But Not Our Last Days of Silence Lelouch/CC, Lelouch/Rollo (sort of)
There is a familiar feeling about this place, Lelouch notes at first. A series of analytical computations run through his mind, piecing out the fact that, in the end, this is the place for a Geass user such as himself. He brushes his fingers over the floor before rolling into a standing position, and walking forward. Unlike the time with his mother and father, there is an infinite feeling of this place. Lelouch realizes that no matter how far forward he walks, he will not reach an end; it is like an empty hallway, berating him for his sins, reminding him of the fact that he has painted the earth in blood, and in his wake, he only has this to grasp on to-infinity, immortality. Despite not having lived the years, not having lived the life, Lelouch finally grasps the life of the witch.
He can’t keep the smile from his lips.
“If this is where I must be,” Lelouch says, and his tone comes out softer. “Then it’s where I will be.” He doesn’t explore the first time he opens his eyes, merely grabbing the Britannian Encyclopedia and searching through the index. His name is listed, and Lelouch realizes this is for the future he will never see-the future where he is a tyrant, and in his stead, he left heroes. He left ideas. He left the chance for change.
*
She senses him there almost immediately. CC jerks up, head tilting to the side as she pulls a piece of hay from her hair. A sound of annoyance escapes from her mouth as she tries to steady herself with the driver’s quick speed. She doesn’t mind the ride, the bumpiness, but this is a world where she must continue to pass her hours, her time; it’s a world where there will be no others like them, trapped in a void of life and death, her stuck on the side she never wanted in the first place.
It’s because she’s envious, she knows. When she closes her eyes, she can see that world through his eyes, the facets and the infinite nature, as well as the emptiness. For someone like her, it is as close to death as she will get, but will never experience.
“Enjoy yourself, Lelouch,” she remarks, and for the time being, she closes off her mind to that world. She will swallow pieces of it as time comes, but first, he must learn of its secrets.
*
The first he meets is Shirley, red cheeks, red hair, and eyes widened, as if she wishes to say something, as if she’s happy to see him. Lelouch awakens to her sitting across from him, crossed legs and hands on the floor. She doesn’t speak, merely looking at him-almost through him-with the intensity of someone who wishes to give him a lesson. He takes in her appearance, the curves of her face, and he looks for blemishes, imperfections indicating that this is nothing but a dream.
She never fades away.
“Shirley,” Lelouch says, bowing his head forward. “You told me once about love, didn’t you?” His voice comes out smoothly, and he half-expects a response. She doesn’t flinch. He decides that she’s an illusion, there for her mere existence or for closure. He wonders, too, if she is there because she died or whether it is an internal desire. He curls his hands into fists and cants his head back, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Ah, you don’t have anything to say. You were the one who shouldn’t have been taken away. I never came to understand, did I? But it’s all passed now, and so have I-I am no longer the Lelouch that you know.”
Her eyes blink this time, and he wonders if it is on command. Lelouch slides forward and extends his arm far enough so his middle and index finger can slide under her chin. She is solid enough, if a doll of sorts. He tilts her head back, and says: “That would have never bothered you, no matter the life.”
His words seem to resonate with the world this time; once he pulls his fingers away from the fabrication, she fades away, her expression finally revealing a smile before she is gone. “Ah …” Lelouch says with resolution, and he only notices then how tight his throat is.
Lelouch/CC, Lelouch/Rollo (sort of)
There is a familiar feeling about this place, Lelouch notes at first. A series of analytical computations run through his mind, piecing out the fact that, in the end, this is the place for a Geass user such as himself. He brushes his fingers over the floor before rolling into a standing position, and walking forward. Unlike the time with his mother and father, there is an infinite feeling of this place. Lelouch realizes that no matter how far forward he walks, he will not reach an end; it is like an empty hallway, berating him for his sins, reminding him of the fact that he has painted the earth in blood, and in his wake, he only has this to grasp on to-infinity, immortality. Despite not having lived the years, not having lived the life, Lelouch finally grasps the life of the witch.
He can’t keep the smile from his lips.
“If this is where I must be,” Lelouch says, and his tone comes out softer. “Then it’s where I will be.” He doesn’t explore the first time he opens his eyes, merely grabbing the Britannian Encyclopedia and searching through the index. His name is listed, and Lelouch realizes this is for the future he will never see-the future where he is a tyrant, and in his stead, he left heroes. He left ideas. He left the chance for change.
*
She senses him there almost immediately. CC jerks up, head tilting to the side as she pulls a piece of hay from her hair. A sound of annoyance escapes from her mouth as she tries to steady herself with the driver’s quick speed. She doesn’t mind the ride, the bumpiness, but this is a world where she must continue to pass her hours, her time; it’s a world where there will be no others like them, trapped in a void of life and death, her stuck on the side she never wanted in the first place.
It’s because she’s envious, she knows. When she closes her eyes, she can see that world through his eyes, the facets and the infinite nature, as well as the emptiness. For someone like her, it is as close to death as she will get, but will never experience.
“Enjoy yourself, Lelouch,” she remarks, and for the time being, she closes off her mind to that world. She will swallow pieces of it as time comes, but first, he must learn of its secrets.
*
The first he meets is Shirley, red cheeks, red hair, and eyes widened, as if she wishes to say something, as if she’s happy to see him. Lelouch awakens to her sitting across from him, crossed legs and hands on the floor. She doesn’t speak, merely looking at him-almost through him-with the intensity of someone who wishes to give him a lesson. He takes in her appearance, the curves of her face, and he looks for blemishes, imperfections indicating that this is nothing but a dream.
She never fades away.
“Shirley,” Lelouch says, bowing his head forward. “You told me once about love, didn’t you?” His voice comes out smoothly, and he half-expects a response. She doesn’t flinch. He decides that she’s an illusion, there for her mere existence or for closure. He wonders, too, if she is there because she died or whether it is an internal desire. He curls his hands into fists and cants his head back, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Ah, you don’t have anything to say. You were the one who shouldn’t have been taken away. I never came to understand, did I? But it’s all passed now, and so have I-I am no longer the Lelouch that you know.”
Her eyes blink this time, and he wonders if it is on command. Lelouch slides forward and extends his arm far enough so his middle and index finger can slide under her chin. She is solid enough, if a doll of sorts. He tilts her head back, and says: “That would have never bothered you, no matter the life.”
His words seem to resonate with the world this time; once he pulls his fingers away from the fabrication, she fades away, her expression finally revealing a smile before she is gone. “Ah …” Lelouch says with resolution, and he only notices then how tight his throat is.
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