imbrii (imbrii) wrote in imbrication, @ 2010-04-01 19:06:00 |
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Current mood: | worried |
Current music: | 65daysofstatic - Radio Protector |
xxxHolic, Unnatural Light 2
Series: xxxHolic
Characters: Doumeki, Touya
Pairing: D/W
Type: AU, fantasy
Warnings: mentions of sexuality, expositiony things
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 2335
Etc: As this is more setting things up than having things happen, I fear this section may be boring. It seemed better to break it off where it was than put another scene in. Hopefully I didn't disappoint the people so kind as to request more. Unbeta'd, as always.
Consciousness comes back in pieces, jagged shards of reality intruding into his muddled state. Ache and discomfort are foremost, followed by some sort of repetitive noise. It takes him several moments to realize somebody is telling him to wake up.
“Sgt. Falcon, can you hear me?” His Seeker pseudonym. Memories of what just happened flash through his mind. The commotion and collateral damage likely caused enough uproar for it to reach a fellow Seeker’s attention. The voice is recognizable but he can’t place it.
Shizuka grunts, too bleary for words just yet, and opens his eyes. Short brown hair and brown eyes resolve themselves into familiar features. Given the condition he must be in, he counts himself lucky that it’s Touya, one of the only people he considers a friend.
Kinomoto Touya joined the order because his sister Sakura vanished when she was only seven. His best friend disappeared at the same time. Sakura had always admired Yukito, and the boy’s origins had been cloudy at best—it wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Witches usually lure their prey away young, before they understand the danger.
The Order administration and most of the Seekers blame Touya for not realizing Yukito’s true nature in time. His Seeker name, Snow, is a constant reminder of Yukito’s betrayal. They did the same thing for Shizuka, giving him the name his grandfather went by when he was a Seeker. As outcasts it was natural that they gravitate toward each other, eventually going so far as to exchange names. A risk, but it inspires trust between them. Touya will keep his secrets. He holds no interest in advancing in rank, only in continuing his search.
“About time you got up. I thought I was going to have to resort to force.” His eyes convey the worry his gruff tone masks as he helps Doumeki sit up. Voice dropping to a whisper he adds, “Shizuka, what happened to you?” He must look terrible, for Touya to get worried enough to use his name in public.
“There was—“ his words stutter to a stop, throat constricting with a flare of magic. Of course the witch used a geis to cover his tracks, and probably other things that will make his life miserable. Shizuka struggles for words that can make it past. “Nothing good.”
Although he has little magic, determination and a sharp mind make Touya a successful Seeker. Shizuka watches his gaze flicker to the open uniform, the bruise surely marking his collarbone. Despite his confidence there’s a brief moment where his stomach drops and he fears how Touya will react to knowing he’s been compromised. The bruise alone is enough to strip him of his rank and put him under suspicion of being a witches’ pawn.
Touya turns to the missing wall. “That must have been one hell of a witch. Too bad you hit your head and can’t remember it.”
Doumeki quirks the smallest of smiles, feeling foolish for having a moment of doubt. The more Touya can claim ignorance, the safer they’ll both be. “Aa. A shame.” He begins fumbling with his buttons, wanting to cover up before anyone else has a chance to see. Luckily the uniforms have a high collar.
“I’ll go talk to the owner about getting compensation for the damage, wait here a moment.” He stands, momentarily looming over Doumeki, and leaves with quick, long strides.
Shizuka is grateful for the time alone to absorb the impact of what has happened. He’s been bitten by a witch, and it may turn into a mark if he isn’t careful. Staring at the floor without seeing it, he goes over the events again. His blood flares hot at the memory of long-fingered hands, the scent lingering on his clothes. Dislodging the thoughts with a shake of his head, he forces his mind back to the present. Thinking about it won’t change what happened or reveal more of what the witch did to him. Countless geasa are possible with a name and physical contact.
A small spot of red catches his attention. Curled beside several chunks of debris is a thin red string—surely one of the bits of fringe from the witch’s sash. His bones groan in protest as he stands and walks over to retrieve it. Witches are usually resistant to most locator spells, but this is his only hope of tracking the witch down. He shoves it into his pocket.
Standing back up takes more energy than he bargained for, Shizuka is forced to use the wall to prop himself up. He attempts to straighten out the mess of his uniform, but it does little good—he needs a bath and a change of clothing or a purging seal. Touya wouldn’t have any as they’re too complicated to be worth his while, so he’ll have to endure.
As if summoned, Touya pokes his head back in. “Good, you’re already up. Let’s head back. You look like you could use some sleep, and there’s still hours of riding ahead.” The corners of his mouth turn down. “We won’t make it back before nightfall. You aren’t bleeding anywhere, right?”
“No.” At least, he isn’t aware of it if he is, which means it’s not enough to attract malicious spirits. Probably.
Using his shoulder to push off the wall, the momentum is enough to keep him putting one foot in front of the other. The dimly-lit hallway is too quiet—the fight must have driven away most of the customers. The innkeeper couldn’t have been pleased. One hand clutches worn doorways and dirty railings as they go, but Doumeki manages to make it down the stairs without falling over, which is good enough for him. The gawking of the few lingering at the bar is inconsequential and nothing new.
He doesn’t bother listening to Touya talking to them, offering empty reassurances that the witch will be captured and all is well. They’re likely disappointed—whenever somebody informs the Seekers of something which results in a capture, the town receives a reward. Instead he steadily makes his way outside, using the wall for support.
Once outside Shizuka eyes his horse and wonders if he’ll be able to get up without falling. The lithe dun, who he never saw the point in naming but the stable hands call “Lady,” flares her nostrils at his arrival. Instead of searching for food stashed in his pockets, as she usually does, her muzzle shoves past his hands to where the witch bit him. She takes several chuffing breaths into his collarbone, the skin on her thighs rippling as muscles tense and relax. Shizuka wraps one arm around her head to scratch her ears, making it look like he’s intentionally keeping her there to disguise the horse’s interest. Animals, being wild creatures, are naturally attracted to witch magic. Some Seekers even use trained dogs.
