No. 25, finally hammered out
Jun. 19th, 2003 02:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessI have got it, finally, the war ends. I don't know why, but this has been the hardest part to write.
Aie, I think I'm going to be picking up the pieces of this for quite some time...
Darren looks... dangerous.
For a moment there he had that look, you know, that one. The one that says he’s madly in love and in pure fucking ecstasy just being near me. I love that look.
Then it was just... eaten. He has a look of death now. You wouldn't think such a little guy could be so scary, but shit, just being near him is making me shake. Even Ghost has shut up - and Darren said he couldn’t perform miracles!
No miracle Rick - I just have the sense of a three year old, I need to, to make up for your lack, really.
Alright, not silent,. but he is quiet, I’m sure Darren can’t hear. He sounds worried, that is so not a good sign. And serious, and he’s never serious!
Tread carefully in this Rick, you probably missed it, it only being blatantly obvious, but the sorcerer took off his wards... His darkness is free Rick, someone’s gonna bleed for that. Make sure it’s not you.
Shit, that did not help the shaking. I can trust Darren, can’t I? He would never hurt me, he would die first! I know it. I know it.
Then why am I trying to convince myself? Because I trust him, not his darkness... this is going to be so fucking bad.
We reach the ground in silence, him lost in some really unpleasant thoughts by the look of it, me so not wanting to be the one breaking him out of it. In fact a ticket to another city sounds real nice right now.
“Dost thou think that wilt be far enough?” Ahrimadan’s voice is a sibilant whisper. Fuck, even the daemon cat is trying to avoid Darren’s attention. This is so incredibly not good.
“He walks with murder in his step and death shining with dark joy in his eyes. I see it. Blood shades his vision and rage rides his heart as the fiercest of steeds. Darkness sings in his ears and no light can drown its majesty.”
Fucking cat needn’t sound so damn happy about it.
Now what? He’s stood out in the middle of the street. The deserted street! What the fuck? This is New York! Middle of the day, a deserted street?! No-one but us... now that is serious mojo. He hands something to me - he doesn’t twitch one other muscle, just that arm. His bracelet and necklace wards barely fit in his small hand.
“Put them on.” His words are iced stone - heavy and cold. My mouth has gone all dry. “Do not argue. This is important. Literally life or death. You wear them you live. You don’t, you die. Unpleasantly.”
My throat is a knot now... the only speck of emotion in his voice was on “unpleasantly” and he sounded fucking eager! Oh shit, stop the world, I want to get off!
I fasten the wards clasps gingerly, I’ve seen these fuckers burn holes in Darren’s chest. They’re just metal to me though.
Darren turns abruptly, a knife appears in his hand. Where the hell did that come from? Then I see the knife. I remember this one. The damn thing shines weirdly, the hilt is covered in these really freaky runes that hurt my eyes to look at. The thing is fucking evil there is no other word for it. Slowly, he cuts the skin near his neck. I feel the first tattoo ward snap back...
“Hear me sister. You came here to hunt me. You came here as an assassin. You came here to destroy all I loved. You came here thinking you would pay any cost.” He smiled. I take a step back without thinking. That happy serial killer smile must be the worse thing I’ve ever seen.
“The rules have changed, sweet sister. It’s a different game now.” With a flick, I feel him cut another ward. His smile widens. I’m back behind the door we just came out of. I’d rather burn to death than face that smile.
“You can’t win this game, sister. And so very many can loose.” He cuts a third ward. And laughs. I’m on my knees before I know it. The wards in my hand are flaring like mini-suns, hot and bright, yet somehow not burning me. I feel the power they’re holding back, and it’s still fucking agony. Shit, his laugh’s like needles. The power pushes like hammers. He’s flooding the whole block with it!
“Darren!” She sounds panicked, in pain. “What are you doing?! You can’t do this! You mustn’t!” She’s screaming now, like all hell’s behind her. Well close... all hell’s right in front of me.
“Can’t? Can’t sweet sister?” He laughs again... louder. The ground rumbles, trembles slightly. Earthquakes in New York?! “Oh, believe me, sister, I can. I can and will. You started these games, little Kat, now I’m playing to win. There’s no prize for second place.”
