I don't own Alichino.
She cried; soft whimpering noises that echoed in the dark room. She tried her hardest to stifle the sound, not wanting to alert him of her current state. Much to her dismay, however, he knelt down next to her and wiped the salty tracks away with gloved hands. She flinched at his gentle touch, shying away.
Don't look at me.
He cupped her chin and tilted her face upward to meet his eyes. A thin brow rose as her porcelain skin came to view in the light. Her beauty was simply breathtaking–unrivaled in that childlike elegance. He had never seen anyone like her before. Even with her silvery hair in tangles and her many skirts disheveled, she was gorgeous.
His lips parted slightly as he moved to speak. Yet, he was silence as she gazed soulfully up at him with those large, impossibly red eyes. They were the color of rubies–of blood–and they pierced his very heart.
You are so very beautiful.
He reached out a hand for her, yet she once again shrunk back, pulling fistfuls of ragged fabric around her slender body. Absently he wondered why she never ceased to look any more than sixteen; a mere child, yet so old at the same time... He shook his head slightly at the thought. Appearances were deceiving.
Where is he?
She was afraid. That much he could tell. It was strange, to see her so unnerved. She had always been so confident and arrogant. This was not natural, not right.
He sighed resolutely, and rocked back on his heels. There was nothing he could do but wait. Silence passed between the two of them, her with her oh-so beautiful face buried in her arms, long ringlets of hair dragging in the dusty ground, and he merely sitting, thinking, and watching.
She was a rather pretty thing, he had to admit. Still, he loathed her. He despised her for her comeliness. He wanted to break that perfect face; bloody it with a few scars.
He did not know, however, that she wished the same. Oh, how she desired to mar the impossibly ethereal features she possessed! And yet, even dirty and hurt, that constant gorgeous light shone through.
Always. It was always there, so long as she existed.
She wanted to shut it out, never to return.
He wanted to extinguish it with his very hands.
It represented all that she was, and she was a symbol of everything he had ever hated. However... he could never bring himself to do it. Never. As much as it pained him to admit it, he had grown to respect her.
She was... different, somehow. More. She had a bond, a soul. She lacked that ravaging, hungry, burning, incessant want. Instead, it was always within her, at an arm's reach or a voice's call, taunting and mocking her. She hated it; wanted it gone forever.
Why don't you come for me?
She missed it. It felt as though someone had ripped half of her away. She had never experienced such an emotion before. It was so new and strange... she found herself wanted to cry; yet she was unsure as to the cause.
He watched her from the shadows as her eyes filled once again with tears. This time he did not make a move to wipe them away, instead letting her bow her head and sob under a curtain of thick silver hair.
It hadn't meant to happen this way. There wasn't supposed to have been such a drastic mistake made. She was the one was supposed to be dead, not him. He had promised her so long ago that she would be the first to die when it was all said and done. But he was gone –unable to fulfill his oath to her.
He never realized how much he had affected her. He thought she just loved him out of duty, as an after effect. He never realized that what he did was give her a soul as well. He had not hesitated in sharing the most intimate part of his body with her.
Ah, that was why that… that demon had been so taken aback. She did not understand what a bond truly was. Only they did. Only him. And now she still held onto it.
No, he was supposed to have killed her with his own hands, and freed his entrapped soul from her, that she had taken so long ago. Had he grown to love her?
I love you.
She couldn't say. Perhaps he had, out of necessity. They could have shared a soul without loving each other. The others did it. But... he was so different; so passionate. No, she has wanted him to love her from the start. She knew what he could accomplish.
Ah, but it was all torn to pieces and thrown out the window, now.
She sniffled loudly, drawing her knees up even closer to her chest. He glanced up from across the room at the sound. She dared not to meet those fierce, taupe eyes, so much like his, and yet so different. She was sick of that beautiful face he possessed; so gorgeous it rivaled that of her own.
Ah, but therein lay the difference. He was not like her. He abhorred her for what she was. She was a white angel, and he was the black demon. Oh, the irony.
Why do I deserve to live?
He sat in the shadows still, legs curled elegantly beneath him. She found herself only able to stare at his slender gloved hands, which rested on his knees. Even at this proximity, she could feel that incessant push... or pull, depending on one's viewpoint. It was so tempting; so simple.
He looked up, and saw her gazing hungrily at him. However, he misinterpreted her expression, and his own comely features twisted in a hateful snarl.
I will beat my wings above the pitch, to see if thou availest more than we.
It was a constant war between them. She was always amused to think upon how they were acquainted, and what had restricted them from killing each other in the first place.
Ah, it was the other. His own soulmate, or however close they could come to the concept. It was a utopian idea, and something that only those in her likeness could achieve, should they so desire to do. And even then, not all succeeded, as that failure of a woman had proved. Still, she was intrigued by what they had. He was bound to his other, whether either were cognizant of it or not, though it was not by the same soulsharing that she had with him. He still had a reason to live; a reason to be beautiful. Her sole reason for existence past her function had disappeared.
It was strange, in a way. She never expected to find anything for herself past that for which she was created. And yet, he had made it for her; turned her beauty into something else more worthwhile.
She had no desire to be beautiful anymore, and she even loathed the thought. In the end, it caused her too much pain; pain she wasn't even meant to feel. It hurt too much to have such a pretty face.
There was only one person who could take that away from her and end the torment eternally.
He would refuse, she knew. But he could never understand.
His lovely face was not his existence–something else was. For her, it was all that she was, and all that she had to her name. She was nothing, otherwise. She didn't want to be anything, anymore.
She wanted to disappear, the way he always seemed to do. For once, she truly wanted to fly away on those bright wings and never come back. It would be so simple to unfurl white feathers and wing herself into the sky, but she withheld. It would only prove to be a temporary escape, regardless. What she wanted–needed–was something more permanent.
Do you realize what it is that you are asking of me?
She knew. She understood more than he did, naturally. Ah, but she could not blame him; he desired to be righteous, and even to him, it seemed wrong somehow.
Eyes bright, glittering like rubies in the sun, she crawled towards him, legs too weak to carry her. He turned his head, a suffering expression marring his graceful features. He refused to look at her, that doll-like perfection and beauty, falling apart on the floor. She was a broken doll now, not even good enough to sit and look pretty. Curiously, she placed a hand on his leg, and leaned up towards him. He closed his eyes, not responding. She continued her path, until her face was mere centimeters from his. At this close proximity, elegant amber eyes flew open.
He pushed her back, refusing to be like one of them. One of her.
Oh, but it was all about to come to its glorious conclusion soon, and she reveled in the thought. The air between them shivered and tingled with the turmoil. As much as he hated her kind, he did not want to do this. He did not want to touch her pale skin, or kiss petal lips. But she yearned for this with such longing he found it hard to deny her this wish.
A wish... I wish I may, I wish I might have this Wish I wish tonight.
A wish for her. That only that she may be granted. It would be the first and last; the one time that she could have what she desired.
And he realized, finally, what she had been truly craving. He understood. Removing one glove, he tentatively reached out and brushed the skin of her cheek, pressing the palm of his hand there. Her face was cool, not warm like his.
His hand trembled for a moment, and a ghost of a smile flitted across her face before she cried out.
She was gone. She who sobbed inside for a wish of her own. An eternity was a long time to end with a touch.
Sadly, he stared at his hands. It was he who held the power to grant fabled wishgivers wishes of their own. It was he who held the power of death in his very fingertips for them. It was he who realized just how much she had suffered because of her beauty.
Because of who she was.