Based off Janis Ian's song, Between the Lines. I own none of these
things. Don't sue me. I spent all my money at GenCon.
Dedicated to Ishiki, for hanging on
my every word and giving me those delicious expectant silences until I wrote
more. Oh, and for loving the dragonlady, of
course...
There's never much to say between
the moments of our games and repartee
A shaking
hand reached for the bottle, fumbling with the cork. Her Ryuzoku
strength could get the damned thing out easily... if she could only figure out
where it was. Ah, that was right. The top.
Filia Ul
Copt, ex-Miko, adoptive mother, shopkeeper, sloshed
the expensive wine in the general direction of her glass. Not even opening her
eyes to see if she hit, she groped blindly for the glass. A sip... yes, she'd
hit with most of the slosh, at any rate.
Young Valteria was out, staying with a friend from the Kaltaart region. Jiras and Grabos were out as well, having been on the receiving end
of Filia's subtle as a tonne of falling bricks hint
that she wished to be alone this evening. So nobody could see what she'd let herself become, just for tonight.
Damn it.
What was
this sipping crap anyway? She tossed back the glass and poured herself another,
a little more carefully this time.
This time of
year was always like this... damn that idiot namagomi
anyway. What did he have to show up for and say those things?! It hadn't been
her fault! She was doing her best to make up for it! Anyway, how could HE, of
all people, understand ?! He was evil. Evil. Evil...
Another glass. "Say it enough times, 'nd you might believe it, Filia," she chided herself.
That was the
whole trouble. She knew it, knew it in her head, but other parts of her kept
insisting otherwise.
What did
evil mean, anyway?
Sinking
lower in her seat, Filia didn't hear the gentle click as someone shut the front
door.
There's never much to read between
the lines of what we need
and what we'll take.
The bottle
had somehow moved out of her reach. Filia cursed expressively, and reached for
it.
"I
think you've had enough."
For a
moment, she thought she'd imagined his damned know-it-all better-than-all
voice. But then a gloved hand covered hers and it actually clicked.
He was here.
Here.
In HER kitchen.
In her godsdamned kitchen.
Letting out
an inarticulate cry of rage, she clawed at where his face should be but missed.
It wasn't fair, she always missed. He ought to give her at least a fighting
chance. Wouldn't he LIKE that? After all, he always won.
"Go to
hell," she hissed.
Xelloss smiled that godsawful
infuriating smile. "No good. Hell's broken loose since Philbrezo
died. Bloody mess of things too. In fact, Hell's minions
wandering loose has put us on the brink of a new war. Where HAVE you
been?"
"Oh, go
fuck yourself," she swore. She was not in a mood for any of his little
games. She snatched at the bottle, and he let her take it, resisting only
briefly, his gloved fingers brushing hers, sending a shock to her groin. She
hated that, hated what he began in her.
"It's
been a while, Filia."
"Not
long enough, namagomi."
Too long. Too many bad words when they'd left. Too many things
he'd said that had dwelled in her mind afterward. Nobody to
talk to about them, because she didn't want anyone to know that he kept
visiting - against her will of course. But they'd take it the wrong way.
Besides...
what if those things he'd said were true?
There's never much to talk about
or say aloud, but say it anyways.
Of holidays, and yesterdays,
and broken dreams that somehow slipped away.
"It
can't be fun to drink alone."
She bared
her teeth at him, a challenge; a stupid challenge. She knew that he was more
than capable of destroying her completely. He'd told her what he'd done to the
people of KaRyu, so many years ago. She'd asked, but
that didn't mean he should have told her.
"May I
drink with you?"
He was being
too polite. That made her suspicious already. What did he want from her? Hadn't
her fear and hatred been enough to satisfy him? Still, for some reason, she
thrust the bottle at him.
Another smile.
Gods, she
hated what that smile did to her. Especially after knowing that he smiled the
same smile as he said what he did: what she didn't do, what was on her
shoulders to make up for.
