Still Samantha's P.O.V...
"Ow! Ow!" I cried as Connor applied more pressure to the wound. The purple was fading and it was beginning to look like an ordinary wound, but that doesn't stop it from stinging like buggery!
After dueling with Lazuli, Connor and I headed to Lord Death to examine the effects of the wound she gave me. She placed an enchantment in my blood, which overtime I'd get incredibly weak to the point where I'd end up being like how Kid is now. Unable to stand, unable to breath properly, unable to talk, only whisper.
Although it's partially treated, there's no sure way to reduce all the effects. Right now we're trying a special remedy made by me with the help of Lord Death and Connor.
Lord Death sighed and placed the witches soul that we gave him away somewhere. I have no idea where it actually went, one moment he had it, the next it was gone.
"So they found you?" he questioned.
"One did, not sure about anyone else. But it means that they're not far off." Connor dabbed more of the 'special water' mixture onto the wound.
"Hmm, and you say they have a formula to hide their soul wavelengths?"
"Something like that," I grunted, hissing a little at the burning sensation brought to me by the stupid liquid. If only the process to reverse an enchantment wasn't a painful one. "But don't worry, Lord Death, I have a feeling that it's very scarce. Only a few witches would have it. I hope..."
Connor placed the bowl filled with wonders down and stared at the cut that was already beginning to heal over.
Healing water. Normal water with a little something extra.
Lord Death sighed and then clicked his fingers as if an idea sparked up.
"I want you two to do something for me." he bounced around the death room, almost like he was dancing. He pulled two books out of his cloak and handed them to me.
Weaopns Of Old: Titan
Dark Ages: Morgana
"Oh! I love this story!" I gasped looking at the Morgana one. Lord Death smiled and placed an over sized hand on my shoulder.
"I thought you might, she is quite remarkable, isn't she?"
"I wouldn't say that. She's scary as. But I guess that's what I admire about her..."
Connor takes the weapon book and studies the pages. "So...what are meant to do with these books?" he asked the Grim Reaper.
"Take 'em to Kid of course!" he beamed. "I want him to enjoy the stories as much as I do!"
I began laughing remembering the time I eavesdropped on his, Liz and Patty's conversation about the stories. They seemed...well...absolutely thrilled about them.
They all zoned out and don't want to hear a damn thing about them.
Such ignorance is intolerable.
"I'll make sure he sits down and reads them," I grinned. I had a plan in mind. He's not going anywhere for a few days until that vase is sorted out.
Great, living with a zombie.
Lord Death bid us goodnight as it was already nightfall. Connor carried one book, and I carried the other.
They were quite heavy for books that only focused on one thing. Then again, I've read the books almost a thousand times before, and they go into great depth and detail into their specific subject.
I have to wonder why Kid refuses to listen. Stories are what shape the world. Some are true stories, others are ones with great morals behind them.
Well, to be honest, the stories of Titan and Morgana aren't stories with morals. They're just...stories.
But a true tale it is.
Connor and I trudged through the front door talking about the books we were given, and we almost didn't see the ghostly figure sprawled out along the steps. He wasn't wearing his tux anymore, he had taken that off, surprisingly. But he wasn't wearing pajamas either. Simple casual wear, orange tee, black buttoned shirt with buttons undone, and black cargo pants.
He just laid there like a dead animal. I was almost tempted to get a stick and poke it. Unfortunately, Connor bet me to it, going back outside and bringing in a meter long stick he just so happens to find.
"Kid..." Connor called quietly. The beast didn't move. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing at this point.
"Kid." He said a little louder, and that's when the poking came in.
The reaper shuffled onto it's side and stared at Connor who sat a few steps above him.
His eyes are beyond bloodshot, I'd say. If he wasn't dead before, I'd say he's close to it. Whether he's eaten or been drinking enough water escapes my mind. Who knows what he's had in the last four days.
I hate to admit it, but his vase needs to be fixed. I'm beginning to miss the Kid that gives me a reason to torment his life. In his sorry state, messing up picture frames and furniture doesn't seem all that fun.
