Trio Maxwell-Chang (trio) wrote in fictionaltrio, @ 2007-08-12 01:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | brad crawford, farfarello, naoe nagi, schuldig, tsukiyono omi, weiß kreuz |
[Weiß Kreuz] Message
Title: Message
Rating: R for gore
Author: Trio Maxwell-Chang
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz
Pairing or POV: Nagi (Implications of Nagi/Omi)
Written for: petermaxwell
Special Note: A nasty piece of work... No idea where the darkness came from.
The sound started out small and unobtrusive, blending into the background like so much ambient noise. It only became noticeable because of the rhythmic continuation, intruding on the senses until Nagi finally looked up, a slight frown on his face. "What is that sound?"
He glanced back at the other three, frown deepening when none of them answered. Brad and Schuldig avoided his gaze, their eyes carefully averted. They strode forward, peering at Nagi's handiwork as he continued to watch them. Nagi glared, hating the way they looked over his shoulder, seeming to size up the work as though he suddenly couldn't handle a simple assassination. "Well?" he demanded, jumping slightly as Farfarello spoke softly, his voice almost singsong.
"You ought to check... It might be important." He didn't deign to continue, instead returning his attention to the knife in his hand, using the tip to carve absent patterns in his arm. The cuts were far too light to scar, though blood did well up briefly, barely enough to mark the spot. His single golden eye gazed at Nagi for a moment before it dropped to the darkening red.
It might be important. The words drove through Nagi, and he shot another look at Brad. Surely, if the sound was somehow important to the mission, the seer would've realized it. It took Nagi a moment to realize that Brad had, that it was tied into the way he suddenly couldn't seem to quite meet Nagi's eyes.
A soft curse, one barely audible as Nagi rose sharply, stepping over the crimson pool with care. He padded forward, ears perked. The noise grew louder, stronger, a dull dripping that echoed strangely through the warehouse. Clicking behind him told him that the others were following, their shoes making almost too much noise. He had to stop twice, finally turning a corner.
For a moment, he didn't understand the sight before him. It seemed almost surreal, the mural barely visible without their lights shining on it. Nagi raised his flashlight, examining the rust-colored paint used, the design looking like it had been smeared on with hands rather than brushes. As he approached the mural, the drip came again, just to his right. He turned, ignoring the way the others filed into the room, and looked up.
For a moment, silence reigned supreme, broken only by the blood continually dripping from the crucified corpse. Wire bound the wrists and ankles to the makeshift cross, cutting into the skin. Three different wounds, all of which combined to make the oddly musical beat that had drawn them there. Nagi stumbled, catching himself as he continued to stare upwards, unable to quite look away.
The blond hair still held its original luster, shining brightly in the beam of the flashlight. The once-blue eyes were propped open, held there by an indeterminate object, the metallic sheen strangely dull. They were glossing over into whiteness now, their sightless stare unnerving.
Behind Nagi, Schuldig turned away, feeling oddly sick. It was an echo effect, the full sensation coming from Nagi's own roiling emotions. He shot a dark look at Farfarello, who ignored it, staring serenely at the shaken telekinetic.
Finally, his voice calm and emotionless, Brad spoke up, catching Nagi's attention and drawing him back. "We have a job to finish, Prodigy. Mourning can wait."
"Bastard," Nagi snarled, rising suddenly. He turned, starting to stalk toward the seer when he caught sight of the single eye trained on him, predatory gaze telling him exactly who was to blame. He turned abruptly, moving to catch the Irishman in his powers. But the madman was too quick, darting forward to grip one of Nagi's wrists in a bruising grasp. He leaned forward, lips brushing against the shell of Nagi's ear as he spoke.
"You ought to choose your lovers more carefully, Prodigy." Somehow, there was a low growl in the whisper, danger threading through the tone until it left Nagi shaken. "Bombay barely even put up a fight."
He released Nagi's wrist then, turning and heading back toward Nagi's target while Brad and Schuldig followed behind. They left Nagi there, his thin frame shaking as he realized just what he'd condemned Omi to. I'll never be free of them... he slowly realized. And I'll never have a normal life.
~End~
Word Count: 716