Now his back
was turned as he rummaged through cupboards, - like he belonged there, like he
BELONGED there! - turning back with a glass and a smile. "So, Filia, how
have you been?"
Did he want
her to be miserable that badly? Godsdamned Mazoku. Her
race may have been wrong about all sorts of things, but they'd been right about
that.
"I'm
alive," she said sarcastically. "What do you want, Xelloss. To talk? To tear my heart out and jump on it again? Don't you think I
KNOW what the Golds did was wrong? Why do you THINK I
gave up being a Miko? Why do you THINK I'm raising Valteria? Why do you THINK I never sought stupid vengeance
for what happened to the entire sanctuary at the end?! Asshole."
He was still
smiling, but it was looking strained. Good. She'd been miserable enough. Now it
was HIS turn. "I just missed you, Filia."
Her heart
shattered again, lancing her sides with pain. She wanted to cry. Wanted to feel his hands stroke her hair comfortingly. But
she couldn't give him that. Give him anything. "I didn't miss you. Go
away."
"Not
yet."
Why wouldn't
he just leave her alone?! Didn't he know it hurt her to be near him?!
Of course he
did.
"My my, namagomi, my hatred must
taste good."
"More
wine?"
"Yes."
In books and magazines of how to be
and what to see while you are being
Before and after photographs teach
how to pass from reaching to believing
"Filia,
had you heard anything I had told you?"
She was
feeling more mellow as the alcohol ran through her
system, but that still stung. "Noooo, I've only
been stewing in it for the last few years..."
"I
didn't ask if you listened." His lips were red with drink and his cheeks
slightly flushed. Lying eyes had come out of their smile less then an hour ago
and were watching her warily, Mazoku eyes. Mazoku eyes.
"I asked if you heard."
"Godsdamnit, Xelloss, must
everything be a riddle with you?! Just TELL me!" She slammed her glass down , and barely felt the pain as glass shards bit into
her.
He had stood, something unreadable in his damned eyes. "Filia,
you're bleeding."
She paused,
anger draining away, to look at the blood winding around her palm.
"Oh." Absently, she began a healing spell.
"Don't
be a fool."
Filia glared
at him. "I KNOW how to do magic, namagomi! Don't
stop me from healing myself!"
"It's
not that. It's only that if you heal it with the glass still in it, it will
probably get infected."
Her teeth
gritted hard enough that she could swear veins must have popped out on her
head. "I am NOT going to a doctor just to get a few pieces of glass out
and I don't have anything to get it out with. Why don't YOU
take care of it, since you know so much?!"
"All right."
All right?! Wait a minute! Her heart clenched as he took
her hand and lifted it to his lips. "What th' hell do you think you're doing?!"
His eyes,
glittering over her bleeding palm, were amused. "Using
suction to get the glass out. It'll cause less damage that way."
"BUT - "
His lips
were warm against her palm, almost pleasant as he placed a few kisses over the
wounds. She should be fighting. She should be. She wanted to. But...
And pain
lanced through her as his lips sucked and the glass tore through her skin on
its way out, pulling a harsh cry from her throat.
Xelloss spat the glass into a handkerchief, along with spots of
blood, her blood. She snatched her hand back from his one-handed loose grip to
clutch it against her chest as he wrapped the glass shards in his handkerchief
and dropped it on the table with the other pieces. "There," he
smiled. "Damage is done. All's well."
"Asshole,"
Filia whispered, clutching her hand.
"Sometimes
things have to hurt before they can heal."
We live beyond our means
on other people's dream
and that's succeeding.
Between the lines of photographs
I've seen the past - it isn't pleasing.
"Whadya mean, 'did I hear'?" Filia mumbled. They'd
moved from the glass-covered kitchen to her bedroom - not without some
misgivings on her part, but it was the most relaxing place she could think of
to drink, without glass shards causing danger to drink-clumsy bodies. Plus
there was a half-hope there that she tried to bury, not to think about. Stupid girl. He was evil...
