Post by carcinoGeneticist on Jun 17, 2009 20:28:57 GMT -5
Words: 4013
Characters: Apocalypse and Rhiannon, mentions of Xiven and Lior
Warnings: Deals with suicide and other sensitive subjects.
After Death had left her side, the days had begun to blend together. She could barely remember how many sunsets she’d watched, let alone how many times the sun had risen once again following nights she’d thought would never end.
Every new day just joined the confusion, helping to create a long blur of light and dark.
Rhiannon didn't know where she was going. She walked blindly, never once lifting her head to see what was in front of her. Some part of her brain told her that she should turn around, that with every step she was leaving the Capital and familiar territory farther and farther behind her. She knew that she was making it more difficult with each step for herself to find her home again, let alone for anyone close to her to find her. In a strange way, that thought was comforting. She wasn't really sure she wanted her loved ones to stumble upon her at this point. Her mind had grabbed tight to that idea, wrapped around it as she had once clung to the idea of having a family.
She didn't want to be found.
It wasn't hard to track Rhiannon, though Apocalypse could feel that she wanted to stay hidden. Whatever it was that bound them together told him where she was, how she was feeling, where she was going, and how close to her he was. He walked slowly, hoping that each additional day would give her that much more time to recover from the pain of her loss. He'd made a promise to her Queen that if her condition was bad, he would find her and bring her back. She had been in bad condition when he'd left the Court of Hearts, letting his mental connection lead his steps. She was worse now, and he could feel the first inklings of actual stress tugging at the back of his mind. With how bad she'd been before, he had never actually imagined that she could get worse, let alone that she would.
It was that thought that put an extra bounce into his step, an urgency that simply wasn't there before. He could feel the ruptures running through Rhiannon's mind, deep fractures in what had already been a crumbling foundation.
If she broke, he would too. Something stirred inside of him, a deep and primal feeling that almost made the scythe begin to tremble. He turned in the direction he knew she was heading, squinting into the sunlight and cursing to himself. If Rhiannon broke - which seemed inevitable at this point - what would happen to him? It was selfish, it was instinctual self-preservation, but all the same, it was something Apocalypse had never felt before.
The weapon began to walk once more, a quickness in his step that hinted at his inner feelings of urgency. He could fix this, if only he could reach her in time.
If he wasn't already too late.
There was pain twisting in her gut, a discomfort that the King pushed aside for the time being. She lay under a tree, breathing deeply as she rested in the shade. It had been a while since she’d last stopped to rest, though she couldn’t say how long it had been exactly. Hours? Days? All she knew was that the pads of her paws ached, begged for her to rest for at least a little while. Her ribs showed through the thin layer of her skin, hunger making her once shining coat dull. When had she eaten last? She honestly couldn't say. She'd stopped at the occasional stream or puddle and lapped up the water that she found there, but food... had her last meal been the small amount of chicken she'd brought Lior?
She closed her eyes and swallowed, feeling the sting of tears biting at her eyes. If she kept this up for very much longer, she'd almost certainly die.
Did she want to die? She wasn't really sure anymore. She had died once, yes, but she was fairly certain that if she were to die this time, she wouldn't be coming back to life. It was, in a way, her last chance. It was an opportunity to put her life together, to forget about Lior and return to what remained of her family. Were they waiting for her to come home? Some part of her mind insisted that they were waiting and that they missed her, telling Rhiannon to live, but she tuned the voice out with a shake of her head. How could she trust a voice in the back of her head? Hadn’t that been the root of nearly all of the problems in her life?
Rhiannon forced herself back onto her feet, wavering for a moment before she took a few small steps forward. She would find food soon, she promised that little voice. Really, she wasn’t sure how long it would be until she stopped.
With the road winding in front of her, she willed herself on. Each step was just a little bit easier, and soon she fell back into the same pattern she’d found before. When her paws became hands in front of her nose she yelped in shock and a bit of fear, scrambling back to get away from the foreign digits and falling on her now-human rear. Her heart pounded in her chest and she moved, bringing a hand up, feeling smooth skin beneath her trembling fingers. She sat like that for a long time, curling up in the middle of the road and wrapping her arms around her legs.
Rhiannon began to cry, the full weight of her situation crashing down around her.
