Yami no Fics, Darkshipping, That which you speak of, will have no name
Title: That which you speak of, will have no name
Theme number and theme: #39, Sins
Genre: introspective
Rating: M
Warnings (if any): none
Character or pairing: Yami no Yuugi & Yami no Bakura (Darkshipping)
Short summary: Sins of the father pass on to the son.
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He’s handsome, I’ll immediately agree to that. I have no trouble saying it out loud either. I know how he likes to hear it: whispered in his ear, a low tone of voice, almost moaning. Our Pharaoh is a little vain, but I don’t mind; despite what people think or say about me, I’ve never told anyone a lie. So if he wants to hear he’s very handsome, beautiful even, I’ll tell him the truth. I’ll whisper it, I’ll scream it, I’ll cry it out.
My hands are on his shoulders. I lean into him. “You have such small shoulders for someone with such strong arms.” He doesn’t answer. Is he just dozing off, or has he fallen asleep already? No, he mumbles something in return, unintelligible. I prod with my fingers as if I want to poke holes in him. His skin is firm and he tightens his muscles some; my touch isn’t gentle. I didn’t expect him to come visit me, after my defeat in the Battle City finals. I told him to attack me full-force, that I would spare his little friend Bakura Ryou as his body was very dear to me. I took Osiris’ blast right on and it knocked more than just the wind out of me. Don’t let anyone say that our Gods are merciful, because they aren’t. Only by retreating into the far corners of my yadonushi-sama’s mind I was able to survive.
Hence my surprise when he entered my room aboard the Battle Ship. He send the girl away, who had taken it upon herself to watch over my host, and of course she abided his wish. He only had to say “Anzu, please get some rest, I will keep watch over him” and she thanked him before leaving, telling him that he was so kind. I wanted to laugh; my King being kind? How could she have known, though? She doesn’t know him like I do.
“Such small shoulders to carry such a heavy weight.” I should shut up before I say too much, I don’t want to spoil my plans to him. This has been a very pleasant surprise, but I shouldn’t let my guard down. It’s tempting, though. Very tempting. I lean into him and press a kiss right there, between his shoulder blades. To think that I, a thief and a stealer of souls, is capable of kissing, isn’t that strange of a notion. Somewhere, deep down, I’m human too. I haven’t lost my humanity, not completely. Not yet. If it weren’t for my yadonushi-sama, I wouldn’t have been here at all: human, spirit, vengeful ghost… or whatever one would call me nowadays. I don’t care.
He hears me, but I doubt he remembers the words. I like this moment too, the moment after, when you’re coming down from your high, when everything came together all at once and the sensations were too overwhelming to withstand them. Contrary to my King, I don’t sleep. I don’t feel at ease enough to let go of the tension. After all, he’s my sworn enemy, even if he doesn’t know it. Or perhaps he doesn’t care. He seemed pretty pissed during the duel though, but perhaps it was his vessel’s influence about ‘not hurting my friend, how could you, I will never forgive you, blah blah blah’. The King I once knew wouldn’t have hesitated to send Osiris after me to rip my body and soul apart.
“But you’re not like that, are you?” My breath tickles on his skin and he shivers. It’s just a reflex, but to be certain, I tilt my head a little to look at his face. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted, features relaxed. Why does he feel safe when I’m around? Why do I feel safe when he’s around? It was so different with Malik. Aggressive, stubborn, angry. It took me ages before I could take a look at his back and marvel at the carvings. Oh yes, it looked painful with the heavy scarring, but the symbols and hieroglyphs were more than obvious to me. It was a confirmation that I was on the right path, no matter how much time it took; the best laid plans need time to come to fruition, and I have all the time in the world. “You don’t have your memories,” I continue to whisper, aware that I’m walking a very fine line. If he wakes up and starts questioning me… no, I haven’t come this far to let everything slip through my fingers. Not at the very last second.
His back is bare of course, no scarring there. He doesn’t know anything about the horrors he put the Ishtars through, the ill-fated Tomb Keepers who are driven by hatred and revenge… he doesn’t know anything, and I can’t wait until the moment is there when I’ll reveal everything to him, slamming him with the truth, striking him with the horrors of his reign… of his father’s reign, and what he has done. I don’t care that it’s the son I’m after. The sins of the father pass on to the son. Akunamukanon didn’t sacrifice himself, he just plain died. That he’s out of reach, made it easier for me to latch onto his son. Ah, but that’s just a mystery, even for me… why his son appealed to me, why his son opened up to me… because we’re both the dark sides of a soul? Because he’s curious if my symbiosis with Bakura Ryou is similar to his with Mutou Yuugi? I don’t think so. He’s vain and selfish, and he’ll pay for what his father did. Until then, can’t I enjoy a small moment of victory to myself?
My King is strangely submissive, the ease he turned his back to me, the way he… trusted me not to hurt him. Was it a game, some kind of test, to see how far I’d go? Or was he convinced, in his arrogance, that I simply wouldn’t go far at all? I’m not sure, but does it really matter at the moment?
