Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Sweet Sorrow ❯ The Sent of Baked Apples ( Chapter 4 )

Dumplings Katie, Dumplings :P

DISCLAIMER: (ignore above comment, rather weird, inside joke) I don't own Weiss Kreuz. Nope. I don't even own the anime of it. I had to borrow it from my friend Adrienne (thank's Adrienne ^_^). Anyways, I'm sure you guys are all thinking; we want more Farfie! This is a Farfie fic, not a Tawny fic. Well fear not for I have finally finished my excursion in delving into Tawny's character (lots and lots of characterization) and am ready to have Tawny and Farfie meet for the first time ^_^ (I probably should have said all of this at the end of last chapter though, shouldn't I have?)

Twisted passion,

Wicked pain,

Lustful death,

You seek in vain;

Loving hand,

Soft embrace,

Milky skin,

Love gives chase.

Farfarello had wandered into a cemetery before he realized it, having been lost so deeply in his own thoughts. It was getting darker and the sky was completely black. The moon and stars had all been shrouded over in a thin covering of clouds and the soft rain looked as though it was going to turn into a thunderstorm before the hour was through. The soft drops hitting the ground hundreds at a time, turning the earth to mud.

He walked absentmindedly in between the stones, once beings - living, breathing people - now little more then dust beneath six feet of dirt. "Back to the dust from where hence thou came..." he mumbled to himself. The bitter smile that followed twisted and retched jagged against his face. Even now those verses, those songs, those lies where still with him. He could not cast off those once comforting phrases, which had since become the adversary of his ambition.

There was a still sort of calm in the night air that even he was forced to notice. It was a kind of melancholy echo; not quite hostile, not quite still, that seemed to race through the wind as it blew clouds, dust, and leaves about the sky. All things flew against the dark canvas, layered in colorless shapes of gray and white.

He almost wished he were one of those leaves, free to fly away, without care or feeling. There was no sorrow in the mind and heart of a leave for it had neither. Oh, how he longed for sweet nothingness so often. How he wanted so much to bid this world a final adieu. And yet, there was a constant force that drove him from suicide at his every attempt. There was a will that still made him fight when he had the chance to die. There was still a very real will to live, existing at the same time with that very real wish to die.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Jei... Jei, come in!" Came the sweet voice of a rather plump woman that stood at the threshold of a door to a very small, but cozy cottage. The sun played on her warm face and her eyes shown with a sort of heavenly beauty. The lines of her face were deeply creased with age and her brow was worn with worry, though one would never notice it passed her gentle smile that gave her a sort of youthful glow. Her apron was soiled with this-morning's eggs and freshly stained with lunch's jam - all signs of that sacred love that can only be shared between mother and child. Smells of baked apple emanated from the door and the two children who had been picking flowers all afternoon eagerly ran to their mother's beckon.

"Look what I made you mamma!" Smiled a brown haired girl all freckled with deep-set dimples in a dirty pink dress that came breathless to the door. She had made a wreath and decorated it with flowers from the meadow just beyond the well by their cottage. "See mamma, it's got pink and yellow, and little white flowers all in it! It matches your dress," she continued to explain; as her mother beamed down at her, face all love.

"It's very beautiful," said the women, taking the wreath from her daughter and preparing to place it on her head.

"No, let me!" cried the girl. So the mother stopped and handed the flowers back to the child as she stooped down and received her gift with such grace that one would think she were being crowned queen.

"You look beautiful mother," whispered the second of the two children, a boy with bright yellow eyes and soft white hair. His eyes looked upon his mother with both wonder and admiration. She was to him the world; all save Sister Ruth, who was the very image of the Madonna to him. But his mother was a close second to the mother of Christ and he often wondered if the virgin mother of the Son of God was his very own. He admired the angle before him with breathless worship as the sun caused her very being to glow against the emerald hills that went behind her as far as the eye could see, and he thought it must be Eden over those hills. His love for her went beyond that of a son and transpired into the regions of that between man and God. She was the epitome of goodness, the meaning of love, the very incarnation of trust, loyalty, and all other things good and right with the world. And to him she could do not wrong.

"Jei helped me make it mamma. He wreathed it for me. I only picked the flowers," giggled the girl, all smiles and dimples as she grabbed her mother's hand and began to tug at it with affection.

"Well, you children have certainly been busy, haven't you? Making me such lovely gifts. You both deserve an extra big slice of apple pie for being so good. So go wash up and sit at the table," came the sweet coo of their mother, as she bent and gave both her children a warm embrace, then lead them into the cottage, one on each side, holding her toil-worn hands.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A shot of thunder screamed in the night and Farfarello was torn away from his sleepy little cottage, nestled in the hills of Ireland, with the smells of apple pie and the soft embrace of his mother, to a cemetery in Miami on a rainy night, and an approaching storm. He had been jerked out of his sweet memory back to the world he hated so. Back to his despair, his aching, his fear. The parting was a bitter break, and the wound cut just as deep into the boy's flesh as it had that day. He could not bare the face of those angels, all good and righteous, frozen forever in his mind, drowned in a pile of their own blood.