Xelloss rearranged the pillows on her bed - as if he belonged
there! - tucking one in the small of his back. "I mean, you admitted it
just now. They were wrong about so many things. You're different. You're
determined not to repeat their mistakes. And yet you still model yourself after
what they deem is right. What they say should be. Have you ever thought of just
being yourself?"
That stung.
"I am being myself, stupid namagomi."
"There,
right there. So lofty, so proud. Where is that person
I've seen before, the one with a heart, the one who can be hurt, the one who can FEEL? You call me garbage just because I'm
Mazoku. Knowing what your race has done, couldn't I call you the same
thing?"
She sank
down, a vain attempt to hide. "Probably. Go
ahead. I don't care anymore."
"Except I don't. I allow you to be different from your race.
I allow you to be a PERSON, not a 'type'." Xelloss
moved suddenly, up close, his fingers caressing her face. "Can't you allow
me the same right? To be a person, not just a namagomi Mazoku?"
Filia had no
real choice there. Not drunk and wanting and hurting. Later, she might allow
herself to change her mind. It was just that now, his fingers brushing her
cheek, his reasoning voice sounded so sensible. Her eyes drifted shut
and she leaned into the caress... "All right... Xelloss."
So strike another match
We'll have another cup of wine
and dance until the evening's dead
of too much song and time.
"Another glass?"
"Where?"
"No, do
you want one?"
How could he
still seem so clear with all that drink in him? SHE was completely fuzzed, to
no end. She hadn't even realized she'd said that aloud until he answered. She'd
better have said it aloud. If he was some kind of mind-reader... hell, she'd be
dead by now, she knew it. Evil...
"My
master is fond of her drink. Some would call it a failing but she, and I as
well, am used to alcohol so muchly that it no longer
clogs her or my judgment." He smiled, slipping sideways against the
pillows. "Mulch. I mean,
much. I mean..."
Filia
pointed unsteadily at him. "You were bullshitting me again, weren't
you?"
"Damn
straight."
She couldn't
help herself. She was laughing. She often wanted to laugh at his behaviour, but instead forced the anger, forced the
distain, forced herself to be pure dragon. Surely it wouldn't be so bad not to
be pure, even just for now? Evil... but he didn't seem it now, chuckling with
her, smiling a slightly-dazed smile, eyes watching her, Mazoku eyes, watching
her.
He twisted
away slightly, rising unsteadily to his feet and wobbling for a minute, then
stretching a hand towards her. "Dance with me, Filia."
It wasn't a
request. Normally, she'd be furious at his presumptuousness. This evening was
definitely not normal. This evening, she was more than just her race. This
evening... he was as well.
She stood,
drink making her head spin and causing her to stumble, but he caught her,
easing her into his arms. "Easy," he whispered against her ear.
"Don't fall over yet. The dance hasn't even begun yet."
Filia smiled
against his chest. There was something wrong with this. Yes. Evil.
He was evil. His chest was warm. "Stupid. There's no music."
"Who
needs music?" His arms were tight around her as he swayed, leading her
into a dance step. A slow one, thankfully. She had no
balance, not now. It was... nice.
Evil.
No Ryuzoku would ever do this.
None.
Evil.
So warm...
There's never much to speak about
Or read between the lines of what we
dream about when we're apart
and no one's looking on to say
"you're mine"
Xelloss had stopped dancing. It registered in Filia's mind after
a moment of standing there, head against his chest, feeling the warmth
radiating from him. He was standing there, holding her, holding her. She looked
up at him, and he smiled down at her, that smile, the infuriating one, except
it wasn't infuriating. His eyes were open. They didn't reflect; she couldn't
see herself in them. Dark, cutting shards of amethyst
(amethyst) with their slit pupils, Mazoku eyes, Mazoku eyes.
EVIL!
Everything
that she remembered, all the things she had been taught, all rushed back at her
as he released her with one arm to put his finger under her chin, holding her
face up like that, looking at him. EVIL! DEMON OF DEMONS!