Kid groaned and pushed himself up off the stairs. His slender body moved towards the couch and then plonked itself deep into the couch.
"Vase...symmetry...gotta fix...but can't...how...fix...fix...fix!" he rambled on to himself.
His brain is fried!
Connor stood from the stairs throwing the stick out of the still wide open front door. He closed it and then looked up to the second floor.
"He can't keep going on like this," he sighed. "He's practically the living dead."
I checked the time, realising that it's past midnight. The girls are asleep, and Kid is preoccupied with his thoughts. If I had to act, now would be the perfect time.
"Vase...fix...how...fix...vase...can't..how..." Kid continued on. The words came out in a hurried breath, and played over and over like a broken record.
Connor pulled my sleeve. I placed the books beside Kid on the table, and followed Connor. Instead of heading to our room, Connor took a detour and went inside Kid's room. He pointed to the shards.
"What?" I asked.
"You know what." he said back.
"N-no way. I'm not doing anything." I protested. He sighed and ran a hand through his blonde strands.
"Come on, Samantha. You weren't this cruel back at home."
"Yes, but I never had to deal with a spoilt little reaper."
Connor gave me a look. I wanted to help. He knows I want to help. I could help right now, the only ones awake and in their right mind is us.
"You're right." I gave in. I slumped down onto my knees and picked up the pieces beginning to join them together like a puzzle piece. Connor watched me intensely, soon sitting down and picking up pieces as well.
Once we found which pieces fit together, it was time for me to take control.
Kid's P.O.V:
The horror. My head is pounding like someone's smashing it over and over again. The migraine has been going, and still going, for the entire time I've been stressing over the vase.
"Fix...can't...how..." I kept mumbling to myself. I don't really know why I keep muttering it, but I feel the need to do it. It needs to be fixed...but how?
How will I get it perfect without the cracks being seen? It's impossible! It'd take a miracle. Even if they weren't seen, the cracks would be felt! Ugh! Nothing can be done!
I rolled over on my side and began sulking into the pillow. If she found out, I'd be dead. I need it to be fixed. It has to be. Otherwise, I'm done for. Without it, my room is incomplete, and a piece of her is gone with it.
"Why life...? What have I done?" I huffed. My voice is barely audible, but in a way I'm kind of glad. I didn't want to wake anyone in the house.
I sat up wiping my itchy eyes, probably red as blood. Ugh my hair is so uneven and messy! But I lack the energy to even just run a hand through it. Not that I would. It'd probably make it even worse than it already is.
My tired, sore eyes wandered around the room, stopping at the table where two thick books laid on top of one another. Picking them up, I realised it's the two stories that my dad has been wanting me to get into.
I sighed to myself, the air coming out in a croaky whispering sort of sound. Not at all attractive. I took the book on the legendary weapon Titan, and began reading as best as I could with the blurry vision that followed me around. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to read when I barely understood what each word was due to the tiredness, but I wasn't getting to sleep any time soon, and I needed some way to pass the time. maybe if I read, I'd be able to get to sleep.
After maybe half an hour of trying to make out words and sentences, I managed to find out that the weapon, Titan, doesn't have one form. Titan has many forms. If the meister wanted, the weapon could become a scythe, like Soul, a ninja blade like Tsubaki, or any of her forms, really. Or pistols like Liz and Patty.
And yes. Pistol's.
A plural.
From what I've managed to gather, the weapon can also become two weapons. Two pistol's, two swords, two whatever.
And, the weapon was born before Arachne created weapons. I'd think that impossible, but then again, it's not all that impossible. It could be that the witch Arachne found the weapon and got the idea, thus creating more weapon like humans.
From what I've uncovered, whoever obtains this weapon has every weapon at their disposal. This makes Titan a desirable weapon.
I flicked through the pictures of the forms the weapon took, and going through them, I have to wonder to myself how one might come across something like this. It'd have to be by complete chance. It's only thanks to the author that anyone even knows of Titan.
My eyes began getting irritated from having them open too long. I had to stop reading, or at least trying, and wait another day to read about Morgana.