Every time he managed an escape from the cruel world, back to his past full of warm kisses and hugs, the spell would be broken and he would again see before him a river of blood and with the confines of that shallow creek would lay all that he loved. Their limbs severed, throats slit, mouths twisted - frozen - in icy gasps of terror. The rose was still in his dear sister's cheek and she still clutched, in blood soaked hands, the patchwork quilt given to them that evening by Sister Ruth. On it was the image of those two angels between the pillars. Their wings outstretched again the blue backdrop and their faces blank and without a feature. They too shared the blood of those he loved as the quilt was also soaked in the mess of the essence that had once so steadily flowed through those heavenly cherubs.

"And will you deny me even my thoughts of a happier?" He whispered through clenched teeth, head up to the sky as the tears were washed away and his heart returned to stone. As he turned around and prepared to sulk home through the rain until he caught sight of a lone figure exiting through the big iron gates of the cemetery grounds, into the empty streets.

The wicked smile that had become so customary on his face soon returned as the scent of apple pie and flower wreaths withered away and were replaced with thorns of hatred and thoughts of torture. Jei would not rein in his mind for long, not when there were lambs that needed tending to.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Tawny ran as fast as she could away from the man, her heart racing as thoughts of terror danced through her mind, but was soon overcome and tackled to the ground. She screamed out in pain as he grabbed hold of her hair and gave it a hard yank, as he straddled her back, effectively pinning her to the ground.

"That wasn't much fun," grinned Farfarello against Tawny's ear. "I was hoping for at least a little fight," the madman chuckled to himself as he pulled Tawny's hair yet again, eliciting another cry of pain and slamming her skull hard against the pavement.

"Let me go, please, let me go," pleaded Tawny as she vainly tried to throw her attacker off. The blood began to trickle down her forehead and it was all she could do to keep her wits about her.

There was no reply from Farfarello; he pressed his knife to her cheek. He let the cold metal slide across her face and smiled widely when a thin string of blood began to form, "I can feel your heart beating. It's racing so fast. I can feel it through your back, against my chest. It's so, so very nice," Farfarello continued to tease as he brought the knife to his mouth and licked off the thin streak of her brood. The tangy flavor lingered on his tongue as a delicious shiver of excitement ran through his entire being. This one, yes, she is very interesting indeed, he thought to himself as he pressed her face against the cement, scrapping her nose and scalp raw.

"Please, don't hurt me..." cried Tawny as the tears began to come. She didn't want to die. Not like this. Not like Elizabeth. - Die like Elizabeth... - She said almost under her breath. It struck her like an arrow. Was this maniac the same man who killed Elizabeth? Had this been what it was like for Elizabeth in the last moments of her life, all alone in the hands of this psychopath. Tawny couldn't bare this thought. She couldn't bare her own fear, let alone the sad fact that her best friend, in the last desperate moments of her life, had felt the same way. "Had she wondered about me?" Tawny whispered between choked tears. She couldn't help but question. What she did know was Elizabeth had put up a fight. She had ran and had been within reach of safety when he had overtaken her and eventually killed by the final fatal blow.

"She fought and so will I!" She vowed in her own mind. She refused to let that one eyed freak to slit her throat without even a struggle. Her eyes blurred with tears and her face was a bloody mess against the pavement, but none of that mattered when the image of Elizabeth, body stained in blood, hand clear cut off the bone. That was her power, her inspiration, her driving force and she refused to let that fire be quelled.

"You Bastard!" Tawny screamed and began to thrash around. She struggled and squirmed, managing to free one hand before it was quickly pulled back into the hands of the attacker. She managed to lift her head only barely and before she knew it, it was against the pavement yet again, accept this time she couldn't see anything but pitch black and a blur of swirling colors before she completely drowned in the sea of darkness and was lost forever in the waves of onyx.

VOCABULARY:

Adieu - French for goodbye (its not really that important, but its nice to know)

Madonna - Another name for Mary (along with Maria and a couple others I may use for inconsistency).

NOTES: What yah think? I'd really appreciate some feedback. My muse it on a sugar high *looking over at the drunken sprite, scribbling down the next chapter diligently* yep, this ain't gonna be good for Tawny. I can tell *motioning to the sadistic smile lacing Totskumi's (the muse's name) face*

P.S. I wanted to include the childhood memory of Farfie so I could give him some humanity before I had him beat Tawny's head against the sidewalk (and no, Tawny isn't dead - yet - ^_^ - Bwha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!). Anyways, thanks for all your patience and support and whatnot. And I promise to update the next chapter by next week (I know I've got everyone wondering how Tawny's going to get out of this one).