Knightblazer
Memories in the Rain
†Splinters †[One Shot/ PG-14]
This is what happens when an author spends too much time reading a whole bunch of Hellsing comics and typing in the middle of the night. You might be able to see Mew as Anderson and Mewtwo as Alucard, but that's for you to decide. Its a rather... creepy piece of work, and its PG-14 this time. I'm not taking any chances here. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
And now that only the people brave enough to read this has arrived, I present to you, without further ado, Splinters.
The sunlight serrated by the grate of the sewer, hanging down in threads of golden silver like the wisps of a dew-speckled spider’s web. Shadows twitched and shifted to disturb the brilliant, ethereal fibers, but it still remained flawless when they passed, untouched, undisturbed. Mewtwo stared intently at the light through his blood-red eyes, trying to see beyond the crimson sheen that coated his world, to see through the red, to the untainted gold. But no matter what he tried, he only could see red, and the threads of sunlight almost look like rivers of falling blood from the sky.
Red is everything, but Mewtwo still sees color; he knows that certain shades of the blood-soaked hue aren’t really red, but they instead represented other colors, colors he is blind to now. The honey pink color that fills the day was gold, he knows it is, but it looks distinctly like fresh blood smeared on a pale surface. The darkest red, the color of blood after years of rest, represents black. The clone often wondered if he would ever be used to the red that coats his world yet. He wondered what colors he could truly see beyond the crimson barrier; able to truly behold the crystalline sapphire of Mew’s eyes, the silver of moonlight?
Below the clone, the small feline began to stir from her deep unconsciousness. He didn’t really bothered about bringing her to a cleaner spot; it wasn’t worth it anyway. Besides, bringing her into a storm drain was a lot better than places less sanitary compared to the muck she was nesting in. Even the clone had his own limitations.
“Fool,” purred Mewtwo, as he nudged the small one with his left foot by the shoulder, “I thought you were above this weakness.”
The direct jibe does nothing to help the feline awaken from her sleep. The complete hyperemia is obviously too much for even Mew’s regenerative capabilities to handle, but she is still alive, chest rising and falling in slow, pained exhales.
Mewtwo remains patient, though; she would soon learn the truth anyway. For now, he just bided his time again. As he lifted his head and sniffed at the air outside, he could smell the fragrance of rain already beginning to hang in the air. The daybreak will be despairingly short-lived, the darkness swift to return. He looked down again, at the broken body of Mew.
The nail has been reduced to mere splinters now; a few pieces of it still pierced through her soft skin. The clone could smell the holy wood tangled within her skin, a strong fragrance, a rich scent of thorns and moist earth. For something that holds such a clean scent, it has reduced the once glorious legendary to nothing but a damned monster. The thought of it still caused the clone to sneer in utter disgust.
Mew was a complete utter fool, foolish enough to believe that such a thing could help her triumph over him, when all it did was to cause her downfall. And the state she was in now. To reanimate a monster more monstrous than him with the clone’s own blood is something Mewtwo has never –and hopefully ever- tried to do before. But he knew the results would be unlike anything he can expect.
As he waits for the feline to awaken, he remembered the beauty of his mother’s eyes. There never was a time when her eyes were hard or shuttered like a warrior’s, but wild and ferocious like a stalking tiger, a beast’s after catching the scent of blood, albeit the fact that tiger had green eyes instead of the beautiful sapphire ones Mew had. It had always reminded the clone of a tiger he had chanced upon decades ago, a vicious creature staring at him with eyes that seemed to look beyond what any mere human could see. The creature had not submitted to his crimson gaze, as Mew’s had not. The feline creature had stared him down with wild, untamed passion.
Mewtwo turned back to look at Mew. The feline herself no longer smelled clean, no longer smelled like the deceitful essence of the nail. The only scent that Mewtwo could detect from the fallen legendary’s inert body is death, the detestable rot that tearing the nail from the feline’s chest had left. But it is not quite death; Mewtwo himself had tempered the beast’s soul with his own unholy blood, pieces of his own self to repair the mistakes inflicted on the legendary’s once holy form.
Neither monster nor messiah; there is hardly any humanity with her to speak of.
As the clone sits besides Mew and watches over the fallen one, he looks at the feline’s face. Her face looked so… different, different without the endless tide of fury and hatred that Mewtwo had already come to associate the headstrong feline with. Mew was simply sleeping; eyebrows arched ever so slightly with exhaustion, lips parted as strangled breaths depart them. However, the state of her body was not what the clone was worried about; he had seen the feline get up to her feet from far more grievous wounds than this, still as utterly foolhardy and proud she has always been.
