POSTED: 8/28/00
REVISED: 12/27/00
AUTHOR: Jay / carboxylated@yahoo.com
ARCHIVE: Gundam Wing Addiction (Tyr), Desolation Angels (Ashura, if
she wants it)
[Full fiction index @ http://www.geocities.com/fenris_wolf0]
Disclaimer: Scroll down (invariably at the bottom)
Title: Eden
Category: AU, yaoi, shonen ai, angst, horror
Timeline: Adapted Post-EW (Treize is alive to serve my purposes...
^^)
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 5+13, 6+9
Rating/Warning: R. Violent, and graphic descriptions of what is best
describe as "icky" situations. AU somewhat confusing, especially with flashbacks
and whatnot. YAOI = little anime boys snuggling. You've been warned.
Feedback: Craved, desired, wanted, coveted, yearned for, wished for,
and longed for. C&C will be repaid with dancing G-boys, my endless
adoration, as well as a nice slice of karma.
/... .../ = thoughts
She flitted from tent to tent, laughing. "Brother, where are you?"
Her fair skin was burning underneath the sun and her blonde hair flashed. Around her, dark-haired people with olive skin grinned. Their little Tahirah was a sight in a land of sand and heat.
Her fine linen robe swept around her ankles. Father had traded for it, and mother had spent nights sewing the dress. It was so beautiful, and soft. She laughed. She had such a beautiful family. But where was her brother? She pouted. "Zeke! Come back to me!"
Her tall, handsome brother emerged from a tent. "You called, sister?"
She looked at him reproachfully. "Taa'la maei[1]. It's time for ablution and salat[2]."
Zeke and his sister walked over to the small oasis. Sitting in the green growth, they knelt before the water.
"Bismallah, we perform this rite for worship and purity," Tahirah intoned. They began, each washing their hands up to their wrists three times, then rinsing their mouths. After their faces and arms were bathed, they finished by washing each foot, up to the ankle, three times, starting with the right. Tahirah wore a very serious look on her face. They began with the Qiyam position, saying in unison, "Allah-o-Akbar. Allah is great."
The look on his sister's face was tender as she moved into the next position. "Praise and glory be to you O Allah. Blessed be Your Name; exalted be Your Majesty and Glory. There is no God but You."
He shifted. "I seek Allah's shelter from Satan, the condemned."
Tonight was the night. He watched as a sliver of the moon rose over the trees, lost in his sister's voice.
"Peace and mercy of Allah be on you."
"Tahirah..."
She shifted on her bed.
"Sister..."
One eye opened. "Zeke? Why are you awake?"
"You have grown, sister, and I bring you a special gift."
Both eyes opened as Tahirah rose. It was her 13th birthday today. She grinned and looked curiously at her brother, who was dressed in a loose, billowing, white robe. "What?"
"Taa'la maei," he teased.
"Jiegeblye[3]," she rose.
They walked, hand in hand to the oasis. He brought out a choker and pressed it into her palm, smiling.
It was a silver star strung on leather. Zeke had the same star tattooed on his wrist.
"It's the morning star," he whispered, placing it around her neck, and fastening it. "Happy birthday."
"Oh, Zeke!" She flung her arms around her brother. "Shukran[4]!"
Her brother began walking into the water.
"Zeke, what are you doing?"
"The water's lovely," he said. "Come in."
"My shift will be soaked."
"It will dry. Come, sister. Look at the moon from within the water." He stretched one hand out, his fingers beckoning, and his eyes bright with sincerity.
/I love you, dear sister... I'm so sorry.../
The other hand was behind his back, clutching a dagger.
"Come..."
She stepped into the water, cautiously. It was cold against her skin, soaking through the cloth. One hand of her brother's still beckoned to her. She stepped closer to him. His hand latched onto her wrist, pulling her into deeper water.
Cold. It was so cold.
She shook her head. "Zeke... thank you, but goodnight." Tahirah turned towards dry sand.
The flat of the dagger's blade kissed her cheek, suddenly.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, clear and distinct. He turned the blade ninety degrees. He could feel the sharpened edge slice through the skin, drawing a fine line where the blood would eventually peek through. His other hand rose to cover her trembling lips, before she could scream.
