last one for the moment [drabble-ness!]
...And I close this latest flood with spin-offs from Endtimes: Shadowsong and Endtimes: Thick as Thieves.
17. Relentless. Endtimes: Shadowsong/Thick as Thieves.
The sight of the blades never failed to entrance him. One breath, a raised hand, and they would wake, dancing through the air, weaving silk from blood. Dancing, almost like light, more solid than light. Seeking to follow such detail was something beyond devotion. It was closer now more than it ever was to that dangerous something that was romance but not quite love.
“Take right. Keep the shura from striking.”
“Sir.”
Hikaru Shinta was an artist and the battlefield was his canvas. Only he could move without moving, carve beauty from death, remake reality in splatters and screams and fear and whatever else he wanted it to be. This was what it meant to exude brutal grace, possess effortless superiority, and wield careless abandon. He had no need to verify any of his kills - he knew whether they were dead or not without having to look at them. He pressed on even if they hadn’t perished because the blades were there.
Even now, after being educated in the silent, silver halls of the Neo-Vatican, he considered them the fangs of God.
“Daydreaming again?”
And then Hikaru was there, smiling at them, untouched by the crimson bleeding into everywhere around. They were alone in the middle of the Wolf’s masterpiece, where nothing was left alive but them.
Pure brilliance. It was always a little difficult to meet with that cold, measuring gaze.
“…I’m sorry, sir.”
Hikaru only chuckled and turned from him, cloaked in the death he brought wherever he went. Yue Rukia moved to follow his leader as the spirit bow that was his birthright vanished from beneath his fingertips. There was no need for words.
18. Faithless. Endtimes: Shadowsong/Thick as Thieves.
Somewhat related to #17: Faithless.
He liked to believe that when he had followed Hikaru for the first time, it was because he had been left with no other option. The horde had ensnared his squadron and slaughtered them all down to one boy, a boy whose weapon was faith, and faith had forsaken him. When it returned, it was borne on wings of blades.
One second Heaven was upon him in the trappings of Hell, and in the next there was nothing but death. He had stood on the sidelines of the chaos that had broken out all around them. It was not fit to call the slaughter that had taken place a battle.
He did not register who had spoken to him first: there were only bodies and more bodies, death heaped on death. And then the devil in white with an angel’s face emerged from the carnage. The horde of shadows he commanded - the ones that had tried to bring him back and speak to him - was gone, and there was only him. There was the smell of blood on him but none of it was on his pale, flawless hands.
“Come. The parents of those creatures will be upon us soon.”
“Who… who are you?” He had managed to choke out, just as the resplendent stranger began moving away from him. The boy laughed at that, and turned to him again. His amusement was snow-broth.
“Hikaru Shinta, but you can call me ‘leader.’”
To that day, Yue never stopped dreaming of that moment.
19. Wolves. Endtimes: Shadowsong. Spin-off from the AU of “Knives Out.”
There was nothing but madness to partake of with that first kiss, and he dove into the chaos willingly, seeking to draw out as much of Hikaru’s breath as he could with that first taste. Feränen pulled away with his lungs burning and his appetite barely satiated, and backed up only as far as he was willing to go, gazing into the flushed face of his leader across the bare centimeters that separated them.
“I think I like you best from this angle,” the werewolf growled, allowing a grin to sneak across his features; even the slightest brush of his young lover’s bangs against his skin was enough to make him hungry.
A laugh touched the air, tinged with the slightest edge of impatience. “Shut up and do me already,” Hikaru whispered as that crooked smile Feränen loved to see crossed his lips. The werewolf obliged and kissed him again, this time drawing the younger man into his arms to deepen the kiss. Feränen slipped his hands downward and underneath his leader’s clothes, and reveled in the feel of the Bladian trembling beneath his touch.
Exploring Hikaru from inside out had to wait a moment; Feränen was quick to realize how fascinating the young man’s mouth tasted, how easily the younger man wielded to sparring with his tongue and letting him in as far as he could go. The total control he suddenly had over the most powerful oni-tsukai in Japan was the ultimate power trip, and though Feränen was no megalomaniac their little session that evening was a welcome change from the usual.
20. St. Elmo’s Fire. Endtimes: Shadowsong.
The globe of blue flames in her hand shifted and shivered with every move she made, no matter how slight it happened to be. It cast an eerie illumination over the corpses of the men she had killed, similar to the moonlight that flooded into the room. Its beauty was lost to Marrigan as looked about, taking a silent tally of the dead and reliving the recent battles before they could rush through her bloodstream and dissipate into the cold night air.
“I came too late.”
“Sorry… I couldn’t wait up for you anymore.”
Marrigan nodded to that quaint apology, turning away from the death all around her and letting her pale, unearthly eyes trace the fine form of her companion. Hikaru sat there with his back to the glass wall and his swords embedded into the floor before him, playing with the flame from his lighter the way she toyed with the globe of heatless fire in her hand. He was, as always, quietly amused and fathomless as the deepest abysses that she had ever ventured into in her five centuries of life.
He will be the puzzle that you will never manage to solve.
She was above all of this - the Weapon of Zangyaku had no need to bother herself with the paradox that was humanity, to ponder on Hikaru Shinta’s suspected lack or derived overabundance of it. Yet, as the shadow vampire watched Hikaru as another crooked smile touched his lips and his gloved hands caressed the stainless blade of his weapon, Marrigan discovered that she was bringing it upon herself and she did not mind at all.