Did he smile
like this as he bathed in their blood?
Hate him.
Never give him anything. Anything. They'd all told her
that, her people. Avoid him. He'll kill you without a second thought,
priestess, they'd told her, and laugh as he does so. His kind feed on pain,
suffering, fear. (Hate. She
gave him that, at least.) He would laugh as your blood spatters his face.
His face.
Bending towards her now, warm breath washing over her. Smelled
nice. Well, alcoholic, but with the faint traces of mint behind that...
Evil.
They were
almost nose to nose now, and he spoke. "Do you mind?" It was barely a
whisper, barely that.
And her
response, the one that she had to give with the imagined weight of her race's
gaze upon her, was even quieter. "Yes. I mind. Let me go."
He did so,
releasing her quickly enough that she stumbled, and he spun around, facing away
from her.
Her race's gaze.
No, it
couldn't be. Her race was dead.
She,
however, was alive.
"Xelloss," she hesitated, not knowing what to say,
sitting on the bed to relieve knees that no longer wished to hold her weight.
"Do you remember when we first met?"
His voice
had that mocking tone again, but it seemed self-directed. This
time. Evil. Next time it would be at her.
"How could I forget?"
It was a good year then
It was a good year then - we all remember
when you threw the looking glass
And seemed a fool - or very clever.
He refused
to look at her. That hurt. She hated how it hurt. HATED it.
She didn't want it to hurt. Evil. She had to remember
that. Evil. And a person. He
was a person too. No. Evil...
"How
could I forget," he said again, but this time it had a reminiscant
quality. "I was surprised to see a Gold Dragon. Surprised but not
displeased. It was WAR, Filia. I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't war."
She had to
ask, had to question her race's assurances, despite the fact she didn't want to
know. He'd said what he'd done, but he never said if - "Did you enjoy
it?"
"Of
course," Xelloss said matter-of-factly. "I
hated the Gold elders then, and it was war. But I wouldn't have done it
otherwise. They were beautiful, Filia."
"So you
wouldn't have killed them because they were beautiful?" She could hardly
believe her ears, even as her heart shattered in her chest with the knowledge
that her people had been right.
"No, not that. I was following orders. I'd have killed them
anyway. I DID kill them anyway. It was just..." he waved a hand.
"They were BEAUTIFUL. All flashing gold scales and sky
blue and gold eyes and wrongness. They broke the balance, Filia. Yes, I
enjoyed their screams, the thick, beautiful crimson of their blood. But that
was war. Things like that happen in war."
Such an easy dismissal. Evil.
Her people
had done the same. She'd accepted that. But...
"Do you
want to kill me?"
"No."
His smile, again, but twisted in a way he'd only seen when she'd called him a namagomi the first time. "No, but I find you
beautiful."
It felt like
she was choking on her own heart.
Don't spoil it all; I can't recall
A time when you were struck
without an answer.
We'll live a quiet, peaceful time
between the lines, and go together.
"You
said we're on the verge of war." Filia was startled she remembered. It was
so hard to think, really think, drink fogging her
mind. "Will you kill me then?"
He looked at
her again, finally facing her, eyes still open, Mazoku eyes. "I won't have
to."
"What?"
"I
won't have to." That smile, the infuriating one.
She snarled,
looking down and toying with a crease in the bedsheets.
"I hate the way you do that."
"Hmm?" He hadn't stopped smiling.
"THAT!"
She pointed at him, almost keeping her finger from shaking. "Your
smartass answers and your stupid smile. The way you always find
something to answer. I'm never sure whether you're being an idiot or extremely
witty. Or if you're making fun of me." She span around, nose to nose with Xelloss. "Are you making fun of me?"
"Yes."
She hadn't
expected that answer, that smile, those dark eyes to almost shine with their
own light at her. It set her back a minute. (He was too close)
"What?"
"Yes, I
was making fun of you."
