- Created By otakualchemist
Clockwork
I. A Kind Of Magic As soon as the clock struck midnight, launching the world from musky November into frigid December, the nightmares began. Like clockwork, Ciel Phantomhive's peaceful sleep ended, and he was overcome by seiz...Trapped In Ice
The Forgotten Capital. It didn't look like, in the past two years, it had changed more than it had over the past hundred. The only change that Cloud Strife could recognize was how bitterly cold it was there. It was cold everywhere, that's just how February was.
He'd made a special trip here, though, and was glad that the Fenrir and a new overcoat were keeping him warm. He was lucky that the paths hadn't iced over. He sped into the city as far as the Fenrir could go, but eventually, he had to save the rest of the gas in its tank so that he could get at least to a town along the way where he could fill up.
Reaching into the bag that his packages were usually held, Cloud carefully pulled out a bouquet of the flowers from the Sector 5 Church, preserved in a safe chemical and kept in a plastic container.
He couldn't think of a more appropriate present for Aerith's twenty-fourth birthday.
There were other things in the bag aside from the neatly cut flowers, tied in a pink ribbon. A drawing from Marlene, a cupcake in a bag from Tifa (though he didn't know how much good that would do), and Vincent, Yuffie, and Cid had all pooled together to buy a pink cell phone with a specific number. 237-4844. A-e-r-i-t-h-g.
Cloud didn't know why, but he saved the number in his cell phone address book.
Carefully, he trekked down to the pool where her corpse had been laid, slipping and tripping over the ice that covered everything. He was slightly worried; what if the pool had iced over?
Though, sure enough, it had. And he saw quite a spectacle.
In the center of the small pond, Aerith's body was trapped inside the ice, her hair sprawled out around her, her hands clasped over her abdomen. She lay so peacefully, near the top of the pool. Cloud could touch her if he really, really wanted to.
After making sure that the ice was thick enough, Cloud carefully slid onto it, crawling over on his stomach toward her. "Happy Birthday," He huffed, setting the picture, cell phone, cupcake, and flowers down beside her. "Aerith."
The walk back up was much harder, not because of the ice but because of the image still fresh in his mind. He climbed onto the Fenrir and drove back home silently, only speaking to thank the man at the gas station he re-fueled at.
He opened his cell phone to call Tifa, to tell her he was nearly home, when he saw across the small LCD screen, the indication "NEW MSG". Flipping it open, he saw 'Aerith' on the message ID, and the simple text "Thank you."
He smiled and pocketed the cell phone, deciding to surprise Tifa. And he never questioned how he got a message from someone trapped beneath the layer of ice.
Wait and See
Prologue:
“And here, in Kalm, where the first assault by the enemy group ‘Deepground’ began, officials are searching the downed helicopter for any signs or clues as to the location of the kidnapped citizens. The mass kidnapping occurred on the night of a festival, held in celebration of completion of repairs to the city after the celestial occurrence Meteor fell onto Midgar and the surrounding areas…”
With his elbows pressed against the polished top of the large bar, Denzel watched the screen with avid interest as the blonde news anchor attempted to approach the wreckage of the aircraft. WRO officials kept pushing her back, saying just audibly enough for the camera to pick up, ‘Ma’am, this area is completely restricted. Please remain behind the tape for your safety.’
Defeated, the smiling woman turned back to the camera, her microphone in hand. “This is Emily Mamora, here in Kalm.” The smile was fake and irritated, and her grip on the microphone was tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. “Back to you, Dan.”
“Denzel, when are we going to get any customers?”
He turned over to Marlene, who sat upon one of the leather upholstered bar stools. “I don’t know. Probably not until later. It’s only eleven in the morning, and it’s a Tuesday, too.” He turned his attention back to the news, where a serious looking older male was giving a report about Shinra Electric investing great amounts of money to finding alternative sources to power homes and businesses with.
“Marlene, you still wanna be a news anchor?” Denzel nodded to the television, finding the cool plastic of the remote control and spinning it on the bar boredly.
“Yeah, I do.” She smiled, spinning around on the stool so that she was facing him fully. A jingle on a commercial for a mechanic’s shop faded into silence when Denzel hit the power button and turned on the radio. “I’ve even been practicing the way I smile and say my words… what’s the word for that?”
“You mean enunciate? How you pronounce things?” He smiled at Marlene, who was taking her hair out of the twisted braid that it had been in since he could remember. She carefully set the ribbons down on a nearby napkin, and she shook her hair out so that it fell in waves around her face.
