Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ White Shadows and Black Reflections ❯ Walpurgisnacht, part II ( Chapter 6 )

It was like waking from a profound sleep. At first came a subtle awareness of his surroundings. Warm grass beneath his fingers, sunshine on his face, the faint rustling of leaves above him. A faint smell of apple blossoms and of a meadow in early summer.

 

It felt nice. As serene and restful as a cat napping in the sun. There were no voices anymore, no more whispers and he briefly wondered where they had gone. Strangely though, at the moment, he didn't worry about them returning to haunt him. He felt much too good for that.

 

There were things he remembered, dreadful things that seemed to belong right into the nethermost and bloodiest rings of hell. The look on the face of his sister as he stabbed her again and again….her blood on his hands….his torture and training at Rosenkreuz….the look in the eyes of a nameless woman while he had killed her slowly, screaming at God in fury and frustration…..

 

……but somehow, all these things seemed far, far away….they didn't touch him anymore….they didn't hurt him anymore…..It was as if it all had been no more than a distant dream….and that was just SO wrong….

 

Someone was trying to play games with him.

 

A slow grin spread on his face, like blood in water. Nobody played stupid little games with him without paying for them. Even Schuldig had learned that. The hard way. But it wasn't Schuldig this time, was it? It was that….girl.

 

He briefly wondered whether she was one of God's messengers or just another talent that had somehow ended up in his cell, but then decided that it didn't matter either way. In the end, she'd be just so much dead meat.

 

It was strange though. She had pulled him under and for the moment she had the upper hand. He was caught in a vision she had created and there wasn't anything he could do about it for now. So why was everything so pleasant? Why was she going great lengths to make him feel comfortable and at peace? All the others had flooded his mind and his dreams with horrific images and thoughts of desperation. They had tried to beat him into submission with words of treachery and spite. But no words from her so far.

 

It had to be some kind of trap.

 

Well, my little aingeal, we'll see who gets caught in this in the end, won't we? We will play this game of yours. And one slip…one flaw …one weakness in this scheme of yours….and I WILL make you hurt. I will tear you apart until you scream and scream and scream. I will make the heavens resound with your cries for mercy. I swear.

 

No answer.

 

Time to get a move on then. He slowly opened his eye and did a quick check of himself and of his surroundings. He found himself lying on a little hillock underneath the only tree far and wide. An apple tree. It was, as his nose had already told him, blooming and the soft droning of bees made a pleasant and soothing background noise overhead. Around him verdant meadows seemed to stretch on forever and ever, rising and falling with the rolling hills and downs. In the distance a flock of sheep was grazing and far, far away a dog could be heard barking.

 

His outfit was one of those he usually wore. Comfortable boots, trousers, a long button-down vest and beneath that a few bandages but no shirt. The only change was the colour. Everything he was wearing was a dark, shining blood-red. Nice.

 

Now all he needed was his weapon. His aingeal was in for a surprise. He had a few tricks up his sleeve that the chit probably hadn't calculated on. None of the other telepaths had. He grinned as he concentrated a little. His sai was so much part of him that summoning it into this dream wasn't hard at all. And wounds he inflicted on this plane translated themselves directly into the real world. Within an instant, the blade was gleaming in his hand.

The others who had tried to mess with his head hadn't thought that he'd be able to pull this kind of stunt and they had been very astonished when he had gutted them. All he had to do now was ferret out his aingeal. She was bound to be surprised too.

 

 

 

She stood right at the edge, her gaze sweeping over the chaos ahead of her. Outside of the sanctuary, things were worse than ever. She could feel the roiling emotions and memories blazing out there like a furnace, threatening to scorch everything to cinders that ventured into their path.

 

I have built a sanctuary for you, so that you can find yourself again….and now I will have to fight to protect it. To protect you on your journey. Did I mention that I hate standing guard? Waiting….while the important stuff happens somewhere else, somewhere I can't intervene.

 

Once more, she checked her shielding and her weaponry. She was stalling, she knew. She didn't want to go out there. No matter how hard she fought, no matter how great her determination….in the end, she would loose.

 

Facing your madness has torn up old wounds inside of me, did you know that? Wounds that took ages to heal. I felt like dying when I lost Andreas. Only the promises I made kept me going, forced me to face my hurt and heal it. But now I'm bleeding inside again. It feels like somebody is trying to rip my fucking heart out. You're making me bleed so badly, and you don't even know it.

 

She winced as his threats of retribution drifted up to her.

 

Why thank you so very much…right now, I'm not particularly happy with you either. But let me tell you something: I don't scream and I don't beg. For nobody.

 

Outside pandemonium beckoned her, promising untold agony and never-ending sorrow. It sent shivers up her spine and her skin broke out in cold sweat. She gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists.

 

I can't stay much longer.

 

For one last time, she focused her attention on the blood-red figure in the distance.

 

I should hate you, you know. I should curse you to the nine hells. But I can't. I've seen too many of your memories, felt too much of what you're feeling, tasted your soul. And now I…just…fucking…can't…hate you in peace and quiet anymore. So I'll settle for guarding your back while you fight your demons. I've set the stage and prepared the path. The rest is up to you.

 

Bracing herself, she stepped off the edge and plunged into the abyss below.

 

 

There was a stony little path passing near the apple tree. It was as good a place to start as any and after a short debate with himself, he set off to the right, into the direction where he had heard the dog barking.

 

The path meandered through the hills and meadows like a river. There didn't seem to be much change in the landscape. Emerald green grass dotted with flowers, butterflies and bumble-bees, the odd tree and once or twice a field-mouse scurrying over the path. Quiet. Restful.

 

The sun was shining overhead, warming his face.

 

Where the hell is she hiding?