She’d obtained something she’d longed for her entire life, a human form. She’d told Xiven, her Queen, for years that one day she’d have one to do her proud, to match the glory of her parents and her heritage. She’d laughed with her children and nosed them, assuring them that once she had arms to hold them with and lips to kiss their darling foreheads, nothing would keep her away from them. She’d watched her Pale one walking beside her, looking elegant and handsome in his human body. She’d treasured the feeling of his fingers running through her mane and scratching behind her ears, and longed for a day when she’d be able to run her fingers though his hair and touch the lovely curve of his face. She’d lived a nearly perfect life, the only thing missing being the honor of a human form to match her high position in the court.
It was a cruel joke that it was here, miles away from the people she had once known and loved on a lonely and dusty road, she had stumbled into her human form.
She could never return to her old life. How would she be able to look at Xiven, the woman she admired and loved above all others, and beg to be allowed back into her life? She had betrayed the Queen’s trust in a profound way. Rhiannon had known for years that the Xiven was wary of her King’s relationship with Lior. She knew that her life had hung in a fine balance between the two, and she’d always taken care not to show any sort of favor to one over the other, giving each just enough to keep them feeling happy and well-loved. She’d lied to herself that it was enough, that they would both feel just as complete as she did, each having half of a whole.
Then she’d ruined all of it in one single action, leaving her life to follow the shadow of a man she’d once loved. The man that, even worse, she still loved, even after he’d abandoned her. She’d chosen him, and he’d walked away from her and told her not to follow him any longer. He'd chosen the Cloak's curse over her love.
She dug her fingers into her legs and forced herself to relax, taking a deep and shuddering breath. For the first time since she’d left the Court of Hearts, her childhood home, she saw the world clearly and understood the consequences of what she’d done.
Rhiannon had lost everything.
Where he was, Apocalypse began to run. He knew he was getting closer to Rhiannon, that if he could get to her side he could save her. Every one of her terrible emotions were his own to cherish, every earth-shattering thought filling his mind.
They made him desperate, the first peaks of his own fear beginning to touch his mind.
He had to reach her to save her, but even more than that, he needed to save the things he'd found for himself in his absence. He'd learned to exist as more than just as her weapon and lover when she wasn't too busy for his attention. He'd kept her Queen's bed warm, ate raw steaks with her mother, sipped at the finest whiskeys with her father. He'd held her children and heard their delighted laugher, he'd told terrible jokes to that uptight guard and laughed until his stomach hurt at the other man's reactions. He'd watched the sun rise and seen beauty in the natural world, he'd found pleasure in well-cooked meals and sex, the past-times of the living.
Apocalypse wanted to live. He loved his summoner, but more than that, he loved the world she'd brought him into, and he wasn't ready to lose it in the insanity he knew would overtake him should his soul die.
When he caught sight of the small village, something made him stop. He looked at the quaint buildings, seeking out some feeling he couldn't put a name to. He knew, when his eyes fell on the local inn, that he would find Rhiannon there. He knew that he had finally reached her, that his own personal salvation was at hand.
And, in a flash, he also knew that she was preparing to die.
The stew was filling and delicious, but Rhiannon barely tasted it. It sat heavy in her belly, feeling more like a rock in her stomach than anything else. She pushed the bowl aside and smiled at the innkeep, a rather plump and motherly Avington Pheasant who had given her a room and a meal for free when she'd looked at Rhiannon's thin and ragged body. She hadn't asked any questions, though the coyote-hybrid had easily sensed that she had wondered what had happened to make a King of Hearts with a human form such a mess. Then, her heart heavier than it had ever been before, Rhiannon had climbed to her room.
She felt a slight pang of guilt that later tonight she'd leave such a mess for the woman to clean up, but the idea of not following through with her plan never entered her mind.
Her human hands were agile and quick, and it seemed like it was only a second before she had the rope secured over one of the rafters, the loop sized to fit over her head. Rhiannon stood on the bed and ran her hands over it, amused that in these last moments her mind was as quiet as it had ever been. She thought about everything and everyone she was leaving behind, but found that there wasn't much.