The only thing Mewtwo was worried about was the state of his counterpart’s soul.
“Did it hurt… to lose your soul?” he asked softly, the faintest of sighs passing out from those words.
The question seems to rouse Mew from slumber, as if the very essence of Mewtwo was passed down through that simple question, but yet those words were far beyond that simple sentence. The clone waited, but yet Mew did not respond. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, but the feline still did not respond. She simply lay on the muck, unmoving.
“Answer me,” the clone growled, as he set his harshest gaze upon her, “did it hurt, messiah?”
The answer is there, just at the tip of the feline’s lips, but she loses it as unconsciousness reaped her from the world of the living once again. Mewtwo simply closed his eyes and continued to wait, patient and unmoving. Mew still needed time.
An hour quickly passed in a blink of an eye, and neither of the beasts have shifted. Mewtwo was still sitting beside Mew, eyes now lightly closed as he listened to the slow heartbeat of the feline and absorbed the elusive scents of smoke and blood drifting down into the sewer. The clone breathed deeply, so deeply he could almost capture the scent of departing souls.
They smell of moonlight and dust.
A sigh captured Mewtwo’s attention, a weak groan deep within the fallen one’s throat. Mewtwo’s crimson eyes opened, instantly focusing on the face of the creature that lay next to him. He said nothing, instead opting to look patiently as the dry lips soundlessly moved, cracked and bleeding. Mew’s still eyes remained closed.
“Yes,” came a faint, broken whisper, and the clone knew that he’s received his answer. There was no strength behind the word, no power, and it sounded like someone else entirely. But Mewtwo knew that many things will change. After all, Mew’s soul was -and is- still lost in the splinters of the nail, somewhere in heaven, hell, and purgatory. The pieces will simply be lost forever with no place of rest.
A soul in splinters.
Mew tremored again, her paws weakly raising as if to embrace something that was unseen, but the clone knew that she will never be able to recapture what she is reaching for. The fallen legendary will not be able to find solace within herself for her sins; she will not be able to forgive herself. It’s doubtful he will ever understand her actions.
“A lost messiah,” lamented Mewtwo, “what will you do now, now that even the God of the Pokemon has fallen?”
Mew doesn’t answer, but he could hear the feline giving out a weak sound in response, a broken cry of pain that must be beyond any agony humankind has ever felt. Monsters endure more pain than humans simply for being, for existing, but yet Mewtwo cannot bring himself to feel true sorrow for Mew’s plight. The feline had brought such misery upon herself willfully, out of pride and foolish desperation. She should have died a glorious death.
She should have died as a human.
The clone watched silently as the feline screamed out in pain, as her dead organs wrenched themselves back to life. It’s a painful process, but Mewtwo didn’t want to do anything to ease her pain. After all, she needed to feel the penalty for so foolishly casting down her holy soul into the abyss of Hell.
“What were you expecting?” the clone purred softly, a single finger resting upon her chest, “Were you expecting to cast me down and that it would just end?” the twisted clone scoffed. “You became more monster than I from the moment you stabbed the nail into your heart.”
The feline lacked the will to respond, but the clone could see a single tear leaking down her cheek. Gently, Mewtwo swiped away the tear and licks it up, unable to resist the savoring taste: the taste of regret and fear mixed together; the taste of her own splintered soul.
“Open your eyes, messiah,” he growled, “Look at me.”
Mew compiles, eyelids fluttering gently. They then opened, and her eyes slowly focused on the light shining through. Mewtwo now saw the eyes staring at him now were those of a tiger, broken by the black slits against crystalline sapphire.
No, the clone mentally amends. They are the eyes of a snake.
It seems that Mew truly has fallen.
“Where… where am I?” the feline choked out, her voice unnaturally soft, but yet holds no fear. Mewtwo silenced her, a finger brushing over her vulnerable throat like butterfly wings. Even though the feline had fallen, soulless as she is now, she still does not give up her pride. She stayed perfectly still, serpentine eyes glaring at the clone, filled with countless question that can never be verbalized.
The question was unimportant, and so the clone dismissed it instantly. He doesn’t answer, but continues to look out of the drain. “The dawn broke,” he murmured quietly. Mew doesn’t respond, instead opting to continue glaring at her nemesis.
