Complete
Who: Yuber, Elena's corpse
Where: Sunde
When: After she's brought back
Summary: Well, someone has to take care of her...
Rating: PG-13
Yuber was generally an ominous presence in Sunde or wherever he happened to be, watching and calculating. It wasn't above him to erupt into violence at the least prod when it suited him. At other times, he had the patience of a saint to deal with problems or people. Those closest to him knew that the latter was an act. Behind the shield of his falsely calm mismatched eyes was a roaring whirlwind of thoughts that probably centred on how many ways he could rip apart whoever it was pissing him off.
Things were marginally better when he was in his human state. Then the worry was more about Schuldig making someone pissing him off jump off the clocktower than run them through with his swords.
He gathered what he needed beforehand and set them around where he'd need them.
Yuber waited until the knock came to Sunde's door. With the coming of the fog, he had allowed Dean Winchester to more or less seal him in the building. While it didn't matter to Yuber in the least if he slaughtered one maggot or all of them, it did to his cow for some reason. Something deep in him snarled at the idea of someone puppeting him around as if he were one of those weak willed mortals like the Crimson King had done. If him being confined here ruined its plans, so much the better. All of those thoughts had faded into background noise some time ago. What did tick through his mind was if he had those towels laid out right and times it would take for each stage.
He took the bundle from Reno and Ana, not bothering to mouth any of those mealy milksop platitudes that maggots like them seemed to store up for occasions like this. At least they knew better than to try to pat him on the shoulder or offer him sympathy. He had made it all the way to the stairs and started up them before one of them spoke up.
"She was important to us too!"
Yuber stood stockstill, one foot on the step in front of him. The sheet-wrapped slab of meat in his arms was heavy, the stink of mineral water and shaved copper all over it. He could feel all the sniffling and teary-eyed maggots behind him wanting an answer, wanting to seem as if they were capable of fucking doing something when there was nothing to be done. Ugly words that would have made their misery all the worse rose up, begging to be spoken. He had always excelled at plunging the dagger in and ripping it back out well enough to tear apart vital organs. He never turned towards them, still facing to climb the stairs.
"I need clean cloths of some sort and a lotion or oil that women use. Water too. Keep the bucket outside the room filled. I'll be dropping soiled towels outside the door all night. Get them the fuck cleaned up or out of sight. Same with her clothes. When dawn comes, find some of those flowery shit plants she likes and set them around. Kurama knows them. Stop by Aaron's and get a broth soup for her. One of you go to Shin-Ra and offer to help out so she doesn't feel guilty or some other shit you maggots like to torture yourselves with."
He hated those maggots for looking to him for direction or comfort and for that he refused to look down at any of them. Weak creatures.
Heading upwards, he nudged the door closed behind him with a foot. Laying the wrapped meat on the floor, he drew away the layers of sheets they had wrapped around it for some reason. Mortals and their rites of death never had made sense to him. Stripping the sheet away fully, he took a knife to the clothes. The whole bundle was tossed out the door, locking it afterwards.
There was a strange sense of echo to Yuber as he set his blades aside and tossed his hat onto the chair. Opening up all the windows, he paid no attention to the cold that invaded the room. Temperatures rarely bothered him. Picking up one of the cloths and a cake of the homemade soap, he began washing the dead meat from bottom to top. Yuber paused only when he needed to, drying it off then to avoid it freezing solid. Frozen carcasses were harder to handle and tended to break.
Gravel that had lodged into the skin with being dragged was patiently picked out one by one and dropped into a chipped bowl. A splinter or two had even driven itself into the skin, those taking Yuber a little longer to extract. Fine work never had been his best field. He stopped at the neck and rolled it onto its front. The process was repeated, starting at the heels and working his way back up to the shoulders once more. The tendons and muscles were beginning to tighten with rigor. Annoying, but he could deal with it.
A ragged but clean towel was dropped over the slab of meat as he opened back up the door to dump the red blotched cloths and the bowl of gravel, twigs, and other debris that had stuck to it from being dragged.
Lifting its neck, he propped it up enough to let him slide the big meat platter under what was left of the head. Water was poured into the dish, the back of its head resting in it. Stopping himself mid-tucking of a strand of hair behind its ear, Yuber waited a moment to centre himself.
