watch me bleed; this is my last night on earth.
title: courtesan of the dead
some really horrible, strange and ooc 6996. think hades/persephone but with too many shoujo manga elements. do not read if you can't stand extreme butchering of character in exchange for some afterlife romance. xD
he saved me several hundred years ago from myself. he said, i know you live amongst those who hate me, those who would like to rid the world of me, but still. i'd like you by my side. (why? i asked. those eyes are enough, he responded. and at that time i did not yet know what my eyes pleaded of.)
-
(courtesan of the dead.)
-
you were already half-dead when they sent you to me, girl, he chuckled. and yet you cower and shake like a little lamb. why, i suppose a little lamb you are.
the girl was not as beautiful as they promised. her left eye was gone, instead replaced by a cavern as deep as hell itself. what could a god of death have possibly wanted with a girl like this? her family almost too readily gave her up. you do not argue with the deity of calamity, you do not reason with the harbinger of darkness. you simply do what you are told. and despite that - despite her cowering fear - the girl absolutely refused to touch the food presented to her.
what, you have heard of the stories, the myths? eat the food of the dead and never return to the living? foolish girl - what have you return to? your village no longer has any use for you. half your organs are gone. you will wither soon if you do not eat the harvest of my kingdom. come, girl. a pomegranate seed.
she looked up defiantly with her singular large, brown eye. he exhaled exasperatedly.
what is your name? he asked.
chrome.
chrome. my lovely chrome. he paused to weigh the words over in his mind, to make sense of them. my dear chrome.
what is your name, god of death?
he was quite taken aback from her voice. apart from a slight quaver of fear, it was crisp, high, sweet, and clear - like a songbird. a running brook. he fell in love. my name is mukuro.
this half-alive, damaged bundle of problems, this human girl -
mukuro-sama. his name never sounded so heavenly before. i will retire to my quarters now. she stood up to leave.
wait. are you not hungry?
mukuro-sama. i would rather starve to death a hollow shell than eat your offerings. and she left without another word.
he laughed softly. the nerve of her, eh? beautiful. lovely. damaged.
-
of course, he had a bad habit of falling in love with all of his toys. and just as quickly fell out of love with them. entertaining for him, tragic for them. they suffered in eternal yearning on the deepest level of hell. why - he didn't know. but the heaviness of their souls weighed them down like a stone. love a god, sacrifice your soul for a god.
ah, he mused, though this one is quite lovely. human girls were like flowers in bloom, and this one was the most exquisite lily he's ever laid eyes on. pure, creamy white skin with the gentle curves of a breeze. he wanted to kiss the nape of her neck, take in the scent of her skin all night long.
he's usually a very smooth talker, and by the time the first evening comes around, they're already climbing into his bed legs spread wide apart. easy as children's games. but not this one. she's too stubborn, too green. or perhaps she's a thoroughbred, so cultivated that she only blooms one night every thousand years. it's a bit frustrating, but he's willing to work, he convinces himself. she is escorted to breakfast with the same vacant look as when she first entered the dining room, but he knows, if he even so much as puts one foot out of line, she's liable to set herself on fire. she's self-destructive like that. he smiles at her sweetly as she seats herself, staring at the platter of fruits in front of her.
good morning, my love.
good morning.
please, eat a fig. they are freshly harvested and some of the best we've picked all season. he beckons.
she shook her head. i am not hungry, she says. oh, but he knows. he knows how her barely functional stomach is already collapsing and bleeding, he knows how she tossed and turned in agony last night, unable to sleep. the dark rings eerily outlined her empty socket. harrowing. though the eye was gone, its absence was staring him straight in the soul. ugly. a large black boil on the side of a lovely flower. he swallowed.
chrome, chrome, chrome.
what is it?
he stood up, languidly walked toward her end of the table. the tiny flames perched atop candles that never seemed to burn out flickered as he passed. nothing, he said. i just love the sound of your name.
her eye viewed his approach with a bit of apprehension, fear. something new. unexpected. he reached out his hand and let it stroke her cheek. she shivered at the touch.
he laughed. i'm not going to hurt you.
it's cold.
excuse me?
your hand. impulsively, she grabbed it. your hand is cold. then she quickly dropped it, burnt by ice. averted her eye and fumbled with her fingers. i'm sorry - i didn't mean to -
love. she looked back up. you did nothing wrong. fears assuaged, he carefully lifted his right hand, placed it over her left eye. her eyes fluttered, confused.