After a few minutes of silence, Mew rasped out, “The others?” The two words strung together revealed the pain wracking through the feline’s damaged body. A few specks of blood leave her lips as she speaks, eyes lidded.
"Dead," replied Mewtwo. The flash of pain that ripped through Mew’s eyes is nothing short of beautiful; an angry flash of liquid blue that looked so much more like the legendary he once knew before the nail. A sharp cry of agony and fury tore from the feline’s throat as she fought to regain her body and sanity, to make sense of the shattered pieces of a whole she once had.
"How?" the fallen legendary managed to ground out, fingers twitching as she again tried to grasp something unseen and unheard. Mewtwo grabbed the outstretched hand. The feline recoiled with disgust, but he did not loosen his grasp.
Mewtwo saw no reason to mask the truth. "You killed them," says the clone quietly, no cruelty or viciousness marking his tone, just plaintive fact. "They gave their lives for you, one-by-one, because of your foolish, faulted pride."
The restless fidgeting, the sounds coming from the feline stop immediately as the memories started to flood back into her. Memories of war and the other legendaries torn asunder as they fought to protect their leader and their honor. Sacrifice that Mew had not deserved or earned from them after such a betrayal to humanity. Her mistake had devoured their souls along with hers.
"The nail," whispered Mew. Realization dawns in the feline’s eyes, red tears of anger and fear gathering on her bottom lashes as she began to realize the magnitude of what had been truly lost. Mew’s fingers slowly, uncertainly moved to the hole in her chest, where the nail had pierced her. Mewtwo could feel the fingers he’s grasping tremble ever so slightly.
Mew tried to draw back her paw, but to no avail. “Then how… how…did I change… back…?” she asked, fear clearly seen in her eyes.
Mewtwo sneered in response, and then immediately released his grasp from the legendary. The paw curled slightly, but remained outstretched. Mew starred at him with an expression, a desperate expression that only softened Mewtwo’s words minutely.
“You didn’t change back,” he said, crimson eyes narrowing. “You began to decay and die after the nail was ripped from you, and I gave you my blood to compensate. You’re nothing but a soulless, empty shell of a unholy monster now, messiah. As is your penance for becoming one of the fallen.”
Mew starts at this, making a violent move to get up that was brutally cut short when her body refused to accommodate such a task. She fell back, weakened and panting heavily.
The clone wanted to laugh, but yet he did not find that amusing. Instead, he rose and kicked the ground to unearth Mew’s own spoon that had sunk beneath the sewer’s grit. It reflected silvery sunlight up against the ceiling of the sewers, making the feline wince a little in discomfort.
“Get up,” growled Mewtwo impatiently. “Get up and fight me, Mew! If you want to preserve any of who you were, then get up and fight me.”
The clone could see it in Mew’s eyes. That familiar spark of fire. The feline struggled to get up, and took her own spoon in between her paws. She winced in pain as the metal scalded her pink skin, but she took it to her own stride and readied her weapon. “Then I shall prove to you I am still Mew!” she screamed, and then charged at him.
For the few moments of battle, it feels familiar. It feels how it used to.
Mewtwo could almost make the clone smile like he used to. The feeling as the spoon whacked hard against him relived him. The clone laughed; pain was nothing to him now, for he barely even feels it. He did feel the wrath of the blows, though, as he stared at the vicious eyes boring into him like acid. He could feel Mew's hate, utterly and completely tangible.
‘Is this the best you can manage, traitor?’ mocks the beast with a laugh. The pain rips through his gut as the jagged spoon violently twisted, and hot blood ran all over his abdomen superfluously, but he paid no heed. In this form, even the most powerful of weapons will do nothing to stop him. But then Mewtwo was, however, deeply impressed by how well Mew was fighting. There was still so much damage… Mew was still barely held together, a broken doll of a Pokemon. She was willing herself to fight on pure determination.
The two spoons clinked once again, the very same sounds echoing through the tunnel. As Mewtwo whirled around after blocking another of Mew’s reckless attack, he felt a burn of pain as the tip of the feline’s jagged spoon ripped through the delicate skin of Mewtwo’s throat. Almost instantly, blood bubbled and gushed from the wound. The blood surged from Mewtwo in an impressive display, a streak of crimson splattered over Mew’s face before the wound darkened and began to mend.
At that very same moment, Mew’s spoon fell onto the ground with a loud clatter. The sound echoed loudly past the tunnel, but soon disappeared. Mewtwo looked intently as the feline fell to the floor with a dead limp, losing contact with the material world once again as the blue in her eyes finally faded away.