"You maggots would probably call this 'karma'," he said to no one in particular since it was only him and a carcass that could have been of anything, anyone...and it not matter to him. "It isn't as bad as Shu was."
Hands that were used to holding twin blades and making swordfighting an art form gently laid on the shattered skull, one on the right cheek and the other at the back of the neck. Studying the damage, he debated with himself if it would be better to simply clean the thing out or try to pick all the bone chips and fragments from the oatmealish lump inside. Easier would have been cracking it open and scooping it all out to throw away, letting it regrow in time.
With an annoyed sigh, he moved the candle behind him to begin working. Carefully, Yuber began using the crude tweezers (gods only knew what that cow did with them) he had found to draw out the pieces and drop them in another bowl. He was pulling out a particularly long shard that had a bit of brain matter speared on the end when he found himself hoping that wasn't the part of her that made her dig her nails in and hiss his name through clenched teeth. He had rather liked that part.
Did like that part.
Sitting back on his heels, Yuber surveyed his work, watching the body slowly heal itself. It was ugly work, but he had discovered nearly a year ago that it cut down dramatically on revival times if someone did it. Dipping his hands in the water bucket, he washed the stinking brain tissue and congealed gel-like blood off his hands. A sharp prick of pain stopped the demon. Lifting his hand, he stared at the tiny shard of bone that had gotten under his fingernail and embedded itself.
-t's part of her, a piec-
The thought was cut rudely off, the bone fragment plucked out and tossed away. Opening the door, Yuber changed out the dirty bucket for the clean one. Whoever was on slop patrol was doing a damn good job. Everything he had thrown out there was gone, replaced with clean. Gathering up what he needed, Yuber slammed the door after him. Place was too fucking quiet as if the maggots were holding a funeral or some other useless human death ritual.
Setting it all down where he'd need it soon enough, Yuber didn't spare the cold meat on the floor a glance. Drawers were pulled open as he pawed through the fraying delicate underthings within, trying to decide on a pair. One was as good as the next to him, but sh-
The cow had been partial to the pink ones. Pants and socks were pulled out of their neat piles next. Since his clothing was part of who and what he was, Yuber never had to be concerned about it. These worthless maggots puzzled him with the care and time they spent on theirs. What did it matter if it was pink or blue? Rolling his mismatched eyes, he tossed the clothes on the bed and prodding the carcass' lower half. Lifting one of the legs slightly to check that the minor scrapes and all had healed and any fluids done leaking. Satisfied, he began tugging the clothing on the lower half.
Throwing a sheet over the lower half, Yuber leaned back in a chair by the window to have a cigarette. He didn't smoke per se, no demon really needed to, but his human clothes did and occasionally he wanted to.
The grease-like blot of synovial fluid left on the cigarette paper was no more seen than the wet crunchings of bone as the skull was reforming quarter-inch by quarter-inch were heard. There was a reason he left the upper part hanging over the platter still. Hours passed as he stared out the window, waiting. Physical manifestation of Chaos he might be, but he could be silent and still when needed.
When the last bug-being-stepped-on sound came from his side, Yuber pushed himself off the chair. Ears, nose, and mouth were all cleaned carefully. The last of the river's water coming up hadn't been unexpected. Humans had too many grooming practices, he decided as he worked. Blood and everything else liquid in the body seemed to have gathered in the hardest to get out places with the skull reforming.
Sliding the platter back and away he dragged the second one over. The slab's hair was washed carefully, working the soap down to the scalp to drive away the least trace that it had been torn apart by a bullet. Dried and combed, it looked better.
The shirt slid on was left unbuttoned, a suit jacket thrown carelessly on the chair beside the bed as he slid it between the sheets and fluffed the pillow under the head. The last of the mess was cleaned up and put outside for the maggots to scurry about with and clean. Settling back in his propped back chair, Yuber began sharpening his swords and waiting.
Humans were strange about the neatness habits, and she didn't need to know what she looked like before. When they brought the stupid flowers that she liked, he'd set them around and shut the window. The death smell should be aired out by then.
"Stupid cow falling in the river," he groused to himself. No need for her to know she'd been shot really.