By leaving, she was certain that Xiven had found a King to replace her. Their children would hate her for abandoning their mother, as well they should. Her parents would certainly see her as a coward and disown her for ruining her family name. Her children with Lior... How would she be able to look at them again without seeing their father when they looked at her? How would she be able to love them as she once could when his words had broken her so thoroughly? It would make it nearly impossible for her to ignore their bizzare mutations when she would be unable to see their good traits. She would never again be a good mother to them, all that she had left of Lior... The despair she felt at that was enough to make her slip the loop over her head.
The rough fibers tickled against her skin and she took a deep breath, feeling herself begin to shake. Pale... He was the only one who was a question in her mind. He'd been doing so well for himself, she knew, and she hoped that her death wouldn't destroy him utterly. Marie had recovered rather well, after all, and she hoped he would do the same. She tightened the noose and closed her eyes.
As she stepped forward, the door to the room slammed open. She saw her weapon in the doorway, framed in the light of the hallway, heard him scream her name and dash forward. It was too late. He was too late. She stepped off the bed, the itchy rope tight around her neck.
Then there was nothing.
Apocalypse had run as fast as his body would allow all the way to the inn, for the first time feeling thankful of the fact that he did not feel the strain of pushing himself too hard. He forgot to breathe, not caring about keeping up an image, not caring if anyone noticed that or stared at the blank expanse of skin on his left breast. The wooden door of the inn didn't stand a chance against his fear and desperation, and he slammed it open. Behind the bar a bipedal Pheasant cowered, and he moved to her in a fluid movement, his fingers clutching her feathers. He lifted, fear making him strong, and her feet were no longer touching the floor.
Without realizing it, he began to shake her, screaming in her face. His pointed teeth were an inch from her eyes, which were wide with terror. "Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?"
The woman stuttered that she had no idea who he was looking for or why he needed her so desperately, but that a stranger had just eaten here and was currently sleeping in the master bedroom. Apocalypse dropped her almost instantly, his attention on the stairs, which he scaled in three long strides. He could feel her close by, could feel in her mind as her desire to live vanished, replaced only by a desire to die. As his summoner's mind cracked fully, he felt something bloom inside of himself, and as much as she wanted to die he needed to live.
He slammed the door open and froze.
The woman standing on the corner of the bed wore a beautiful human form though it was so thin he could see the swell of her hip bones under her pants and the curve of each rib under the bandages wrapped around her breasts. Markings like wings curled around her midsection, an echo of the appendages he knew she had in her other forms. He had never seen the woman before, but he knew who she was even before she opened amber eyes to see him.
"RHIANNON!" he screamed, the word ripping from him as he scrambled forward, arms held in front of himself to try and catch her as she stepped forward. Something inside of him caught as she fell, and he knew that in a second the rope would be taught and she would never look at him with those unbelievably gorgeous eyes again --
His arms closed around nothingness. The rope hung from the ceiling and swayed slowly as if a woman's neck had never rested in its loop. Apocalypse stared at the empty space where a moment before the woman he loved had begun to fall and stumbled to his feet, reaching into the emptiness as if he would be able to touch what he could not see. His fingers found nothing and he began to sway, his mind not comprehending what he had just seen.
Rhiannon had vanished into thin air, leaving Apocalypse standing where she had once been. There was a weight in the back of his head that he'd never felt before, an overwhelming presence of her that just wasn't the same as what he'd felt for his entire life.
Then, for the first time since Bernard had pulled him into a physical body, Apocalypse's heart began to beat and he felt blood, hot and real, begin to flow through his veins. He gasped rather abruptly, his lungs pulling air into them for the first time. When he hit the floor, there was a pain in his knees. His mind was filled with weight, swimming with substance and knowledge of magic that a part of him had always been aware of but had never been his.
Overwhelmed by Rhiannon's disappearance and the impact of whatever it was that was happening to him, Apocalypse collapsed completely. His eyes rolled back in his head as he gasped for the breaths he still wasn't used to taking. When his eyes finally closed, the man had long before lost consciousness.
There were things Rhiannon had gone through that many others would never be able to even dream of. The best example of this was her first death.
When the darkness had closed around her, for a moment she'd felt as if she was wrapped in a familiar and welcoming coccoon. The anxiety she'd felt in that second before she'd ended her life began to fade. That hadn't lasted long at all. She knew death, she had felt it before, and wherever she was now...
She wasn't dead.
