old D.Gray-Man fanfic resurrected
This is seriously old, and flawed, but there's an atmosphere that I like so I thought I might as well post it. I don't know where it was going, though, so, sorry about that.
Fandom: D.Gray-Man
Word Count: about 1660
Characters: Lavi, Kanda
Summary: Lavi gets all moody in a burnt-out church and Kanda is Kanda
He'd been in a church like this before, a long time ago, in Germany. He could recall every detail of the that visit perfectly, as he always could. It was an asset, his flawless memory. He'd never liked books, particularly, which was an odd trait in a Bookman, but it didn't matter because he read quickly, and once he'd read something he never had to read it again. He was good at what he did, at least at the knowledge side. He remembered things, he was good at finding connexions.
But he didn't enjoy it. It was just the way he'd been born that gave him his skill, not any passion on his part, nor even the encouragement of his grandfather. He never wanted to be locked up in a roomful of books, with just dry pages and knowledge for company. It was why he was so glad when he got to go out and fight things. He'd always looked for excuses to get out and move, before the Earl started being so active. He'd pick fights with whoever was around (This was how he'd decided he liked Kanda's company, the other Exorcist was always willing to give him a good scrap, with minimal provocation required), go running off on the slightest excuse - This could be important, grandfather, these rumours could be connected to the Earl, that sounded like a haunting, when they were really just tiny rumours, or something he made up.
But that was neither here nor there. It was just more memory, more of the thoughtfulness that he'd never asked for. Oh, he was good at pretending he didn't have it, sure, but his grandfather knew, and he was doomed to have it forever. Maybe some other people knew, too. He couldn't always hide his introspective side.
He walked around the edges of the chapel, feeling like a trespasser with every echo of his boots on the flagstones, admiring the perfectly-worked stained glass in the windows, shattered now. He knew all the stories that went with them, he'd read them all somewhere, and of course remembered every word. Now, he thought, if he ever visited a church like this again, he'd remember these windows, wouldn't he.
There, Saint Luke, being saintly and admirable. Lavi wrinkled his nose in distaste and turned away. Monks, saints, they were all the same to him, boring. He wished he didn't know so much about them, so he could truthfully say there was no difference between them, one from the next. He told his memories to shut up and walked on, only paying half attention to the windows now. Now he was focussed on the altar, charred scraps of cloth at its feet that suggested there'd been a cloth there. He thought he saw a glint of gold in the ashes, and knelt down by it, knocking burnt wood aside until a melted candlestick showed. It'd been well made, too. Expensive stuff. A surprise it hadn't been stolen already.
He picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket, telling himself it'd be better in the hands of the government than lying in the rubble, or taken by a petty thief. He had a sneaking feeling he'd forget to hand it over to someone else later, though. Lavi liked bright colours and things that shone. It was a bad habit, but no one'd picked up on it yet so he could see no pressing reason to reform.
Behind the altar, shattered porcelain told him some thoughtful person had kept flowers in the church, until the very end, and the remains of a wooden stand for the cross showed that that, at least, had been taken already. He hoped it was the parishioners, or some other benevolent entity, that took it, and not the ones who comitted the arson.
There was nothing else here, he thought as he turned around, looking down the central aisle towards the broken doors. Just charred wood and charred bibles, broken glass and stone. Nothing of interest, nothing of value.
He looked up at the ceiling, then, and grinned wryly to himself. Maybe God was still here. Did He care about burnt churches?
"If you're listening," said Lavi quietly, "Then you're a better God than most."
His voice echoed. Damn it, everything echoed in this place. It was creepy. He shuddered, and headed for the door with rather more haste than he'd meant. His shoes made a hell of a lot of noise, and he was torn between the desire to get out, fast, in case God really was listening, or something, he wasn't sure, and the knowledge that if he slowed down he'd not echo so much.
When he got outside he cast a look over his shoulder, as if he expected some robed figure in white to be watching him from the altar. There was no one, just sunlight filtered through the broken windows, odd colours in odd patterns on the ash-blackened stones.