None at all.
Where: Sunde
When: After she's brought back
Summary: Well, someone has to take care of her...
Rating: PG-13
Yuber was generally an ominous presence in Sunde or wherever he happened to be, watching and calculating. It wasn't above him to erupt into violence at the least prod when it suited him. At other times, he had the patience of a saint to deal with problems or people. Those closest to him knew that the latter was an act. Behind the shield of his falsely calm mismatched eyes was a roaring whirlwind of thoughts that probably centred on how many ways he could rip apart whoever it was pissing him off.
Things were marginally better when he was in his human state. Then the worry was more about Schuldig making someone pissing him off jump off the clocktower than run them through with his swords.
He gathered what he needed beforehand and set them around where he'd need them.
Yuber waited until the knock came to Sunde's door. With the coming of the fog, he had allowed Dean Winchester to more or less seal him in the building. While it didn't matter to Yuber in the least if he slaughtered one maggot or all of them, it did to his cow for some reason. Something deep in him snarled at the idea of someone puppeting him around as if he were one of those weak willed mortals like the Crimson King had done. If him being confined here ruined its plans, so much the better. All of those thoughts had faded into background noise some time ago. What did tick through his mind was if he had those towels laid out right and times it would take for each stage.
He took the bundle from Reno and Ana, not bothering to mouth any of those mealy milksop platitudes that maggots like them seemed to store up for occasions like this. At least they knew better than to try to pat him on the shoulder or offer him sympathy. He had made it all the way to the stairs and started up them before one of them spoke up.
"She was important to us too!"
Yuber stood stockstill, one foot on the step in front of him. The sheet-wrapped slab of meat in his arms was heavy, the stink of mineral water and shaved copper all over it. He could feel all the sniffling and teary-eyed maggots behind him wanting an answer, wanting to seem as if they were capable of fucking doing something when there was nothing to be done. Ugly words that would have made their misery all the worse rose up, begging to be spoken. He had always excelled at plunging the dagger in and ripping it back out well enough to tear apart vital organs. He never turned towards them, still facing to climb the stairs.
"I need clean cloths of some sort and a lotion or oil that women use. Water too. Keep the bucket outside the room filled. I'll be dropping soiled towels outside the door all night. Get them the fuck cleaned up or out of sight. Same with her clothes. When dawn comes, find some of those flowery shit plants she likes and set them around. Kurama knows them. Stop by Aaron's and get a broth soup for her. One of you go to Shin-Ra and offer to help out so she doesn't feel guilty or some other shit you maggots like to torture yourselves with."
He hated those maggots for looking to him for direction or comfort and for that he refused to look down at any of them. Weak creatures.
Heading upwards, he nudged the door closed behind him with a foot. Laying the wrapped meat on the floor, he drew away the layers of sheets they had wrapped around it for some reason. Mortals and their rites of death never had made sense to him. Stripping the sheet away fully, he took a knife to the clothes. The whole bundle was tossed out the door, locking it afterwards.
There was a strange sense of echo to Yuber as he set his blades aside and tossed his hat onto the chair. Opening up all the windows, he paid no attention to the cold that invaded the room. Temperatures rarely bothered him. Picking up one of the cloths and a cake of the homemade soap, he began washing the dead meat from bottom to top. Yuber paused only when he needed to, drying it off then to avoid it freezing solid. Frozen carcasses were harder to handle and tended to break.
Gravel that had lodged into the skin with being dragged was patiently picked out one by one and dropped into a chipped bowl. A splinter or two had even driven itself into the skin, those taking Yuber a little longer to extract. Fine work never had been his best field. He stopped at the neck and rolled it onto its front. The process was repeated, starting at the heels and working his way back up to the shoulders once more. The tendons and muscles were beginning to tighten with rigor. Annoying, but he could deal with it.
A ragged but clean towel was dropped over the slab of meat as he opened back up the door to dump the red blotched cloths and the bowl of gravel, twigs, and other debris that had stuck to it from being dragged.
Lifting its neck, he propped it up enough to let him slide the big meat platter under what was left of the head. Water was poured into the dish, the back of its head resting in it. Stopping himself mid-tucking of a strand of hair behind its ear, Yuber waited a moment to centre himself.