please, chrome, please eat. please eat to let your body heal. let your full sight return. relieve yourself of this suffering. please. one seed, one seed.
still she shook her head. still the absent eye, the invisible eye, it bore into his soul with its black pupil, judged him as a miserably forgotten phantom. because he was a shadow. just like the rest of these dead souls. chrome - her warmth filled the palm of his hands, his eyes. it scared him.
mukuro-sama, i will not eat. i will not cheat death. that is my final decision.
why? he implored, empty tears flooding his face in place of emotion, why must you? tell me, my chrome, why?
she wiped his cheeks clean with her thumbs, and merely smiled sadly.
-
in the night he slipped into her bedroom. she barely regarded him with a glance staying crouched by the window. he ventured towards her. don't set her on fire, don't break her. arms wrap around her body, and her heartbeat relaxes. a few kisses to loosen her up, though she doesn't respond in kind. he says, i love you.
her shoulders suddenly became stiff. fearful. filled with such apprehension it stuck to his skin.
what's wrong?
this reminds me of home, she says. where the boys beat me, where the parents never loved me.
i'm sorry.
mukuro-sama, i've always been told i'd be your bride. i even dreamed of it, held onto it when it was all i had, but what good does a soiled woman do for the god of death? they sent me over with two coins in my mouth, just in case you were angry and unsatisfied. but i swallowed them on the way over the bridge. mukuro-sama, you would have done the same. you would've wanted to die on your own terms. she murmured in his ears the quiet, frantic telling of her story. as if needing to convince herself. as if gasping for nothing but air.
mukuro-sama, can you still say that you love me, knowing all this?
he kissed her. you think too much.
no. she pushed him away. this is the terms of my fight and my surrender. you will never truly love me. and i will die here.
....when did you become so brave?
she closed her one eye. just promise me one thing.
what is it?
forget about me. forget i ever lived. please, forget...
-
the girl did something no other bride did - she visited and conversed with the dead souls as often as possible. though their memories had already slipped and disappeared down the gutters, the shades became vibrant with life whenever she talked to them. such is the effect of a living soul among the dead. she asked the heroes for their war stories, the criminals about their crimes. it was as if she were attempting to make a compendium of the human condition, even though she was to vanish by nightfall with her lack of diet, even though she knew the memories would die as soon as she did.
the girl puzzled him. he watched her laugh and smile as she entertained a group of ladies with stories of the surface, facial expressions that he'd never seemed to extract from her. he watched in curiosity, wondering what his options were, wondering as to why that empty socket affected no one else as strongly as him. once in a while she would catch his presence and throw a casual smile his way, but never fully acknowledged or invite him to join the chattering. not that he was interested in their gossip, of course - but, it was quite possible that the girl hated him.
hate? that is another first for him. the dying curse him when they realize their time has elapsed, but never has a bride refused to hold him. refused to live. refused to love him.
and then after she's done, after she's been told she cannot become too attached to the shades, lest her vivacity inspire the foolish notion to escape, she reverts into the shell of herself again. closes up. vacant face. vacant eye socket.
mukuro calls her over.
what is it, mukuro-sama?
he procures a piece of cloth from his pocket. for your eye, he explains.
to cover it up? she almost looks a bit hurt.
it bothers me, quite frankly.
it disgusts you.
it does.
she wraps it clumsily around said orifice. then, with tears building up in her existing eye, she proclaims, i hate you. and she storms away.
shit. never has he felt so flummoxed, so lost for words. what the hell am i doing?
-
she hasn't shown up for dinner, abandoned platter of fruit laid unceremoniously before her seat, and the servants report that she absolutely refuses to leave the room. another declaration of protest. he sighs. i'll go to her, he announces.
when his knocks go unheard, he calls out, chrome, i'm coming in, alright? he opens the door to find her seated at the edge of the bed, knees brought up to her chin, toes dangling precariously off the sheets.
how are you feeling, my lovely chrome?
do you really mean it?
what?
do you really mean it when...you say i'm lovely?
he breathed in. is that what this is about? he crossed the room and sat next to her. is that's what you think i'm doing - joking with you?
i'm half-dead already.