Power washes outwards again. A huge wave that bowls over everything in its path. I feel the spirit world scream in agony. I’m deafened by the death screams of dozens, hundreds, of lesser spirits in the power’s path. The agonised moans of more powerful entities as they desperately flee the area is even worse. I cower on the floor, naked and alone, my constant companions dead or fleeing. Hot tears poor down my eyes and sizzle on the wards clutched in my fist. How many years will it take for them to reform? How many of my friends has Darren casually inflicted fucking genocide upon?
The physical world hardly does better. Every window in sight fucking explodes, not breaks, we’re talking showers of glass. The pavement cracks and groans, I hear a gas main go up not far away, and see fire fountain up.
“Come out and play little Kat. Come play my game, little Kat. Come out little Kitty-Kay.” I cower and whimper. His voice tells me everything. He’s gone. Fucking gone I squeeze my eyes shut. The spirit world ain’t empty anymore. Ghost has gone utterly still in his palm-top home, not wanting to attract attention. I don’t blame him.
The power flares again. It hurts so much, nothing should hurt this bad! I’m screaming, screaming so loud I’m sure I’ve broken something in my throat. But over mine I hear another scream, so loud and harsh it hurts to hear. Fuck, even in agony I feel sorry for them. How can they stand it.
“Ah, there you are, little Kat. Now we play.” The power suddenly drops. I take a deep, sobbing breath, oh gods it’s stopped. It’s fucking stopped, oh thank you, gods thank you!
Then I hear the chanting. Something so dark and vile my ears can’t really hear it. So fucking tainted I feel it on my skin like slime. The power’s there again, but not on me. It swirls around Darren like a cloud. With one last word he thrusts his knife towards the Building opposite.
Shit, how do you describe it? It folds in on itself like a stack of cards, yet large hunks of it explode outwards. It burns and rots. It ages and corrodes. Parts of it just dissolve to dust. In the middle of the crashing of falling masonry, there’s a scream. A panicked, pained scream... And Darren smiles.
“Finished playing already, little Kat? You’re not as fun as you used to be, sweet sister.” He’s fucking grinning! He saunters over to the rubble like the cat with the cream. He strides up onto one precarious perch and grins down.
Then his face seems to fold in on itself. That fucking grin, and insane light disappear. Darren’s real face swims upwards, horror and grief written large.
I walk up and gently touch his shoulder. He flinches away at my touch, huge tears welling in his eyes. At his feet is a horrible sight.
Once it might have been a woman. A beautiful woman with a wealth of black hair and a happy grin. Half of that pretty face has rotted away to the very bones of her skull. Her body looks like it’s been burned in an inferno, but the stench of rot raises up from her. What a horrible way to go.
“Oh gods. Kat. How could I? What have I...?!” Darren collapses to his knees, the crack of them hitting the rubble echoes in the silence. “I should have let her kill me... she was right, my life comes at too great a cost.” His sobs are so hard, he looses his balance and falls. I reach down and catch him and pull him to me. He clings in as hard as he can, every ounce of strength in those hands pulling me to him.
A wet, strangled sound cuts the silence. “Do not grieve for me, little brother. If you play with fire, you expect to be burned.” Darren turns and looks at her, I don’t know if it’s hope or horror on his face. I don’t know how I feel either, shit, she's still alive. Dark fluid pours out of her mouth.
“You, American.” I move a little closer, how can she stand it?! “He loves you. He really loves you. He can really love?” I nod, I can’t seem to find my voice. “And he cares about my dying...” I look at Darren, ravaged by grief and pain.
“He can love. He can actually love?” She laughs, one sharp tearing sound. “Oh gods, you are cruel. To curse him so and still make him care, to still let him feel? To still allow him love? Brother mine, what an evil hand fate has dealt you.” My own knees feel weak now. A tear, a single pure tear rolls down her cheek to merge with the pool of Darren’s sobs. So much pain, and she cries for her brother? Shit...
“Look after him American. You have a knife at his heart. How many others have plunged them home?” A rattle begins to sound in the back of her throat. Her last breath wheezing away. “Myself included.”
She died.
Darren collapsed, his grief hurts far more than ever his power did. He clutches his wards to him and rocks back and forth. A long, low keening passing his lips, grief to much to stand.
I understand only a few words he forces out between crushing sobs.