The clone kneeled with the feline cradled in his arms. The feline’s eyes are already closed, breathing heavy, but she no longer sounded like a drowning human gasping desperately for life. Mewtwo could hear the legendary murmuring names he does not recognize, people she had lost in the night.
Mewtwo offered solace by caressing the restive body with the tangible darkness, soothing the loneliness, but he knew that such a gesture is not nearly enough to ease the feline’s agony. It was simply a physical comfort to a tired body, and Mewtwo could not bring himself to delve deeper and comfort the shattered soul; the forgiveness meant nothing in that respect. He knew that he could never end the inner suffering and the karma of a Pokemon who needed punishment.
Carefully, the clone preened away the splinters and fallen thorns stuck to Mew’s skin, wincing just faintly at the burn of them. He tossed them into the mud, feeling relieved as the fresh scent dissipated into nothingness. It was a scent he would forever recall and loathe, a harbinger of the worst kind of evil.
The feline murmured a name Mewtwo did recognize, and he quietly watched the legendary’s features, gaze locked and intense as he watched the lips quietly form one single word.
“Mewtwo…”
A memory, an unconscious plea for help, a curse? Mewtwo wondered at this, tempted to spy on the fallen one’s dreams, but he knew that now was not the time. He bowed his head, listening closely to every wisp of breath, to the heartbeat quietly thrumming inside. The legendary had fallen silent now, sleep complete. The clone determined that whatever incarnation of himself that had appeared to the feline had soothed her enough to let her mind rest.
Both were utterly still for a long time. Mewtwo stared down with unblinking eyes at the feline resting within the shadows. Even unconsciously, Mew’s emotions seemed to be projecting, and the twisted clone could almost feel the loneliness. He brought the creature closer, shadows of himself curling around the body in an effort to soothe the feeling away. His lips brushed against the temple, and he breathed in the scent of Mew, relishing in the strange feeling that washed over him at the gesture. It was a calm feeling, unusually serene, the briefest moment of clarity.
Mewtwo tilted his head and breathed over the feline’s parted lips, letting their air, their life mingle. He could taste his own blood on the legendary’s breath, a taste that’s not at all unappealing.
Feather light, the clone let his lips tenuously brush against Mew’s, the faintest contact of flesh, warm and bruised from the feed. Mew tasted alive, far more alive than any unholy beast, but Mewtwo knows that she is simply a creature of his own kind now.
The feline stirred only faintly, but Mewtwo could tell from the uneven breaths that the feline’s now inexplicably awake; she slept through pain, internal agony, yet she did not sleep through a kiss. Somehow, the twisted clone felt contented by this knowledge, as if it explained everything about the feline in his arms, which it did and it didn’t.
Nonetheless, he did not part from the creature, knelt close to her, foreheads gently pressed together. Mewtwo could feel the tips of Mew’s paws ghosting over his shoulder, a caress. It’s only a faint touch, but more than enough to assure the clone that the proffered comfort was not unwelcome.
“Beloved enemy,” purred the beast quietly, letting his mouth again brush against the feline’s as he spoke. The words sounded just as fitting now as they did in the heat of battle, just as right. He savored the sound of them, savoring the pale blue eyes looking up at him with an expression that seemed almost too calm to be Mew’s.
Mewtwo isn’t entirely surprised when the feline indulged in a deep kiss, but was surprised by the tenderness behind it. He had imagined, many times in the past, that Mew’s kisses would be harsh and biting now. But she simply pressed her lips to his, nothing forced or hurried, the moist tongue brushing against Mewtwo’s just enough to incite his lust. Any other place, any other time, the clone knew he would have easily succumbed to his bodily urges, but everything about the present told him that he could not. Not in this filth, not when Mew was so drained.
Patience is nothing new, and Mewtwo realized he may have to exercise this virtue even more for some time to come. But Mew was a part of him now, bound by blood and shadows; there would be time.
So the clone held the legendary as she slept, listening to the soft brush of wind outside as the morning progresses. Time passed by like a dream and Mew still slept, hands coiling around Mewtwo’s waist like twin vices. The sounds of rain soon began to ring through the tunnel as evening approached. Mewtwo never moved from his vigil, holding the feline until it is time, until the night falls. He will have to bring Mew to her feet when the battle arises, and he does not revel in the task, but he knows she will do it anyway.
Silently, the two monsters embraced in the dank shadows, and wait for the night to come.
