His raven's wings spread behind him like a great shadow that had been born of night shade and the shadow of starlight. He was the night god, the dark unseen face of the moon, the snow on the dark mountains hovering in the distance. God, darkangel, daemon, reaper the words seemed to blend together in a tangled knot; one string completely inseparable from the other.
The boy was young, he had lost count of his age but his features were far from that of a man, the vampyre had never asked for an age and therefore the child had not deemed it important enough to tell him. (And in a way that was a correct assumption, after all, what is age but irrelevant to a being that is immortal?) And it would not be until he was far older, his mind more experienced and his hands scarred by fortune that he would realize his folly in forgetting his own age.
The autumn days continued and Light watched, through half-lidded eyes as the darkangel turned from his tower, acknowledging Light's presence for the first time in weeks. The leaves alight like fire, were such a contrast to the darkangel's wintry gaze, highlighting his whiteness with their cold fire.
"I'll be leaving, for a few days, I'm sure you've learned to survive without me Light-kun." The darkangel's smile was brief, the boy didn't move watching the shift of expression on the vampyre's features. His own amber eyes were sharp even through their contentment, hidden behind the long strands of hair that covered his eyes. Both boy and the angel surveyed the world from the rooftop, watching the autumn sun set into the hills and the leaves turn to shades of ember.
"Are you going to come back Ryuzaki?" The boy had grown clever enough to understand the silence between the darkangel's words. The hint of abandonment resting on the immortal's tongue, slipping through the cracks of his lies. The darkangel turned his crystal gaze growing amused, yes the boy was clever he had heard the lies, but he had misunderstood them.
"Yes, I will be coming back, haven't you learned some independence by now? What are you twelve, eleven? You should be able to keep yourself alive by now." The vampyre stretched his wings to their full span, blotting out the red sun with their mass, he turned to look at the boy over his shoulder. Thin and jaded the boy was turning into the man he would one day become, his amber eyes dark as the bleeding sunset, his face covered in shadows he shouldn't have owned. The darkangel never stopped to wonder, even as he took off from the roof when his eyes had come to own so many shadows.
The boy stood, watching the ink feathers fade into the horizon, sucking in the light from the sky. His gloved hands clasped behind his back he stayed to watch the sun sink beneath the earth and the world turn bright with stars. A single figure on the shadowy land he stood, a star in his own right, on a roof refurbished in a bored whim. He stood, watching for a shadow on the moon, the return of his master and mentor. Eventually the night would turn cold and the boy would return to the inside of the building, lighting a fire to ease his aching hands and anxious mind. He would wait, not yet questioning the fact that he waited, and it would not be until a week had passed that he would see the night dark wings again.
Such an ironic name to have given him
I would have named him something much different
I would never have given him a name so fickle as light
He held a girl in his arms, a shaking, weeping, crying maiden who seemed to be falling apart. She looked pale, as if the life were being sucked out of her through the darkangel's bony hands, the cold that has no choice but to eat the life that ran through her human veins. Tears streaked down her cheeks and stained the torn dress she wore. Her eyes were ringed in red and yet despite this she looked as if she were dying, transparent in a darkangel's winter arms.
The boy watched their descent in confusion, watching the girl in the darkangel's arms with narrowed eyes of gold. Their feet touched the rooftop and the girl fell from the vampyre's arms onto the thin material of the roof, crying out in pain as she did so. The helped to support her, glaring at the darkangel as he did so, hiding the confusion from his eyes before the darkangel could mock him for it.
"Careful with her, I think she might be sea-sick." The girl hid into Light's arms at the sound of L's voice, shrieking in terror at the monotone. She clutched at the boy's poorly stitched clothes tightly, clinging to the familiarity of his heartbeat.
"Where did you find her?" He asked slowly, staring down at her dark windswept hair, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides having long since lost the instinct to shield the girl from the darkangel's wrath.
"Some poor village, where else would I find her? The flight took three days, and I feel exhausted, me, who hasn't slept in decades." The icarus ignored the girl, contenting himself to leave her shaking in his apprentice's youthful arms, making his way toward the spiral stairs that would lead him inside the sanctuary.
"What exactly do you want me to do with her?" The boy attempted to stand, supporting the weeping girl in his arms her tears staining his poorly stitched clothing. The icarus never turned, never looked back, but left the weeping girl with the boy, a cruel smile painting his lips.
"I'm sure you'll think of something boy," he whispered to himself as he descended the stairs into darkness, laughing as he viewed the morning sun that hung so delicately in the sky, the girl's time was short, such a fine strand of cloth, so easily cut by the fates.
And who was L but a child of fate, a god of death, a darkangel, his hands held an all too exacting knife, such a pity not to use it.
Am I cruel?
Perhaps, but then we are all cruel
And deep in his fluttering heart
I'm sure he knew exactly what he was doing
She babbled too fast for him to understand, her words were nonsense, trapped between sobs as she buried herself in his shoulder. He had not seen another human for years, she looked so dark against his pale skin, so full of life and vigor, nothing compared to his own sickly reflection. Her eyes laden with tears reflected the innocence he had never known, and he found himself fascinated despite his pride.
Her hair was a dark brown and her eyes were almost black, her skin was the color of the bark on summer trees, an explosion of color in a world of black and white. So out of character in the darkangel's world, the lifeless world where even the sky seemed to die, trapped as it was behind the layer of clouds.
