Sorcerer Stabber Orphen Fan Fiction ❯ Satin Blaze ❯ Secrets Shrouded in Darkness ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

:: Satin Blaze ::

Sorcerous Stabber Orphen

Sequel to Velvet Flames

Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters mentioned.

Rating: PG

Pairings: Orphen+Azari, Hartia+Krylancelo, Rai+Hartia, eventual Orphen/Majic

Warnings: AU, shounen ai, angst

Notes: Random thing to make note of: Japanese guys have soft hands. oO;; Softer hands than most girls. It's WEIRD.

Um... In reference to that, I spent the first four periods of Monday (12/9/02) with Japanese visitors from a school. And... DUDE! It was COOL! I have a drawing of Orphen and Majic on the front of my binder and all of them that asked knew it was Orphen! It was AWESOME! One of them was a TEACHER even! It was just... Too cool! *beams* SSO really IS popular in Japan! *huggles her Majic muse* ^-^

Oh, and Tri-san... Don't worry, I'll explain that in due time. ^_^

(( blah )) indicates flashbacks




Hands fell limply into the young man's lap as the light faded, leaving him drowning in a chamber of blackness. This sort of work was tiring, and he hadn't made any progress today. It was time to turn in; he already knew the sun had long since set.

He got to his feet, picking up the smooth, round object that had been suspended in midair only moments before. Careful not to drop it, he made his way up a round case of stairs. He'd been coming to this place to train since he was only five; he knew his way around perfectly without light by now.

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open, sounding horribly loud in the dark and empty hallways of the Tower. The soft soles of his boots made not a sound as he walked with obvious expertise as this form of sneaking around. He was quick and silent on his feet, which could make him a formidable opponent should he choose to use this skill for those reasons. He, however, had never held the desire to fight. He preferred to help from the sidelines, stepping in only when the situation became desperate.

Naturally, this situation was needing in his sort of experience, but not so badly that he felt the overpowering need to interfere. Besides, he was doing enough with these daily searches. He had barely eaten at all in the past three days, for only three days before he had gotten a glimpse of the true enemy... And now it was gone again, out of even his sight.

Before he got to his room, however, he passed the library. To his surprise, candlelight was flickering inside. Someone was up late, possibly homework or research.

Well, that wouldn't do at all. All students were to be in bed unless they had special permission, and he was quite certain no student had permission to be here this late today. He entered the room but did not find what he had expected to.

"Hartia?"

A young man that was barely a year younger than himself looked up, startled. Slightly mussed, bright red hair fell in tired golden eyes; right then he looked like a sleepy boy just awakened from a dreamless sleep. Spread around him were books of all sorts, ranging from magical to mythical to historical to... Comic books?

Vaguely amused, the older yet shorter young man picked up one of the comic books, not surprised to find it titled, "The Black Tiger." It was a favorite of Hartia's; he distinctly remembered, from the few conversations they'd had, Hartia saying he'd wanted to be the Black Tiger when he grew up. He had no idea if he still wished that, but he obviously still enjoyed it.

"Comics?" he asked mildly, setting it back down.

Hartia didn't look ashamed or embarrassed. He simply smiled. "I got bored during research, so I decided to take a break."

"Ah," he murmured softly. "Did I wake you?"

Hartia shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I should go to bed soon anyway." He stood, picking up an armful of books (all but the Black Tiger comics, to the intruders amusement) and walking behind one of the bookshelves, setting the bound papers back in their proper place.

"Were you meditating again, Rai?" the slightly muffled voice came.

The shorter young man set down the round object, a clear crystal ball, and picked up a comic, flipping through it with nimble hands. "Yes," he replied in that same mild-mannered tone. Most of the students might have found it odd for him to read with his hood hiding his face, but it in no way obstructed his eye.

Not many knew that Rai only had one eye, hence why he kept his hood up. Only a select few knew, and the only ones he was aware of were Childman, Hartia, Majic and Krylancelo.

Krylancelo and Majic... Rai paused on one page, staring at a coloured image of the Black Tiger posing in all his glory whilst he wondered if the two had met up since both had left the Tower of Fangs. He wasn't a full psychic; he only had the occasional dream of something extremely bad happening and though he was a clairvoyant and could easily see for himself where the two were, it was not his job. He was to find the Bloody August and report her whereabouts to the Elders. That was ALL.