Knightblazer ;262;
This is what happens when an author spends too much time reading a whole bunch of Hellsing comics and typing in the middle of the night. You might be able to see Mew as Anderson and Mewtwo as Alucard, but that's for you to decide. Its a rather... creepy piece of work, and its PG-14 this time. I'm not taking any chances here. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
And now that only the people brave enough to read this has arrived, I present to you, without further ado, Splinters.
† Splinters †
The sunlight serrated by the grate of the sewer, hanging down in threads of golden silver like the wisps of a dew-speckled spider’s web. Shadows twitched and shifted to disturb the brilliant, ethereal fibers, but it still remained flawless when they passed, untouched, undisturbed. Mewtwo stared intently at the light through his blood-red eyes, trying to see beyond the crimson sheen that coated his world, to see through the red, to the untainted gold. But no matter what he tried, he only could see red, and the threads of sunlight almost look like rivers of falling blood from the sky.
Red is everything, but Mewtwo still sees color; he knows that certain shades of the blood-soaked hue aren’t really red, but they instead represented other colors, colors he is blind to now. The honey pink color that fills the day was gold, he knows it is, but it looks distinctly like fresh blood smeared on a pale surface. The darkest red, the color of blood after years of rest, represents black. The clone often wondered if he would ever be used to the red that coats his world yet. He wondered what colors he could truly see beyond the crimson barrier; able to truly behold the crystalline sapphire of Mew’s eyes, the silver of moonlight?
Below the clone, the small feline began to stir from her deep unconsciousness. He didn’t really bothered about bringing her to a cleaner spot; it wasn’t worth it anyway. Besides, bringing her into a storm drain was a lot better than places less sanitary compared to the muck she was nesting in. Even the clone had his own limitations.
“Fool,” purred Mewtwo, as he nudged the small one with his left foot by the shoulder, “I thought you were above this weakness.”
The direct jibe does nothing to help the feline awaken from her sleep. The complete hyperemia is obviously too much for even Mew’s regenerative capabilities to handle, but she is still alive, chest rising and falling in slow, pained exhales.
Mewtwo remains patient, though; she would soon learn the truth anyway. For now, he just bided his time again. As he lifted his head and sniffed at the air outside, he could smell the fragrance of rain already beginning to hang in the air. The daybreak will be despairingly short-lived, the darkness swift to return. He looked down again, at the broken body of Mew.
The nail has been reduced to mere splinters now; a few pieces of it still pierced through her soft skin. The clone could smell the holy wood tangled within her skin, a strong fragrance, a rich scent of thorns and moist earth. For something that holds such a clean scent, it has reduced the once glorious legendary to nothing but a damned monster. The thought of it still caused the clone to sneer in utter disgust.
Mew was a complete utter fool, foolish enough to believe that such a thing could help her triumph over him, when all it did was to cause her downfall. And the state she was in now. To reanimate a monster more monstrous than him with the clone’s own blood is something Mewtwo has never –and hopefully ever- tried to do before. But he knew the results would be unlike anything he can expect.
As he waits for the feline to awaken, he remembered the beauty of his mother’s eyes. There never was a time when her eyes were hard or shuttered like a warrior’s, but wild and ferocious like a stalking tiger, a beast’s after catching the scent of blood, albeit the fact that tiger had green eyes instead of the beautiful sapphire ones Mew had. It had always reminded the clone of a tiger he had chanced upon decades ago, a vicious creature staring at him with eyes that seemed to look beyond what any mere human could see. The creature had not submitted to his crimson gaze, as Mew’s had not. The feline creature had stared him down with wild, untamed passion.
Mewtwo turned back to look at Mew. The feline herself no longer smelled clean, no longer smelled like the deceitful essence of the nail. The only scent that Mewtwo could detect from the fallen legendary’s inert body is death, the detestable rot that tearing the nail from the feline’s chest had left. But it is not quite death; Mewtwo himself had tempered the beast’s soul with his own unholy blood, pieces of his own self to repair the mistakes inflicted on the legendary’s once holy form.
Neither monster nor messiah; there is hardly any humanity with her to speak of.
As the clone sits besides Mew and watches over the fallen one, he looks at the feline’s face. Her face looked so… different, different without the endless tide of fury and hatred that Mewtwo had already come to associate the headstrong feline with. Mew was simply sleeping; eyebrows arched ever so slightly with exhaustion, lips parted as strangled breaths depart them. However, the state of her body was not what the clone was worried about; he had seen the feline get up to her feet from far more grievous wounds than this, still as utterly foolhardy and proud she has always been.