The rest are still in the works. @_@
17. Relentless. Endtimes: Shadowsong/Thick as Thieves.
The sight of the blades never failed to entrance him. One breath, a raised hand, and they would wake, dancing through the air, weaving silk from blood. Dancing, almost like light, more solid than light. Seeking to follow such detail was something beyond devotion. It was closer now more than it ever was to that dangerous something that was romance but not quite love.
“Take right. Keep the shura from striking.”
“Sir.”
Hikaru Shinta was an artist and the battlefield was his canvas. Only he could move without moving, carve beauty from death, remake reality in splatters and screams and fear and whatever else he wanted it to be. This was what it meant to exude brutal grace, possess effortless superiority, and wield careless abandon. He had no need to verify any of his kills - he knew whether they were dead or not without having to look at them. He pressed on even if they hadn’t perished because the blades were there.
Even now, after being educated in the silent, silver halls of the Neo-Vatican, he considered them the fangs of God.
“Daydreaming again?”
And then Hikaru was there, smiling at them, untouched by the crimson bleeding into everywhere around. They were alone in the middle of the Wolf’s masterpiece, where nothing was left alive but them.
Pure brilliance. It was always a little difficult to meet with that cold, measuring gaze.
“…I’m sorry, sir.”
Hikaru only chuckled and turned from him, cloaked in the death he brought wherever he went. Yue Rukia moved to follow his leader as the spirit bow that was his birthright vanished from beneath his fingertips. There was no need for words.
18. Faithless. Endtimes: Shadowsong/Thick as Thieves.
Somewhat related to #17: Faithless.
He liked to believe that when he had followed Hikaru for the first time, it was because he had been left with no other option. The horde had ensnared his squadron and slaughtered them all down to one boy, a boy whose weapon was faith, and faith had forsaken him. When it returned, it was borne on wings of blades.
One second Heaven was upon him in the trappings of Hell, and in the next there was nothing but death. He had stood on the sidelines of the chaos that had broken out all around them. It was not fit to call the slaughter that had taken place a battle.
He did not register who had spoken to him first: there were only bodies and more bodies, death heaped on death. And then the devil in white with an angel’s face emerged from the carnage. The horde of shadows he commanded - the ones that had tried to bring him back and speak to him - was gone, and there was only him. There was the smell of blood on him but none of it was on his pale, flawless hands.
“Come. The parents of those creatures will be upon us soon.”
“Who… who are you?” He had managed to choke out, just as the resplendent stranger began moving away from him. The boy laughed at that, and turned to him again. His amusement was snow-broth.
“Hikaru Shinta, but you can call me ‘leader.’”
To that day, Yue never stopped dreaming of that moment.
19. Wolves. Endtimes: Shadowsong. Spin-off from the AU of “Knives Out.”
There was nothing but madness to partake of with that first kiss, and he dove into the chaos willingly, seeking to draw out as much of Hikaru’s breath as he could with that first taste. Feränen pulled away with his lungs burning and his appetite barely satiated, and backed up only as far as he was willing to go, gazing into the flushed face of his leader across the bare centimeters that separated them.
“I think I like you best from this angle,” the werewolf growled, allowing a grin to sneak across his features; even the slightest brush of his young lover’s bangs against his skin was enough to make him hungry.
A laugh touched the air, tinged with the slightest edge of impatience. “Shut up and do me already,” Hikaru whispered as that crooked smile Feränen loved to see crossed his lips. The werewolf obliged and kissed him again, this time drawing the younger man into his arms to deepen the kiss. Feränen slipped his hands downward and underneath his leader’s clothes, and reveled in the feel of the Bladian trembling beneath his touch.
Exploring Hikaru from inside out had to wait a moment; Feränen was quick to realize how fascinating the young man’s mouth tasted, how easily the younger man wielded to sparring with his tongue and letting him in as far as he could go. The total control he suddenly had over the most powerful oni-tsukai in Japan was the ultimate power trip, and though Feränen was no megalomaniac their little session that evening was a welcome change from the usual.
20. St. Elmo’s Fire. Endtimes: Shadowsong.
The globe of blue flames in her hand shifted and shivered with every move she made, no matter how slight it happened to be. It cast an eerie illumination over the corpses of the men she had killed, similar to the moonlight that flooded into the room. Its beauty was lost to Marrigan as looked about, taking a silent tally of the dead and reliving the recent battles before they could rush through her bloodstream and dissipate into the cold night air.
“I came too late.”
“Sorry… I couldn’t wait up for you anymore.”
Marrigan nodded to that quaint apology, turning away from the death all around her and letting her pale, unearthly eyes trace the fine form of her companion. Hikaru sat there with his back to the glass wall and his swords embedded into the floor before him, playing with the flame from his lighter the way she toyed with the globe of heatless fire in her hand. He was, as always, quietly amused and fathomless as the deepest abysses that she had ever ventured into in her five centuries of life.
He will be the puzzle that you will never manage to solve.
She was above all of this - the Weapon of Zangyaku had no need to bother herself with the paradox that was humanity, to ponder on Hikaru Shinta’s suspected lack or derived overabundance of it. Yet, as the shadow vampire watched Hikaru as another crooked smile touched his lips and his gloved hands caressed the stainless blade of his weapon, Marrigan discovered that she was bringing it upon herself and she did not mind at all.
The rest are still in the works. @_@