Hartia came back for the last of the books before glancing over at Rai. Though concern flickered in his eyes, his voice was mildly teasing as he said, "I didn't know you liked comics, Rai."

The green-eyed one shook his head, a faint smile on his lips as he set the book down. "I am not nearly as much a fan as you. Though, occasionally, I will tend to read one, just to relax."

Hartia made a face before disappearing behind another bookshelf. "You're no fun. Krylancelo and I read them all the time."

Rai paused, hesitant to answer. He heard nothing in the freckled one's direction, so he quietly snuck around to check on him. Much to his dismay, there the young man stood, head bowed and eyes in shadow, one hand clutching a book halfway on the shelf and the other gripping two more books until his knuckles whitened.

Comfort wasn't his forte, but Rai made an attempt anyway. He walked over, laying a hand on Hartia's shoulder before murmuring, "I am sorry."

In an almost violent move, Hartia shoved the book into its place. "Not your fault," he grated out in a hoarse voice, wiping furiously at his eyes with his sleeve.

Strings of sympathy tugged at Rai's heart, screaming for him to do something. All he could do was shake his head and murmur another apology. "If you need to cry, please do so," he advised gently. "I do not wish to see you torn apart like this."

Perhaps that was just what Hartia needed, because the books fell to the floor with loud twin slams and he buried his head into the older man's shoulder, tears streaming from his normally cheerful yet thought-filled eyes. The movement tugged at Rai's hood and he brushed it back from his head, allowing it to fall to his shoulders. Strands of green were tugged out of place, but only a stronger force such as wind or a simple shove of one's hand could force the dark green locks away from his right eye.

Rai's hand moved from his shoulder to his back, patting the taller man somewhat awkwardly. "It will be fine," he murmured softly. "Krylancelo just needs to sort things out... It may take a while, but eventually the two of you will be as close as you ever were." Naturally, he couldn't predict this, but Hartia seemed to be somewhat comforted by it.

The silence was heavy for a good few minutes as Hartia struggled to recollect his bearings and dignity. Finally he pulled back, giving his friend a small smile. "Thank you."

Rai shook his head. "We are all suffering; those that love Krylancelo are. You are just hurting most."

The redhead shook his head slightly, hand resting on a bookshelf to support him. "I never told him," he finally whispered. "I had so many chances to; surely he saw that I acted differently at times... But even when I had the chance, I never told to." He pounded his balled fist against the shelf, gritting his teeth. "Every time I tried I would always say something about MAJIC!"

Both of Rai's eyebrows shot up in a little more than mild surprise at this outburst. Not once had Hartia ever appeared to resent the blonde boy, but right now he seemed furious with him... Or, perhaps, was it himself?

"So you loved him as more than just a friend," he said cautiously, not wanting to press a wrong button and have Hartia shut him out just when he was getting him to open up.

The other young man stiffened momentarily but admitted, "Yes."

Rai contemplated this. Of course the signs had been there, had been obvious, but only the Higher Ones knew why Krylancelo had been -- was still -- so close-minded. He had always been so smitten with Azari he'd never noticed Hartia's affections for him... Or even Majic's, and the latter had been so much more blatant!

"I see," was all the mild-mannered once commented. "Perhaps you should get some rest, Hartia. You are emotionally and mentally exhausted."

Rather than argue, as he might have had he had more strength to, Hartia simply nodded. "Of course. I will." He brushed past the green-haired sorcerer, who followed him to the table the former sorcerer had been at only minutes before. The crystal ball lay there, untouched and undisturbed, as did the Black Tiger comics. Hartia picked two up, moving to put the rest away when Rai stopped him.

"I would like to read one," he said calmly, plucking the first volume from Hartia's hands and ignoring the surprised look on his friend's face. "I, too, will need some help getting some sleep tonight."

"Yeah," the redhead said slowly, shrugging and putting the rest away. He frowned faintly, startling Rai when he touched the side of his face lightly, tracing the dark circles beneath his visible eye. "You should sleep in a bit yourself. You don't exactly look your most energetic, either."

Rai simply stared at him, vaguely shaken by the touch. Rarely did people touch him, and it had been so long since another had brushed their fingers so gently across his face. The last hand there had been and admittedly brutal one to deliver slaps for every little thing he had been incompetent for.

Hartia blinked and drew his hand back suddenly, looking embarrassed. Apparently he had just realized the closeness himself. "Ah... Yes. Good night, Rai," he bade, heading swiftly for the doors.