“Mhm!” She smiled proudly, leaning forward and neatly folding her hands up under her chin. “I even got this look right. Tifa said that most news women had to look pretty like this.”
Of course, Tifa would present the supposed promiscuity of the female news anchor above all else. He had just imagined that hopefully, she would have kept it from the eager-to-learn seven year old. Unfortunately for that, he was very, very wrong.
“Well, did you see how that lady’s knuckles were white and her smile looked fake when the WRO soldier said that she couldn’t get any further?” Denzel asked, watching Marlene nod so that her curls bounced. “I think that’s because… when you’re in that business long enough, you start to crave information. You want to know everything, and you’d do anything to know everything. You lose it.”
“Wow, that’s kinda sca-“ Marlene suddenly stopped halfway through her sentence, and Denzel didn’t blame her for the surprise. After all, for the first time since Cloud and Tifa had left on Saturday, the single bell, put up above the door, rang through the entirety of the bar. It somehow even overpowered the rock music station that Denzel had on. A customer had finally come.
“Ah… welcome to the Seventh Heaven!” Denzel smiled brightly to the old woman that came in. “We also house Strife Delivery Service, though the deliveries are currently not being made. If you need a delivery made, we can hold the package until a later date, and-“
“I just need a glass of water, please. That’s all I have the gil for.” Denzel was surprised at how young the woman sounded, despite her bent over back and the thin wisps of graying hair coming from under the scarf on her head. Slowly, she moved toward the bar and sat down on a stool, apparently unaware that she had interrupted his well-rehearsed greeting.
“Water, coming right up.” The also practiced enthusiasm had slipped through the cracks as well, completely out of Denzel’s reach. If the lady was rude, she didn’t need a fake smile and friendly conversation. She would get a nice cold helping of the way the preteen felt.
Reaching into the freezer, Denzel filled a glass with ice and then poured water into it from a pitcher that Tifa had taught him how to keep in the freezer without freezing over. “There we go...” Denzel slid the water over onto the bar in front of the woman.
Without bothering to thank him, she greedily drank the contents of the tall glass, even letting the ice chips melt in her mouth. “Urm… that’s two gil for the water, I think. “
“Yes… that’s all that I have.” The woman produced the two gil from a deep pocket and handed it to Denzel, letting her icy fingertips slide against the palm of his hand. “Thank you for the water, young man.”
“Thank you for your business.” Denzel dropped the money into the register and watched the woman leave, not taking note of the black stains on her bandage-wrapped hand. In fact, he barely registered that she had bandages at all, and he didn’t care to even ask her story.
Though, after a moment, Denzel found that he didn’t need to.
As soon as the bell on the door ceased to ring again, a sharp pain shot into the palm of his hand and up his arm. The excruciating burning pain was terrible and familiar, and with one look at his hand, he knew. Keeping the sight of the black-bleeding sore that had began to form from Marlene, Denzel only mouthed one simple word.
“Geostigma.”
Lancinant
The wind blew in gusts on that chilling Tuesday night. Leaves from the maple tree, red and gold and crisp, blew from their branches and onto the frost-covered grounds of Ashford Academy. The few reaching sticks and twigs that lay at the end of a particularly thick branch had taken to hitting against the thick glass panes of Lelouch Lamperouge's window.
Typically, the whistling winds and tapping of branches didn't particularly bother Lelouch. He could have slept through anything, yet habit kept him awake. He fondly remembered going into Nunnally's room on nights like this, stroking her hair and singing her to sleep so that the frightening sounds didn't keep her from the sleep she so desperately needed.
Another 'sibling' was asleep in that room down the hall, however. The fake-brother Rolo slept soundly in Nunnally's bed. He snored lightly because of his cold, but that bothered neither 'brother.'
Before turning off the light and settling himself into bed, Lelouch had been watching a documentary for his French class. The entire DVD was in French, and it of course detailed events in Britannian history. Painfully recent ones.
He had carefully listened to the dialogue about the Britannian's number-one enemy, the 'super-terrorist' Zero. He took notes easily on that, his notebook filled with neat cursive about the terrorist's actions. Almost as if he had committed those crimes himself.
"Hormis la rébellion noire, l'événement que le terroriste Zero est le plus associé à est le massacre administratif spécial de zone, mené par le princesse Euphemia li Britannia."
Lelouch had barely noticed the topic, quickly muttering the translation as he wrote them down. "Aside from the Black Rebellion, the event that the terrorist Zero is most associated with is the Special Administrative Zone Massacre, led by Princess Euphemia li Britannia..."
