Ruin Maketh Me

93 - A conversation between Souls

Let me use your body again.
No. 
[IMAGE OF A RISING WALL]
I have things I need to do.
[FLASHES OF COLOURS, A BLURRY FACE, LETTERS, A NAME]
You've already died in your original world.
[FLEETING IMAGE OF THE BLEACHED WHITE OF THE HOSPITAL CEILING]
I'm alive again, aren't I?
There are things that I must do as well.
[FRAYED IMAGES OF WHITE HAIR, GREY HAIR, A SEA OF BOTH PURPLE AND STORM FILLED ASH, IMAGE OF A CROWN]
What you want to do is of no interest to me.
- REFUSAL -
- REFUSAL -
I have no qualms against using brute force.
[IMAGES IN RED, SOUND - BLOOD SQUELCHING, BONES SHATTERING]
There's nothing you can do to me.
Don't underestimate my mental fortitude.
Ralphus would kill this body before he'd let you possess it.
[SILENCE]
Yet you love him.
[SILENCE]
...It doesn't matter.
[COLD LAUGH]
We have some things in common.
[FRAGMENTED IMAGES OF THE SAME BLURRED FACE AND NAME]
I won't let you take my body.
Yet you'd do the same as me if you were in this position.
I'd never be in the same position as you.
- REFUSAL -
[ANOTHER COLD LAUGH]
With how you're going with your white-haired beau, you're going to end up like me in no time.
[ANOTHER SILENCE]
Surely, you understand it too? The reason I'm here with you is because of him.
[IMAGES OF THE CELESTIAL LIGHT FROM HEAVEN, THE DEBRIS FROM THE HOUSE, THE RAVAGED SOIL, BLOOD]
And that was the same for you?
Same?
[FLASHES OF COLOUR TOO QUICK TO DISTINGUISH]
No, we're not the same. He did love me, once. Your man, he holds nothing of the sort for you.
[SILENCE]
I don't understand the purpose of love.
...Nor do I. But I love.
It's too fleeting a satisf—

     "Julius Kade is the Otherworlder isn't he?"
     The body stands up from its chair behind the desk. A faint breeze stirs the tightly closed curtains, and a hollow shoot of red light frames the floor and the body's feet before disappearing again.

An acquaintance of  yours?
There's no need for you to know.
[IMAGE OF BLUE FIRE]
Unless I'm going to be killed alongside you. So, is he an acquaintance or no?
...Yes... He should not be here.

     "He's the Otherworlder isn't he?"

Do something about it or let me out.

The body's feet step forwards against the hard floor, a sense of repressed frustration creeping through the tensed muscles. The shoulders and jaw tenses even further as another shout rings through the door sharply into the ears.
  "I'm afraid I don't want to be charged with capital punishment!"
     Long slender fingers as pale as alabaster clenches down on the door handles. The metal twists, collapses with a yawning screech, and the doors are thrown open without hesitation. Bang!
"What is all this?" Smooth words glide out from the mouth into the long corridor.
The few people there are seem to stand dumb founded in the corridor, all eyes on the body. A man with red hair stumbles back from the fractured doors, and another senselessly beautiful man with golden hair expels a discreet thread of iridescent magic. The body's magic channels open, and a thread of magic shoots out from its left index finger, crashing into the probing idiocy.
The forces cancel out in power. No one seems to notice.
These eyes draw through the space, first to the man with shining white hair, and slowly, slowly to a youth with silky grey strands of hair and ashen eyes storming so brilliantly and ferociously they threaten to swallow everything whole. Black holes. Neutron stars.

[IMAGE OF ANOTHER BLACKHOLE GAZE BELONGING TO THAT REAPPEARING BLURRED FACE]
Who...? That gaze...

The body's eyes widen, blood pumps faster to the heart, nose sharpens until there's nothing left but the concordant mixture of mint and apples from the youth.

[SHOCK. LINGERING SENSATION OF VELVET ON LIPS]
He's back.
Funny, you love him as much as you do the other?
[HESITATION]
I don't know.

"You're back..." The body's voice utters, trying to keep the rising excitement from disturbing its mature tone.
     The youth's eyes widen, and yet he doesn't seem to appear shocked, rather there seems to be an analysis, an almost measurement of worth. A determination of something beyond skin and flesh and bones. It's something that nearly touches the depths of the souls.
     The white haired man encircles an arm around the youth's shoulder, so tender, it's as if he's made of sand.
     "Cynder, you should've stayed in the room."
     The Youth half-nods unconsciously towards the white haired man, his lithe, youthful body shifting into the man in a need oblivious to himself.
     But all the body can hear is a buzzing.
     "Cynder?"

[A FILM. IMAGES UPON IMAGES OF A BLACK HAIRED MAN SMILING, LAUGHING, CRYING, PANTING, EATING, BATHING—
Cynder.

     He tears through the space, expands, brushes past the foreign soul, only a single barrier between them, and surfaces.
     Jacques walks forward, hands trembling, breath still. Finally. Finally, this moment has come. He can see his dear, hateful, beloved Cynder again, alive, still breathing, still smiling, unlike that last video - crushed under the tires. He can tell everything now, why this youth had seemed so familiar, the set in his shoulders, the suction of his gaze, the relaxed stance full of caution, everything still remains the same.
     Everything's still so endearing.
     Cynder's wide eyes leak shock and disbelief this time, and a burst of happiness spirals through Jacques's chest. He can still recognise him! Even when the body is gone and broken in another world, his kitten can still recognise his soul, the very fabric of what makes him what he is.
He almost forgot how much he loved him.
Now, his heart is softening too much, and he doesn't quite want to torment him as much as before.
"Found you, kitten."

-

AN: Wanted to try writing in a way similar to Neon Genesis Evangelion and Monogatari (you'll get me if you've watched them), and yeah, sorry for the short chapter, I just need some time getting used to school. Quality of the next chapter will be back to normal, I promise!