[fic] A Dead Dedication - Desolate
※ Pairing - MarikxRyou
※ Written - March 12, 2006
※ Warnings - none
※ Disclaimer - I obviously don't own it.
※ Deathshipping #4 ※
ღ - ღ - ღ
Garnet eyes glared at their surroundings. It was unusual to see the once lively soul room so…desolate. Where there was colour, it was now grey. Where there was uplifting laughter, there was now heartbreaking sobs. Where there was movement, it was now still.
The figure belonging to those garnet coloured eyes moved forward, slinking across the eerily silent and still room, the darkness that seemed to be growing around him even gave him the creeps.
He followed the sobs to the deepest corner he could find and that’s where he found what he was looking for.
A boy, once with silvery white hair and expressive doe-brown eyes, had curled himself into the fetal position and was loudly sobbing to himself. His now grey ashen hair hung limply around his face.
The intruder was slightly surprised. The boy’s outside appearance hadn’t shown that he was suffering this much. He’d shed a few tears, but nothing like this. The intruder felt saddened slightly himself, would the boy ever react like this if he had been the one banished?
“O-of course I would.” The soul whispered softly, sniffling to himself, as he looked up at the intruder, almost identical to himself.
Hard garnet softened at the look he received and the intruder sat down beside the unstable soul, wrapping strong arms around him.
“It’s my fault.” The soul whispered softly, though the sobbing had stopped, the tears had not.
“No, it’s not.” The intruder insisted, “If that stupid pharaoh would just stop and listen before he decides to banish people, then this wouldn’t have happened.”
“But if I had told them-” The soul began but the intruder cut him off.
“Then the pharaoh would have just banished him then. I don’t understand why they feel the need to protect you from something that you don’t need protecting from.” White hair fell around the intruder’s shoulders as he shook his head.
“They didn’t know.” The soul offered. “They only saw him attacking me…and they only heard me calling for help.” He whimpered again, remembering what had happened.
The intruder snorted, “You were calling to Malik and I to help you because he was tickling you!”
“I know…” The soul sighed and cuddled against the intruder. “He’s not gone forever is he?” He whispered softly, fear easily showing on his face.
The intruder shook his head again, “As long as there is someone here who wants him back, he’ll fight against the Shadows to get here. And he’s fighting at this very moment to get back to you. I can feel that the Shadows are disturbed. It won’t be long and you’ll be back with him.”
“I’m glad.” The soul sighed, relief this time.
There was an echo of laugher from another part of the soul room and blue was beginning to taint the ceiling as it always had.
“Good.” The intruder began, “Because this place should never be so…lifeless again.”
They were silent for a few moments, and then the soul spoke up, “Bakura? Isn’t Malik waiting for you?” He wondered softly. “It was the other half of his soul that was banished.”
The tomb robber shrugged, “He was having too much fun yelling at the stupid pharaoh. He knows the psycho will come back.”
Grey slowly turned back to silver and soft brown glared up at him, “And here’s the pot calling the tea kettle black.”
“See! You’re feeling better already.” Bakura smirked, and then blinked, “Although I don’t understand that saying, I sense the sarcasm behind it.”
“Maybe I’ll explain it to you one day.” Ryou sighed to himself, still slightly upset, but as long as Marik were to eventually return, he’d be okay.
“Shall we rejoin the living and assist Malik in cursing at the pharaoh?” The tomb robber wondered, “It helps alleviate stress and it’ll waste time. Who knows, Marik might even be back by now.”
“You think so?” Ryou wondered.
“It’s possible. The psycho is practically glued to your hip. Or would that be your as-”
“Pot. Kettle. Black.” The lighter being hissed between clenched teeth.
The tomb thief snickered to himself as he helped his Hikari to his feet. “Come on already, I’ve been saving a few insults and this seems like the right occasion.”
Ryou blinked as he was pulled to the door of his soul room. “You save insults until another time?”
“Of course I do. I can’t just use up all the best during one fight, now can I?”
“I suppose not…”
<< ※ >>
back ※ next
"The pot calling the kettle black" is an old-fashioned expression where an accusation is arguably equally applicable to the person doing the accusing as it is to the person they are accusing. This dates back to the time when cooking pots and kettles were iron vessels heated on open fires, and would be equally covered in soot as each other! Taken from zyra.org.uk/kettles.htm
※ Written - March 12, 2006
※ Warnings - none
※ Disclaimer - I obviously don't own it.