Realizing what he had just written, Lelouch grabbed the remote for the DVD player and rewound the footage so that the narrative began from where he had written. Scenes from the massacre were shown, with the bodies of the Japanese laying everywhere, blood staining the ground and the seats and the Knightmares. A little boy in a blue shirt stood beside his mother's body, crying.
When the narrator said Euphemia's name, an image of the Third Princess was shown, her hands neatly folded in her lap and a sweet smile on her face. "Comment une fille le regard si douce pourrait-il avoir commencé un abattage si terrible?" The sharp woman's voice asked her unseen audience, and Lelouch put his pencil to his lips. He already knew the answer.
"Par les influences étant en connivencees de Zero." Through the conniving influences of Zero.
He watched the footage of Euphemia with the gun in her hand, pressed against her petite side as she fired rounds at the Japanese almost mindlessly. It showed her scrambling for another clip, and then it showed her facing the masked man.
"Après utilisation d'Euphemia pour son propres malade et souhaits tordus, projectile Zero elle dans l'abdomen. Dans les deux heures suivantes, sa majesté est morte des dommages, et a ainsi suscité la rébellion noire."
That was as far as they were supposed to watch, so after Lelouch turned the television off, he quickly wrote. "After using Euphemia for his own sick and twisted wishes, Zero shot her in the abdomen. Within the next two hours, Her Majesty died from the injury, and thus sparked the Black Rebellion."
After that, he had tossed the notebook on his desk and laid down.
Now images of that bloody day wouldn't leave his mind. Even as the numbers on the digital clock went forward, Lelouch couldn't rest. It had become an impossibility. "I'll get some tea." He finally decided, drawing himself from under the warm comforters, and slipping his feet into some house slippers.
On the way downstairs, he heard footsteps following his. Yet when he turned around, there was nothing. Puzzled yet unconcerned at the same time, Lelouch went downstairs and put a cup of water into the microwave for a minute and a half. He sunk down into one of the hard-backed wooden chairs at the circular kitchen table, cradling his face into his hands.
Then he heard gunshots from somewhere in the house. Ignoring the water, Lelouch grabbed a hidden gun from a hidden hollow space behind the bread box. He crept out into the main hall, glancing around, until a cool burst of air hit the back of his neck, and a familiar voice reached his ears.
"Brother Lelouch, it's good to see you again."
Lelouch turned suddenly to find the source of the sweet voice, which held a saccharine poison in its undertones. And there she stood, in her bloodstained and torn gown, the machine gun pressed against her side. Her purple eyes didn't have the red ring around them, yet she still held the weapon dangerously, as if Geass was affecting her even then.
"Euphie!" He gasped, dropping his own gun with a clatter against the marble floor. Taking a step back, he slipped against the slick surface and fell backwards, barely catching himself. "I-I'm dreaming, I must be."
The princess didn't have the pale glow or transparency of a spirit or ghoul, yet she had the pale complexion of a woman long dead. The sickly blue tint of her skin sharply contrasted with her long pink hair, matted with blood. "This isn't a dream, Brother. Elder Brother Schneizel used his science. I have enough life now to last me this night."
She stepped forward, her dirty heels clicking against the floor to the beat of a funeral march. Her grip tightened on the gun as she aimed it to the best of her ability. The bullet would go right through Lelouch's head.
A window blew open with the force of the wind, throwing in leaves of every colored variety, and sending some stray strands of Euphemia's hair across her face. Her countenance was not calm, sweet, and forgiving as it typically had been. It was cold and filled with hatred.
Her finger touched the trigger like a butterfly touched a flower, with not enough force for anything to happen. "Souffrez le destin que j'ai souffert, Lelouch, prince de tyran."
There was a scream and then a gunshot, nearly muffled by a sudden and violent clap of thunder. Euphemia stared upon the corpse of her brother, still bleeding from the head wound, before throwing open the doors and leaving her victim there. And as she walked down the path to her death, she whispered the only thing that mattered left to her.
"Forgive me for my sins, dear Nunnally."
Uggghhh....
Summer is almost ooooovvveerrrr... ;-; I don't want it to be over. Because of school. And if it's school, then I can't be home. ;-; I wanna be homeschooled, but I think it might be too late in the year to register... anyone have any advice about that?
And the sooner summer ends, the sooner October does... then the sooner Code Geass ends. ;A; Do... not... want... I need my Luluuu.
I made a quiz... and some wallpapers... dunno how those'll work...