There wasn't a feeling of disconnect from herself, no mirror of her body to move through he darkness and towards a final goal. She was enclosed in the dark, with only her conscious mind and a tug in the back of her mind, the feeling of Apocalypse's conscious bound to her own. Except that had changed as well. It was as if she was seeing through his mind instead of the other way around. As if she was waiting for him to call to her, to follow his orders, to be his guiding voice...
Rhiannon's thoughts froze for a moment as she searched herself. It was an act of desperation, calling out along that silver thread that bound them, begging for him to respond.
She knew he was there, she could feel it as if he was her own left eye, but she was met only with silence.
Apocalypse woke with a jolt and a scream. He was laying in a bed and someone had placed a cool cloth on his forehead. He lurched over the side of the bed and his stomach heaved, ejecting only bitter and vile acid. Of course. He hadn't eaten since before he'd left the Court; Why should he? The pain of heaving was matched only by the pain coming from his empty stomach. It seemed to twist onto itself, protesting the emotional turmoil almost as strongly as it protested the lack of food.
He slowly raised his head again, pressing the back of his hand against his damp forehead, brushing back the tumble of burnished-gold hair that obscurred his vision.
The pheasant woman from before was standing in the corner, whispering apologies and keeping as far away from him as she could. She spoke quickly, too quickly for him to understand, and for a moment Apocalypse wondered if she was even speaking Common. He stared at her for a long moment, opening his mouth when she went quiet and then closing it again. When words came out, his voice sounded foreign and strange.
"How long was I out?" he asked, running his tongue across his lips. They were dry and cracked on the edges. Was he dehydrated? He really didn't know. He couldn't remember being moved into the bed, but he didn't remember passing out, either. He certainly wasn't sure what had happened.
"Not long, I-I just heard you call out so I came to check on you,[/b]" the woman replied in her thin voice. It was harsh to his ears, and for a moment he regretted asking. "I found you on t-the floor, all covered in sweat, and m-moved you to the b-bed... There wasn't any sign of your friend, though.[/b]" Her brows creased, and Apocalypse stared at her for a moment without comprehending.
"I see." he replied shortly, easing himself back into the bed. He felt weak. His mind was spinning. Everything that had happened before he'd blacked out came rushing back to him. Rhiannon with the noose around her head. The sight of her stepping forward, rushing down, vanishing as if she'd never been there.
Rhiannon. She was... still gone? Bile boiled in Apocalypse's throat, harsh and bitter, and he nearly choked on it. He turned away from the woman and covered his mouth with a hand, feeling fine tremors beginning all across his body. Where was she? Where was his summoner?
Something stirred in the back of his mind, something familiar and oddly comforting. It filled his head with its words, and for a moment, Apocalypse felt as if Rhiannon was sitting beside him and touching his cheek, then retreating for a moment.
I'm here.
He sat perfectly still for a long moment, feeling Rhiannon's presence fill his mind. He felt anger, he felt fear, he felt confusion... But he felt her. She had always been there, but this was different. The woman sitting in the corner was almost completely forgotten by the man as he slowly glanced down at his bare torso. The marking was like blood against the cream of his skin, marking what had been blank for the entire time he'd walked in the physical plane. It was identical to what he'd always seen on Rhiannon's chest, except now it was on his skin.
King of Hearts.
His hand moved to it without thinking. It seemed natural, as he brushed his fingertips across the blood-red heart, pulling at the strands of something some part of him knew he'd find there. When his fingers closed around the cool metal he pulled.
From the air, a shining scythe materialized, heavy and oversized and perfect in his hands. He turned it slowly in his hands, feeling the heft and balance, the weight of the blade. When he ran a thumb across the blade it sliced his flesh, splilling crimson drops across the sheets, but Apocalypse didn't feel it. All he felt was the scythe - Rhiannon - trying to pull away, not wanting to hurt him.
It was the woman's gasp that pulled him back into the room, and he stared up at her. "I need... to go home, now." he said, swallowing and cradling the weapon as if it were a child, pressing the cold metal against his warm body. His heart was pounding in his ears, a noise he'd only heard when he'd rested his head against Rhiannon, against Xiven. He watched the pheasant for a long moment, following her movements to the door. Something nagged at him to remember what he was now, and for the first time, his stomach growled in hungry protest. Before she could leave, he stopped her.
"But before I do, I'll need a meal, if you would be so kind."