I slumped back onto the couch cushions with an arm hanging over my eyes. The room was silent. Before, I had the comforting sounds of the pages turning, but now all I have is my own breathing, with the light glow coming from upstairs.
...
...
....light glow?
Patty and Liz aren't awake. I would have heard them. Patty can never keep quiet. Then again, my senses are so dulled I'm surprised I can still see.
Would Connor and Samantha be up at this hour? They should be in dream land by now. Or maybe...it isn't them. An intruder?
If that's the truth, then I have to stop them at all cost!
I wearily stood up with much struggle. My body felt like it weighed a tonne and with each step I took it was like I was walking through a mud pit.
Reaching the stairs, I get down on all fours and crawl up. In fact, I decided to crawl the whole way there. I didn't have the strength to go on standing up. At least when I'm on the ground I have four support holders.
When my left hand hit the second floor, I realised that the glow illuminating the hall was coming from my room.
Damn intruders! I'll kill them! Show them not to break into my house! They're messing with the son of Lord Death, I'll let them know the consequences for messing around a Grim Reapers home!
I attempted to call on Liz and Patty, but the mass of air that came out could barely stir up a bird.
I was on my own for this one.
The glow died down until the hallway was plunged into darkness. I lied on the floor regaining some energy, not that I had much to begin with.
The sounds of shuffling feet, and the light bang of an object hitting something flowed through my ears. Whatever they're taking, I hope they're ready to put it back.
Holding onto the rail, I stood up with shaky legs and a small gasp for air. I stumbled over towards the small table outside my room, opened the cupboard door attached to it, and got out something to attack the thief.
A small ornament that's as hard as stone. It should do the trick in knocking them out. The problem is if I can gather enough momentum to do any damage.
It's better than nothing. I'm just surprised that Connor and Sam are still asleep even after all the rustling about... heavy sleepers...
I twisted the door knob to my room and carefully opened the door. I saw two figures standing in the middle of my room, holding something big. They placed it down on the pillar meant for my vase that is shattered to pieces on the ground. They're blocking my view of it, but I'd know soon enough if they've touched it or not.
I snuck up behind the thieves, and held the ornament tightly in my hands. They didn't say a word. In fact, something told me that they sensed my presence. I was surprised they didn't see me open the door, but maybe they did, and chose to ignore me.
Bad idea.
One of them walked over to me and I instantly jumped up and hit them in the head with as much force as I could muster.
An all too familiar cry came from the intruder.
"Ow! What the hell are you doing, Kid?!" she screeched at me, instantly punching me in the shoulder in retaliation. I cringed, because she could hit pretty hard. Her punch could be equivalent to Maka chops. They're deadly, and by Sam's hit, I could already feel my arm going numb.
"I thought someone was breaking an entry." I croaked. "Seems I was right."
She scowled at me and Connor began observing the mark made on Samantha's head, after switching the light on.
"That looked like it hurt," he muttered. "I can clearly see the mark."
Connor faced me and I expected a death threat from him, or something to warn me not to do it again. He simply laughed a little and asked that I apologised.
"Sorry," I muttered. "Why are you two in my room anyway? Not stealing anything I hope."
Sam crossed her arms and glared my way, but I wasn't really asking the question at her. I was more asking Connor, about her. Sam won't give me a responsible answer and that's something I've grown accustomed to.
Connor smiled at me and looked over his shoulder slightly. "Lets just say...You'll be able to sleep now."
Then the pair walked out of the room, Samantha whispering profanities about me hitting her in the head. The usual Sam.
I looked over to where Connor was looking and saw my vase, sitting in it's original spot. I looked over to the other one, then back at the first one, back and forth. Back and forth.
"Fixed...?" I questioned uneasy. I caressed the vases' side, feeling nothing but smooth porcelain.
"Impossible...." I trailed off.
"What crazy glue did they use?!"
How did they manage it....no cracks are seen, none are felt...did they find someone who specialised in fixing pottery? No..not even the best could manage this good of a job. It's like it was never broken at all...
It's...unexplainable.
All I knew, is on that night, I was finally able to be at peace.