God, Lavi thought, and then thought better of that. He'd just spoken directly to the Almighty, hadn't he, even if it was in no great expectation of being heard. He laughed at himself for being so superstitious, told himself he'd just run circles round himself if he tried to deny that he was skeptical before an all-seeing witness, and turned away from the church again. That's the last time I go into a ruined church alone, he told himself, those places are creepy as hell.
"Hey Yuu," he said later, "What d'you think about churches?"
"What have I told you about calling me by my first name?" Kanda asked in a deceptively calm voice. One more misdemeanor, and Lavi knew he'd be facing cold steel.
"Hmm," said Lavi, leaning back in his chair and pretending to think seriously about it, but laughing inside at how the reaction was the same every time. That was why he called Kanda 'Yuu'. That, and the fact that the name itself amused him, for no reason other than it was easy to make puns with it. "Something irritable, irrational and boring, perhaps?"
"I told you I would kill you if you used it again," said Kanda.
"Oh. Right. It was on the tip of my tongue. But seriously," he let his chair fall back on all four legs with a crash that made Kanda wince, "What d'you think about churches?"
He asked because he'd been thinking about it for a long time, and still couldn't explain that eerie feeling he'd had earlier. Some people would have been quick to answer, he knew that. God, they'd say, don't be stupid. Kanda would either have something useful to say or get violent, and that'd be a much-needed distraction.
"You ask the most meaningless questions," said Kanda, shooting Lavi a nasty look.
"You're stalling," Lavi accused, "You got thoughts or not? I'm talking about the atmosphere, mostly. Like do you feel anything special in the air in a church?"
"They're meant to be special," said Kanda, "You are a government Exorcist, are you not? That gives you some connection to God, I should think. Why ask me?"
"Because you're there," said Lavi, "So you're saying the only reason churches are weird is 'cause of the religion."
"Yes."
"You're so useless," he sighed and leaned back again, closing his eyes. He could still see the glint of gold through the ashes, the oddly-coloured light from the broken stained glass.
"Lavi," said Kanda in a sharply warning tone.
"What?" Lavi asked, in the same split second he overbalanced and fell over backward. There was a crash of wood, he hoped not broken, because then he'd have to pay someone back for the chair, and his head cracked against the floor. If that wouldn't shake him out of his odd mood, he thought ruefully as he sat up, rubbing the back of his skull, nothing would.
Kanda was looking down at him with an odd expression on his face. Lavi frowned through slightly unfocussed eyes, trying to identify it. Annoyed, sure, but that was normal. Amused? A little. He laughed at the dumb things Lavi did.
"Screw you, Yuu," Lavi grumbled, untangling his legs from the chair and righting it.
"Have you no dignity?" Kanda murmured. Lavi looked around, surprised.
"Did you just voluntarily speak to me? And no, I don't have any dignity, I sold my share in exchange for knowledge." He wasn't making sense, he didn't think, but he'd hit his head. And he'd seen something very close to sympathy in Kanda's eyes, just for a second, but it'd been more like sympathy than anything else he could name.
"I've got lots of knowledge," he went on, "I'm on a constant quest for it. Like now I know to push the chair closer to the wall before I lean back, huh?" Damn it, now his head hurt. He shoved the chair against the wall and flopped into it, staring at the ceiling.
"Nonsense," said Kanda, "You're not going to learn from that."
"Oh yeah?" said Lavi, "Come here and I'll show you how hard I hit my head."
Kanda raised an eyebrow.
"By whacking you with the chair, see? Come on, be a man."
The other Exorcist stood up and headed for the door. "If you had a brain, I would be worried that you'd damaged it just now."
"I'm not damaged," Lavi yelled after him, "I'm just braver than you are."
He decided it was Kanda's fault. About half an hour later, he realized it'd been purposeful. After all, Lavi was back to normal, complaining about his aching head, the creepy church forgotten. And it hadn't been until Kanda distracted him that he lost his balance.
"That bastard's got the oddest way of being helpful," Lavi muttered to himself, torn between being pissed off at Kanda and laughing his head off at both of them. Why bother with a cold and distant God when a cold and distant friend was there to watch your back?