Characters: Apocalypse and Rhiannon, mentions of Xiven and Lior
Warnings: Deals with suicide and other sensitive subjects.
After Death had left her side, the days had begun to blend together. She could barely remember how many sunsets she’d watched, let alone how many times the sun had risen once again following nights she’d thought would never end.
Every new day just joined the confusion, helping to create a long blur of light and dark.
Rhiannon didn't know where she was going. She walked blindly, never once lifting her head to see what was in front of her. Some part of her brain told her that she should turn around, that with every step she was leaving the Capital and familiar territory farther and farther behind her. She knew that she was making it more difficult with each step for herself to find her home again, let alone for anyone close to her to find her. In a strange way, that thought was comforting. She wasn't really sure she wanted her loved ones to stumble upon her at this point. Her mind had grabbed tight to that idea, wrapped around it as she had once clung to the idea of having a family.
She didn't want to be found.
~~~
It wasn't hard to track Rhiannon, though Apocalypse could feel that she wanted to stay hidden. Whatever it was that bound them together told him where she was, how she was feeling, where she was going, and how close to her he was. He walked slowly, hoping that each additional day would give her that much more time to recover from the pain of her loss. He'd made a promise to her Queen that if her condition was bad, he would find her and bring her back. She had been in bad condition when he'd left the Court of Hearts, letting his mental connection lead his steps. She was worse now, and he could feel the first inklings of actual stress tugging at the back of his mind. With how bad she'd been before, he had never actually imagined that she could get worse, let alone that she would.
It was that thought that put an extra bounce into his step, an urgency that simply wasn't there before. He could feel the ruptures running through Rhiannon's mind, deep fractures in what had already been a crumbling foundation.
If she broke, he would too. Something stirred inside of him, a deep and primal feeling that almost made the scythe begin to tremble. He turned in the direction he knew she was heading, squinting into the sunlight and cursing to himself. If Rhiannon broke - which seemed inevitable at this point - what would happen to him? It was selfish, it was instinctual self-preservation, but all the same, it was something Apocalypse had never felt before.
The weapon began to walk once more, a quickness in his step that hinted at his inner feelings of urgency. He could fix this, if only he could reach her in time.
If he wasn't already too late.
~~~
There was pain twisting in her gut, a discomfort that the King pushed aside for the time being. She lay under a tree, breathing deeply as she rested in the shade. It had been a while since she’d last stopped to rest, though she couldn’t say how long it had been exactly. Hours? Days? All she knew was that the pads of her paws ached, begged for her to rest for at least a little while. Her ribs showed through the thin layer of her skin, hunger making her once shining coat dull. When had she eaten last? She honestly couldn't say. She'd stopped at the occasional stream or puddle and lapped up the water that she found there, but food... had her last meal been the small amount of chicken she'd brought Lior?
She closed her eyes and swallowed, feeling the sting of tears biting at her eyes. If she kept this up for very much longer, she'd almost certainly die.
Did she want to die? She wasn't really sure anymore. She had died once, yes, but she was fairly certain that if she were to die this time, she wouldn't be coming back to life. It was, in a way, her last chance. It was an opportunity to put her life together, to forget about Lior and return to what remained of her family. Were they waiting for her to come home? Some part of her mind insisted that they were waiting and that they missed her, telling Rhiannon to live, but she tuned the voice out with a shake of her head. How could she trust a voice in the back of her head? Hadn’t that been the root of nearly all of the problems in her life?
Rhiannon forced herself back onto her feet, wavering for a moment before she took a few small steps forward. She would find food soon, she promised that little voice. Really, she wasn’t sure how long it would be until she stopped.
With the road winding in front of her, she willed herself on. Each step was just a little bit easier, and soon she fell back into the same pattern she’d found before. When her paws became hands in front of her nose she yelped in shock and a bit of fear, scrambling back to get away from the foreign digits and falling on her now-human rear. Her heart pounded in her chest and she moved, bringing a hand up, feeling smooth skin beneath her trembling fingers. She sat like that for a long time, curling up in the middle of the road and wrapping her arms around her legs.
Rhiannon began to cry, the full weight of her situation crashing down around her.