It was all a
joke, then. The warmth of his arms as he held her, the almost-kiss, the fact he
asked permission. Just another one of his games.
"I hate you."
"Do
you?" He passed a hand through her hair and she backed off, burying her
face in her hands and tangling her own fingers in her hair, knotting it. "Sometimes. Sometimes I hate you, too. Sometimes I hate
me. Sometimes you hate you. It's all so complicated." He pulled her
straight, taking her comb from her bedside table, passing it through her hair.
"I make fun of everyone, Filia. It's like the hate. Years
and years of practice. You've got beautiful hair, you know. I could sit
here forever combing it. Does it sparkle in the sun, like your scales?"
It must be
the drink that caused her next action. She should be fighting him, screaming at
him, cursing him.
She broke
into tears.
This is what
he wanted, damnit! A voice inside her raged as her
sobs shook her body and the brush strokes stopped. He'll be happy because of
this! Why?!
The eyes of her people, upon her.
He drew her
into his arms, making soothing noises. "Now, what's that for?"
"Why do
you do this?" Filia demanded between her sobs. "Why do you
alternately torment me and... and then act as if you might actually
care?!" Shouldn't have said that. He'll like
that. Evil...
His tone was
self-mocking again. "But Filia, I'm Mazoku, remember? Mazoku don't - "
"BULLSHIT!"
Her tears had almost stopped, and she spun around and slapped him.
And hit for
the first time.
I'm striking up the band
We'll play our last hurrah
We'll dance until we've
Killed another evening off.
He blinked,
shocked, the palm-print of her hand showing red against his cheek a moment
before fading almost instantly, more proof of his Mazoku nature right there.
Right there, in her anger, she didn't give a damn. (Funny how she'd never really
noticed how pale he was...)
Xelloss's hand traveled slowly up to his cheek, stunned look on
his face, touching the spot where she'd hit him, although no doubt he couldn't
even feel it any more. "Wh...
what?"
"I said
bullshit!" She wasn't sure why she was so angry. Was he baiting her? Evil. No, he was too shocked. But he was a good actor, she'd
seen that enough times. Damn it, she wanted to stop thinking these things!
"You said it yourself! You were allowing me to be me, not just a Ryuzoku! You ASKED me to stop thinking of you as just a
Mazoku and start to give you the same right! Well, if you want the right, you
have to stop acting like the stereotypical Mazoku! JUST ANSWER MY DAMNED
QUESTION!"
He stared at
her like she'd suddenly grown a third eye. "But..."
"Fine." She turned away, anger draining away.
"I don't care any more. Just... go away, namagomi
Mazoku."
Evil. Damn him and his ever-so-tempting lies.
"I..."
There was
something in his voice she'd simply never heard before. Uncertainty.
Had she NEVER heard him uncertain before? "I act like that... because
I..." he trailed off again, and she looked back to see him shaking his
head. "I don't know."
She snorted.
"Not very helpful, Xelloss."
"Neither
are you, Filia. You hate me and hate me and then allow me to hold you and then
fight me. Understand yourself before you try to understand me."
But she did
that because she...
Evil. No, she didn't want to... evil. The
weight of her race's gaze upon her.
But...
"I do
understand myself, Xelloss." Evil.
Go away! She
screamed at herself in her head, fighting the bindings they'd forged for her
almost before she was born. Go away! What do you know?! To you, he is the namagomi Mazoku! To you, he never was a person! JUST GO
AWAY!
But he was
evil.
What is
evil? Just a concept. He was a person, too.
"What
do you understand, Filia?"
Evil! Her
race screamed. He'll laugh as your blood spatters his face! EVIL!
Her race was
dead. She...
Filia leaned
forward. "I'd be lying if I said I minded," she mused, and then
added, with a hint of anger, at him, at herself, at them, "And I'd be
lying if I said I didn't. There are no easy ways, Xelloss.
None. I hate that. Sometimes I hate you. Sometimes, I
hate me. Do you mind?"