 

He tried leaving the path, but that didn't get him any response or change worth the bother. After wading for what felt like an hour through knee-deep grass which rustled softly as he passed, he returned to the path, frustrated.

 

He was annoyed. He didn't like walking. Not having an opponent to fight was even more annoying. Slashing at the grass had only gotten him…well…cut grass. He had poked a bit at one of the trees too….. and had spent ten minutes afterwards cleaning his sai of the sticky sap.

 

There were burrs and seeds clinging to his pants and his feet were starting to feel a bit sore. It was a….familiar….feeling. But there was something still missing….but what?

 

To his great irritation, on top of it all, his stomach started to growl. He was hungry.

 

Weary and pissed off, he sat down in the middle of the path. He took off his boots and inspected his feet. There were a few red spots but no blisters so far.

 

Oh fuck it! You're supposed to get something to fight when someone drags you into a vision. Blood. Screams. Darkness. NOT….grass, sunshine and sore feet.

 

His stomach growled again, louder this time.

 

….and damn hungry.

 

Somebody cleared his throat right behind him.

 

In a flash, he was crouching on the path, his weapon ready, facing whatever had managed to sneak up behind him.

 

It was………….an elephant???

 

Wait, not exactly an elephant. It had an elephants head, but a mans' body. A rather pot-bellied body. It was wearing wide, multi-coloured silk pants and quite a number of long golden necklaces. It was sitting cross-legged on a small, intricately carved throne which in turn was perched on a…….rat???

 

The rat gave him what looked like a baleful glare and squeaked at him. Loud.

The elephant chuckled softly.

 

“Rat says: You're standing in Your Way.”

 

“What?”

 

“You're standing in your way. Here….”

 

The elephant-headed man tossed him one of the rice balls he had been holding. He caught it instinctively.

 

“…sustenance for your journey. You have my blessing. Hut, hut, hut….come on Rat, we need to be going.”

 

The rat squeaked indignantly at him once more and then it scurried past, throne, elephant and all. He was too shocked to move but recuperated fast. He jerked around, trying to stab the Rat with his sai…but rat and rider were already far away. Soon they were no more than a dusty cloud speeding along the path in the distance.

 

“What the…..?”

 

“……………………&# 8230;.....Huh…”

 

After the surprise wore off, he inspected the rice ball the elephant-man had thrown him. It looked good. Edible. It smelled even better. His mouth started to water.

 

Throwing caution to the wind, he started eating. Delicious. If she wanted to kill him, at least he wouldn't die hungry. Besides, if she killed him or if he killed himself….where was the difference?

And if this dreamscape was her idea of torture, maybe he should ask Schuldig to give her lessons, because she obviously had gotten it all wrong.

 

Feeling sated and refreshed, he put his boots back on and continued down the path, following the route the elephant had taken.

 

Shortly after, the sun was directly overhead and his feet were more than sore. They hurt. He could feel the blisters forming at the heel and on the sides.

 

Fancy being able to feel actual, physical pain within this dream. Sure, the other telepaths had hurt him too, or had at least tried to, but the pain they had inflicted had had a different quality. More mental than physical. And whatever they had tried, it never came close to what he was feeling anyway.

 

Since Jei had ceased to exist, physical hurt had become no more than a faint memory. He had alternately appreciated and loathed its absence.

 

Not feeling pain had added to the ecstasy when he was let off the leash, slaughtering his targets, coming at them even after they had shot him, stabbed him and generally tried to stop him by any means possible. But he always kept coming. Seeing the panic their eyes as he attacked, bleeding and screaming and grinning like a demon had been pure heaven. Nobody could stand in his way. Not even God. He was unstoppable.

 

But there had also been times where he had WANTED to feel pain. Had desperately craved it. Had wanted the sweet hurt of shredded skin and broken bones to distract him from the memories that tortured him.

 

Feeling pain with my body would have numbed the pain within my soul, would have given me something to focus on when my emotions were tearing me apart…but until now, my body felt no pain, no matter how often I tried. And I did try.

 

But there had been another reason why he had cut himself, strangled himself until his lungs screamed for air, had smashed his head against the wall. At times he had longed for the debilitating agony that could be inflicted with fists, screws, whips, knives, brands…with a desperation that reached to his very core. Not to distract him from his other pain, but because he longed for MORE pain.

 

Huh…I remember one of the recruits at Rosenkreuz, howling and sobbing as they scoured away his skin with acid and a metal brush. …and I felt jealous, because he was hurting…and I wasn't.

 

He had wanted to suffer, suffer badly….because something deep inside of him claimed with vehemence that he deserved it. He deserved the worst. Because he had done something unforgivable.

 

But I don't remember doing anything wrong. At least not before Rosenkreuz. I was good! I followed Gods' commandments! I sought to be virtuous, just as he charged us to be! And he betrayed us! He cast us aside!

 

He promised to love us, to protect us, to shelter us in his hand…

 

…so why did he do this? Why did he take everything away from me? Are we no more than playthings to him?

 

… my family...my sister….dead …brutally murdered……by greedy, burglaring assholes sent by a treacherous god. I hate him. I want to kill him.

 

If only he would take everything back….If only I could MAKE him take everything back…i want her back….

 

He didn't protect them even though he promised he would….he….I….

 

It's all so foggy…shifting….I don't remember….her face as….her blood….I don't remember her name…..If only I knew what happened that day….I….

Pain. Punishment. I wanted both so badly.

 

But pain had eluded him, had been denied to him, for far too long.

 

Now that he had it back, it wasn't quite as satisfying as he had imagined it would be.

 

Blistered feet lacked a certain panache. They hurt, but they didn't hurt enough. They weren't punishment or relief. They were just a fucking nuisance. He felt cheated.

 

And I won't slice myself up until I have sliced her up first.