i thought you hated me.
she said in a breath barely audible, i could never hate you, mukuro-sama.
i think you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen, he said, kissing her hair as she started to silently cry again. i think you're the most beautiful entity this world's ever beheld. i love everything about you. i love the smell of your hair, i love the curve of your neck, your thin arms and wrists, your soft belly, your white long legs. i love your face, the way you smile, the tip of your nose, your eyelashes and the way they frame your beautiful eye. and i love the emptiness of your soul. i love your damaged insides. i love the invisible eye that tears my soul asunder and leaves me so utterly broken.
and so he kissed her, kissed her till the morning light, kissed her till his lips were bruised and she was panting and clutching the sheets for some sort of grounded stability. he kissed her until he thought he'd cure her, he'd make her last forever, kissed her in hopes she wouldn't drift away with the change of the seasons. please eat something, he whispered in her ears, please live with me forever. please don't leave me alone. she said i wish i could i wish i could but a girl like me was damned to lose. i'm the lily that thrives for one night only, to see the full moon ablaze in the sky, and burns to death from the sheer brightness. and in the morning, as he held her among the sheets, so tight he thought he was holding on for life, she left her body for good. please don't blame me, mukuro-sama, but can't you see? i was born for death, i was born for you. i love you like i love the sky. her shadow forgot anything and everything and descended the ranks to eternal rest. he held onto her empty shell until it shattered in his arms, too fragile to be kept like glass figurines on a shelf.
he walked down 829 flight of steps. down, down, down, when he finally found her soul. it glowed white. it only had one right eye, and her hair covered the emptiness on the left. he guesses this is the way it was meant to be.
who are you?
i am the one who loves you.
what is love, she asks. he fights back a bout of tears.
i watched you once, i watched you do this. he held out a hand to her. my name is mukuro. yours is chrome. if you'll just give me a chance, let me help return the memories that are rightfully yours.
her face, still so vacant, suddenly broke forth in the widest and happiest smile he's ever seen her wear. okay, she said, and she took his hand.
-fin
-
..yup i don't like it either. :/ but i figured i might as well post it since it's the first fic i've written in ages. for some reason i like writing this damaged girl/ death god fake-romance stuff O__o
some really horrible, strange and ooc 6996. think hades/persephone but with too many shoujo manga elements. do not read if you can't stand extreme butchering of character in exchange for some afterlife romance. xD
he saved me several hundred years ago from myself. he said, i know you live amongst those who hate me, those who would like to rid the world of me, but still. i'd like you by my side. (why? i asked. those eyes are enough, he responded. and at that time i did not yet know what my eyes pleaded of.)
-
(courtesan of the dead.)
-
you were already half-dead when they sent you to me, girl, he chuckled. and yet you cower and shake like a little lamb. why, i suppose a little lamb you are.
the girl was not as beautiful as they promised. her left eye was gone, instead replaced by a cavern as deep as hell itself. what could a god of death have possibly wanted with a girl like this? her family almost too readily gave her up. you do not argue with the deity of calamity, you do not reason with the harbinger of darkness. you simply do what you are told. and despite that - despite her cowering fear - the girl absolutely refused to touch the food presented to her.
what, you have heard of the stories, the myths? eat the food of the dead and never return to the living? foolish girl - what have you return to? your village no longer has any use for you. half your organs are gone. you will wither soon if you do not eat the harvest of my kingdom. come, girl. a pomegranate seed.
she looked up defiantly with her singular large, brown eye. he exhaled exasperatedly.
what is your name? he asked.
chrome.
chrome. my lovely chrome. he paused to weigh the words over in his mind, to make sense of them. my dear chrome.
what is your name, god of death?
he was quite taken aback from her voice. apart from a slight quaver of fear, it was crisp, high, sweet, and clear - like a songbird. a running brook. he fell in love. my name is mukuro.
this half-alive, damaged bundle of problems, this human girl -
mukuro-sama. his name never sounded so heavenly before. i will retire to my quarters now. she stood up to leave.
wait. are you not hungry?
mukuro-sama. i would rather starve to death a hollow shell than eat your offerings. and she left without another word.
he laughed softly. the nerve of her, eh? beautiful. lovely. damaged.
