FIC - WK - Blended
Title: Blended
Pairings: You can imagine, I'm sure ... but it's actually gen!
Warnings: We're in Farfarello's head ... that's warning enough. If you don't know Weiss Kreuz, that means blood, insanity, and a vengeance against God.
Summary: It's a ficlet. It's Farf. There is no more to say.
Comments: I'm posting this for Brenny to read ... mostly to confirm exactly how twisted my mind gets.
The blades spin freely; silver flashing in the harsh fluorescent light. Such uninhibited beauty meant for only one purpose. Right now they whir endlessly through empty space. Waiting. Always waiting. The first sacrifice barely slows the movement. The glass enclosure, so pure in its clear cleanliness, is now marred with sticky red juice. Both things simplistic and pretty in their original state. Content to wait for their purpose to be revealed. Now though. Now that awareness has been brought upon them, they must again wait. Bide their time ‘til they are needed again. Are humans so patient? Do they sit serenely where they have been placed ‘til they are called upon? They think not, and yet they run their pathetic circles day in and day out. Trapped in a prison of their own creation. The only thing left is the introduction of something foreign, and they’re splattered upon the glass walls of their self-imposed prison. And I get to be the silently waiting blade that sends them there. So what blade waits to throw me to the edges of my cage? For even though I do not see the boundary, I know well enough it is there. I am not foolish enough to think I am completely unsusceptible to the foibles of the mind.
“Farfarello, don’t cut your fingers off.” A pause. Even the fore-seer must think of his words. Perhaps he more than most. “God would be happy if you could no longer harm his people.” I pull my fingers back. While it is true, God would also cry that I had defaced this body further. I would not notice the pain. The Forgotten One, the boy … he would not be comfortable if I did that. This is why the fore-seer has stopped me. Everything moves toward the vision he wants. The boy is in that vision, and while I can easily be replaced, our child’s rather sensitive mind cannot. Since the boy seems fond of me, they try to keep me whole. I’ve wondered why they do not simply mention this to me. Why they feel they must convince me of certain actions by mentioning my personal vendetta against the Creator. It’s not like I’m unreasonable. So I have a tendency to get lost in the flashes of metal and the sweet scent of blood and the amazing fragility of these bodies given to us. We were created in His image. It’s a lie. No God would hold this body that can be broken by the gentlest of pressures. So breakable. We are certainly not in His spiritual image either. Sheep. That is what humans are. Blind, gullible, stupid sheep that cling to the safety of the herd. Though, there is the occasional watchdog, or our amazing little kittens.
Perhaps they can come out and play. Such pretty little fallen angels, they are. Like Lucifer. Fallen and forever striving to return home. Poor, deluded sots. God is laughing at them, even as He cries and rails at me. And oh, isn’t it wondrous that their purest pride and joy has hurt Him the most. His very own sister! There are reasons the angelic little kitties were kicked from the safe wheels of life given them. They had dared to climb a barrier. All of them. There was something intrinsically wall shattering in each of them. God wants the walls tall and strong and, more importantly, invisible. And so, the kittens were conveniently lost. Tossed into the River. Oh, and how they took to it. They swim this River of Death with me so well. Coated in thick, red blood. The River of Memories. It’s the veil between Life and Truth. See the key? All Life is Lies. Carefully constructed lies to keep the sheep corralled and controlled. When you die, you have to cross the River. It opens the mind to everything it was blind to in life. People delude themselves every day. Mayhap they have to, in order to make sense of it all. When you hit the memories, then it’s all ripped away. The pretenses, the justifications, the Lies. And the Truth won’t set you free. It’s the Memories that do that. And they most likely aren’t even True, either. They’re just the next level up. The one that says you’ve recognized the Lies, so you shouldn’t trust this to be any different. And I get to ferry so many delightfully deluded souls into that River.
“Farf, stop licking that thing, already.” Oh, our Fallen One has spoken. A mind reader who insists I have no mind. Perhaps we should string him into the straightjacket and see how he thinks, eh? It is such a quiet, introspective time. Alone, turned all around, lost in the empty silences of nothingness. Perhaps he simply wends the path of Lies about himself and does not wish to join me in the bloody River. The Great Deceptor, our untrustworthy Lucifer, does so strut like a peacock. His hands are not clean enough to worry over. He already stands in the River, even if he looks over it and continues to deny. He is more comfortable placing more veils and shadows in minds than tearing them away. Soon, though … soon he will feel the ecstatic glory of tormented anguish as the comforting Lies are torn from one’s sight. Ah, to make God weep. For it is not the body He weeps for, it is the soul forever lost to His power. I have ferried them, they cannot be taken from the River once the veil is torn. I will wreak havoc within the hosts of heaven. Betrayers. The lot of them. Us, lost in the darkness, forgotten and left to disappear. No matter what we are called-Monster, Killer, Assassin, Freak, Abomination, Kitten-we were betrayed by the very God who created us, fashioned us up from the very dirt. We shall not stoop to those levels. There are bonds of hate and rage and jealousy that tie us tighter than any Lie. We shall …
“Stop staring at the brain-dead redhead and go to sleep, Farfie.” He has such old eyes. Being forgotten can do that to a soul. I curl around my blender, my knife nestled by my cheek, and close my eye. No need to worry the boy that I can’t sleep.
