mortiseight

Catrina struggled from side to side as the night called upon the dawn. Something deep inside her soul whimpered desperately. Mother Earth felt weary and decided against raising the sun that day, therefore the demons and angels perished. There was a form of silent depression in the room. In some sort of sense there was destruction and chaos, as though there was some sacred and holy sin commited.
After long hours of rest and tossing, she pushed her eyes open and glanced up at the ceiling and stared for a while at the spider webs that cowered in the corners. Finally, it struck her. She looked down at her body and the beautiful arm that draped itself across her. Her fingertips longed to drag themselves down its length but she resisted, afraid that she might break the moment.
Cat laid her head back down against the carpet and laughed softly, a bit of childish triumph poking through her face. There was a new feeling in her that she couldn�t avoid. It was a feeling she had felt when she was younger, but lost as her days ran past her. She felt safe and warm in his arms� she felt happy.
As the feelings and emotions came tottering back into her slightly overloaded body, she waded back into sleep again.

Alicard leaned against the far wall and looked down at the woman that burrowed herself in her dreams. A blanket lazily floated over her naked body. His trench coat swayed slightly with an odd memory that was gnawing constantly at his mind and sanity. She turned over again and woke up, her eyes having lifted from their normal gray to a light slate. Her gaze fell on his face and she forced a weak and sleepy smile.
He grunted inwardly then smirked, his face acting out scenes of enjoyment, though no joy was rejoiced in the darkened room. On the window glass soft orbs of the day�s rain clutched onto the surface, desperate not to fall. Alicard walked across the room, stepping over her and finding himself infront of his fireplace mantel. He picked a small box of matches and looked back over his shoulder at Catrina.
She tilted her eyebrow upward and watched him.
�I lied to you last night,� he said and turned his attention back to the little container that he held inbetween his fingers. Cat pushed her body up to a sitting position and let the sheet fall from being over her.
�How so?�
�I said I loved you,� he grinned and took out one of the matches. And as her eyes widened themselves, he struck the head against the rough edge of the box. The flame that stretched heavenward danced a jig only performed by foolish devils. He threw it down on her, and laughed mentally as the corner of the blanket started to burn.
Catrina sat and looked at the flame, too astonished that he had lied to her to actually do something about the firey heat. Quietly, she picked up her hands and placed them down over it, cupping its placid waltz in her hand, then smashing it. The burns found themselves on her fingers and palms, and she refused to look up at Alicard.
She got up from her place on the floor and started to walk out of the room. He jogged over to her and pushed her up against the book shelf she was passing. The baby blue that had slowly begun to paint itself across her irises dulled to a black and she swallowed her pride, letting her eyes dart up to look into his.
Alicard grinned and trailed his fingers down the side of her waist, then to his back pocket. The blade reflected Cat�s imagine, though it seemed already faded and lost. There wasn�t any hope left in her, just a dead and crumpled dream.
He lifted the knife up to let her marvel at it, but her eyes didn�t focuse on anything. Getting slightly frustrated, he placed the tip of the weapon against her neck and drew a small line down the side, barely cutting into her. She swallowed and shifted slightly, just as she had done the night before when she had given herself to him.
He put his lips against the open wound and let the slow streaming drips flood into his mouth and lapped up the liquid. Alicard reached his hand up to brush his fingers over her lips, and just as they did Catrina opened her mouth to speak. Before her whispers could find sound, he pinched her lips together, bruising them. He pulled on them slightly, tugging at her with a seemingly gentle playfulness. But there wasn�t any gentle jestures after this, for he placed the tip of his knife under her bottom lip as he was pulling, and sliced upward, piercing through both layers of skin.
Cat closed her eyes and sobbed inwardly, feeling her mouth tighten from crying and having the sharp blade cut her more for he hadn�t removed it yet. Blood filtered past the slit in her lips and ran in stream down her chin. It dripped heavenly from her skin and splatered against the floor. Alicard picked her now souless body up and drapped her over his shoulder. She didn't make a slight sound, only stared down at the floor as he walked with her.
As she had the first day she had arrived here, she felt death breathing down the wound on her neck and stinging it profoundly. Her forehead creased and she felt wet drops beating down into her skull. Oh, the angels of mercy cried tears for her, for her sins could not be saved now. Nothing could be saved now.
Alicard threw her down against the ground in his dead garden and her head slammed into a rock that so pleasantly sat hidden under a patch of weeds. The scab under her hair ripped and a new pool of her red life gathered under her like a pillow. In his left hand the small knife still gleamed, its shining smile too warm and near for Catrina to think. There was a soft buzzing sleeping in the bottom of her ears and she felt a wave of coldness slink over her.
As he hesitated over her, a slight frown starting to play over her already dying image, she looked around at a familiar setting. The gate of the garden had been kept slightly ajar and its enchantment teased her. The scent of the god's perfumes drained from the misty air and Alicard knelt down beside her. The sky clouded yet again and the down pour came exhaustingly. Seeping through the ground, the drops were collected with the disowned ancestors which were forgotten.
"My Father was buried in this garden," he whispered into her ear, his voice having a smoothe jagged edge to it. "I want you to meet him. And for you to meet him, you must join him." He flicked the tip of his tongue at the inside of her ear, and drove the blade into one of her wrists. Catrina cried out and arched her back, the contoring spasms sweeping back over her from the unknown. The wind whispered through the trees and called to her from the valley of death.
The metal drove into her stomach twice, each time the pain and pressure drifting quickly away. The only thing she felt was a warmth in her. The way she had been warm when he was in her. She reached up with her unwounded hand and put her palm over Alicard's hand that held the knife. Even in his astonishing fury, he stopped and glanced at her. His hair was slightly straying over his head in a messy manner, but it hung as though it was a black halo.
Now, she sobbed hideously, because she couldn't speak to him even in death, for her lips were too numb now from the pain. Everything in her seemed to give then, for she couldn't tell him. She couldn't say she loved him one last time even though she shouldn't. The vision of Alicard was drown out by a small cloud of darkness that heaved its way over his face, and slowly, the whole world around her.
Her head dropped back and her wrist that now had a large, gaping hole driven into it, slid off her body and thumped against the gray grass. As death took her into its wickedly boney arms, it whispered a loving scent into Alicard's ears, and the moment he saw her stop breathing he heard, "I love you..."