A tiny smile flickered across the solemn one's face. "Sweet dreams," he murmured. Hartia paused and looked back at him questioningly, as though he had barely heard him, but Rai's expression was once again neutral. Shrugging, the freckle-faced man seemed to melt in the night with a flicker of bright red hair.

Musing to himself, Rai retrieved his most precious crystal orb, putting out the candle with a simple wave of his hand.

Well. He certainly had a lot to think about tonight...



Elsewhere, sleep was not coming easily to a certain other youth. It was still light out, though the sun was still in the process of setting for its own rest that night, but he honestly didn't feel like coming out of his room.

Majic was sprawled out on the middle of his bed, tummy down and clutching his feather-stuffed pillow, the coarse casing scratching his already irritated hands. The brown casing was damp, remnants of salty tears, but now his eyes were dry. No more soft cries escaped his throat, no more salty water tried to stain his face. Some skin had been scraped off his nose and forehead, just enough to make him itch, but he didn't seem to notice. Now he was staring ahead at the wall, expression blank.

It had hurt more than anything else to be told that. Nothing could assuage the pain inflicted by the simple statement.

(( "... I can never forgive you for it." ))

He took a shuddering breath; Apparently he wasn't completely calm yet. Majic closed his eyes, trying to block the cold voice from his mind. He didn't try to tell himself Orphen hadn't meant it. Orphen had always been dead serious when it concerned Azari; it was something that had been ground into him from the start.

A knock startled him from his thoughts. "Majic?" he heard his father say. He hadn't disturbed him since he had bolted into the tavern, panting, tears streaking his face and nearly doubled over, out of breath. Majic knew he must have looked horribly strange to his father, refusing to say anything and simply going straight to his room. But Bagup hadn't disturbed him for over an hour, and Majic loved him for letting him have some time alone. "I made supper. You hungry?"

Majic rolled over on his side. "Yes. I'll be there in a couple minutes."

Not another word was said, but Majic did hear the thump of heavy footsteps, signaling his father had left. He wiped his eyes, figuring he should wash up before going down.

He went to the washroom just down the hall, scrubbing his hands and face. His nose felt a bit tender afterwards, but it didn't sting so that was a good sign.

The blonde boy walked downstairs, feeling tired but somewhat refreshed after the good cry. He sat down at the bar while his father finished washing dishes; he would join him soon enough. This was routine.

Majic ate his roast chicken and corn, barely tasting the somewhat tough meat or the faintly sweet vegetable. His eyes were fastened on his plate as he ate mechanically.

There was a light drizzle out now. He could hear it patter on the windows. It was good; they needed the rain around this time of year. If it rained steadily, crops would grow well. Majic had his own small garden out back, and another of pretty flowers out front where his mother used to grow them.

The slamming of a door startled him. His father looked toward the front door but the blue-eyed boy didn't need to look to see who it was. He cringed and shrunk a bit into himself, setting his fork down quickly before he dropped it-- Or followed up the urge to throw it at the offending person behind him.

Finally, though, he did turn slightly, wincing once again at the furious glare the amber-eyed sorcerer gave him. It was sheer anger, as though he were blaming him for everything wrong with his life.

"Anything to eat?" Bagup asked calmly, taking note of his son's reaction to his (possibly former) idol.

"No," Orphen said shortly, stripping off his gloves and letting them drip on the floor that has only just been cleaned. Majic sighed mentally; more work for him tonight. "I'm going to bed." With another burning look in the teenager's direction, he turned and stormed up the stairs. Another door slammed; Majic prayed he hadn't broken it.

Bagup observed his son. "What's bothering him?"

Majic shrugged; he knew this wasn't completely because of his excuse. Orphen was mad about SOMETHING, and whatever it was, he felt content taking it out on his former classmate. "I have no idea," he murmured, finishing the last bit of his chicken before saying, "I'll clean up and go to bed myself, Father."

Bagup nodded once before returning to his own chore. After mopping up the mud and rain Orphen had tracked in, Majic went back upstairs. He paused outside Orphen's door, staring at it almost longingly. It still hurt... But... That didn't change anything to him, did it?

Definitely not. Majic tiptoed to the back storage room, snatching a certain spare key from a hook and cautiously made his way back to Orphen's room. He inserted the key into the lock, turning it, and with a small click he was free to enter.

After all, it had worked out well once before. Why not again?