It came out
more garbled then she intended, and she didn't know if his response, his
semi-shocked, "What?" was due to confusion, or to his being...
Evil.
...Xelloss. So she didn't wait for an answer.
She was
alive.
She took hold
of his chin and pressed her lips to his, tightly.
Don't think of anyone but me
I'll have no lovers on the side.
Tonight is all we've ever dreamed about
For once, let's get it right.
Was that
what it was all about? It wasn't any of the things she'd imagined, really, her
lips pressed tightly to his. It was nice, his lips were, well, warm, but it
wasn't... she blushed. Not that she even knew if she was doing it right.
Five hundred
years as the high priestess didn't teach her this.
Xelloss pulled back, eyes wide, and she cherished that look of startlement. She'd probably never see a look like that
again. Perhaps she was smug. So what?
"Well,"
he said, his voice almost cracking. "I'd be lying if I said I minded, and
I'd be lying if I said I didn't. Have you ever kissed anyone before?"
No. Of
course not! "Yes," she lied, trying to contain a blush. Damn him. He
always made fun of her. He'd do it again.
"It was
a rhetorical question," he chuckled.
Damn him.
Damn her response to him. Damn him for making himself so... easily accessible.
Though it was hardly easy.
"All
right," she admitted, a bare whisper. She felt
woefully inadequate. It was... embarrassing. She hated being embarrassed and
began to get angry again. "So? Why? Did I do it badly? And why should I
give a damn?! You were the one who asked first!"
He was nose
to nose with her, growling angrily. "Damn it, Filia! I should hope you
gave a damn! And I only knew because it wasn't an adult kiss! That's all! You
don't need to make something of everything I say!!"
"How
was I supposed to know there's a difference?!" She had begun to raise her
voice. "I hate the way you act like that! I bet you know EVERYTHING about
that!" she snorted. "Maybe I'm lucky that I'm not going to let myself
be 'just another conquest'."
His eyes
were angry, angry. Mazoku eyes. "And what the
fuck do you imagine my 'conquests' are?! Damn it, Filia! You're no conquest!
ANYWAY, you're different from anything I could ever imagine! Why would I WANT
you to be a conquest?"
"I hate
you," she whispered to him.
"I hate
you too," he whispered back, and captured her lips with his own, sliding
his tongue between her lips, invading her.
Invading
her!
But it...
felt... nice.
She was NOT
going to be a conquest! She attacked his tongue with her own, invading him as
well. No, she wouldn't give in at all.
She was no
conquest.
She was just
Filia.
Oh, and it
felt... good. Much better then the first kiss. Not that that'd been her fault,
she defended herself, as her tongue tangled with his. His fingers tightened in
her hair with an almost painful deliberateness, and she nipped at his lower lip
in warning. His fingers only tightened more, and he pulled her closer, pushing
her body against his. That felt almost distressingly nice, and she tightened
her long nails into his back, not sure she approved of exactly HOW nice it
felt, but not really wanting to stop. She didn't want to become something
merely to be manipulated into pleasure for him, that
was for sure. She was no conquest! If anything... she could hardly believe she
was thinking it, but... well..
If anything,
she'd make him HER conquest.
Moist, those
lips, as they teased her, tongue flickering against her own. Warm. He seemed so
warm. SHE was warm, now, very, very warm...
He murmured
something she couldn't make out against her lips, hands trailing up and down
her back, soothingly, soothingly. Her own hands were tight against his back, almost enough to hurt HER, fingernails digging in hard
enough that she could feel a warm moistness against her fingertips.
Blood.
How much
blood was on him? Not tangible, most of it, of course, but so much blood... her
people's blood. She wasn't angry. Not much, not now. Perhaps
later.
He whispered
the same incomprehensible thing against her lips again, moving his kisses
afterwards from her neck to along her jawline, down
her throat, as his hands, tugged at her blouse, untucking
it, and slipped under to repeat the stroking motions along her back against her
skin. That was nice. Her groin and abdomen were filled with a buzzing feeling.
