Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Shadow War ❯ Shadow War 9 ( Chapter 9 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A long, slender finger slid along the dark scar that ran along Dilandau’s cheek, tender and light in its touch. “Such a pretty face. I would like to wear it.”
“Fuck off,” Dilandau managed darkly. The cold was gone, left to dissipate from a slow thaw, leaving the clammy, soggy feel behind. His back throbbed painfully, nearly overriding the matching pangs in his chest and limbs. Every little tear within him was felt in precise measure. He could even feel the blood seeping from the wounds, beneath the skin in sickening cadence.
“You don’t want me to take your face?” Zongi said in surprise. “Such a waste!”
“Better wasted than yours.”
“That is quite true, Dilandau,” Zongi smiled wickedly. “And I will take pleasure in wasting it so that not even you can enjoy it.”
The finger that was almost lovingly stroking his scar curled, the nail biting into the top edge of the healed wound. Blood welled around the finger as it struck deeper, gouging into the soft flesh beneath. Dilandau remained very still as the claw pulled lower, opening the gash anew, a wide, jagged trench in his face.
“You are too quiet. I want to hear you beg.” Zongi brought the nail to rest against Dilandau’s left temple, dragging it slowly across his forehead. The skin parted with ease, showing a sliver of the skull not far beneath. “Beg for me, Dilandau.”
There were more cuts than he could count, blood dripping down his face in rivers, stinging as it ran into his eyes, pooling there before spilling over like scarlet tears, running down, staining his silvery hair. He had cuts on his arms and legs also, but none so many as on his face. Zongi carved him royally. He feared that if he moved too much the skin would just slip off his face, leaving him a bloody, muscle patched skull. As Zongi neared for another round, gingerly picking a wide slice of skin off of his victim’s face, Dilandau opened his mouth to speak.
Blood flowed past his lips in a thick wash, making him choke noisily. Zongi seemed to enjoy that immensely. Swallowing his own blood down and licking aside the pools that waited at his mouth, Dilandau tried again. “I- I- no more.”
“Hmm? What was that?”
“I- stop this.”
“Oh, Dilandau. You need to tell me more.”
A single tear rolled down his cheek, unseen under the thick streams of blood. “Stop. . . cutting me. I- I can’t take this anymore. You’ve wrecked m-my face. The damage is done.”
“But I am not,” he rasped, wiping his hand messily around Dilandau’s bleeding face. Enjoying the tightly shut eyes and grimace of pain it earned him. “Done, that is.”
“But- ”
“You are so different when you’re defenseless,” Zongi observed. “You’re actually whining.”
“Just take me and get it over with.” he whimpered, staring up into the blackness. “Kill me.”
Zongi was silent for a long moment. So long, that Dilandau began to wonder if he just decided to leave him alone. ::Or maybe I’m dead.:: Dilandau wondered, relieved at the stark prospect.
“No,” was the patronizing voice that cut through his thoughts. “You are not dead. And I will not put you out of your well deserved misery, just yet.”
“Why not?” His whisper sounded like a tiny squeak to his own ears. Tears threatened to well up, but he found he could not find enough moisture in his eyes to let them free.
“Because,” he said slowly. “You have a pretty body to go with your pretty face.”
Realization did not dawn until Dilandau felt his clothes being removed. One piece at a time with measured slowness. The blood made the fabric stick to him in places, peeling back with drying tackiness when Zongi pulled on them. “You can’t!” Dilandau yelled, tossing his head from side to side as the rest of his body complied without resistance.
“I can,” he assured him. “Believe me.”


As they neared the castle, with its torches already ablaze at every entrance, Aristae found her excitement over it greatly diminished. The towers were still tall, the banners still proudly blowing in the night wind, but the initial enchantment had worn off somehow. ::It only took a day:: she mused, following Allen past the main gate to the stables.
After dismounting, Allen offered his hand to Aristae, who took it, gently sliding from the saddle. She really didn’t need help, but since he offered, it seemed rude to refuse. Grooms led the horses away to be brushed before they were returned to their stables. The black gelding snorted harshly, realizing he had missed the evening feed. Eating late was not among his favorite events.
“Are you hungry?” Allen asked, leading her toward the inner courtyard.
“Quite,” she admitted. “What’s for dinner?”
“Gaeans don’t eat dinner.” he teased, “We only eat at dawn.”
The grin on his face told Aristae he wasn’t serious. “Earthlings eat all the time. I will waste away to nothing without food.”
“Then we shall get you some,” he promised, holding her hands in his. “For I can’t bear the thought of you wasting away.”
They stayed in the courtyard a few minutes longer, talking of all kinds of inconsequential things, until Gadeth appeared at the East gate. He waited patiently for the Moon girl to finish her sentence before he spoke, “Sir, your presence is needed at Selena’s quarters. She is not well.”
Allen nodded, giving Aristae with a sad, pleading look. She had already said she didn’t know how to help her, but he silently asked again. His light blue eyes searching her face for assurances he knew were not there.
Aristae looked up at him, her amber mirrors sad and sorry. With a short sigh she disentangled her hands from his and looked away. He gazed a bit longer, waiting for her to respond. She shrugged, “I don’t know how to help.”
His chest tightened uncomfortably. To hide his disappointment he stiffly walked away from her, ordering Gadeth to get her some dinner and make her comfortable in her room. He then hurried to his sister’s side, as he had done so many times in the last month.