The only thing Mewtwo was worried about was the state of his counterpart’s soul.
“Did it hurt… to lose your soul?” he asked softly, the faintest of sighs passing out from those words.
The question seems to rouse Mew from slumber, as if the very essence of Mewtwo was passed down through that simple question, but yet those words were far beyond that simple sentence. The clone waited, but yet Mew did not respond. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, but the feline still did not respond. She simply lay on the muck, unmoving.
“Answer me,” the clone growled, as he set his harshest gaze upon her, “did it hurt, messiah?”
The answer is there, just at the tip of the feline’s lips, but she loses it as unconsciousness reaped her from the world of the living once again. Mewtwo simply closed his eyes and continued to wait, patient and unmoving. Mew still needed time.
An hour quickly passed in a blink of an eye, and neither of the beasts have shifted. Mewtwo was still sitting beside Mew, eyes now lightly closed as he listened to the slow heartbeat of the feline and absorbed the elusive scents of smoke and blood drifting down into the sewer. The clone breathed deeply, so deeply he could almost capture the scent of departing souls.
They smell of moonlight and dust.
A sigh captured Mewtwo’s attention, a weak groan deep within the fallen one’s throat. Mewtwo’s crimson eyes opened, instantly focusing on the face of the creature that lay next to him. He said nothing, instead opting to look patiently as the dry lips soundlessly moved, cracked and bleeding. Mew’s still eyes remained closed.
“Yes,” came a faint, broken whisper, and the clone knew that he’s received his answer. There was no strength behind the word, no power, and it sounded like someone else entirely. But Mewtwo knew that many things will change. After all, Mew’s soul was -and is- still lost in the splinters of the nail, somewhere in heaven, hell, and purgatory. The pieces will simply be lost forever with no place of rest.
A soul in splinters.
Mew tremored again, her paws weakly raising as if to embrace something that was unseen, but the clone knew that she will never be able to recapture what she is reaching for. The fallen legendary will not be able to find solace within herself for her sins; she will not be able to forgive herself. It’s doubtful he will ever understand her actions.
“A lost messiah,” lamented Mewtwo, “what will you do now, now that even the God of the Pokemon has fallen?”
Mew doesn’t answer, but he could hear the feline giving out a weak sound in response, a broken cry of pain that must be beyond any agony humankind has ever felt. Monsters endure more pain than humans simply for being, for existing, but yet Mewtwo cannot bring himself to feel true sorrow for Mew’s plight. The feline had brought such misery upon herself willfully, out of pride and foolish desperation. She should have died a glorious death.
She should have died as a human.
The clone watched silently as the feline screamed out in pain, as her dead organs wrenched themselves back to life. It’s a painful process, but Mewtwo didn’t want to do anything to ease her pain. After all, she needed to feel the penalty for so foolishly casting down her holy soul into the abyss of Hell.
“What were you expecting?” the clone purred softly, a single finger resting upon her chest, “Were you expecting to cast me down and that it would just end?” the twisted clone scoffed. “You became more monster than I from the moment you stabbed the nail into your heart.”
The feline lacked the will to respond, but the clone could see a single tear leaking down her cheek. Gently, Mewtwo swiped away the tear and licks it up, unable to resist the savoring taste: the taste of regret and fear mixed together; the taste of her own splintered soul.
“Open your eyes, messiah,” he growled, “Look at me.”
Mew compiles, eyelids fluttering gently. They then opened, and her eyes slowly focused on the light shining through. Mewtwo now saw the eyes staring at him now were those of a tiger, broken by the black slits against crystalline sapphire.
No, the clone mentally amends. They are the eyes of a snake.
It seems that Mew truly has fallen.
“Where… where am I?” the feline choked out, her voice unnaturally soft, but yet holds no fear. Mewtwo silenced her, a finger brushing over her vulnerable throat like butterfly wings. Even though the feline had fallen, soulless as she is now, she still does not give up her pride. She stayed perfectly still, serpentine eyes glaring at the clone, filled with countless question that can never be verbalized.
The question was unimportant, and so the clone dismissed it instantly. He doesn’t answer, but continues to look out of the drain. “The dawn broke,” he murmured quietly. Mew doesn’t respond, instead opting to continue glaring at her nemesis.
After a few minutes of silence, Mew rasped out, “The others?” The two words strung together revealed the pain wracking through the feline’s damaged body. A few specks of blood leave her lips as she speaks, eyes lidded.