A figure in the surrounding cover of sparse trees and bushes smiled. His sharp eyes watched as the girl stopped jerking, and simply slid into the water, boneless. The water was dyed darker around her, as the blood spread.
Relena awoke, jerking up. There was a sudden bloom of pain on her right cheek.
She stared at the long knife, stuck into her pillow. Her mind processed the image and slowly, finally, a scream ripped through her throat. Her hand slapped against her cheek, fingers stroking the thin slash the blade had made in her skin.
It was raining outside, thundering and pouring.
/Zeke.../
/Zechs,/ she thought, dumbfounded, /you tried to kill me./
Tears streamed down her face, as she touched the knife gingerly.
/You tried to kill me./
She had been delicious, he remembered. Not quite as lovely or pungent as their souls, but above the normal, bland blood that most mortals had.
And Zeke had always been a favorite.
/I should call him,/ Lucas mused. /He and Lucia have so much catching up to do./
Noin sat on the balcony and looked out onto the glitter of lights and the outline of buildings against the navy skyline. Below her, people walked the streets, taxis drove by, and the sound of music and laughter drifted up to greet her ears.
Zechs joined her. "What are you looking at?"
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" It began to rain, water coursing from the sky and hitting metal. "Even the rain's nice here."
They stood there for maybe five minutes, letting the rain wash over them.
A scream cut through the air, sharp and jagged. It sounded suspiciously close, maybe even next door.
"That sounded like--" Noin began.
"Relena." Zechs was already running out the door. Noin nodded grimly, and followed.
They pounded on the door of Dorothy and Relena's room, persistent, until a wild patter of footsteps announced that someone was coming. The door wrenched open, revealing Dorothy, hair and clothing in disarray.
"Relena just--"
Zechs pushed by her, entering the room. He quickly spotted his sister's huddled form in the bed; she was a tight ball, curled beneath the sheets.
She sobbed brokenly. "Oh... how *could* you, Zeke... family..."
"Relena, it's me... Milliardo..."
"Family! How could you kill me?"
/Not try to kill. Kill./
The dream was playing in front of her eyes.
"Relena--"
"You stabbed me... not even in the heart... not even an easy death for your sister. An inch off! To bleed me! To feed him! And you watched, you miserable coward, you watched me die in front of your eyes!"
Zechs' eyes were pained. "It was a dream, Relena..."
Relena's head jolted up, her eyes wide and brimming with tears of betrayal. "Brother," she murmured. "How-- I-- how could you?"
Dorothy should have watched the scene playing out before her-- brother and sister, hugging each other, Zechs, calm and soothing, Relena, hysterical and babbling.
She only watched Noin.
Noin stood rigid before the window, eyes blazing. There was a crack of thunder that illuminated her form.
The outline of her body was strangely feline. She remembered it. Noin, standing, staring at her with so much hatred in her eyes, and then, looking beyond her...
"...I have failed you, master." Noin's voice held so much self-contempt.
"Lucia, don't be silly, a blood sacrifice is just as well."
Dorothy moaned through the gag in her mouth.
/My name is Iman./
Lucia shot her an annoyed look, punctuated by another lash of her whip. Behind her, a fire flamed. Her luminous form was clad in a simple white dress, and she had a tattoo of a star on one exposed shoulder.
/You killed my family./
Tears welled up in her eyes.
Lucia continued, "I almost had him, master. But this-- this *girl* interfered."
/Nathaniel, you got away.../
Her eyes drifted to the motionless body towards the left. Her mind stopped.
Lucia reached over and ripped the gag out of her mouth.
"You KILLED him!"
Nathaniel and Abijah had been traveling with her father and her for years now. They were close friends of hers, like family. She had always felt that their bloodlines connected. Her eyes burned, belying her name. A low rumble erupted from her throat.
/What's Abijah going to say?/
Pain and anger strove for control.
/He's dead..../
Lucia looked disgusted. "An accident. He was supposed to live."
A deep, sonorous male voice behind her laughed. "It's the dying blood, little girl, that is the sweetest."
Lucia bowed her head. "I submit myself to your will, master."