“You should go back to your own cabin,” I say. Or room, or quarters, or whatever it’s called on board of a blimp. “Won’t your friends think it’s strange that you’ve spend the night here?” Well, if they’re all that gullible to believe he’s keeping an eye on my yanodushi-sama, then there’s no problem. But I need some time to think, and I need some time to take care of things. On the other hand, I don’t want him to go yet. He feels warm, and like I said before, he’s handsome. I like to look at him. I’m not in love with him, absolutely not - oh no, and I’m still going to destroy him. For what he did. For what his father did. One day, one moment, he’ll remember it all, when I tell him, when I whisper it into his ear. He’ll be handsome in all of his agony, and I’m going to savor the pain in his eyes.
“You are right.” His voice sounds so clear, so lucid, that it makes me gasp. Has he overheard me? How much has he heard? Why have I been talking so much anyway?
“You’re awake,” I say, feeling like a fool. I press my fingers hard in his back, but I’m not angry with him. He grunts.
“I am now. What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I lean into him again. “It’s time for you to go.”
“Yes, I know.” He turns his head around to seek eye contact with me. “You were saying something about sins? I never knew you were such a talker.”
I don’t blush. I don’t shake or tremble. I just stare back, gazing at those reddish, fiery eyes. “Don’t we all have our sins?”
He frowns and for a moment, I truly believe he’s going to say “I do not have any sins, for I am the Pharaoh” or any pompous shit like that, but he shows me a very small smile and says: “I guess so. You were my sin this evening.”
“Get out,” I hiss at him. Obedient, he rolls away from me and throws his legs over the edge of the bed. I watch him gather his clothes, and I watch him dress himself, as if he has no other care in the world. I have no idea what I have done. He can interpret my words, the ones he overheard, any way he wants. Let him stew on it, let him dwell upon it; all will become clear later, when I decide what to tell him, and how.
“What was your sin this evening?” He suddenly asks.
I bare my teeth at him. “Not knowing your name,” I answer. “I would’ve loved to say it to your face.”
Now he scrunches up his nose. He doesn’t share my sense of humor. Hurtful or not, perhaps it’s my sin indeed to not know his name; I haven’t retained that important piece of information in my memories during those millennia. It would’ve given me a gigantic lead in the game I’m setting up, a key piece that would gain me almost instant victory. It’s a shame. It’s a sin. But I have never known my father, so the sins I’m committing are all mine. Just like his body was mine. Just like his heart will belong to me, one day, when I hold it in my hand and watch its last contractions. Then it’ll be all over. No more sin. No more light. No more Pharaoh, no more people. Just Darkness.
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This entry was originally posted at http://the-goldenpath.dreamwidth.org/67564.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Theme number and theme: #39, Sins
Genre: introspective
Rating: M
Warnings (if any): none
Character or pairing: Yami no Yuugi & Yami no Bakura (Darkshipping)
Short summary: Sins of the father pass on to the son.
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He’s handsome, I’ll immediately agree to that. I have no trouble saying it out loud either. I know how he likes to hear it: whispered in his ear, a low tone of voice, almost moaning. Our Pharaoh is a little vain, but I don’t mind; despite what people think or say about me, I’ve never told anyone a lie. So if he wants to hear he’s very handsome, beautiful even, I’ll tell him the truth. I’ll whisper it, I’ll scream it, I’ll cry it out.
My hands are on his shoulders. I lean into him. “You have such small shoulders for someone with such strong arms.” He doesn’t answer. Is he just dozing off, or has he fallen asleep already? No, he mumbles something in return, unintelligible. I prod with my fingers as if I want to poke holes in him. His skin is firm and he tightens his muscles some; my touch isn’t gentle. I didn’t expect him to come visit me, after my defeat in the Battle City finals. I told him to attack me full-force, that I would spare his little friend Bakura Ryou as his body was very dear to me. I took Osiris’ blast right on and it knocked more than just the wind out of me. Don’t let anyone say that our Gods are merciful, because they aren’t. Only by retreating into the far corners of my yadonushi-sama’s mind I was able to survive.
Hence my surprise when he entered my room aboard the Battle Ship. He send the girl away, who had taken it upon herself to watch over my host, and of course she abided his wish. He only had to say “Anzu, please get some rest, I will keep watch over him” and she thanked him before leaving, telling him that he was so kind. I wanted to laugh; my King being kind? How could she have known, though? She doesn’t know him like I do.
“Such small shoulders to carry such a heavy weight.” I should shut up before I say too much, I don’t want to spoil my plans to him. This has been a very pleasant surprise, but I shouldn’t let my guard down. It’s tempting, though. Very tempting. I lean into him and press a kiss right there, between his shoulder blades. To think that I, a thief and a stealer of souls, is capable of kissing, isn’t that strange of a notion. Somewhere, deep down, I’m human too. I haven’t lost my humanity, not completely. Not yet. If it weren’t for my yadonushi-sama, I wouldn’t have been here at all: human, spirit, vengeful ghost… or whatever one would call me nowadays. I don’t care.