"Dead," replied Mewtwo. The flash of pain that ripped through Mew’s eyes is nothing short of beautiful; an angry flash of liquid blue that looked so much more like the legendary he once knew before the nail. A sharp cry of agony and fury tore from the feline’s throat as she fought to regain her body and sanity, to make sense of the shattered pieces of a whole she once had.
"How?" the fallen legendary managed to ground out, fingers twitching as she again tried to grasp something unseen and unheard. Mewtwo grabbed the outstretched hand. The feline recoiled with disgust, but he did not loosen his grasp.
Mewtwo saw no reason to mask the truth. "You killed them," says the clone quietly, no cruelty or viciousness marking his tone, just plaintive fact. "They gave their lives for you, one-by-one, because of your foolish, faulted pride."
The restless fidgeting, the sounds coming from the feline stop immediately as the memories started to flood back into her. Memories of war and the other legendaries torn asunder as they fought to protect their leader and their honor. Sacrifice that Mew had not deserved or earned from them after such a betrayal to humanity. Her mistake had devoured their souls along with hers.
"The nail," whispered Mew. Realization dawns in the feline’s eyes, red tears of anger and fear gathering on her bottom lashes as she began to realize the magnitude of what had been truly lost. Mew’s fingers slowly, uncertainly moved to the hole in her chest, where the nail had pierced her. Mewtwo could feel the fingers he’s grasping tremble ever so slightly.
Mew tried to draw back her paw, but to no avail. “Then how… how…did I change… back…?” she asked, fear clearly seen in her eyes.
Mewtwo sneered in response, and then immediately released his grasp from the legendary. The paw curled slightly, but remained outstretched. Mew starred at him with an expression, a desperate expression that only softened Mewtwo’s words minutely.
“You didn’t change back,” he said, crimson eyes narrowing. “You began to decay and die after the nail was ripped from you, and I gave you my blood to compensate. You’re nothing but a soulless, empty shell of a unholy monster now, messiah. As is your penance for becoming one of the fallen.”
Mew starts at this, making a violent move to get up that was brutally cut short when her body refused to accommodate such a task. She fell back, weakened and panting heavily.
The clone wanted to laugh, but yet he did not find that amusing. Instead, he rose and kicked the ground to unearth Mew’s own spoon that had sunk beneath the sewer’s grit. It reflected silvery sunlight up against the ceiling of the sewers, making the feline wince a little in discomfort.
“Get up,” growled Mewtwo impatiently. “Get up and fight me, Mew! If you want to preserve any of who you were, then get up and fight me.”
The clone could see it in Mew’s eyes. That familiar spark of fire. The feline struggled to get up, and took her own spoon in between her paws. She winced in pain as the metal scalded her pink skin, but she took it to her own stride and readied her weapon. “Then I shall prove to you I am still Mew!” she screamed, and then charged at him.
For the few moments of battle, it feels familiar. It feels how it used to.
Mewtwo could almost make the clone smile like he used to. The feeling as the spoon whacked hard against him relived him. The clone laughed; pain was nothing to him now, for he barely even feels it. He did feel the wrath of the blows, though, as he stared at the vicious eyes boring into him like acid. He could feel Mew's hate, utterly and completely tangible.
‘Is this the best you can manage, traitor?’ mocks the beast with a laugh. The pain rips through his gut as the jagged spoon violently twisted, and hot blood ran all over his abdomen superfluously, but he paid no heed. In this form, even the most powerful of weapons will do nothing to stop him. But then Mewtwo was, however, deeply impressed by how well Mew was fighting. There was still so much damage… Mew was still barely held together, a broken doll of a Pokemon. She was willing herself to fight on pure determination.
The two spoons clinked once again, the very same sounds echoing through the tunnel. As Mewtwo whirled around after blocking another of Mew’s reckless attack, he felt a burn of pain as the tip of the feline’s jagged spoon ripped through the delicate skin of Mewtwo’s throat. Almost instantly, blood bubbled and gushed from the wound. The blood surged from Mewtwo in an impressive display, a streak of crimson splattered over Mew’s face before the wound darkened and began to mend.
At that very same moment, Mew’s spoon fell onto the ground with a loud clatter. The sound echoed loudly past the tunnel, but soon disappeared. Mewtwo looked intently as the feline fell to the floor with a dead limp, losing contact with the material world once again as the blue in her eyes finally faded away.