"Lucia," the voice said dryly, "your single greatest flaw is your blind devotion, I'm afraid."
"I failed you," she insisted. "I am unworthy to carry the star."
Iman spat. "You are unworthy to spill his blood!" Her head jerked towards Nathaniel. His blue eyes were dead, and his dark hair was stiff with his blood.
/I will never hear you laugh again./
She recoiled as a hand stroked her cheek.
/I'll probably never hear Abijah laugh either,/ she thought ruefully. /Never tease them for--/
"You're a pretty one. I'd kill you myself, if I could. But then you'd be spoiled for eating."
Her blood froze.
"But not with Nathaniel, no... I could have split his throat myself and broken his back. The taint doesn't touch him." The voice sounded faraway, lost in memory.
/Some disgusting memory, no doubt./
"The light could clean anything." He laughed. "Except for maybe me. Lucia?"
Lucia drew a dagger--
/No, Noin, please... it's me, Dorothy.../
--and walked over to Iman. She slid the tip of the blade against her throat.
"Don't fight, girl," she cooed. "It hurts less with clean cuts."
Noin was distracted by a sound from Dorothy. She turned and froze; the look in Dorothy's eyes, the overwhelming fear-- of her!-- stopped her cold.
She remembered that look.
"Dear God," she whispered. "Oh, my dear God."
Treize walked into his suite and looked at the slumbering Wufei. He sat down and looked at his dragon for a moment, tangled in red sheets. Red was a popular color again. He smirked. The sheets were wrapped tightly around his lover's body, like a robe. There was a hint of movement...
Wuxing cursed the tall man over Xiao Long's body. He thought he'd seen it move, just a little, but that was false hope. He was dead. There were only two things remaining for him now: justice and death.
The clothing around Xiao Long's body was stained with blood. He shuddered, but then smiled grimly. They would pay dearly for his little dragon's blood.
"A coward preys on the weak and young."
The man turned around; he was tall and dark-haired, with steel eyes-- a foreigner. He snarled inwardly. They must have used cheater's tactics. Xiao Long would never permit himself to be captured by such man. His honor was too great.
The man laughed. "My name is Lucas, young man."
"I care not for your name, only your blood."
"Then we will fight." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Your dying will be sweet."
Two swords swept out, razor keen, and then there was only the dance. Their blades flickered as he countered, feinted, and thrust. The clang of blades was loud in his ears as the two men moved from stance to stance.
A clean thrust from Lucas' sword sliced his left hand. He looked at the man with fury and doubled the intensity of his attack. If Lucas noticed, he never showed it, merely flowing with his sword in a series of elegant arcs and sweeps.
In minutes, Wuxing was bleeding from a dozen minor wounds. What hurt more was his pride, though. Lucas, with each wound, had an opportunity to end it with a killing lunge. Instead, he simply chose to part the flesh and draw blood. It was an insult to his honor.
/Xiao Long... my little dragon.../
Wuxing wiped the blood from his eyes and stabbed, fierce and determined; his sword finally met flesh.
Lucas' sword hand was pierced through. The blade clattered to the ground.
Lucas only looked at him, faintly condescending. He raised his palm outwards, as if to show his opponent his wound. He slowly wiped the blood away with his other hand.
Wuxing staggered, nearly dropping his sword.
The slash was no longer there.
"It's been a long time since someone drew my blood." Lucas smirked. "Be honored." The blade was in his hand again.
"You have no honor," Wuxing said, voice dull and toneless, even as his enemy's sword pierced his heart. He looked down at the blade protruding from his chest, careful and considering. "We will fight again."
And fell...
Treize blinked. His vision stopped exploding into points of flashing lights. His heart fluttered "We will fight again," he said aloud to no one in particular.
"An invitation, perhaps?"
Treize turned slowly and looked at the door.
Lucas smiled, baring two perfect rows of sharp, white teeth.
End Part 5
Notes:
[1] Taa'la maei: Arabic, "Come with me."
[2] Ablution is an Islamic cleansing ritual that proceeds salat, prayer.
[3] Jiegeblye: Arabic, "Bring me."
[4] Shukran: Arabic, "Thank you."
Jay
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