Antibellum Sunset*Chapter 8*Atsushi/Uruha
Title: An Antebellum Sunset
Chapters: 8/8
Author: gimbat_ash
Genre: Horror, Historical
Warnings: violence, rape, mild het
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Astushi (Buck-Tick)/Uruha, Atsushi/OC
Synopsis: The year is 1841. Rory (Uruha) Scarborough’s father owns a large plantation in North Carolina. One day Uruha will inherit the plantation but he is a less than ideal heir. He’s an musician with his head in the clouds. His life is thoroughly boring until someone buys a nearby plantation, changing Uruha’s life forever.
Disclaimer: I own Gazette only in my strange, sad little brain. I wanna be Atsushi when I grow up though!!! My parents are thrilled…
Uruha felt ashamed as sobbing in front of the entire town but he couldn’t help it. Marie looked so beautiful laying there in the coffin. He found himself subconsciously pleading that she would just get up. It seemed so likely to happen yet deep in his soul, he knew it wouldn’t. That was, perhaps, what was the most painful aspect of the funeral.
When it was his turn to pay his last respects, to stand before the coffin, all he could manage was a choked ‘goodbye’. The rest of his family was only slightly more articulate. Really though, what was there to say? In a matter of minutes, the coffin lid would close and Maire would be truly gone forever.
Uruha watched with a wary eye as Darcey tenderly caressed the lifeless cheek. It made him sick. He wanted to scream, attack, to something. He had no right to touch her. He killed her! That tainted, murderer’s hand should never sully something so pure. Darcey turned away from the coffin and when he did, he caught Uruha’s gaze. The hungry look that flashed there for the briefest millisecond was not one that belonged on the face of a grieving widower. Darcey had been acting the part all along but Uruha knew better. He had to expose this fraud before he hurt someone else. The only problem was that if he told anyone that Darcey was a vampire, he’d be sent straight to the loony bin.
A dismal cloud of despair settled over him as the coffin lid thudded shut with sickening finality. He followed the procession out to the graveyard. The sun shone down warm, coloring everything with it soft, golden light. Sniffing and wiping tears from his cheeks, Uruha mentally cursed the world. How could it be so cheerful when everything was going so very wrong? Darcey was trying to catch his eye again. He could feel the man’s stare, so he glared back, letting his pain and rage show. To his surprise, Darcey backed down and averted his gaze for the rest of the service.
Uruha knew it would be hard to live without Marie, he just never thought it would be like this. He never realized how much a part of his life Marie was, even though she hadn’t lived at home in months. It seemed that everywhere there were things that she liked or things he wanted to ask her or times he expected her to come bounding into the room to annoy him. Even good moments brought him grief. When something happy or funny happened, his first thought was always, “I can’t wait to tell Marie.”
Without the hectic funeral preparations to keep him grounded, Uruha became completely absorbed in his music. He played all day and at night, he wrote all manner of sonatas and concertos, pain surging out for him in the form of sound. He barely ate or slept. He knew his family worried about him, but he simply couldn’t drag himself back to the real world.
Eleanor took to going out often. He had no idea where she went. While he cared, he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Sometimes his family would talk to him as he sat writing. He heard everything they said, whether they thought he did or not, but he had no will to respond, until one afternoon.
Eleanor caught him completely unaware, tackling him in a hug. “Uruha! You’ll never guess what happened!”
To her surprise, Uruha turned from his playing to listen intently. Thus encouraged, she continued. “You know how I’ve been spending so much time with Darcey?”
A chill ran down Uruha’s spine. No, he hadn’t known. If he had, he’d have put a stop to it right away. He nodded anyway, urging his sister to explain further.
“Well, he said that my presence has been soothing to him and I’ve helped him with his feelings of loss. Uruha, he’s really to get married again.”
Uruha’s heart rose. Maybe now that he’d found someone else, he’d leave the Scarboroughs alone. “Who does he want to marry?”
Eleanor’s shock was visible this time. It was the most Uruha had said in weeks, but so great was her joy that she recovered quickly and answered excitedly, “Me! He asked me to marry him! Isn’t this wonderful? Now I can live near you for always.”
“No…”
“I didn’t catch that.”
“No.” Uruha felt the hand of dread closing around him. This couldn’t happen.
“Uruha, I…”
“No! I can’t lose you too. It’s him, don’t you see?” His breath was fast and shallow. His eyes darted about as if looking for a way to escape this horrific truth.
“What’s him? Uruha, what are you talking about?”
“No, not Eleanor. I have to stop him!”
Without another word, he sprinted from the room and out the front door. He didn’t stop before he burst, gasping for air, into Darcey’s drawing room. He squinted in the dim light. He didn’t see anyone there. He ventured up the stairs. Maybe he was taking a nap.
“Of course he’s taking a nap,” Uruha thought to himself. “The sun hasn’t set.”