-
of course, he had a bad habit of falling in love with all of his toys. and just as quickly fell out of love with them. entertaining for him, tragic for them. they suffered in eternal yearning on the deepest level of hell. why - he didn't know. but the heaviness of their souls weighed them down like a stone. love a god, sacrifice your soul for a god.
ah, he mused, though this one is quite lovely. human girls were like flowers in bloom, and this one was the most exquisite lily he's ever laid eyes on. pure, creamy white skin with the gentle curves of a breeze. he wanted to kiss the nape of her neck, take in the scent of her skin all night long.
he's usually a very smooth talker, and by the time the first evening comes around, they're already climbing into his bed legs spread wide apart. easy as children's games. but not this one. she's too stubborn, too green. or perhaps she's a thoroughbred, so cultivated that she only blooms one night every thousand years. it's a bit frustrating, but he's willing to work, he convinces himself. she is escorted to breakfast with the same vacant look as when she first entered the dining room, but he knows, if he even so much as puts one foot out of line, she's liable to set herself on fire. she's self-destructive like that. he smiles at her sweetly as she seats herself, staring at the platter of fruits in front of her.
good morning, my love.
good morning.
please, eat a fig. they are freshly harvested and some of the best we've picked all season. he beckons.
she shook her head. i am not hungry, she says. oh, but he knows. he knows how her barely functional stomach is already collapsing and bleeding, he knows how she tossed and turned in agony last night, unable to sleep. the dark rings eerily outlined her empty socket. harrowing. though the eye was gone, its absence was staring him straight in the soul. ugly. a large black boil on the side of a lovely flower. he swallowed.
chrome, chrome, chrome.
what is it?
he stood up, languidly walked toward her end of the table. the tiny flames perched atop candles that never seemed to burn out flickered as he passed. nothing, he said. i just love the sound of your name.
her eye viewed his approach with a bit of apprehension, fear. something new. unexpected. he reached out his hand and let it stroke her cheek. she shivered at the touch.
he laughed. i'm not going to hurt you.
it's cold.
excuse me?
your hand. impulsively, she grabbed it. your hand is cold. then she quickly dropped it, burnt by ice. averted her eye and fumbled with her fingers. i'm sorry - i didn't mean to -
love. she looked back up. you did nothing wrong. fears assuaged, he carefully lifted his right hand, placed it over her left eye. her eyes fluttered, confused.
please, chrome, please eat. please eat to let your body heal. let your full sight return. relieve yourself of this suffering. please. one seed, one seed.
still she shook her head. still the absent eye, the invisible eye, it bore into his soul with its black pupil, judged him as a miserably forgotten phantom. because he was a shadow. just like the rest of these dead souls. chrome - her warmth filled the palm of his hands, his eyes. it scared him.
mukuro-sama, i will not eat. i will not cheat death. that is my final decision.
why? he implored, empty tears flooding his face in place of emotion, why must you? tell me, my chrome, why?
she wiped his cheeks clean with her thumbs, and merely smiled sadly.
-
in the night he slipped into her bedroom. she barely regarded him with a glance staying crouched by the window. he ventured towards her. don't set her on fire, don't break her. arms wrap around her body, and her heartbeat relaxes. a few kisses to loosen her up, though she doesn't respond in kind. he says, i love you.
her shoulders suddenly became stiff. fearful. filled with such apprehension it stuck to his skin.
what's wrong?
this reminds me of home, she says. where the boys beat me, where the parents never loved me.
i'm sorry.
mukuro-sama, i've always been told i'd be your bride. i even dreamed of it, held onto it when it was all i had, but what good does a soiled woman do for the god of death? they sent me over with two coins in my mouth, just in case you were angry and unsatisfied. but i swallowed them on the way over the bridge. mukuro-sama, you would have done the same. you would've wanted to die on your own terms. she murmured in his ears the quiet, frantic telling of her story. as if needing to convince herself. as if gasping for nothing but air.
mukuro-sama, can you still say that you love me, knowing all this?
he kissed her. you think too much.
no. she pushed him away. this is the terms of my fight and my surrender. you will never truly love me. and i will die here.
....when did you become so brave?
she closed her one eye. just promise me one thing.
what is it?
forget about me. forget i ever lived. please, forget...