She’d obtained something she’d longed for her entire life, a human form. She’d told Xiven, her Queen, for years that one day she’d have one to do her proud, to match the glory of her parents and her heritage. She’d laughed with her children and nosed them, assuring them that once she had arms to hold them with and lips to kiss their darling foreheads, nothing would keep her away from them. She’d watched her Pale one walking beside her, looking elegant and handsome in his human body. She’d treasured the feeling of his fingers running through her mane and scratching behind her ears, and longed for a day when she’d be able to run her fingers though his hair and touch the lovely curve of his face. She’d lived a nearly perfect life, the only thing missing being the honor of a human form to match her high position in the court.
It was a cruel joke that it was here, miles away from the people she had once known and loved on a lonely and dusty road, she had stumbled into her human form.
She could never return to her old life. How would she be able to look at Xiven, the woman she admired and loved above all others, and beg to be allowed back into her life? She had betrayed the Queen’s trust in a profound way. Rhiannon had known for years that the Xiven was wary of her King’s relationship with Lior. She knew that her life had hung in a fine balance between the two, and she’d always taken care not to show any sort of favor to one over the other, giving each just enough to keep them feeling happy and well-loved. She’d lied to herself that it was enough, that they would both feel just as complete as she did, each having half of a whole.
Then she’d ruined all of it in one single action, leaving her life to follow the shadow of a man she’d once loved. The man that, even worse, she still loved, even after he’d abandoned her. She’d chosen him, and he’d walked away from her and told her not to follow him any longer. He'd chosen the Cloak's curse over her love.
She dug her fingers into her legs and forced herself to relax, taking a deep and shuddering breath. For the first time since she’d left the Court of Hearts, her childhood home, she saw the world clearly and understood the consequences of what she’d done.
Rhiannon had lost everything.
~~~
Where he was, Apocalypse began to run. He knew he was getting closer to Rhiannon, that if he could get to her side he could save her. Every one of her terrible emotions were his own to cherish, every earth-shattering thought filling his mind.
They made him desperate, the first peaks of his own fear beginning to touch his mind.
He had to reach her to save her, but even more than that, he needed to save the things he'd found for himself in his absence. He'd learned to exist as more than just as her weapon and lover when she wasn't too busy for his attention. He'd kept her Queen's bed warm, ate raw steaks with her mother, sipped at the finest whiskeys with her father. He'd held her children and heard their delighted laugher, he'd told terrible jokes to that uptight guard and laughed until his stomach hurt at the other man's reactions. He'd watched the sun rise and seen beauty in the natural world, he'd found pleasure in well-cooked meals and sex, the past-times of the living.
Apocalypse wanted to live. He loved his summoner, but more than that, he loved the world she'd brought him into, and he wasn't ready to lose it in the insanity he knew would overtake him should his soul die.
When he caught sight of the small village, something made him stop. He looked at the quaint buildings, seeking out some feeling he couldn't put a name to. He knew, when his eyes fell on the local inn, that he would find Rhiannon there. He knew that he had finally reached her, that his own personal salvation was at hand.
And, in a flash, he also knew that she was preparing to die.
~~~
The stew was filling and delicious, but Rhiannon barely tasted it. It sat heavy in her belly, feeling more like a rock in her stomach than anything else. She pushed the bowl aside and smiled at the innkeep, a rather plump and motherly Avington Pheasant who had given her a room and a meal for free when she'd looked at Rhiannon's thin and ragged body. She hadn't asked any questions, though the coyote-hybrid had easily sensed that she had wondered what had happened to make a King of Hearts with a human form such a mess. Then, her heart heavier than it had ever been before, Rhiannon had climbed to her room.
She felt a slight pang of guilt that later tonight she'd leave such a mess for the woman to clean up, but the idea of not following through with her plan never entered her mind.
Her human hands were agile and quick, and it seemed like it was only a second before she had the rope secured over one of the rafters, the loop sized to fit over her head. Rhiannon stood on the bed and ran her hands over it, amused that in these last moments her mind was as quiet as it had ever been. She thought about everything and everyone she was leaving behind, but found that there wasn't much.
By leaving, she was certain that Xiven had found a King to replace her. Their children would hate her for abandoning their mother, as well they should. Her parents would certainly see her as a coward and disown her for ruining her family name. Her children with Lior... How would she be able to look at them again without seeing their father when they looked at her? How would she be able to love them as she once could when his words had broken her so thoroughly? It would make it nearly impossible for her to ignore their bizzare mutations when she would be unable to see their good traits. She would never again be a good mother to them, all that she had left of Lior... The despair she felt at that was enough to make her slip the loop over her head.