Fandom: D.Gray-Man
Word Count: about 1660
Characters: Lavi, Kanda
Summary: Lavi gets all moody in a burnt-out church and Kanda is Kanda
He'd been in a church like this before, a long time ago, in Germany. He could recall every detail of the that visit perfectly, as he always could. It was an asset, his flawless memory. He'd never liked books, particularly, which was an odd trait in a Bookman, but it didn't matter because he read quickly, and once he'd read something he never had to read it again. He was good at what he did, at least at the knowledge side. He remembered things, he was good at finding connexions.
But he didn't enjoy it. It was just the way he'd been born that gave him his skill, not any passion on his part, nor even the encouragement of his grandfather. He never wanted to be locked up in a roomful of books, with just dry pages and knowledge for company. It was why he was so glad when he got to go out and fight things. He'd always looked for excuses to get out and move, before the Earl started being so active. He'd pick fights with whoever was around (This was how he'd decided he liked Kanda's company, the other Exorcist was always willing to give him a good scrap, with minimal provocation required), go running off on the slightest excuse - This could be important, grandfather, these rumours could be connected to the Earl, that sounded like a haunting, when they were really just tiny rumours, or something he made up.
But that was neither here nor there. It was just more memory, more of the thoughtfulness that he'd never asked for. Oh, he was good at pretending he didn't have it, sure, but his grandfather knew, and he was doomed to have it forever. Maybe some other people knew, too. He couldn't always hide his introspective side.
He walked around the edges of the chapel, feeling like a trespasser with every echo of his boots on the flagstones, admiring the perfectly-worked stained glass in the windows, shattered now. He knew all the stories that went with them, he'd read them all somewhere, and of course remembered every word. Now, he thought, if he ever visited a church like this again, he'd remember these windows, wouldn't he.
There, Saint Luke, being saintly and admirable. Lavi wrinkled his nose in distaste and turned away. Monks, saints, they were all the same to him, boring. He wished he didn't know so much about them, so he could truthfully say there was no difference between them, one from the next. He told his memories to shut up and walked on, only paying half attention to the windows now. Now he was focussed on the altar, charred scraps of cloth at its feet that suggested there'd been a cloth there. He thought he saw a glint of gold in the ashes, and knelt down by it, knocking burnt wood aside until a melted candlestick showed. It'd been well made, too. Expensive stuff. A surprise it hadn't been stolen already.
He picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket, telling himself it'd be better in the hands of the government than lying in the rubble, or taken by a petty thief. He had a sneaking feeling he'd forget to hand it over to someone else later, though. Lavi liked bright colours and things that shone. It was a bad habit, but no one'd picked up on it yet so he could see no pressing reason to reform.
Behind the altar, shattered porcelain told him some thoughtful person had kept flowers in the church, until the very end, and the remains of a wooden stand for the cross showed that that, at least, had been taken already. He hoped it was the parishioners, or some other benevolent entity, that took it, and not the ones who comitted the arson.
There was nothing else here, he thought as he turned around, looking down the central aisle towards the broken doors. Just charred wood and charred bibles, broken glass and stone. Nothing of interest, nothing of value.
He looked up at the ceiling, then, and grinned wryly to himself. Maybe God was still here. Did He care about burnt churches?
"If you're listening," said Lavi quietly, "Then you're a better God than most."
His voice echoed. Damn it, everything echoed in this place. It was creepy. He shuddered, and headed for the door with rather more haste than he'd meant. His shoes made a hell of a lot of noise, and he was torn between the desire to get out, fast, in case God really was listening, or something, he wasn't sure, and the knowledge that if he slowed down he'd not echo so much.
When he got outside he cast a look over his shoulder, as if he expected some robed figure in white to be watching him from the altar. There was no one, just sunlight filtered through the broken windows, odd colours in odd patterns on the ash-blackened stones.