“No wound hurts as much as one to the heart.”
Aie, I think I'm going to be picking up the pieces of this for quite some time...
Darren looks... dangerous.
For a moment there he had that look, you know, that one. The one that says he’s madly in love and in pure fucking ecstasy just being near me. I love that look.
Then it was just... eaten. He has a look of death now. You wouldn't think such a little guy could be so scary, but shit, just being near him is making me shake. Even Ghost has shut up - and Darren said he couldn’t perform miracles!
No miracle Rick - I just have the sense of a three year old, I need to, to make up for your lack, really.
Alright, not silent,. but he is quiet, I’m sure Darren can’t hear. He sounds worried, that is so not a good sign. And serious, and he’s never serious!
Tread carefully in this Rick, you probably missed it, it only being blatantly obvious, but the sorcerer took off his wards... His darkness is free Rick, someone’s gonna bleed for that. Make sure it’s not you.
Shit, that did not help the shaking. I can trust Darren, can’t I? He would never hurt me, he would die first! I know it. I know it.
Then why am I trying to convince myself? Because I trust him, not his darkness... this is going to be so fucking bad.
We reach the ground in silence, him lost in some really unpleasant thoughts by the look of it, me so not wanting to be the one breaking him out of it. In fact a ticket to another city sounds real nice right now.
“Dost thou think that wilt be far enough?” Ahrimadan’s voice is a sibilant whisper. Fuck, even the daemon cat is trying to avoid Darren’s attention. This is so incredibly not good.
“He walks with murder in his step and death shining with dark joy in his eyes. I see it. Blood shades his vision and rage rides his heart as the fiercest of steeds. Darkness sings in his ears and no light can drown its majesty.”
Fucking cat needn’t sound so damn happy about it.
Now what? He’s stood out in the middle of the street. The deserted street! What the fuck? This is New York! Middle of the day, a deserted street?! No-one but us... now that is serious mojo. He hands something to me - he doesn’t twitch one other muscle, just that arm. His bracelet and necklace wards barely fit in his small hand.
“Put them on.” His words are iced stone - heavy and cold. My mouth has gone all dry. “Do not argue. This is important. Literally life or death. You wear them you live. You don’t, you die. Unpleasantly.”
My throat is a knot now... the only speck of emotion in his voice was on “unpleasantly” and he sounded fucking eager! Oh shit, stop the world, I want to get off!
I fasten the wards clasps gingerly, I’ve seen these fuckers burn holes in Darren’s chest. They’re just metal to me though.
Darren turns abruptly, a knife appears in his hand. Where the hell did that come from? Then I see the knife. I remember this one. The damn thing shines weirdly, the hilt is covered in these really freaky runes that hurt my eyes to look at. The thing is fucking evil there is no other word for it. Slowly, he cuts the skin near his neck. I feel the first tattoo ward snap back...
“Hear me sister. You came here to hunt me. You came here as an assassin. You came here to destroy all I loved. You came here thinking you would pay any cost.” He smiled. I take a step back without thinking. That happy serial killer smile must be the worse thing I’ve ever seen.
“The rules have changed, sweet sister. It’s a different game now.” With a flick, I feel him cut another ward. His smile widens. I’m back behind the door we just came out of. I’d rather burn to death than face that smile.
“You can’t win this game, sister. And so very many can loose.” He cuts a third ward. And laughs. I’m on my knees before I know it. The wards in my hand are flaring like mini-suns, hot and bright, yet somehow not burning me. I feel the power they’re holding back, and it’s still fucking agony. Shit, his laugh’s like needles. The power pushes like hammers. He’s flooding the whole block with it!
“Darren!” She sounds panicked, in pain. “What are you doing?! You can’t do this! You mustn’t!” She’s screaming now, like all hell’s behind her. Well close... all hell’s right in front of me.
“Can’t? Can’t sweet sister?” He laughs again... louder. The ground rumbles, trembles slightly. Earthquakes in New York?! “Oh, believe me, sister, I can. I can and will. You started these games, little Kat, now I’m playing to win. There’s no prize for second place.”
