eternity_dreams (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eternity_dreams) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
veiledallegory2009-11-10 04:25 pm
eternity_dreams) wrote in veiledallegory2009-11-10 04:25 pm
Entry tags:
Damned/Xenosaga: Uneven Scales
Title: Uneven Scales
Fandom: Damned/Xenosaga.
Warnings: Character death.
Word Count: 1103.
Characters: Nigredo POV. Rubedo, Albedo, and Yuriev.
Notes: The quote stuck in my head.
Summary: In dreams, sometimes, your fears come true. In dreams, sometimes, you see what would and could of been. In dreams, sometimes, reality threatens.
Uneven Scales.
These are the Executioner's dreams.
His father never left him, even in the place where everything was muted and dulled down. And so, his father wasn't dead, hadn't died, and had taken residence within Nigredo as was planned. The boy's body would walk, move, speak during the day as he would have; his fellow patients never noticing. And they wouldn't have noticed any way, would they have? Here was the curse of staying alone--one never realizes, then, when something is wrong.
Nigredo doesn't vanish, doesn't fade and disappear, but merely watches, frozen, without a will to do anything other than scream. This noise is soundless, and goes ignored by his creator, and eventually it ceases as the boy regresses back into stoicism. There may be tears down his inner self's face, but it goes unnoticed. Much like himself.
The day is long, dinner longer, but the true horror is not being in control of his self, but what comes next. The man called Yuriev doesn't speak his plans, but Nigredo knows instantly the moment it is thought in clear, concise methods. Separated from any emotions like it's simply a decision to be made, the solution simple. When nothing about this was. Nothing about this was simple, right. And Nigredo could do nothing. His emotions meaningless, the boy had fulfilled his purpose, and was just one of many parts.
When his body begins to walk the halls, Nigredo finally notices his desperate tears. Nothing changes. He had no hope in this.
The first was almost simple. Rubedo trusted him, believed in him, and believed their father's words said through Nigredo's mouth when he asked him to follow him into a shadowed room. The eldest's sword was useless here; by the time recognition crossed in despair across Rubedo's face, Nigredo's abilities had already been activated, far easier than it had been before. But wasn't it easy for the one who had created this failsafe?
There was drops of blood scattered throughout the room; not even enough to come from a dire wound--such is the extent of obliteration that is the Executioner. Content, Nigredo's mouth smiles. Nigredo, rendered deaf and dumb by the experience, by the fact that Rubedo was dead, Rubedo was gone, by him, because of him, he had killed him--Nigredo noted somewhere about the blood. The last vestiges of his brother. The last thing of him left. Something that they shared. Something they didn't share anymore.
His eyes had tilted downward to the drops that had landed on his sleeve by his own power, and his father's mind followed the motion. Without a prelude, he efficiently wiped it off. Something, then, in Nigredo broke. Something, then, burst inside of him, and the unemotional Variant screamed then, forced his inner voice to the area his father resided. {Are you satisfied now?!}
The shattering continued after that, like ripples on a lake; Nigredo's waveform shuddering violently from the force of it. The boy's mind wasn't coherent--if he was close to it, he might have been prepared for an answer, but as it was, when the man finally spoke.... Nigredo couldn't breathe. And for a moment after, his body rejected the man's control, and lost that ability as well. His chest stopped moving, then heaved and shuddered, gasping, until control was wretched back again.
{What you do to one side, you must do to the other.}
This walk, Nigredo didn't remember. The steps taken, the path chose. His body followed the hidden trail that Albedo had made; stepping in footsteps so close to his own. And blood would flow. And then blood would cease. And then there would be no more.
This experience was not simple. Nigredo watched blankly, as his father approached Albedo with false words and untrue sentiments. The man might as well have thrown stones at the other boy. Perhaps if the father had been around the children more, but as it was.... Like with any other time they had met, Albedo attacked, warily and viciously--the boy had been planning. He didn't rush forward, but slid around to the side; reaching out with a small blade the dual minds hadn't seen until that moment. Had Albedo always had a weapon? Or was that only in this moment?
