffs, placing her hands on her small, dress-clad hips.
"Stay out." His hand twitches. The dreamscape is blown away like a hurricane, leaving only a broken jar, the setting sun, and black blood dripping from his hand. "..Please."
Rhode crouches down by the mess, reaching out to pry the shard of glass from her brother's hand. It cuts both of them, but heals quickly enough. She flicks the eye.
"Whose is it?"
He's silent. She doesn't need an answer. The corpse is lying nearby.
A young woman he met a few days ago. She gave him a disdainful look. She thought he was strange.
The younger half of the Fourteenth Noah slouches in his seated position, wrapping his arms around his knees.
I'll show her strange.
He prods at the eyeball, rolling it, pressing down on it.
Pressing.
Pressing.
Pressing until he bulges.
Until the cornea gives and dips down.
Until it tries to spring away.
He takes it in his hand and--
"..She's not looking at you anymore, brother." Rhode comments airily, softly, swirling a finger in the aqueous humor dripping from his tightly clenched fist.
He uncurls his fingers, allowing the deflated sack of tissue to land deftly on the carpet.
And smiles.
Gratefully.
Too broken to fix.
you are dead