God, Lavi thought, and then thought better of that. He'd just spoken directly to the Almighty, hadn't he, even if it was in no great expectation of being heard. He laughed at himself for being so superstitious, told himself he'd just run circles round himself if he tried to deny that he was skeptical before an all-seeing witness, and turned away from the church again. That's the last time I go into a ruined church alone, he told himself, those places are creepy as hell.
"Hey Yuu," he said later, "What d'you think about churches?"
"What have I told you about calling me by my first name?" Kanda asked in a deceptively calm voice. One more misdemeanor, and Lavi knew he'd be facing cold steel.
"Hmm," said Lavi, leaning back in his chair and pretending to think seriously about it, but laughing inside at how the reaction was the same every time. That was why he called Kanda 'Yuu'. That, and the fact that the name itself amused him, for no reason other than it was easy to make puns with it. "Something irritable, irrational and boring, perhaps?"
"I told you I would kill you if you used it again," said Kanda.
"Oh. Right. It was on the tip of my tongue. But seriously," he let his chair fall back on all four legs with a crash that made Kanda wince, "What d'you think about churches?"
He asked because he'd been thinking about it for a long time, and still couldn't explain that eerie feeling he'd had earlier. Some people would have been quick to answer, he knew that. God, they'd say, don't be stupid. Kanda would either have something useful to say or get violent, and that'd be a much-needed distraction.
"You ask the most meaningless questions," said Kanda, shooting Lavi a nasty look.
"You're stalling," Lavi accused, "You got thoughts or not? I'm talking about the atmosphere, mostly. Like do you feel anything special in the air in a church?"
"They're meant to be special," said Kanda, "You are a government Exorcist, are you not? That gives you some connection to God, I should think. Why ask me?"
"Because you're there," said Lavi, "So you're saying the only reason churches are weird is 'cause of the religion."
"Yes."
"You're so useless," he sighed and leaned back again, closing his eyes. He could still see the glint of gold through the ashes, the oddly-coloured light from the broken stained glass.
"Lavi," said Kanda in a sharply warning tone.
"What?" Lavi asked, in the same split second he overbalanced and fell over backward. There was a crash of wood, he hoped not broken, because then he'd have to pay someone back for the chair, and his head cracked against the floor. If that wouldn't shake him out of his odd mood, he thought ruefully as he sat up, rubbing the back of his skull, nothing would.
Kanda was looking down at him with an odd expression on his face. Lavi frowned through slightly unfocussed eyes, trying to identify it. Annoyed, sure, but that was normal. Amused? A little. He laughed at the dumb things Lavi did.
"Screw you, Yuu," Lavi grumbled, untangling his legs from the chair and righting it.
"Have you no dignity?" Kanda murmured. Lavi looked around, surprised.
"Did you just voluntarily speak to me? And no, I don't have any dignity, I sold my share in exchange for knowledge." He wasn't making sense, he didn't think, but he'd hit his head. And he'd seen something very close to sympathy in Kanda's eyes, just for a second, but it'd been more like sympathy than anything else he could name.
"I've got lots of knowledge," he went on, "I'm on a constant quest for it. Like now I know to push the chair closer to the wall before I lean back, huh?" Damn it, now his head hurt. He shoved the chair against the wall and flopped into it, staring at the ceiling.
"Nonsense," said Kanda, "You're not going to learn from that."
"Oh yeah?" said Lavi, "Come here and I'll show you how hard I hit my head."
Kanda raised an eyebrow.
"By whacking you with the chair, see? Come on, be a man."
The other Exorcist stood up and headed for the door. "If you had a brain, I would be worried that you'd damaged it just now."
"I'm not damaged," Lavi yelled after him, "I'm just braver than you are."
He decided it was Kanda's fault. About half an hour later, he realized it'd been purposeful. After all, Lavi was back to normal, complaining about his aching head, the creepy church forgotten. And it hadn't been until Kanda distracted him that he lost his balance.
"That bastard's got the oddest way of being helpful," Lavi muttered to himself, torn between being pissed off at Kanda and laughing his head off at both of them. Why bother with a cold and distant God when a cold and distant friend was there to watch your back?