-
the girl did something no other bride did - she visited and conversed with the dead souls as often as possible. though their memories had already slipped and disappeared down the gutters, the shades became vibrant with life whenever she talked to them. such is the effect of a living soul among the dead. she asked the heroes for their war stories, the criminals about their crimes. it was as if she were attempting to make a compendium of the human condition, even though she was to vanish by nightfall with her lack of diet, even though she knew the memories would die as soon as she did.
the girl puzzled him. he watched her laugh and smile as she entertained a group of ladies with stories of the surface, facial expressions that he'd never seemed to extract from her. he watched in curiosity, wondering what his options were, wondering as to why that empty socket affected no one else as strongly as him. once in a while she would catch his presence and throw a casual smile his way, but never fully acknowledged or invite him to join the chattering. not that he was interested in their gossip, of course - but, it was quite possible that the girl hated him.
hate? that is another first for him. the dying curse him when they realize their time has elapsed, but never has a bride refused to hold him. refused to live. refused to love him.
and then after she's done, after she's been told she cannot become too attached to the shades, lest her vivacity inspire the foolish notion to escape, she reverts into the shell of herself again. closes up. vacant face. vacant eye socket.
mukuro calls her over.
what is it, mukuro-sama?
he procures a piece of cloth from his pocket. for your eye, he explains.
to cover it up? she almost looks a bit hurt.
it bothers me, quite frankly.
it disgusts you.
it does.
she wraps it clumsily around said orifice. then, with tears building up in her existing eye, she proclaims, i hate you. and she storms away.
shit. never has he felt so flummoxed, so lost for words. what the hell am i doing?
-
she hasn't shown up for dinner, abandoned platter of fruit laid unceremoniously before her seat, and the servants report that she absolutely refuses to leave the room. another declaration of protest. he sighs. i'll go to her, he announces.
when his knocks go unheard, he calls out, chrome, i'm coming in, alright? he opens the door to find her seated at the edge of the bed, knees brought up to her chin, toes dangling precariously off the sheets.
how are you feeling, my lovely chrome?
do you really mean it?
what?
do you really mean it when...you say i'm lovely?
he breathed in. is that what this is about? he crossed the room and sat next to her. is that's what you think i'm doing - joking with you?
i'm half-dead already.
i thought you hated me.
she said in a breath barely audible, i could never hate you, mukuro-sama.
i think you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen, he said, kissing her hair as she started to silently cry again. i think you're the most beautiful entity this world's ever beheld. i love everything about you. i love the smell of your hair, i love the curve of your neck, your thin arms and wrists, your soft belly, your white long legs. i love your face, the way you smile, the tip of your nose, your eyelashes and the way they frame your beautiful eye. and i love the emptiness of your soul. i love your damaged insides. i love the invisible eye that tears my soul asunder and leaves me so utterly broken.
and so he kissed her, kissed her till the morning light, kissed her till his lips were bruised and she was panting and clutching the sheets for some sort of grounded stability. he kissed her until he thought he'd cure her, he'd make her last forever, kissed her in hopes she wouldn't drift away with the change of the seasons. please eat something, he whispered in her ears, please live with me forever. please don't leave me alone. she said i wish i could i wish i could but a girl like me was damned to lose. i'm the lily that thrives for one night only, to see the full moon ablaze in the sky, and burns to death from the sheer brightness. and in the morning, as he held her among the sheets, so tight he thought he was holding on for life, she left her body for good. please don't blame me, mukuro-sama, but can't you see? i was born for death, i was born for you. i love you like i love the sky. her shadow forgot anything and everything and descended the ranks to eternal rest. he held onto her empty shell until it shattered in his arms, too fragile to be kept like glass figurines on a shelf.
he walked down 829 flight of steps. down, down, down, when he finally found her soul. it glowed white. it only had one right eye, and her hair covered the emptiness on the left. he guesses this is the way it was meant to be.
who are you?
i am the one who loves you.
what is love, she asks. he fights back a bout of tears.
i watched you once, i watched you do this. he held out a hand to her. my name is mukuro. yours is chrome. if you'll just give me a chance, let me help return the memories that are rightfully yours.
her face, still so vacant, suddenly broke forth in the widest and happiest smile he's ever seen her wear. okay, she said, and she took his hand.
-fin
-
..yup i don't like it either. :/ but i figured i might as well post it since it's the first fic i've written in ages. for some reason i like writing this damaged girl/ death god fake-romance stuff O__o