As he turned the doorknob, he realized what a stupid idea this was. The pink was gone and the room was as he first saw it. The red light of the low hanging sun shone through the west-facing window onto a glossy, black coffin resting on the floor. That most defiantly wasn’t there before.
“Oh my God! He really is a vampire,” Uruha gasped. He began to back away, knowing now that he was in way over his head.
The room darkened and just then, the coffin lid creaked open. A half-strangled sob escaped Uruha’s lips as he turned and fled. He never even made it to the door before Darcey was upon him.
“So you know my little secret,” came the whisper. “Perhaps I underestimated you.”
“You won’t marry my sister.”
“I will, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I’ll die before I let you have her.”
“If that’s the way it must be.”
Uruha sailed through the air and landed on the bed. He scampered toward the edge but Darcey pinned him down.
“I’d like to have you just once more.”
Uruha kicked and squirmed but to no avail. His pants were discarded in an instant and cold hands forced his legs apart. He screamed desperately for help even though he knew no one could hear him. Then he felt as though he was splitting in half. This was far more painful than the first time. Darcey gave him no preparation. He just pounded in over and over.
Uruha’s mind scrambled for something, anything that could help him. Then, his situation got even worse. Darcey leaned down, bearing his fangs. Uruha covered his neck but to no avail. Then, he remembered his one defense. He pressed his silver cross into the nearest bit of vampiric flesh. Darcey cried out in surprise and drew back from him. Uruha seized this moment and made his escape.
He didn’t care that his bottom half was completely bare as the ran across the room, through the door and down the hall. He had to get away or he’d be dead for sure. Skidding around the corner, Uruha sprinted down the stairs. Darcey was after him now. He reached for the front door and then bang! His face hit the floor. He slid backwards, pulled by his ankles.
Desperately, Uruha clawed at the wooden planks, screaming and crying. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t die now. His face thudded painfully against the first stair, and then the next, and the next. Though he fought to keep his head up it was no use. Darcey was dragging him too fast. Even latching onto a step did no good. All that accomplished was a sharp yank that sheared off skin and cracked bone. Still he fought.
Despite all his efforts, he ended up back on that terrible bed, broken and bleeding. Darcey ripped the cross from Uruha’s neck, ignoring the burn, and tossed it away. All the lovely blonde could do was cry softly as the life drained from his body. His last words gently stirred his killer’s glossy black hair: “I’m sorry, Elenore.”
A/N: Yeah, I know it’s short but that’s how it turned out. There will be en epilogue and then I’ll go back to writing Like Sand and start a long awaited sequel.
Chapters: 8/8
Author: gimbat_ash
Genre: Horror, Historical
Warnings: violence, rape, mild het
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Astushi (Buck-Tick)/Uruha, Atsushi/OC
Synopsis: The year is 1841. Rory (Uruha) Scarborough’s father owns a large plantation in North Carolina. One day Uruha will inherit the plantation but he is a less than ideal heir. He’s an musician with his head in the clouds. His life is thoroughly boring until someone buys a nearby plantation, changing Uruha’s life forever.
Disclaimer: I own Gazette only in my strange, sad little brain. I wanna be Atsushi when I grow up though!!! My parents are thrilled…
Uruha felt ashamed as sobbing in front of the entire town but he couldn’t help it. Marie looked so beautiful laying there in the coffin. He found himself subconsciously pleading that she would just get up. It seemed so likely to happen yet deep in his soul, he knew it wouldn’t. That was, perhaps, what was the most painful aspect of the funeral.
When it was his turn to pay his last respects, to stand before the coffin, all he could manage was a choked ‘goodbye’. The rest of his family was only slightly more articulate. Really though, what was there to say? In a matter of minutes, the coffin lid would close and Maire would be truly gone forever.
Uruha watched with a wary eye as Darcey tenderly caressed the lifeless cheek. It made him sick. He wanted to scream, attack, to something. He had no right to touch her. He killed her! That tainted, murderer’s hand should never sully something so pure. Darcey turned away from the coffin and when he did, he caught Uruha’s gaze. The hungry look that flashed there for the briefest millisecond was not one that belonged on the face of a grieving widower. Darcey had been acting the part all along but Uruha knew better. He had to expose this fraud before he hurt someone else. The only problem was that if he told anyone that Darcey was a vampire, he’d be sent straight to the loony bin.
A dismal cloud of despair settled over him as the coffin lid thudded shut with sickening finality. He followed the procession out to the graveyard. The sun shone down warm, coloring everything with it soft, golden light. Sniffing and wiping tears from his cheeks, Uruha mentally cursed the world. How could it be so cheerful when everything was going so very wrong? Darcey was trying to catch his eye again. He could feel the man’s stare, so he glared back, letting his pain and rage show. To his surprise, Darcey backed down and averted his gaze for the rest of the service.