Albedo's physical gifts were laid in speed, and the boy used this to his direct advantage. Once again, he was faster than Nigredo remembered, and as Albedo called out mentally, angrily with a touch of confusion, for the briefest of moments, Nigredo hoped.
As if feeling this, the man called father smirked, and activated that ability once more.
Nigredo had been wrong. He had thought that blood would cease. But with a regenerative ability so complete, and with their creator taking his time, and not using that ability to its fullest.... Was it wrong to wish death on his remaining brother? After watching him come back from it so many times?
After the twelfth time, Albedo couldn't stand anymore, and dropped to his knees. After the twentieth, his knees wouldn't hold him. At the thirtieth, his ferocious glares ceased as well. At this, again, something broke within Nigredo. Hate me, he whispered to himself. Because if you hate me, you're alive.
It ended not long after that.
That sentence with no explanation had been the only thing spoken.
The dream ends--the boy wakes up gasping, crying unabashedly, sobbing heaving breaths that he hadn't as he died with his brothers in his dreams. The nurse is mildly concerned as he leads him to breakfast, but she has seen worse. He has not, and never will. Monsters were never anything to the retrovirus units--their demons come in less tangible forms, too familiar to comfort. He continues sobbing into his hands at the table, with no knowledge if his dream had been reality.
{What's wrong, little baby?}
This voice, layered with scorn and mocking, causes Nigredo's head to whip up, tears streaking with snot across his face. His eyes search, and lock on to iridescent violet eyes staring at him in distain. In hate. Something in Nigredo softens, turns relieved. Silently, he lowers his head back into his hands.
{...Thank you.} For hating me still. Albedo huffs in annoyance without understanding, and turns back to his tablemate. Nigredo remains still.
Nigredo would never speak out loud which had been worse. Which had tore at him more. Both were one in the same in a way, with their inconsistencies and their familiarities. What you do to one side....
He would never say that one had been worse.
Fandom: Damned/Xenosaga.
Warnings: Character death.
Word Count: 1103.
Characters: Nigredo POV. Rubedo, Albedo, and Yuriev.
Notes: The quote stuck in my head.
Summary: In dreams, sometimes, your fears come true. In dreams, sometimes, you see what would and could of been. In dreams, sometimes, reality threatens.
Uneven Scales.
These are the Executioner's dreams.
His father never left him, even in the place where everything was muted and dulled down. And so, his father wasn't dead, hadn't died, and had taken residence within Nigredo as was planned. The boy's body would walk, move, speak during the day as he would have; his fellow patients never noticing. And they wouldn't have noticed any way, would they have? Here was the curse of staying alone--one never realizes, then, when something is wrong.
Nigredo doesn't vanish, doesn't fade and disappear, but merely watches, frozen, without a will to do anything other than scream. This noise is soundless, and goes ignored by his creator, and eventually it ceases as the boy regresses back into stoicism. There may be tears down his inner self's face, but it goes unnoticed. Much like himself.
The day is long, dinner longer, but the true horror is not being in control of his self, but what comes next. The man called Yuriev doesn't speak his plans, but Nigredo knows instantly the moment it is thought in clear, concise methods. Separated from any emotions like it's simply a decision to be made, the solution simple. When nothing about this was. Nothing about this was simple, right. And Nigredo could do nothing. His emotions meaningless, the boy had fulfilled his purpose, and was just one of many parts.
When his body begins to walk the halls, Nigredo finally notices his desperate tears. Nothing changes. He had no hope in this.
The first was almost simple. Rubedo trusted him, believed in him, and believed their father's words said through Nigredo's mouth when he asked him to follow him into a shadowed room. The eldest's sword was useless here; by the time recognition crossed in despair across Rubedo's face, Nigredo's abilities had already been activated, far easier than it had been before. But wasn't it easy for the one who had created this failsafe?
There was drops of blood scattered throughout the room; not even enough to come from a dire wound--such is the extent of obliteration that is the Executioner. Content, Nigredo's mouth smiles. Nigredo, rendered deaf and dumb by the experience, by the fact that Rubedo was dead, Rubedo was gone, by him, because of him, he had killed him--Nigredo noted somewhere about the blood. The last vestiges of his brother. The last thing of him left. Something that they shared. Something they didn't share anymore.
His eyes had tilted downward to the drops that had landed on his sleeve by his own power, and his father's mind followed the motion. Without a prelude, he efficiently wiped it off. Something, then, in Nigredo broke. Something, then, burst inside of him, and the unemotional Variant screamed then, forced his inner voice to the area his father resided. {Are you satisfied now?!}
The shattering continued after that, like ripples on a lake; Nigredo's waveform shuddering violently from the force of it. The boy's mind wasn't coherent--if he was close to it, he might have been prepared for an answer, but as it was, when the man finally spoke.... Nigredo couldn't breathe. And for a moment after, his body rejected the man's control, and lost that ability as well. His chest stopped moving, then heaved and shuddered, gasping, until control was wretched back again.
{What you do to one side, you must do to the other.}
This walk, Nigredo didn't remember. The steps taken, the path chose. His body followed the hidden trail that Albedo had made; stepping in footsteps so close to his own. And blood would flow. And then blood would cease. And then there would be no more.
This experience was not simple. Nigredo watched blankly, as his father approached Albedo with false words and untrue sentiments. The man might as well have thrown stones at the other boy. Perhaps if the father had been around the children more, but as it was.... Like with any other time they had met, Albedo attacked, warily and viciously--the boy had been planning. He didn't rush forward, but slid around to the side; reaching out with a small blade the dual minds hadn't seen until that moment. Had Albedo always had a weapon? Or was that only in this moment?
Albedo's physical gifts were laid in speed, and the boy used this to his direct advantage. Once again, he was faster than Nigredo remembered, and as Albedo called out mentally, angrily with a touch of confusion, for the briefest of moments, Nigredo hoped.
As if feeling this, the man called father smirked, and activated that ability once more.
Nigredo had been wrong. He had thought that blood would cease. But with a regenerative ability so complete, and with their creator taking his time, and not using that ability to its fullest.... Was it wrong to wish death on his remaining brother? After watching him come back from it so many times?
After the twelfth time, Albedo couldn't stand anymore, and dropped to his knees. After the twentieth, his knees wouldn't hold him. At the thirtieth, his ferocious glares ceased as well. At this, again, something broke within Nigredo. Hate me, he whispered to himself. Because if you hate me, you're alive.
It ended not long after that.
That sentence with no explanation had been the only thing spoken.
The dream ends--the boy wakes up gasping, crying unabashedly, sobbing heaving breaths that he hadn't as he died with his brothers in his dreams. The nurse is mildly concerned as he leads him to breakfast, but she has seen worse. He has not, and never will. Monsters were never anything to the retrovirus units--their demons come in less tangible forms, too familiar to comfort. He continues sobbing into his hands at the table, with no knowledge if his dream had been reality.
{What's wrong, little baby?}
This voice, layered with scorn and mocking, causes Nigredo's head to whip up, tears streaking with snot across his face. His eyes search, and lock on to iridescent violet eyes staring at him in distain. In hate. Something in Nigredo softens, turns relieved. Silently, he lowers his head back into his hands.
{...Thank you.} For hating me still. Albedo huffs in annoyance without understanding, and turns back to his tablemate. Nigredo remains still.
Nigredo would never speak out loud which had been worse. Which had tore at him more. Both were one in the same in a way, with their inconsistencies and their familiarities. What you do to one side....
He would never say that one had been worse.