Trinity Blood Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Darker Angels ❯ Fight, Submission, Recovery ( Chapter 11 )

 

To everyone reading and reviewing, hope you enjoy.

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The fight was over in less than a minute. Hugue had charged Jeirn with all of his strength and Jeirn had simply sidestepped, cut him on the shoulder, thigh and left side then walked away.

 

“Finish! The fight goes to Jeirn in three cuts,” Takara said.

 

Star gave her husband a dirty look and walked to where Hugue now sat on the ground. She crouched down in front of him and sighed when he still refused to look at her.

 

“Damn, kid, you have issues. Hugue, look at me,” there was a command in her tone that Hugue found himself unable to fight and he looked up into her eyes. “We aren't Methuselah, your fight isn't with any of us.” She put her hands over his bleeding shoulder, took a deep breath and began to sing softly. Hugue felt the cut muscle and skin start to lace back together and the bleeding stop. She moved on to his side and leg after that. By the time she had finished there was no evidence he had been injured aside from the bloodied clothes.

 

“Why?” he asked, staring at her in bewilderment.

 

“Because, you're still a child. And you don't really get it. If you'd understood what you were saying I would have made Jeirn use Death Song instead and you would have died on the first cut.”

 

Hugue was moving his shoulder experimentally and looking back at her in awe.

 

“Don't look so impressed. You should see my sister put her husband and the father of her children back together after they've literally torn each other apart.”

 

Jeirn snorted. “You can't compare those little cuts to the damage Reicher and Sunny deal eachother every time they come into contact. I don't know why Skye bothers putting them back together most of the time. Or how Crawford can stand Reicher when he wins.”

 

“The same way I can stand *you* when you win. Speaking of which, you and I are going to have a *conversation* about this little debacle that just occurred,” she said, standing up and grabbing a handful of his hair. “Just what the hell did you think you were doing getting into an altercation with someone who's still alive?” she said, dragging him back toward the Vatican. Everyone present could hear Star berating him all the way inside.

 

“Are they always like that?” Leon asked Takara.

 

“No. Usually they're worse.”

 

 

 

This was a completely untenable situation, Isaak thought to himself as he sank gratefully into the hot water. Added to the fact that it was an outright strange state of affairs.

 

After the first beating he had tried with everything in him to get out of the elegant set of rooms he found himself being held prisoner in. Every spell he knew, even physical force hadn't gotten him any closer to freedom and he had finally given up for the day in exhaustion. Right after he had torn the room completely apart and then put it back together again via magick. But a gilded cage was still a cage as far as he was concerned and he had tried every day since to find some small way to breach the impenetrable force holding him fast in the rooms.

 

The whole thing was just *bizarre*. He'd had the flesh literally stripped from his bones by the same person who then carried him back to these rooms and stayed with him until he healed enough to be left alone. It was confusing. Even more confusing was the fact that he was allowed his own clothes, was well fed, had his own private bathing chambers that would have rivaled an old Roman bathhouse. It was so strange. Had it not been for the daily abuse he would have considered himself a guest in a no doubt grand home.

 

He shook his head and allowed his body to sink into the water up to his chin. He wondered vaguely where Dietrich was and if he were comfortable. He growled at himself for caring when he really shouldn't. But Methuselah, unfortunately very similar to Terrans, were social creatures and thrived on contact with others. Though he had never seen himself as such, it made sense for him to wonder about the other individual who was in very much the same predicament he was.

 

 

Abel opened one eye groggily and tried to discern how long he'd been asleep. His limbs felt too heavy to move and he couldn't seem to clear his head properly. He couldn't see anyone since the room was dark, the only light being what was cast by the fire and slivers of moonlight coming through the heavy curtains but he knew someone was there.

 

“Don't panic,” a baritone voice to his left said. “I wouldn't be in here if I were an enemy. Allow me to correct that statement, I wouldn't be alive were I an enemy.”

 

“That's true enough,” Abel said with a weak laugh. “Who are you?” he asked, trying to lift his head properly and look at the other man. He had the fleeting impression of long red hair and blue eyes, though he couldn't be absolutely sure due to lack of light in the room.

 

“Stop that. You'll open those wounds again and you've already lost a lot of blood. Goddess told you the nano machines aren't working properly so you aren't healing as you should,” the young man said, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

 

“How do you know about the nano machines?”

 

“I'm part of Red Shaman. My mother is Goddess' niece,” he said, brushing a lock of silvery hair back from Abel's face. “You're feverish. We were afraid that would happen.”

 

“I feel so weak and heavy.”

 

“Mmmhmm. Not surprising all things considered. You need to rest,” he said, starting to get up but Abel grabbed his wrist. “Do you need something?”

 

“No. But I have a really stupid question.”

 

“I'll answer it if I can.”

 

“Does everyone in Red Shaman have wings?”

 

He laughed. “No. Only six out of the fifteen of us do. Though my mother can sort of glide using the air currents and sound.”

 

“Oh. What's your name?”

 

“Gunther. But most everyone just calls me Gun for short,” he said, noticing that Abel was drifting off as he talked. He pulled the covers up over the other man. “Sleep well, Abel. I'll watch over you.”