~JJ~
Pairings: You can imagine, I'm sure ... but it's actually gen!
Warnings: We're in Farfarello's head ... that's warning enough. If you don't know Weiss Kreuz, that means blood, insanity, and a vengeance against God.
Summary: It's a ficlet. It's Farf. There is no more to say.
Comments: I'm posting this for Brenny to read ... mostly to confirm exactly how twisted my mind gets.
The blades spin freely; silver flashing in the harsh fluorescent light. Such uninhibited beauty meant for only one purpose. Right now they whir endlessly through empty space. Waiting. Always waiting. The first sacrifice barely slows the movement. The glass enclosure, so pure in its clear cleanliness, is now marred with sticky red juice. Both things simplistic and pretty in their original state. Content to wait for their purpose to be revealed. Now though. Now that awareness has been brought upon them, they must again wait. Bide their time ‘til they are needed again. Are humans so patient? Do they sit serenely where they have been placed ‘til they are called upon? They think not, and yet they run their pathetic circles day in and day out. Trapped in a prison of their own creation. The only thing left is the introduction of something foreign, and they’re splattered upon the glass walls of their self-imposed prison. And I get to be the silently waiting blade that sends them there. So what blade waits to throw me to the edges of my cage? For even though I do not see the boundary, I know well enough it is there. I am not foolish enough to think I am completely unsusceptible to the foibles of the mind.
“Farfarello, don’t cut your fingers off.” A pause. Even the fore-seer must think of his words. Perhaps he more than most. “God would be happy if you could no longer harm his people.” I pull my fingers back. While it is true, God would also cry that I had defaced this body further. I would not notice the pain. The Forgotten One, the boy … he would not be comfortable if I did that. This is why the fore-seer has stopped me. Everything moves toward the vision he wants. The boy is in that vision, and while I can easily be replaced, our child’s rather sensitive mind cannot. Since the boy seems fond of me, they try to keep me whole. I’ve wondered why they do not simply mention this to me. Why they feel they must convince me of certain actions by mentioning my personal vendetta against the Creator. It’s not like I’m unreasonable. So I have a tendency to get lost in the flashes of metal and the sweet scent of blood and the amazing fragility of these bodies given to us. We were created in His image. It’s a lie. No God would hold this body that can be broken by the gentlest of pressures. So breakable. We are certainly not in His spiritual image either. Sheep. That is what humans are. Blind, gullible, stupid sheep that cling to the safety of the herd. Though, there is the occasional watchdog, or our amazing little kittens.
Perhaps they can come out and play. Such pretty little fallen angels, they are. Like Lucifer. Fallen and forever striving to return home. Poor, deluded sots. God is laughing at them, even as He cries and rails at me. And oh, isn’t it wondrous that their purest pride and joy has hurt Him the most. His very own sister! There are reasons the angelic little kitties were kicked from the safe wheels of life given them. They had dared to climb a barrier. All of them. There was something intrinsically wall shattering in each of them. God wants the walls tall and strong and, more importantly, invisible. And so, the kittens were conveniently lost. Tossed into the River. Oh, and how they took to it. They swim this River of Death with me so well. Coated in thick, red blood. The River of Memories. It’s the veil between Life and Truth. See the key? All Life is Lies. Carefully constructed lies to keep the sheep corralled and controlled. When you die, you have to cross the River. It opens the mind to everything it was blind to in life. People delude themselves every day. Mayhap they have to, in order to make sense of it all. When you hit the memories, then it’s all ripped away. The pretenses, the justifications, the Lies. And the Truth won’t set you free. It’s the Memories that do that. And they most likely aren’t even True, either. They’re just the next level up. The one that says you’ve recognized the Lies, so you shouldn’t trust this to be any different. And I get to ferry so many delightfully deluded souls into that River.
“Farf, stop licking that thing, already.” Oh, our Fallen One has spoken. A mind reader who insists I have no mind. Perhaps we should string him into the straightjacket and see how he thinks, eh? It is such a quiet, introspective time. Alone, turned all around, lost in the empty silences of nothingness. Perhaps he simply wends the path of Lies about himself and does not wish to join me in the bloody River. The Great Deceptor, our untrustworthy Lucifer, does so strut like a peacock. His hands are not clean enough to worry over. He already stands in the River, even if he looks over it and continues to deny. He is more comfortable placing more veils and shadows in minds than tearing them away. Soon, though … soon he will feel the ecstatic glory of tormented anguish as the comforting Lies are torn from one’s sight. Ah, to make God weep. For it is not the body He weeps for, it is the soul forever lost to His power. I have ferried them, they cannot be taken from the River once the veil is torn. I will wreak havoc within the hosts of heaven. Betrayers. The lot of them. Us, lost in the darkness, forgotten and left to disappear. No matter what we are called-Monster, Killer, Assassin, Freak, Abomination, Kitten-we were betrayed by the very God who created us, fashioned us up from the very dirt. We shall not stoop to those levels. There are bonds of hate and rage and jealousy that tie us tighter than any Lie. We shall …
“Stop staring at the brain-dead redhead and go to sleep, Farfie.” He has such old eyes. Being forgotten can do that to a soul. I curl around my blender, my knife nestled by my cheek, and close my eye. No need to worry the boy that I can’t sleep.
~JJ~