The rough fibers tickled against her skin and she took a deep breath, feeling herself begin to shake. Pale... He was the only one who was a question in her mind. He'd been doing so well for himself, she knew, and she hoped that her death wouldn't destroy him utterly. Marie had recovered rather well, after all, and she hoped he would do the same. She tightened the noose and closed her eyes.
As she stepped forward, the door to the room slammed open. She saw her weapon in the doorway, framed in the light of the hallway, heard him scream her name and dash forward. It was too late. He was too late. She stepped off the bed, the itchy rope tight around her neck.
Then there was nothing.
~~~
Apocalypse had run as fast as his body would allow all the way to the inn, for the first time feeling thankful of the fact that he did not feel the strain of pushing himself too hard. He forgot to breathe, not caring about keeping up an image, not caring if anyone noticed that or stared at the blank expanse of skin on his left breast. The wooden door of the inn didn't stand a chance against his fear and desperation, and he slammed it open. Behind the bar a bipedal Pheasant cowered, and he moved to her in a fluid movement, his fingers clutching her feathers. He lifted, fear making him strong, and her feet were no longer touching the floor.
Without realizing it, he began to shake her, screaming in her face. His pointed teeth were an inch from her eyes, which were wide with terror. "Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?"
The woman stuttered that she had no idea who he was looking for or why he needed her so desperately, but that a stranger had just eaten here and was currently sleeping in the master bedroom. Apocalypse dropped her almost instantly, his attention on the stairs, which he scaled in three long strides. He could feel her close by, could feel in her mind as her desire to live vanished, replaced only by a desire to die. As his summoner's mind cracked fully, he felt something bloom inside of himself, and as much as she wanted to die he needed to live.
He slammed the door open and froze.
The woman standing on the corner of the bed wore a beautiful human form though it was so thin he could see the swell of her hip bones under her pants and the curve of each rib under the bandages wrapped around her breasts. Markings like wings curled around her midsection, an echo of the appendages he knew she had in her other forms. He had never seen the woman before, but he knew who she was even before she opened amber eyes to see him.
"RHIANNON!" he screamed, the word ripping from him as he scrambled forward, arms held in front of himself to try and catch her as she stepped forward. Something inside of him caught as she fell, and he knew that in a second the rope would be taught and she would never look at him with those unbelievably gorgeous eyes again --
His arms closed around nothingness. The rope hung from the ceiling and swayed slowly as if a woman's neck had never rested in its loop. Apocalypse stared at the empty space where a moment before the woman he loved had begun to fall and stumbled to his feet, reaching into the emptiness as if he would be able to touch what he could not see. His fingers found nothing and he began to sway, his mind not comprehending what he had just seen.
Rhiannon had vanished into thin air, leaving Apocalypse standing where she had once been. There was a weight in the back of his head that he'd never felt before, an overwhelming presence of her that just wasn't the same as what he'd felt for his entire life.
Then, for the first time since Bernard had pulled him into a physical body, Apocalypse's heart began to beat and he felt blood, hot and real, begin to flow through his veins. He gasped rather abruptly, his lungs pulling air into them for the first time. When he hit the floor, there was a pain in his knees. His mind was filled with weight, swimming with substance and knowledge of magic that a part of him had always been aware of but had never been his.
Overwhelmed by Rhiannon's disappearance and the impact of whatever it was that was happening to him, Apocalypse collapsed completely. His eyes rolled back in his head as he gasped for the breaths he still wasn't used to taking. When his eyes finally closed, the man had long before lost consciousness.
~~~
There were things Rhiannon had gone through that many others would never be able to even dream of. The best example of this was her first death.
When the darkness had closed around her, for a moment she'd felt as if she was wrapped in a familiar and welcoming coccoon. The anxiety she'd felt in that second before she'd ended her life began to fade. That hadn't lasted long at all. She knew death, she had felt it before, and wherever she was now...
She wasn't dead.