He hears me, but I doubt he remembers the words. I like this moment too, the moment after, when you’re coming down from your high, when everything came together all at once and the sensations were too overwhelming to withstand them. Contrary to my King, I don’t sleep. I don’t feel at ease enough to let go of the tension. After all, he’s my sworn enemy, even if he doesn’t know it. Or perhaps he doesn’t care. He seemed pretty pissed during the duel though, but perhaps it was his vessel’s influence about ‘not hurting my friend, how could you, I will never forgive you, blah blah blah’. The King I once knew wouldn’t have hesitated to send Osiris after me to rip my body and soul apart.
“But you’re not like that, are you?” My breath tickles on his skin and he shivers. It’s just a reflex, but to be certain, I tilt my head a little to look at his face. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted, features relaxed. Why does he feel safe when I’m around? Why do I feel safe when he’s around? It was so different with Malik. Aggressive, stubborn, angry. It took me ages before I could take a look at his back and marvel at the carvings. Oh yes, it looked painful with the heavy scarring, but the symbols and hieroglyphs were more than obvious to me. It was a confirmation that I was on the right path, no matter how much time it took; the best laid plans need time to come to fruition, and I have all the time in the world. “You don’t have your memories,” I continue to whisper, aware that I’m walking a very fine line. If he wakes up and starts questioning me… no, I haven’t come this far to let everything slip through my fingers. Not at the very last second.
His back is bare of course, no scarring there. He doesn’t know anything about the horrors he put the Ishtars through, the ill-fated Tomb Keepers who are driven by hatred and revenge… he doesn’t know anything, and I can’t wait until the moment is there when I’ll reveal everything to him, slamming him with the truth, striking him with the horrors of his reign… of his father’s reign, and what he has done. I don’t care that it’s the son I’m after. The sins of the father pass on to the son. Akunamukanon didn’t sacrifice himself, he just plain died. That he’s out of reach, made it easier for me to latch onto his son. Ah, but that’s just a mystery, even for me… why his son appealed to me, why his son opened up to me… because we’re both the dark sides of a soul? Because he’s curious if my symbiosis with Bakura Ryou is similar to his with Mutou Yuugi? I don’t think so. He’s vain and selfish, and he’ll pay for what his father did. Until then, can’t I enjoy a small moment of victory to myself?
My King is strangely submissive, the ease he turned his back to me, the way he… trusted me not to hurt him. Was it a game, some kind of test, to see how far I’d go? Or was he convinced, in his arrogance, that I simply wouldn’t go far at all? I’m not sure, but does it really matter at the moment?
“You should go back to your own cabin,” I say. Or room, or quarters, or whatever it’s called on board of a blimp. “Won’t your friends think it’s strange that you’ve spend the night here?” Well, if they’re all that gullible to believe he’s keeping an eye on my yanodushi-sama, then there’s no problem. But I need some time to think, and I need some time to take care of things. On the other hand, I don’t want him to go yet. He feels warm, and like I said before, he’s handsome. I like to look at him. I’m not in love with him, absolutely not - oh no, and I’m still going to destroy him. For what he did. For what his father did. One day, one moment, he’ll remember it all, when I tell him, when I whisper it into his ear. He’ll be handsome in all of his agony, and I’m going to savor the pain in his eyes.
“You are right.” His voice sounds so clear, so lucid, that it makes me gasp. Has he overheard me? How much has he heard? Why have I been talking so much anyway?
“You’re awake,” I say, feeling like a fool. I press my fingers hard in his back, but I’m not angry with him. He grunts.
“I am now. What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I lean into him again. “It’s time for you to go.”
“Yes, I know.” He turns his head around to seek eye contact with me. “You were saying something about sins? I never knew you were such a talker.”
I don’t blush. I don’t shake or tremble. I just stare back, gazing at those reddish, fiery eyes. “Don’t we all have our sins?”
He frowns and for a moment, I truly believe he’s going to say “I do not have any sins, for I am the Pharaoh” or any pompous shit like that, but he shows me a very small smile and says: “I guess so. You were my sin this evening.”
“Get out,” I hiss at him. Obedient, he rolls away from me and throws his legs over the edge of the bed. I watch him gather his clothes, and I watch him dress himself, as if he has no other care in the world. I have no idea what I have done. He can interpret my words, the ones he overheard, any way he wants. Let him stew on it, let him dwell upon it; all will become clear later, when I decide what to tell him, and how.
“What was your sin this evening?” He suddenly asks.
I bare my teeth at him. “Not knowing your name,” I answer. “I would’ve loved to say it to your face.”
Now he scrunches up his nose. He doesn’t share my sense of humor. Hurtful or not, perhaps it’s my sin indeed to not know his name; I haven’t retained that important piece of information in my memories during those millennia. It would’ve given me a gigantic lead in the game I’m setting up, a key piece that would gain me almost instant victory. It’s a shame. It’s a sin. But I have never known my father, so the sins I’m committing are all mine. Just like his body was mine. Just like his heart will belong to me, one day, when I hold it in my hand and watch its last contractions. Then it’ll be all over. No more sin. No more light. No more Pharaoh, no more people. Just Darkness.
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This entry was originally posted at http://the-goldenpath.dreamwidth.org/67564.html. Please comment there using OpenID.