Power washes outwards again. A huge wave that bowls over everything in its path. I feel the spirit world scream in agony. I’m deafened by the death screams of dozens, hundreds, of lesser spirits in the power’s path. The agonised moans of more powerful entities as they desperately flee the area is even worse. I cower on the floor, naked and alone, my constant companions dead or fleeing. Hot tears poor down my eyes and sizzle on the wards clutched in my fist. How many years will it take for them to reform? How many of my friends has Darren casually inflicted fucking genocide upon?
The physical world hardly does better. Every window in sight fucking explodes, not breaks, we’re talking showers of glass. The pavement cracks and groans, I hear a gas main go up not far away, and see fire fountain up.
“Come out and play little Kat. Come play my game, little Kat. Come out little Kitty-Kay.” I cower and whimper. His voice tells me everything. He’s gone. Fucking gone I squeeze my eyes shut. The spirit world ain’t empty anymore. Ghost has gone utterly still in his palm-top home, not wanting to attract attention. I don’t blame him.
The power flares again. It hurts so much, nothing should hurt this bad! I’m screaming, screaming so loud I’m sure I’ve broken something in my throat. But over mine I hear another scream, so loud and harsh it hurts to hear. Fuck, even in agony I feel sorry for them. How can they stand it.
“Ah, there you are, little Kat. Now we play.” The power suddenly drops. I take a deep, sobbing breath, oh gods it’s stopped. It’s fucking stopped, oh thank you, gods thank you!
Then I hear the chanting. Something so dark and vile my ears can’t really hear it. So fucking tainted I feel it on my skin like slime. The power’s there again, but not on me. It swirls around Darren like a cloud. With one last word he thrusts his knife towards the Building opposite.
Shit, how do you describe it? It folds in on itself like a stack of cards, yet large hunks of it explode outwards. It burns and rots. It ages and corrodes. Parts of it just dissolve to dust. In the middle of the crashing of falling masonry, there’s a scream. A panicked, pained scream... And Darren smiles.
“Finished playing already, little Kat? You’re not as fun as you used to be, sweet sister.” He’s fucking grinning! He saunters over to the rubble like the cat with the cream. He strides up onto one precarious perch and grins down.
Then his face seems to fold in on itself. That fucking grin, and insane light disappear. Darren’s real face swims upwards, horror and grief written large.
I walk up and gently touch his shoulder. He flinches away at my touch, huge tears welling in his eyes. At his feet is a horrible sight.
Once it might have been a woman. A beautiful woman with a wealth of black hair and a happy grin. Half of that pretty face has rotted away to the very bones of her skull. Her body looks like it’s been burned in an inferno, but the stench of rot raises up from her. What a horrible way to go.
“Oh gods. Kat. How could I? What have I...?!” Darren collapses to his knees, the crack of them hitting the rubble echoes in the silence. “I should have let her kill me... she was right, my life comes at too great a cost.” His sobs are so hard, he looses his balance and falls. I reach down and catch him and pull him to me. He clings in as hard as he can, every ounce of strength in those hands pulling me to him.
A wet, strangled sound cuts the silence. “Do not grieve for me, little brother. If you play with fire, you expect to be burned.” Darren turns and looks at her, I don’t know if it’s hope or horror on his face. I don’t know how I feel either, shit, she's still alive. Dark fluid pours out of her mouth.
“You, American.” I move a little closer, how can she stand it?! “He loves you. He really loves you. He can really love?” I nod, I can’t seem to find my voice. “And he cares about my dying...” I look at Darren, ravaged by grief and pain.
“He can love. He can actually love?” She laughs, one sharp tearing sound. “Oh gods, you are cruel. To curse him so and still make him care, to still let him feel? To still allow him love? Brother mine, what an evil hand fate has dealt you.” My own knees feel weak now. A tear, a single pure tear rolls down her cheek to merge with the pool of Darren’s sobs. So much pain, and she cries for her brother? Shit...
“Look after him American. You have a knife at his heart. How many others have plunged them home?” A rattle begins to sound in the back of her throat. Her last breath wheezing away. “Myself included.”
She died.
Darren collapsed, his grief hurts far more than ever his power did. He clutches his wards to him and rocks back and forth. A long, low keening passing his lips, grief to much to stand.
I understand only a few words he forces out between crushing sobs.
“No wound hurts as much as one to the heart.”
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Re:
Date: 2003-06-19 01:38 pm (UTC)