[Fiction] Crossing Parallel Lines
Title: Crossing Parallel Lines ( 01/06 )
Chapter 01: Requiem
Written by Ruine
Disclaimer: Star Ocean - Till the End of Time © Square-Enix & Tri-Ace
Characters: Clair Lasbard, Adray Lasbard, Fayt Leingod, Nel Zelpher
Pairing(s): None
Warnings: Unbeta'ed, Character Death, Heavy Violence
Status: Edited & Finished
Rating: Tragedy/Drama, PG-15
Summary: How far will one go to understand another? How can two parallel lines meet?
Word Count: 1,315
- 1 -
The darkness was deep and unbreachable . . . birthing a deceptive stillness; the looming silence broken only by stifled pants, pained wheezes and furtive movement. Breathless anticipation turned the chilly air heavy with tension and nearly choking with the waves of suppressed, bone-deep fear. An abrupt flash of blinding luminance, as though the light struggled to catch a single moment forever but only succeeded for an instance; time released by a heavenly howl that drowned out the startled scream.
The flare revealed all briefly . . . the world bound in a nightmare.
The white brilliance reflected painfully on a dagger dipped in rippling crimson; lying discarded on the floor. Near the drenched weapon was a half-curled hand, dragging scarlet furrows across ivory marble; straining hopelessly for the gleaming hilt.
The darkness shattered again, fleetingly as searing light flooded the vast chamber.
The silence lost entirely in the roar of earth-shaking thunder.
The ringing hush in its wake was filled by a soft whisper, a shuddering sigh then the hiss of falling rain
The translucent liquid mingled with the scarlet wine.
Pale fingers brush the gleaming pommel and recoiled slightly from the icy bite of the steel. Short nails snagging on the ridges of the hilt, caressing the sapphires that glowed like cobalt embers beneath water and blood. With effort, they clenched and pulled the blade close, false assurance . . .
The other hand pressed over the fine but fatal wound; a vain attempt to keep the cerise waterfall from overflowing . . . Admiration and envy fused with resentment for the perfect strike. The stricken heart's drum ripped asunder; and an echoing pulse resounded, the last from the broken instrument. Again, the roar of thunder rose high, echoing then faltered, faded . . .
The vermilion tidal wave surged onto the shores of fading awareness, washing away all remaining thought and flagging, stubborn will. A fluttering candle caught in a gale's fury.
Teal eyes dimmed, glazing over as death arrived, the hand clutching the dagger becoming limp. The sleek, nimble body now only a cooling corpse; all grace stolen in death's viselike embrace.
Another reverberating clap filled the world, matched by an echoing laugh.
Of pleasure and satisfaction.
Overhead, the heavens continued to weep.
- 2 -
". . . Apris guide her soul to his side and grant to her her just reward for her service to our Kingdom and Queen. May the Gods welcome her into their loving embrace."
- 3 -
Clair Lasbard, clad in a robe of deepest black, peered out of the window from her chambers in the palace of Aquios; watching the dark, cloud-shrouded heavens roil and churn. Distant thunder rolled across the bleak sky. The last storm of autumn had continued unabated for the last four days, the downpour strong and steady . . . ever since Nel's . . . since Nel had been found. Perhaps, Apris himself wept for her loss.
Clair felt her breath hitch as she recalled the old temple; her last glimpse of her closest friend . . . of what remained of her. A harsh whimper clawed up her still raw throat and she wrapped her free arm around herself. The anguish was still too strong, too fresh. She had not simply lost a fellow commander; she had lost a dear friend. A sister. Dashing her hand across her face, she furiously wiped away the new tears. She had shed far too many these last few days but, to her, she hadn't shed enough; she felt she never could.
Stop this . . . I have to be strong. Oh, Nel . . . I will find the one responsible.
She threw a look over her shoulder as a soft noise, the creaking of bedsprings echoed in her silent room.
Across from her, taking up one corner of her simple quarters, was her father. Subdued, Adray Lasbard, as darkly garbed as his only daughter, appeared listless and broken. His matching topaz eyes were dulled with grief and loss; in one giant hand, the Blades of Ryuusen were held with the reverence of a pilgrim touching a holy relic.
" . . . Have you seen Master Fayt?" The gruff voice was quiet.
"No," Clair released the curtain and the room darkened, the wan light banished by the thick damask drapes falling back into place. "He vanished shortly after the funeral."
"Where the hell did that boy get off to?"
" . . . I don't know, Father. But . . . I think he has a lead on the one responsible for this."
"Then, I hope he finds whoever did this and make they pay!" her father snarled viciously, his knuckles whitening around the daggers. They had been meticulously cleaned but Clair still easily recalled how the blood had caked to the weapon . . . her blood.
Biting her lip, Clair turned away from the spectacle of her helplessly raging father and fled back to the solitude of window. So much anguish, guilt and rage in him; reflected in her own mind and heart, even if she had long locked the floodgates. Either smother all of her feelings or be buried in them.
The urge to scream, to collapse and lose herself to her anguish was like a constant vise in her chest but her training served her well.
Clair Lasbard would not grieve.
No, she would get even.
- 4 -
Pathetic.
He had expected so much more, perhaps mistakenly; he should have anticipated they would disappoint him. They always did in the end.
Even she had fallen woefully short of his measly expectations. And he had not even demanded much in exchange from her. He had hoped she would be more of the challenge she had been.
Since she had learned his secret, the shame of his family; discovered the cross they bore, the chain he now wore . . . he assumed she would wield this power well. She had not; instead, she had done the unthinkable. She had unwittingly released him . Set him free with no reins except his own whim; oh, he was grateful to her. He granted her a swift death, not necessarily painless but it was certainly quicker than what he would gift those foolish enough to confront him now. Of course, she hadn’t understood at all. She had been prideful till the end, self-righteous in disgust and assured in her position. He sneered darkly in memory.
But then, she had no clue what it was she faced, what she had unleashed onto the world; she had slipped into the Dragon’s Lair unprepared and paid the price for her folly and recklessness. But it was not enough. Impossibly, he was unbounded, uncontrolled-the chains that had adorned him all of his life falling in pieces to the ground. And, now, he craved more. Revenge . . . no vengeance and retribution.
And this, he would take. With no restraints, no wards to curb his desires and hungers. He would feast.
And gorge.
He tensed suddenly as a breeze swirled around him. A new scent rode the wind, one he was intimate with. A new hunter! And so quickly, too. He had been sure to cover his tracks . . . but, apparently, not as well as he had believed. He tilted his head sideways, catching the nuances of this latest adversary from his scent.
He was different. In fact… he was familiar.
He grinned widely, true delight coursing along his veins.
He was the one who really mattered. The only one who ever did.
He would not disappoint; he never had. He had not only satisfied him in the past but gone beyond what he imagined, had dreamt possible.
Now, the real hunt began.
Because, even he didn't know.
Who was the Hunter . . .
And who was the Hunted.
To Be Continued. . .