"You maggots would probably call this 'karma'," he said to no one in particular since it was only him and a carcass that could have been of anything, anyone...and it not matter to him. "It isn't as bad as Shu was."
Hands that were used to holding twin blades and making swordfighting an art form gently laid on the shattered skull, one on the right cheek and the other at the back of the neck. Studying the damage, he debated with himself if it would be better to simply clean the thing out or try to pick all the bone chips and fragments from the oatmealish lump inside. Easier would have been cracking it open and scooping it all out to throw away, letting it regrow in time.
With an annoyed sigh, he moved the candle behind him to begin working. Carefully, Yuber began using the crude tweezers (gods only knew what that cow did with them) he had found to draw out the pieces and drop them in another bowl. He was pulling out a particularly long shard that had a bit of brain matter speared on the end when he found himself hoping that wasn't the part of her that made her dig her nails in and hiss his name through clenched teeth. He had rather liked that part.
Did like that part.
Sitting back on his heels, Yuber surveyed his work, watching the body slowly heal itself. It was ugly work, but he had discovered nearly a year ago that it cut down dramatically on revival times if someone did it. Dipping his hands in the water bucket, he washed the stinking brain tissue and congealed gel-like blood off his hands. A sharp prick of pain stopped the demon. Lifting his hand, he stared at the tiny shard of bone that had gotten under his fingernail and embedded itself.
-t's part of her, a piec-
The thought was cut rudely off, the bone fragment plucked out and tossed away. Opening the door, Yuber changed out the dirty bucket for the clean one. Whoever was on slop patrol was doing a damn good job. Everything he had thrown out there was gone, replaced with clean. Gathering up what he needed, Yuber slammed the door after him. Place was too fucking quiet as if the maggots were holding a funeral or some other useless human death ritual.
Setting it all down where he'd need it soon enough, Yuber didn't spare the cold meat on the floor a glance. Drawers were pulled open as he pawed through the fraying delicate underthings within, trying to decide on a pair. One was as good as the next to him, but sh-
The cow had been partial to the pink ones. Pants and socks were pulled out of their neat piles next. Since his clothing was part of who and what he was, Yuber never had to be concerned about it. These worthless maggots puzzled him with the care and time they spent on theirs. What did it matter if it was pink or blue? Rolling his mismatched eyes, he tossed the clothes on the bed and prodding the carcass' lower half. Lifting one of the legs slightly to check that the minor scrapes and all had healed and any fluids done leaking. Satisfied, he began tugging the clothing on the lower half.
Throwing a sheet over the lower half, Yuber leaned back in a chair by the window to have a cigarette. He didn't smoke per se, no demon really needed to, but his human clothes did and occasionally he wanted to.
The grease-like blot of synovial fluid left on the cigarette paper was no more seen than the wet crunchings of bone as the skull was reforming quarter-inch by quarter-inch were heard. There was a reason he left the upper part hanging over the platter still. Hours passed as he stared out the window, waiting. Physical manifestation of Chaos he might be, but he could be silent and still when needed.
When the last bug-being-stepped-on sound came from his side, Yuber pushed himself off the chair. Ears, nose, and mouth were all cleaned carefully. The last of the river's water coming up hadn't been unexpected. Humans had too many grooming practices, he decided as he worked. Blood and everything else liquid in the body seemed to have gathered in the hardest to get out places with the skull reforming.
Sliding the platter back and away he dragged the second one over. The slab's hair was washed carefully, working the soap down to the scalp to drive away the least trace that it had been torn apart by a bullet. Dried and combed, it looked better.
The shirt slid on was left unbuttoned, a suit jacket thrown carelessly on the chair beside the bed as he slid it between the sheets and fluffed the pillow under the head. The last of the mess was cleaned up and put outside for the maggots to scurry about with and clean. Settling back in his propped back chair, Yuber began sharpening his swords and waiting.
Humans were strange about the neatness habits, and she didn't need to know what she looked like before. When they brought the stupid flowers that she liked, he'd set them around and shut the window. The death smell should be aired out by then.
"Stupid cow falling in the river," he groused to himself. No need for her to know she'd been shot really.
None at all.