Zanne's Fanfiction (plotbunnyattack) wrote in chaotic_library, @ 2015-06-07 15:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | filia, het, pg-13, post-series, short story, slayers, xellos, xellos x filia, zanne, zanne: slayers |
[slayers; xellos/filia] The Smiles We Left Behind
Title: The Smiles We Left Behind
Author: emilie_burns
Fandom: Slayers
Characters: Filia Ul Copt, Xellos
Warnings: Some salty language
Notes: I have not written fanfiction in a long time, and Slayers fanfiction even longer. Please excuse any rough edges.
The Smiles We Left Behind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind
The hired car stopped at the bottom of the wide steps which led up to the towering, gleaming columns of marble that marked the main entrance of the regal Mythsonian Museum. She had no escort for the evening; her engraved invitation afforded her the room for one, but she chose to face the evening alone. No one she could ask would understand the importance of the night.
Her velvet gown offered warmth against the chill of the breeze sweeping off the nearby river, and the dark blue of the fabric absorbed the glow of the street lamps. Small chips of quartz reflected the light, making it seem as if she were wrapped up in the sky itself. Her cane, as decorative as it was functional, was polished obsidian, topped with a dragon head handle made from a gold alloy.
Her long hair, swept up in an elegant updo with the ends curling down her back, was once pure gold in color. Now it was streaked with shocks of silver, and each year, each decade, each century showed a little more than the last. Her ears were more human in appearance than they had been once upon a time, although there was still a suggestion of a point more than what was ordinary. The slowly-aging body she lived in was not her natural one, but it was the only one left to her as the energy of magic ebbed, and ebbed some more, diminishing to a whisper of what once had been a roar.
There was an impressive crowd of people present; some attended for the chance to see and be seen, others were genuinely interested in the ancient artifacts which would be unveiled to the public for the first time. Her own finances had helped fund the expedition which unearthed them, which secured her invitation to a cocktail party populated by the elite and powerful. Finding the graves, finding evidence of people shrouded in mists of time and legend, created quite a stir. As the centuries gave way to millennia, there was even doubt as to whether the royal queen the sprawling metropolis of Saint Amilie was named after existed.
Tonight's exhibit would put those rumors to rest once and for all. The royal queen had existed, along with her three companions.
Filia Copt -- the Ul left behind with the years -- stood in front of the commissioned oil paintings, steadfastly taking sips from her champagne flute to keep from making commentary. No one knew she was far older than her supposed sixty years. No one could know. That was a secret she would take with her, to the next city and the next, until it was finally time for her grave. But she knew them.
She could no longer transform, the magic she used to change bodies had weakened to the point where she was now trapped in a human form, forever locked away from her golden dragon. No one believed in such things anymore. If anyone found out, she would likely be banished to some mental facility, treated as though she were delusionally insane.
So she held her tongue, studying the paintings and seeing the flaws more than the faces of long-lost friends, feeling no desire to mingle.
"I suppose Zelgadis would have felt complimented to see his portrait with such an ordinary appearance."
The silky low voice, close to her ear, startled her. Filia did an about-face, tightening her grip on her cane with the intention of brandishing it as a weapon, and found herself staring up at too-familiar violet eyes, which were now crinkled in amusement.
"Once upon a time, I could not have taken you by this much surprise," Xellos said.
"Once upon a time, I could have transformed and flattened you with my mace."
"Even once upon a time, you could not have done that," Xellos corrected, closing one eye as he gave her a smug, knowing smirk.
"You're still an insufferable bastard," Filia said, without any of the heat she should have felt. In some small, strange way, it was a comfort to have him there, for another set of eyes to see the errors in the portraits in front of them.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he said.
"You would." She turned her attention back to the canvases hung on the wall. "It is strange to see Zelgadis looking so... human. But I suppose no one would believe me if I tried to tell them his skin was blue and rocky."
"Something you were quite familiar with, if I recall."
"I'm too old to be embarrassed by your insinuations, Xellos," Filia said. "And that was so very long ago. I barely remember it."
"Hardly a complimentary testimony."
"It wasn't for very long. Off and on for a number of years, until Amelia was crowned queen."
"I admit I was surprised to see it did not cause as much hurt as I expected when he left to marry Amelia."
"You hungry bastard."
"Even Mazoku need to eat. But you were barely a light snack."
"I knew it would happen, we were never more than friends, in all truth. We enjoyed the company, but neither of us could see anything permanent."
"Priestess Filia, friends with benefits. The temple would have been shocked."
"The temple can go fuck itself," she replied in a mild tone, sipping her champagne as his eyes widened a bit in shock.
"Tsk, your language has acquired a bit of salt, I see."
"Only on certain matters, and that was one of them. What are you doing here anyway, might I ask?"
"The same thing you are. Seeing how much the historians got wrong about our friends."
They were quiet for a moment, looking at the paintings. She broke her gaze and gave him a sidelong look. "I'm surprised you're still around."
He closed his eyes, an eyebrow cocking as his lips twitched in an expression of wry mirth. "So am I, in all truth," Xellos admitted. "I have not seen another of my kind in far too long."