There wasn't a feeling of disconnect from herself, no mirror of her body to move through he darkness and towards a final goal. She was enclosed in the dark, with only her conscious mind and a tug in the back of her mind, the feeling of Apocalypse's conscious bound to her own. Except that had changed as well. It was as if she was seeing through his mind instead of the other way around. As if she was waiting for him to call to her, to follow his orders, to be his guiding voice...
Rhiannon's thoughts froze for a moment as she searched herself. It was an act of desperation, calling out along that silver thread that bound them, begging for him to respond.
She knew he was there, she could feel it as if he was her own left eye, but she was met only with silence.
~~~
Apocalypse woke with a jolt and a scream. He was laying in a bed and someone had placed a cool cloth on his forehead. He lurched over the side of the bed and his stomach heaved, ejecting only bitter and vile acid. Of course. He hadn't eaten since before he'd left the Court; Why should he? The pain of heaving was matched only by the pain coming from his empty stomach. It seemed to twist onto itself, protesting the emotional turmoil almost as strongly as it protested the lack of food.
He slowly raised his head again, pressing the back of his hand against his damp forehead, brushing back the tumble of burnished-gold hair that obscurred his vision.
The pheasant woman from before was standing in the corner, whispering apologies and keeping as far away from him as she could. She spoke quickly, too quickly for him to understand, and for a moment Apocalypse wondered if she was even speaking Common. He stared at her for a long moment, opening his mouth when she went quiet and then closing it again. When words came out, his voice sounded foreign and strange.
"How long was I out?" he asked, running his tongue across his lips. They were dry and cracked on the edges. Was he dehydrated? He really didn't know. He couldn't remember being moved into the bed, but he didn't remember passing out, either. He certainly wasn't sure what had happened.
"Not long, I-I just heard you call out so I came to check on you,[/b]" the woman replied in her thin voice. It was harsh to his ears, and for a moment he regretted asking. "I found you on t-the floor, all covered in sweat, and m-moved you to the b-bed... There wasn't any sign of your friend, though.[/b]" Her brows creased, and Apocalypse stared at her for a moment without comprehending.
"I see." he replied shortly, easing himself back into the bed. He felt weak. His mind was spinning. Everything that had happened before he'd blacked out came rushing back to him. Rhiannon with the noose around her head. The sight of her stepping forward, rushing down, vanishing as if she'd never been there.
Rhiannon. She was... still gone? Bile boiled in Apocalypse's throat, harsh and bitter, and he nearly choked on it. He turned away from the woman and covered his mouth with a hand, feeling fine tremors beginning all across his body. Where was she? Where was his summoner?
Something stirred in the back of his mind, something familiar and oddly comforting. It filled his head with its words, and for a moment, Apocalypse felt as if Rhiannon was sitting beside him and touching his cheek, then retreating for a moment.
I'm here.
He sat perfectly still for a long moment, feeling Rhiannon's presence fill his mind. He felt anger, he felt fear, he felt confusion... But he felt her. She had always been there, but this was different. The woman sitting in the corner was almost completely forgotten by the man as he slowly glanced down at his bare torso. The marking was like blood against the cream of his skin, marking what had been blank for the entire time he'd walked in the physical plane. It was identical to what he'd always seen on Rhiannon's chest, except now it was on his skin.
King of Hearts.
His hand moved to it without thinking. It seemed natural, as he brushed his fingertips across the blood-red heart, pulling at the strands of something some part of him knew he'd find there. When his fingers closed around the cool metal he pulled.
From the air, a shining scythe materialized, heavy and oversized and perfect in his hands. He turned it slowly in his hands, feeling the heft and balance, the weight of the blade. When he ran a thumb across the blade it sliced his flesh, splilling crimson drops across the sheets, but Apocalypse didn't feel it. All he felt was the scythe - Rhiannon - trying to pull away, not wanting to hurt him.
It was the woman's gasp that pulled him back into the room, and he stared up at her. "I need... to go home, now." he said, swallowing and cradling the weapon as if it were a child, pressing the cold metal against his warm body. His heart was pounding in his ears, a noise he'd only heard when he'd rested his head against Rhiannon, against Xiven. He watched the pheasant for a long moment, following her movements to the door. Something nagged at him to remember what he was now, and for the first time, his stomach growled in hungry protest. Before she could leave, he stopped her.
"But before I do, I'll need a meal, if you would be so kind."
Holy shite. Isn't that a major turn of events?