※ Deathshipping #4 ※
ღ - ღ - ღ
Garnet eyes glared at their surroundings. It was unusual to see the once lively soul room so…desolate. Where there was colour, it was now grey. Where there was uplifting laughter, there was now heartbreaking sobs. Where there was movement, it was now still.
The figure belonging to those garnet coloured eyes moved forward, slinking across the eerily silent and still room, the darkness that seemed to be growing around him even gave him the creeps.
He followed the sobs to the deepest corner he could find and that’s where he found what he was looking for.
A boy, once with silvery white hair and expressive doe-brown eyes, had curled himself into the fetal position and was loudly sobbing to himself. His now grey ashen hair hung limply around his face.
The intruder was slightly surprised. The boy’s outside appearance hadn’t shown that he was suffering this much. He’d shed a few tears, but nothing like this. The intruder felt saddened slightly himself, would the boy ever react like this if he had been the one banished?
“O-of course I would.” The soul whispered softly, sniffling to himself, as he looked up at the intruder, almost identical to himself.
Hard garnet softened at the look he received and the intruder sat down beside the unstable soul, wrapping strong arms around him.
“It’s my fault.” The soul whispered softly, though the sobbing had stopped, the tears had not.
“No, it’s not.” The intruder insisted, “If that stupid pharaoh would just stop and listen before he decides to banish people, then this wouldn’t have happened.”
“But if I had told them-” The soul began but the intruder cut him off.
“Then the pharaoh would have just banished him then. I don’t understand why they feel the need to protect you from something that you don’t need protecting from.” White hair fell around the intruder’s shoulders as he shook his head.
“They didn’t know.” The soul offered. “They only saw him attacking me…and they only heard me calling for help.” He whimpered again, remembering what had happened.
The intruder snorted, “You were calling to Malik and I to help you because he was tickling you!”
“I know…” The soul sighed and cuddled against the intruder. “He’s not gone forever is he?” He whispered softly, fear easily showing on his face.
The intruder shook his head again, “As long as there is someone here who wants him back, he’ll fight against the Shadows to get here. And he’s fighting at this very moment to get back to you. I can feel that the Shadows are disturbed. It won’t be long and you’ll be back with him.”
“I’m glad.” The soul sighed, relief this time.
There was an echo of laugher from another part of the soul room and blue was beginning to taint the ceiling as it always had.
“Good.” The intruder began, “Because this place should never be so…lifeless again.”
They were silent for a few moments, and then the soul spoke up, “Bakura? Isn’t Malik waiting for you?” He wondered softly. “It was the other half of his soul that was banished.”
The tomb robber shrugged, “He was having too much fun yelling at the stupid pharaoh. He knows the psycho will come back.”
Grey slowly turned back to silver and soft brown glared up at him, “And here’s the pot calling the tea kettle black.”
“See! You’re feeling better already.” Bakura smirked, and then blinked, “Although I don’t understand that saying, I sense the sarcasm behind it.”
“Maybe I’ll explain it to you one day.” Ryou sighed to himself, still slightly upset, but as long as Marik were to eventually return, he’d be okay.
“Shall we rejoin the living and assist Malik in cursing at the pharaoh?” The tomb robber wondered, “It helps alleviate stress and it’ll waste time. Who knows, Marik might even be back by now.”
“You think so?” Ryou wondered.
“It’s possible. The psycho is practically glued to your hip. Or would that be your as-”
“Pot. Kettle. Black.” The lighter being hissed between clenched teeth.
The tomb thief snickered to himself as he helped his Hikari to his feet. “Come on already, I’ve been saving a few insults and this seems like the right occasion.”
Ryou blinked as he was pulled to the door of his soul room. “You save insults until another time?”
“Of course I do. I can’t just use up all the best during one fight, now can I?”
“I suppose not…”
<< ※ >>
back ※ next
"The pot calling the kettle black" is an old-fashioned expression where an accusation is arguably equally applicable to the person doing the accusing as it is to the person they are accusing. This dates back to the time when cooking pots and kettles were iron vessels heated on open fires, and would be equally covered in soot as each other! Taken from zyra.org.uk/kettles.htm