That was nice too.
Very nice.
Had her
people submitted, in the end? Submitted to his violence and death and the
laughter they kept referring to? They had been conquests, not the same sort of
conquest, but conquests nonetheless...
If he wished
to kill her, she wouldn't go down without fighting. In that, she was no
conquest.
In this,
she'd be no conquest either! She pushed him away, slightly, looking him up and
down, seeing the flush across his cheeks, the other clear signs of arousal. It
was difficult to contain a blush, but...
"I need
another drink," she said.
I'll go down flying in the end
Throw another bottle between the lines.
I'll go down like a ship of state...
So let's be gracious now
between the lines.
He nodded,
and reached to the side for the half-emptied wine bottle. There was something
incredibly sensual about that movement, as he leaned slightly, scooping the
bottle up, and passing it to her, eyes never leaving her face. His voice was
husky as he spoke. "Here."
Filia took a
deep swallow from the bottle, barely letting it sit in her mouth, passing the
bottle back. He took a similar draught, his lips on the spot where her lips had
been.
"I'm no
conquest."
"I
know." He passed the bottle back.
She didn't
want it any more, and put it down. "What had you been saying?"
"Hmm?" He shifted, clearly slightly uncomfortable
in his arousal. "When?"
A flush coloured her cheeks. She would never have thought she would
be having this conversation. "When you were kissing
me."
Of course,
there were a lot of things she'd never considered, and they all seemed to be
happening now.
"Ah."
He smiled at her, the smile she'd once found so infuriating, but she doubted he
meant it like that now. Leaning forward, he cupped her chin, tracing her lips
with his thumb. "'I want to make love to you.'"
Gods! She
was floundering in a sea of emotion. On one hand, she only knew the vaguest
details of what to do. On the other hand, she wanted to. But
again...
"I am
no conquest."
"I know
that, Filia."
It must be
the drink, loosening her tongue like this, letting her CONSIDER it. "I
might be willing to make YOU into MY conquest."
"No,
Filia." Xelloss shook his head, still smiling,
but as firm in his resolve as she was. "I am no conquest either."
She looked
down, flushing despite having expected that answer. "I don't see
why," she muttered. "We hate each other, after all."
"Sometimes. And sometimes..." A
pause. "You know."
Neither of
them would say it, of course. Not now. Possibly never.
But that didn't mean it wasn't there, even if they hated each other sometimes.
Sometimes, she reminded herself, they hated themselves as well.
"Well,
I'm not going to be your conquest!" she declared, knowing that she would
never be strong enough to stop him from just taking what he wanted, but never
willing to give in, either. "So I guess the answer is no."
"Why?"
Pause. She
didn't understand. "What?"
He sighed,
running a hand through his hair and shifting again. "Why do either of us have to be a conquest? Why can't we just be
people for tonight? You may be Ryuzoku, but you're
also Filia."
Yes. And he
was Mazoku, but also... Xelloss. "Just tonight? Will you be
leaving in the morning then?" Once you've had me...
His gaze was
even. "Perhaps. Will you want me to?"
"Perhaps. Do you care?"
A long, long pause. And then, "Yes. I care."
She didn't
want to hear the rest, knew she wouldn't get the rest of the words, because she
wouldn't GIVE the words. But...
Evil. Mazoku, will laugh when your blood spatters his face. The weight of her people's gazes upon her. But her people
were DEAD.
And he was a
person, at least for tonight. Tomorrow... perhaps he would leave. Perhaps he
wouldn't. She wasn't sure, yet, which she wanted. Perhaps she'd never be sure.
Perhaps she
didn't need to be.
Perhaps in
the morning, he'd still be a person.
She moved
forward and he met her half-way, enfolding her in a mint-and-alcohol scented
embrace. Sometimes she hated him. Sometimes... she wouldn't GIVE the words, of
course, because he wouldn't either. But... "I
care too."
Perhaps it
would be enough... at least for tonight.
By Harukami