Uruha knew it would be hard to live without Marie, he just never thought it would be like this. He never realized how much a part of his life Marie was, even though she hadn’t lived at home in months. It seemed that everywhere there were things that she liked or things he wanted to ask her or times he expected her to come bounding into the room to annoy him. Even good moments brought him grief. When something happy or funny happened, his first thought was always, “I can’t wait to tell Marie.”
Without the hectic funeral preparations to keep him grounded, Uruha became completely absorbed in his music. He played all day and at night, he wrote all manner of sonatas and concertos, pain surging out for him in the form of sound. He barely ate or slept. He knew his family worried about him, but he simply couldn’t drag himself back to the real world.
Eleanor took to going out often. He had no idea where she went. While he cared, he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Sometimes his family would talk to him as he sat writing. He heard everything they said, whether they thought he did or not, but he had no will to respond, until one afternoon.
Eleanor caught him completely unaware, tackling him in a hug. “Uruha! You’ll never guess what happened!”
To her surprise, Uruha turned from his playing to listen intently. Thus encouraged, she continued. “You know how I’ve been spending so much time with Darcey?”
A chill ran down Uruha’s spine. No, he hadn’t known. If he had, he’d have put a stop to it right away. He nodded anyway, urging his sister to explain further.
“Well, he said that my presence has been soothing to him and I’ve helped him with his feelings of loss. Uruha, he’s really to get married again.”
Uruha’s heart rose. Maybe now that he’d found someone else, he’d leave the Scarboroughs alone. “Who does he want to marry?”
Eleanor’s shock was visible this time. It was the most Uruha had said in weeks, but so great was her joy that she recovered quickly and answered excitedly, “Me! He asked me to marry him! Isn’t this wonderful? Now I can live near you for always.”
“No…”
“I didn’t catch that.”
“No.” Uruha felt the hand of dread closing around him. This couldn’t happen.
“Uruha, I…”
“No! I can’t lose you too. It’s him, don’t you see?” His breath was fast and shallow. His eyes darted about as if looking for a way to escape this horrific truth.
“What’s him? Uruha, what are you talking about?”
“No, not Eleanor. I have to stop him!”
Without another word, he sprinted from the room and out the front door. He didn’t stop before he burst, gasping for air, into Darcey’s drawing room. He squinted in the dim light. He didn’t see anyone there. He ventured up the stairs. Maybe he was taking a nap.
“Of course he’s taking a nap,” Uruha thought to himself. “The sun hasn’t set.”
As he turned the doorknob, he realized what a stupid idea this was. The pink was gone and the room was as he first saw it. The red light of the low hanging sun shone through the west-facing window onto a glossy, black coffin resting on the floor. That most defiantly wasn’t there before.
“Oh my God! He really is a vampire,” Uruha gasped. He began to back away, knowing now that he was in way over his head.
The room darkened and just then, the coffin lid creaked open. A half-strangled sob escaped Uruha’s lips as he turned and fled. He never even made it to the door before Darcey was upon him.
“So you know my little secret,” came the whisper. “Perhaps I underestimated you.”
“You won’t marry my sister.”
“I will, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I’ll die before I let you have her.”
“If that’s the way it must be.”
Uruha sailed through the air and landed on the bed. He scampered toward the edge but Darcey pinned him down.
“I’d like to have you just once more.”
Uruha kicked and squirmed but to no avail. His pants were discarded in an instant and cold hands forced his legs apart. He screamed desperately for help even though he knew no one could hear him. Then he felt as though he was splitting in half. This was far more painful than the first time. Darcey gave him no preparation. He just pounded in over and over.
Uruha’s mind scrambled for something, anything that could help him. Then, his situation got even worse. Darcey leaned down, bearing his fangs. Uruha covered his neck but to no avail. Then, he remembered his one defense. He pressed his silver cross into the nearest bit of vampiric flesh. Darcey cried out in surprise and drew back from him. Uruha seized this moment and made his escape.
He didn’t care that his bottom half was completely bare as the ran across the room, through the door and down the hall. He had to get away or he’d be dead for sure. Skidding around the corner, Uruha sprinted down the stairs. Darcey was after him now. He reached for the front door and then bang! His face hit the floor. He slid backwards, pulled by his ankles.
Desperately, Uruha clawed at the wooden planks, screaming and crying. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t die now. His face thudded painfully against the first stair, and then the next, and the next. Though he fought to keep his head up it was no use. Darcey was dragging him too fast. Even latching onto a step did no good. All that accomplished was a sharp yank that sheared off skin and cracked bone. Still he fought.
Despite all his efforts, he ended up back on that terrible bed, broken and bleeding. Darcey ripped the cross from Uruha’s neck, ignoring the burn, and tossed it away. All the lovely blonde could do was cry softly as the life drained from his body. His last words gently stirred his killer’s glossy black hair: “I’m sorry, Elenore.”
A/N: Yeah, I know it’s short but that’s how it turned out. There will be en epilogue and then I’ll go back to writing Like Sand and start a long awaited sequel.