"Nor have I." Another sip. "If I have, I've lost the ability to sense the presence of others. Not that it matters much anymore. I lived among the humans for so long, another dragon would likely still be a stranger to me, from a different place and culture." Filia kept her voice low, mindful the people milling about, her words for only Xellos to hear.
"I think such a solitary existence gave you a better advantage for adapting to the change over the eaons," Xellos said, then shifted gears abruptly. "And I think Miss Lina would have been flattered to see they've painted her with such a remarkable bust."
Filia was unsuccessful at fighting off a smile. "Amelia's is still bigger, which would have probably resulted in the portraits getting a fireball."
"Amelia also has the advantage of several legitimate portraits still existing. So the artist had something tangible to work off." He squinted at one of the paintings, his lips pursed in a look of distaste. "Gourry doesn't even resemble Gourry."
That was an issue Filia found herself agreeing with him wholeheartedly, without reservation. "I don't know why they insisted on giving him a beard. He was always clean-shaven."
"It was fashionable for a while, but not for another hundred years," Xellos reminded her. "By the time it came into vogue, he had passed."
"I suppose when we're talking of numbers in the thousands, what's a hundred years here or there?" Filia asked, and put her empty champagne flute on the tray of a passing waiter.
"Exactly." He gave a polite nod to the white-coated man as the catering employee left.
They fell silent again, gazing up at the not-quite-familiar paintings. There were so many subtle (and some not so subtle) things wrong with them that Filia wasn't feeling quite the level of nostalgia and homesickness she'd been braced for that evening. Then the introspective lull was broken by Xellos taking her hand.
"Dance with me," he said, and it sounded more like a command than a request. But the night was lonely enough that the companionship of even a Mazoku was welcome.
The band was playing a waltz, although Filia didn't recognize the melody or composer. Xellos was as good a dancer as she expected him to be, and her cane was clasped between their hands, her free hand on his shoulder, and his other on her waist. Finally left facing him, rather than sidelong glances while studying the portraits, she noticed his appearance had changed somewhat.
"You hair is black. I see you kept the eyes though."
"Purple hair isn't quite as common these days, except in certain circles," Xellos said. "And you're wrong about the eyes. I had to make some adjustments to the pupils."
"I didn't realize that was possible. I thought that your eyes were consistent regardless of form." She allowed herself to study him with the same level of introspection she gave the portraits.
"So did I. It took work, and in bright sunlight, it's obvious that they're not quite normal. Like a cat, my eyes appear rounder in dimmer light." He smiled. "You are still the beauty I remember, however."
Filia exhaled, almost a scoffing sound. "What would a Mazoku know of beauty? At least, beauty as defined by ordinary people?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" His expression was somewhat cross. Not enough to warrant notice from others, but enough to convey his displeasure.
"Mazoku find beauty in bloody carnage, limb ripped from limb."
"I admit there is an elegance to that which escapes many, but I have always appreciated the finer aspects of nature as well," Xellos said. "It's a shame that the years have not expanded your mind nor dulled your prejudices."
"Are you saying Mazoku aren't beings of chaotic evil who feast on negativity and delight in destruction?" Filia asked, lifting her chin in a bit of challenge. Let him deny it, see if he would.
"No, we are that, but we are also more than that. Just like dragons are more than hoard-collecting, fire-breathing beasts who stomp out little annoyances underfoot." Xellos shook his head. "But enough of that. I am more interested in our similarities than our differences, truth be told."
She felt her eyebrow rise halfway up her forehead. "What sort of similarities do we have?"
"We both remember days that are forgotten even to the historians," Xellos said. "It's a lonely existence, pretending to be modern, without anyone left to join you in revisiting the days long past."
She had to admit he had a point, although that admission was very reluctant. "So we have each other now, is that what you're saying?"
"Perhaps." He smiled a bit too brightly for her liking, and she squinted at him.
"If you try to cause trouble just for the sake of a feast..."
He interrupted her with a laugh. "Have you watched any of the news programs recently, Miss Filia? There is no shortage of chaos in the world. And where I have chosen to be employed, I have all I need for my feasts."
"What do you do?" she asked.
"I am a director for The Bachelorette. My job is to manipulate people to provoke the desired emotional response to garner the best ratings."
"You're perfect for that," she told him.
He beamed. "Why, thank you. I do know the concept of reality shows was started by a Mazoku. One of Dolphin's, to be precise. That was why it was set in the middle of the ocean."
"Survivor, you mean?"
"Yes. It was genius, was it not? Pitting human against human, watching them all turn on each other to win? Perhaps we would not have caused the degree of chaos we did in the old days if we had such an outlet available to us."
"I can see where the appeal would be to a Mazoku," Filia said, and he beamed.
"What of you? What do you do? I noticed your name on the list of sponsors for this. You are doing quite well for yourself." The piece they were dancing to had come to end, and the music was no longer compatible with conversation while dancing. She followed him off the floor and dropped her hand away from his arm.
"I have spent the last few generations working as a surgeon. I use some of the earnings to bankroll the education for the next generation, and I work for a number of years until I 'retire', move elsewhere under a new name, and begin again. I live frugally, which is how I could afford this."
"A frugal dragon, that seems an oxymoron, I would have thought you would spend every last dollar on fine teas and melee weapons." There was a teasing note to his grin, and she smirked a bit.
"I already have all those. You can only collect so much before you run out of things to collect, especially since melee weapons have fallen out of vogue." They began to walk around the large room, slowly making their way back to the portraits, by unspoken agreement.
"A pity. They were remarkable for their destruction. Automatic rifles yield more, but not as gloriously messy as your spiked mace. At least on average. Some of the rather large rounds of ammunition have a tendency to vaporize a good portion of the human body."
"Can we talk about something other than killing people?" Filia asked, sighing from the rush of exasperation..
"Certainly. Despite there being some measure of pleasure to be found in that sort of carnage, I prefer life. You can't feed off the dead, after all." He smiled that smile she remembered so well, and Filia's hand tightened on her cane with the desire to pound it into that smarmy skull.
"You haven't changed a bit, I see." Her voice was hard and flat even to her own ears.
The smile took on a curious tone as he canted his head, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly. "Did you really expect me to?"
That made her pause, and she sighed again. "No. Not really. You are what you are."
"And you are what you are. I don't expect that you've given up the pleasures of tea, or collecting fine vases, so why expect me to give up my source of nutrition which keeps me alive?"
Damn him for making his chaotically evil nature sound so sensible. "I'd hoped you'd have learned when such pleasures are appropriate."
"When would it be appropriate, Miss Filia, if not in reminiscing with someone who knows the truth of what I am, and the truths of the days of old?" Again, there was that infuriating smile.
She was almost as old as the Supreme Elder had been, all those many centuries ago, and Xellos still had a knack of making her feel like a foolish, naive priestess in training. Words failed her, so she turned her attention to the portraits, wishing Lina were there to put him in a headlock again.
"Silly dragon. The world is not black and white, but merely various shades of gray. Haven't you learned that by now?" His tone was not as patronizing as his words suggested, and had more the feel of a genuine question.
"Hush, Mazoku." She cast a sidelong glare at him, both hands clasped together over the cane, braced in front of her. "Don't make me regret having a conversation with you."
"You mean like the old days? I thought we missed those." His grin was outright cheeky.
"Xellos, you bastard. Why would I miss the torment?" Filia was vaguely glad that magic had weakened to the point of being stripped of her natural form. Otherwise, the elegant lines of her gown might have been disrupted by the appearance of a tail.
"Don't you feel more alive than you have in quite some time? As if the years are melting away and we're back to where we lasted?" The grin turned to a subtle, knowing smile and it felt like she was suckerpunched in the heart.
"I'm wrong," she growled. "You're not an insufferable bastard. You're a fucking bastard."
Xellos laughed outright, his head tossed back, and although his hair was black now, Filia thought there seemed to be purple highlights reflecting there. "Oh, Miss Filia. Such language! How delightfully corrupted you have become. I like you even better now."
The sound of his laughter, a genuine mirth, without a single hint of mocking, defused her temper somewhat. Filia still grumbled, unwilling to let go of it completely, but the heat had tapered off. "Then you haven't been around as much as I thought. I picked up that sort of language from Zelgadis."
"Which must have rendered him speechless, I'm sure." The grin was legitimately a pleasant one, and balmed over her nerves, rather than rankling them further.
Filia tightened her mouth to kill off the responding smile she felt threatening the corners of her mouth. "He dropped his cup the first time he heard it, I'll admit."
"Which made you only swear more, of that I have no doubt." He shook his head, still grinning. "Oh, Miss Filia. How I have missed you, truly."
"You miss the meals, you mean." She shot him an exasperated glare.
"Even Mazoku have their preferences, and while you were always an easy source of dinner, no, I liked the little dragon you were growing up to be. And I see my opinion was not misplaced."
"Corrupted, foul-mouthed, and cynical?" Filia arched an eyebrow.
"Mature, world-wise, and comfortable," he corrected. She thought there was the briefest moment of hesitation, of uncertainty, but it glimmered so briefly she might have been imagining it. "Allow me to be your escort tonight. For old times."
Filia looked up at the portraits, considering his words. "They would be shocked if I accepted."
"All the more reason. Imagine their expressions."
"Amelia might have burst into song of romance and friendship," she pointed out, and then she did grin, for the first time in a very long time, at the face he made.
"You are undoubtedly correct. She was far more devious and manipulative than any of you realized. Seyruun had never had such a final ruler, before or since."
"There hasn't been a Seyruun in a very long time."
"There hasn't been a great many things in a very long time." His tone shifted suddenly into something somber. If she weren't mistaken, it could even possibly be described as sad.
So much had changed. So much had happened. So much was lost.
It was time, perhaps, for a gain.
Filia slipped her hand around the crook of his elbow, casting one final look up at the portraits. "Walk me home?" she asked, and the smile that tugged at his mouth was soft.
"Certainly, Miss Filia. It would be an honor."
- fin