The words didn't matter, but they came anyway, pleading, desperate words that engulfed him, she spoke far too quickly. Hysterical, panicked, desperate human longing for escape from her prison. She ran about the room searching for a way out, a way to return to the home, a trapped bird fluttering about her cage.
"Where did he find you?" The boy asked, his golden eyes watching her rock back and forth in a frantic rhythm, her head shaking back and forth as the tears trailed down her face, the dirt and blood staining her clothing. So different from Light's pristine appearance, emanating cold from his unblemished clothing and his golden eyes. But she did not see his eyes, too busy shutting her mind against the darkangel, the monster, the icarus.
"My village, is far from here, far far away, and I won't—he'll eat me, he's going to eat me, he's going to tear my heart out." She sobbed, screamed, almost unaware of the cool eyed questioner, the boy that was not a boy, the apprentice of the icarus, "I'm going to die, why am I going to die? He's a—monster, he's a monster!"
The boy said nothing, he did not reassure her, he doubted L would kill her after all the darkangel would have killed her already if he had wanted her corpse. Ryuzaki was an impatient creature, he waited for nothing, why would he wait for her death? And yet he held his tongue for fear of lying, the boy's golden eyes saw enough to fear, the darkangel wore far too many masks.
Her eyes lifted to his impassive face, growing wide at the sight of his golden eyes surrounded by shadows, a demon's eyes, she saw a child, a starving pitiful child with eyes too dark to be human. Eyes filled with a dark light that was unheard of, like the first rays of sunlight over the horizon, a fading star in the north, not the eyes of a child.
The boy saw her fear, his hand retreated back into his lap watching them, fragile and pale they looked nothing like her coarse brown hands, they fit in the icarus's world among the aging books and dusting windows, they did not belong to the human world. He had been transformed into an aged piece of parchment, unheard of outside the vampyre's stone walls, he had no existence outside of the icarus.
He existed within a cloud of midnight feathers, his hands reaching out for the sunlight that could not exist for him, that refused to exist for his darkened state. The girl, with her dark skin and dark eyes was that flash of sunlight, illuminating the shadows on his skin, revealing the feathered walls of his prison.
"Tell me what your home was like." His child's voice was demanding, hungry for that glimpse of sunlight in the darkness that surrounded him, his golden eyes closed as he leaned back imagining the home he could no longer remember, the human faces that had all but faded from his memory. The golden hills in his mind were so far from the village he had grown up in, idealized in his absence, left forever in the sunrise.
"My mother will be baking the bread, and my father… he will be stitching the clothing. My brother will be running in the fields outside our village, and I would be… Pretty, the leaves will be falling, and it will be near the harvest time, we have a wonderful harvest festival…"
Her words were disjointed and childish, still the boy's golden eyes remained closed his mind envisioning the golden hills he longed for, imagining the springtime he had seen only at a distance, the bloom of life against even the most oppressive snows of winter, youth, life, love, all held within his mind against the dead eyes of the icarus.
"My home, is far from this place." He whispered, far from his existence a place beyond the horizon, beyond the edge of the world, an Eden at the bottom of the abyss he could see the golden fields from the cliff's edge, such a long fall would be painful.
She did not respond to his statement, absorbed in her own loss of freedom, her own terror and suffering, but the boy with his eyes closed envisioned the peace of mind he created for himself. That idealized place held within his mind, the elysian fields stretching into oblivion, a smile on his pale face. For even the apprentice felt the cold hands of death, even he felt the life stem from his veins, and resisted the urge to fall back to dust.
The candle light was not kind to the pair, the human and the apprentice of the vampyre painting them as black and white. The girl in her torn white dress, her skin dark against the rough surface of the fabric, the boy wearing the dark colors he had grown used to his white skin like moonlight upon it. His features were painted to sharply by the golden glow, masking the childishness of his eyes, accenting the veins in his hands to the girl he looked like death himself.
And in a sense, it was an apt description.
He sewed the wedding dresses
The white ribbons and the veils were his design
Childish and plain they suited them well
His hand was far too adept at crafting death in the form of stitching
He wore the dark colors, muted with shadows it brought out his moonlit skin, she had never questioned it. Never questioned the dusky garments he wore, the shadows that covered all but his face. It had never bothered her before, after all, what was one more unexplained habit of the darkangel?
"Why do you wear so much black?" he was layered in shadows, complex shadows she could never have imagined stitching, folding itself around the great black wings with the illusion of ease, an extension of night.
There were some questions he refused to answer, some questions he chose to ignore no matter how she pressed, some secrets he would never disclose to her, his past shown through fogged windows, meant only to be hinted at but never to be shown. Yet another charcoal drawing lit by dim candle light.
"Why not? Black is a fine color." The icarus's words seemed always to be laced with that bitter sense of irony, the humor she had never heard in another's words but seemed to belong exclusively to him, the irony was for the icarus alone.
"You aren't answering the question." She hated him for his ambiguity, the bluntness he lacked, the good nature he lacked, every question had two answers, each word had two meanings.
"White is so easily stained by the ills of the world, so easily turned to blood. The dark colors are far easier to keep clean, less corrupted by humanity's stain." He smiled faintly before he turned away once more to ignore her, his amber eyes concealing secrets far too dark to be guessed at, his mind contained in the labyrinth of memories she dared not enter.
She knew better than to try to open the locked door.