“If you keep that up I’ll get in trouble,” he murmurs. “And that means no more sugar cubes.”
For a moment he’s sure she understands, large brown eyes looking straight into his own. Then she nudges the bruise, the pain making him inhale sharply through his teeth. Shaking her head out of his lax grip she stares at the scraggly patch of grass growing beside the inn, just out of reach. It looks suspiciously like pouting. Ignoring it, he unties her reigns.
Doumeki leans against her, gripping the saddle for balance as he sums up the energy to mount. His foot misses the stirrup the first time and he has to clutch at the side of the saddle to keep from falling. It’s probably the most ungainly he’s been since he first learned to ride, but by some miracle he manages to scrabble up.
As he catches his breath the horse begins to edge toward the patch of grass. “Cut it out,” he says as he tugs lightly on one side of the reigns. She stamps, snorts, and stays still.
“Looks like she’s feeling generous,” Touya says with a wry grin, pulling up beside him on his own horse, a chestnut gelding. Doumeki didn’t notice he’d already finished talking.
“We should go before she gets too hungry.” He might not be able to deal with an ornery horse. A headache is slowly building behind his temples and his limbs feel as if he’s been running for hours.
“Wait.” Touya unhooks Isuzu, the second lowest bell of the four—easiest to use and most forgiving of mistakes. “Take this, just in case.”
As drained as he is, a tone is probably all he’d be able to manage. Using a small wad of cloth to ensure the bell won’t ring accidentally as even Isuzu would cause problems, he stashes it in his pocket and urges his horse forward.
The ride, thankfully, is uneventful. The sinuous path through dense forest and rolling hills is narrow but well-traveled. They’ve both wandered these roads enough in their Seeker duties that either of them could make their way home in far worse shape. Except in the cities Seeker outposts are usually a day’s ride apart from each other, if not more. Most Seekers spend at least a year wandering from station to station before they’re officially assigned somewhere to concentrate their patrol.
Shizuka has to spend too much concentration on riding to attempt conversation, and neither of them has ever been talkative, so they canter without comment. The dense tree cover creates a false twilight, making it hard to track the hour.
Touya slows down to a walk as they cross over the lake marking the halfway point. The fledgling sunset on the water is a sudden burst of light and color. The scene is worth several moments to savor—but going by Touya’s furrowed brow, not the reason they’ve slowed. He’s been stewing the entire ride.
One hand holds out a piece of chalk and a scrap of parchment. “Can you write about it?” Depending on how the geis was worded, there’s a chance he could find some way to communicate what happened.
“I hit my head. Nothing can be done about that.” Shizuka reminds him. Getting involved in this would only end up hurting them both. Once a witch has a grip on someone, they never let go.
The paper is shoved roughly back into his pouch. Touya’s hands are white-knuckled as he grips his reigns.
Shizuka lets the silence stretch out, the weight of his next words giving him pause. There’s another reason he wants Touya to be uninvolved.
They reenter the tunnel of trees, the golden cast of sunset left behind. “If there’s trouble, I want you be the one to take care of it.”
Brown eyes bore into his, the initial surprise and anger giving way to solemnity. He receives a curt nod before Touya urges his horse into a canter, not looking back.
He follows suit, glad Touya would be willing to grant him that last favor, if it came to it. Better to die by a friend’s hand than become a traitor like his grandfather. His parents wouldn’t be able to show their faces in public after two generations failing.
The taciturn young man isn’t one for thinking negatively, but he wonders if he actually has any chance at all of escaping this fate. The stories of men resisting the lure of a witch are few. It seems like every time a witch or their pawns die two more fall victim to their insanity.
They go all the way to town before exchanging another word. The guards give a perfunctory greeting and the few townsfolk walking around are in too much of a hurry to care. Even in the more populated areas, spirits are known to attack at night. The ringing of Kiyori, the binding bell at the shrine at sundown helps, but doesn’t prevent the more powerful ones from getting through.
Buildings rise steadily higher as they head toward the center of town. Touya stops as they reach the main road. “I’ll go ahead and make a report about what happened. That should give you a few days to recover before they demand something from you.” Although the hour is late, there are always people at the station.
“Thanks,” he says as he hands back Isuzu. Hopefully he can figure out what to do in the meantime, at least get a new set of weapons. They won’t be attuned to him, but he’d feel better armed.
Doumeki is glad he no longer stays in the Seeker barracks; rising to sergeant granted him the privacy of his own room in the officer building. Using the side stairs, he gets to his room unnoticed. Shedding his dirty clothing goes a long way in helping him feel clean, but he needs a bath.
The facilities are in a small building connected by an open-air hallway, shared but luckily empty when he walks in. A brief look in the mirror confirms a livid bruise, teeth marks dotting his skin. He shoves down the memory of what happened as it tries to resurface.
He cleans himself and rinses as fast as protesting limbs allow. The hot water seeps some of the ache out of his bones, but he doesn’t dare linger. He dresses quickly into the dull grey yukata that is standard issue for casual wear, drops of water still clinging to his hair and skin as he hurries back to his room.
Despite dodging one potential round of awkward questions he can’t help but wonder how long he’ll be able to hide. His superiors will want some sort of explanation even if they buy Touya’s lie about him forgetting what happened—Shizuka has never slipped up like this before.
With a sigh he tosses his towel onto the dresser and unrolls his futon. No point dwelling on it now, it would only make his headache worse. Sleep is the best thing to do right now.
He drifts off almost as soon as his eyes close, and dreams of the witch.