The clone kneeled with the feline cradled in his arms. The feline’s eyes are already closed, breathing heavy, but she no longer sounded like a drowning human gasping desperately for life. Mewtwo could hear the legendary murmuring names he does not recognize, people she had lost in the night.
Mewtwo offered solace by caressing the restive body with the tangible darkness, soothing the loneliness, but he knew that such a gesture is not nearly enough to ease the feline’s agony. It was simply a physical comfort to a tired body, and Mewtwo could not bring himself to delve deeper and comfort the shattered soul; the forgiveness meant nothing in that respect. He knew that he could never end the inner suffering and the karma of a Pokemon who needed punishment.
Carefully, the clone preened away the splinters and fallen thorns stuck to Mew’s skin, wincing just faintly at the burn of them. He tossed them into the mud, feeling relieved as the fresh scent dissipated into nothingness. It was a scent he would forever recall and loathe, a harbinger of the worst kind of evil.
The feline murmured a name Mewtwo did recognize, and he quietly watched the legendary’s features, gaze locked and intense as he watched the lips quietly form one single word.
“Mewtwo…”
A memory, an unconscious plea for help, a curse? Mewtwo wondered at this, tempted to spy on the fallen one’s dreams, but he knew that now was not the time. He bowed his head, listening closely to every wisp of breath, to the heartbeat quietly thrumming inside. The legendary had fallen silent now, sleep complete. The clone determined that whatever incarnation of himself that had appeared to the feline had soothed her enough to let her mind rest.
Both were utterly still for a long time. Mewtwo stared down with unblinking eyes at the feline resting within the shadows. Even unconsciously, Mew’s emotions seemed to be projecting, and the twisted clone could almost feel the loneliness. He brought the creature closer, shadows of himself curling around the body in an effort to soothe the feeling away. His lips brushed against the temple, and he breathed in the scent of Mew, relishing in the strange feeling that washed over him at the gesture. It was a calm feeling, unusually serene, the briefest moment of clarity.
Mewtwo tilted his head and breathed over the feline’s parted lips, letting their air, their life mingle. He could taste his own blood on the legendary’s breath, a taste that’s not at all unappealing.
Feather light, the clone let his lips tenuously brush against Mew’s, the faintest contact of flesh, warm and bruised from the feed. Mew tasted alive, far more alive than any unholy beast, but Mewtwo knows that she is simply a creature of his own kind now.
The feline stirred only faintly, but Mewtwo could tell from the uneven breaths that the feline’s now inexplicably awake; she slept through pain, internal agony, yet she did not sleep through a kiss. Somehow, the twisted clone felt contented by this knowledge, as if it explained everything about the feline in his arms, which it did and it didn’t.
Nonetheless, he did not part from the creature, knelt close to her, foreheads gently pressed together. Mewtwo could feel the tips of Mew’s paws ghosting over his shoulder, a caress. It’s only a faint touch, but more than enough to assure the clone that the proffered comfort was not unwelcome.
“Beloved enemy,” purred the beast quietly, letting his mouth again brush against the feline’s as he spoke. The words sounded just as fitting now as they did in the heat of battle, just as right. He savored the sound of them, savoring the pale blue eyes looking up at him with an expression that seemed almost too calm to be Mew’s.
Mewtwo isn’t entirely surprised when the feline indulged in a deep kiss, but was surprised by the tenderness behind it. He had imagined, many times in the past, that Mew’s kisses would be harsh and biting now. But she simply pressed her lips to his, nothing forced or hurried, the moist tongue brushing against Mewtwo’s just enough to incite his lust. Any other place, any other time, the clone knew he would have easily succumbed to his bodily urges, but everything about the present told him that he could not. Not in this filth, not when Mew was so drained.
Patience is nothing new, and Mewtwo realized he may have to exercise this virtue even more for some time to come. But Mew was a part of him now, bound by blood and shadows; there would be time.
So the clone held the legendary as she slept, listening to the soft brush of wind outside as the morning progresses. Time passed by like a dream and Mew still slept, hands coiling around Mewtwo’s waist like twin vices. The sounds of rain soon began to ring through the tunnel as evening approached. Mewtwo never moved from his vigil, holding the feline until it is time, until the night falls. He will have to bring Mew to her feet when the battle arises, and he does not revel in the task, but he knows she will do it anyway.
Silently, the two monsters embraced in the dank shadows, and wait for the night to come.
Knightblazer ;262;
Last edited: