Ruin Maketh Me

46 - The start of the end

     A wetness cuts down my cheek. One drop, another and without any warning, a downpour of coolness from the weeping heavens. I lift my eyes from the empty stage to the sky. Grey, a mass of toiling clouds that seem to know nothing more but to look upon us and shed tears. A strangeness floats, untethered in my chest. It's hard to say what feeling it is. Disgust, fear? No, not quite, it's something that roots much deeper within. I reach out my hands and catch the splash of bitter water. It must be a realisation, like that moment when I considered that maybe Jacques did truly love me, and I had nowhere to put my heart. But this realisation, this is the sound of something shattering.
     Lilith is another person, just like me, just like everyone else, and all this time I've just been seeing one side of him. I push back my dripping hair. That's right, there's a funny sense of relief. Lilith is not perfect, he has his own flaws like I do. I had created an illusion of perfection, but that's not true is it? It's the furthest thing from truth, because I had lived in that illusion so truly, I couldn't treat him as another person who's living and breathing like everyone else. A sour laugh weaves itself between the steady patter of rain. To think that I'd be relieved to find imperfection within a person.
     "Human," Set calls harshly from my side, "Have you lost your mind?"
     I sweep my eyes over the empty square, "Right, everyone's long gone."
     Set shakes her dry hair from within her magic shelter, "Were you so very shocked?"
    "Shocked?" I drop my head to the ground and fight back an ironic laugh, "You can say that, but you probably wouldn't understand." I tilt my head, "You could say I'm savouring the aftertaste."
     A serpentine sheen glazes Set's blue eyes, "See, you seem more demon than human now."
     "Considering what I just saw," I turn towards Set, "I'd think anyone in their right minds would be more demonic than human."
     Her eyes flicker up to the remnants of blood on the stage, "That, I wouldn't say." But she shrugs sharply, and grabs me by the arm, "We're going to be late."
The sting of rain against my face melts away into oblivion, and the heinous tide of colours rush back around us. The stomach-flipping sense of weightlessness clings onto me unyieldingly, and again, all I can do is hold my breath, stopper my mouth, and wait for the waves of bright neon and black dots to fade from my vision.
     Bam.
     My knees collide into the floor with a crushing force, but before my face crunches against the ground, Set's arms snakes under my armpits and hold me awkwardly upright. The graininess of my vision slowly fades away, and I rise to my feet shakily. The dining hall's seemingly unending table extends before me, and already seated in their usual places are Julius, Lutra, the Fool and Ralphus. My eyes linger on the Fool's face. His indifferent mask does not waver at my gaze, but there is a hint of something hesitant in his eyes. Was Declan's punishment connected to him, to last night, to whatever deal they made? There's no doubt about it, it must be. The buried thread of dark unease stretches and wraps itself around my insides.
     "Don't worry darling, I did say I'd get you back."
     It has something to do with me, however little. My eyes snake back to Julius and the burning pits of hell in Lutra's red eyes. Do they know? But I cannot discern anything in their faces different to their usual aristocratic distance.
     "Human," Lutra's lips curve into a scythe of a smile, "how did you find that?"
     Drip. Drip. Drip. A coldness cloaks itself around me, "I don't have an opinion."
     "Oh?" Lutra picks up a knife and twirls it between his fingers, "You found someone with quite a lot of guts didn't you, brother?" He holds the knife close to his long neck, "Human, maybe you'll find yourself like him one day."
     My lips twist into a grimaced smile, but before I can make a reply, Julius's chocolate smooth voice rings from the head of the table, "Lutra, what comes around goes around. Declan du Sel deserved what he received."
     The flash of silver stops between Lutra's fingers, but the metal knife bends visibly in his hand, "Yes, brother." He whispers between his teeth.
     Julius raises a slender towards me, and violet light spills beneath his hands. In a split second two gusts of strong, hot wind flows through my hair, my clothes and caresses my body. The two winds mix and clash into a riot of violet and gold, chasing away the cold wetness from my clothes and my strands of hair. My feet turn towards the other end of the table. There, sitting stiffly in his seat, is Ralphus with his arm extended, gold light pooling from beneath his hand.
     "Ho," Lutra laughs drily, "That's magnificent. I've never seen you two in agreement."
     The whooshing gust of the winds fall to a curious silence. Ralphus raises his beautiful crystalline eyes to me, and within the swirl and eddy of purple is a question formed from strings of worry. I give him a subtle nod and a half smile.
     Tap. Tap. Tap. Julius's fingers disturb the buzzing air and beat out a steady rhythm on the clothed table. His furiously red eyes swim from mine to Ralphus and lazily back again, "Be cautious of Lilith today, though there's no need to worry too much."
     I bow my head, "Yes Master." Then with another sweeping look at the Fool, I retreat from the disturbing intensity raging within the dining hall.
     Is this the start of the trouble? Julius, Lutra, Ralphus, Lilith. Nothing was easy before, but now, Declan and the Fool calls awake this dormant unease again and again. What were they doing together yesterday night, under the arch of Merlow? Surely nothing as innocent as having a nice little romantic rendezvous, not with that punishment from Lilith.
     —red, hoarse cries, spilling notes all over the floor, splashing, gushing, an unending stream of paper and red, and red—
     I  clutch my temple and stumble out from the small side door. The white fur ball who used to always wait for me here, isn't here. A growing itch of irritation claws at my heart. Why. Why the fuck is all this happening today? No, why the fuck have these past few days been surprise upon surprise? This growing thing between Ralphus and me, this unsaid agreement between Julius and me, the mysteries behind Declan's actions and now I have to deal with Lilith. A stranger, a friend, so different they might have been opposite sides of the moon. At least now I know he's sincere. A dead laugh falls from my lips, truly, if Lilith really wanted to expose me, he'd kill me himself. Wouldn't he?
     Tracing the broken surface of the arch, I stare at the ravaged image of Merlow, god of death, sorrow and a never-ending list of other evils. Is this you fucking up my already shitty life? A small, shuddering sigh breaks from my lips. Without the messenger of God or whatever Honeycomb is, will the portal to the Church even open? I fall through the arch, and the sticky, overbearing scent of moss and dew shift away into some distant land. The clearing and the rising spire of the Church expands before eyes. Well, if anything's going the least bit well, it seems as though I can pass through even without Honeycomb's guiding paw.
     I make my way slowly on the bending path to the arched doors of the Church. Who will be waiting for me behind these doors? The too-kind, gentle Lilith or the harsh, cold blooded Judge? Pushing open the double doors with a creak, I step into the gloom of the empty space. No brightening sunshine lights the gleaming floors, in its place is only a deepening grey that seems to seep into the very fabrics of the building. Cold. Dark. Abandoned. Was this how it always looked? So lonely and isolated, it's like no one, not even this so called god visits this place. My lips tip downwards. I've never seen anyone except for Lilith and me step into this sacred place. All this time, Ralphus only waited for me outside in the clearing. Not once has he entered this place. Yet how can a god not have any believers? How can a god be acknowledged as a god in this mortal realm if they had no worshippers?
     The loud, claiming sound of the organ pierces the dust-filled air.
     Lilith.
     I make my way into the depths of the Church, deeper and deeper into the soul wrenching melody that digs into the pit of shadows hidden in my heart. The thrum of the notes embed themselves within my bones, but my feet are moving on their own, further and further into the envelopment of the organ's crashing melancholy. The notes rise, the notes fall, they louden, they quieten, and I'm all the way before the obsidian feet of Merlow.
     "Lilith."
     The organ shudders to a halt, and the melody dries to a held breath. A shadow cloaked figure walks towards me from behind Merlow's dark stance. His silky hair interrupts the air in their silver sway, and when he enters the audience of grey light, there's a certain resignation in his darkened eyes. Never has he been so familiar and yet so alien at the same moment.
     "I saw you." He says, quiet.
     "Ah." I remark softly, "I'm surprised you saw me through all the people."
     He gives a slow nod, but his eyes don't draw away from my face, "Were you scared?"
     "I don't think anyone can help being scared for a moment."
     His lips tighten into a thin line, "Were you repulsed?"
     "Repulsed?" I run my fingers through my hair roughly, "I'm not here to judge you Lilith. It's your job, and I'm not going to blame you for doing your job and wanting to survive. I've never told you this, but the people I worked with before, they did much worse than ripping fingernails off people."
     He bows his head and looks at me with a new sorrow, "I do much worse than ripping fingernails too."
      I pierce hin with a stare, "I've seen a man who truly enjoy doing what you do, and you don't feel remotely like him." I lean against the dark hardness of Merlow's feet, "I'm not a good man either Lilith, I've done things that would make others sick to know. Besides, you're a logical man, you wouldn't do something without reason. Declan definitely did something that would warrant such treatment."
      Lilith's fine eyebrows draw together and a spine chilling look of absolute hatred and repulsion comes over his eyes, "Yes. He's a disgusting man, but," his slender fingers tighten into fists, "He'll probably do bad whether I punish him or not."
     The sickly chill unravels and grabs hold of my stomach. Lilith knows. He knows what Declan and the Fool did under that arch. After all, he's the Judge of this game isn't he?
    He musters up a strained smile, "You must be famished, standing outside for that long, I'll make some breakfast hmmm?" Smoothing down his Soutane, he makes his way slowly down the dim aisle.
     My throat dries, "Lilith."
     He turns, "Yes Cynder?" But I catch the panic alight in the molten gold of his eyes.
     I make no sound and only look at him from within Merlow's shadow.
     His ivory skin pales a shade further, almost like Declan's skin blanching on that stage, "Cynder, I," his words are broken and mere whispers in the gloom, "I can't free you from the Kades."
     My heart lurches, and a blank numbness spreads through my mind, "This has something to do with that bastard Declan doesn't it?"
     Lilith's golden eyes flicker downwards, and his fists tremble, "I'm not allowed to tell you what's happening. But you have to be careful of Declan, of anyone. Things, they're getting more and more complicated. And the Kades, the Kades— his words drift unfinished in the dull air. He shakes his head and glances up beseechingly, "I'm sorry Cynder. I'm so sorry, if I'd known, if only I'd known... I would've freed you."
     An ache spreads through my head, but the fire in the pit grows and grows, stronger and stronger. I slam a fist into the obsidian pedestrian, "Damn! Damn it all!"        
     Slam!
     "Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck!"
     Slam!
     Why is all this happening to me? Why is my life falling through the cracks again?
  

     AN: So I was writing Lilith's scene when he was coming out from behind Merlow, and all I could think about was Griffith from Berserk and how wind ruffles his hair. I've fallen into the pits of Griffith x Guts, I can't believe I found myself such a heart wrenching OTP.