I took a walk today, wandering to a coffee shop and then a park to write a little and on the way home I stopped at this used CD store called Imagine and picked up a Siouxsie and the Banshees CD I hadn't been able to find elsewhere. ('Rapture' in case you care) Anyhoo. I was sitting on my ass in front of the computer listening to the disk and reading the lyrics. And singing off-key too, but I digress. The point of the story is that I came to the last song on the disk and suddenly somebody opened the fridge door inside my brain and the little light came on. Now, because I am a Xelloss lover (big ol' duh) lots of my fanfics centre around him and I am sort of a romantic in my deepest heart because some of my fave fics concern the Mazoku falling for somebody. (I particularly like him falling for Filia and one of the better fics I've seen on this topic is of course written by the lovely Harukami-san. Go read it at the Ifni no Miko's place) My point is I was listening to this song and I thought, "Gee, since Mazoku are weakened by happy emotions (as Amelia aptly demonstrates) wouldn't the very act of falling in love be like suicide?" chibi Smashing Pumpkins appear and start screeching 'Love is suiciiiiiiide!!!' then disappear. Then again, I believe love always leads to heartache so it might all balance out.... But my point is that that thought prompted the following fic! Oh, and I highly recommend the disk as it kicks some serious ass.
The song obviously enough belongs to Siouxsie and the Banshees and is used without permission cos I'm a rotten bugger. If Siouxsie Sioux wants to come kick my ass for stealing her lyrics she is welcome to.
"I love you."
The words had slipped from his tongue like morning dew from the soft petals of a rose and Filia's eyes had sparkled when he had finally uttered the truth that had lurked at the bottom of his heart for centuries warring with an almost equal hatred. Why he had admitted it after all this time he didn't know and even as the words escaped his mouth he had felt the deep freezing needle penetrate his chest. It wasn't pain precisely but a numbness that debilitated him and made his head swim. The happiness Filia radiated after the admission nearly made him throw up, but he'd managed to keep his gorge steady since it would have been the height of rudeness to barf all over her lap when she was prepared to screw his brains out.
So he'd said it and they'd boinked each other soundly and he had gone home. Now he stood before a mirror, staring at his reflection without really knowing why and thinking about that long silver needle of death. Xelloss stared at himself, seeing the purple hair, the pale skin, and the amethyst eyes with their slit pupils but also seeing the shape that lurked behind the innocent form, the blackness and the hunger. The needle pierced this part of him, shed light on the depths of the slime-encrusted well that served as his soul.
I smash the glass into my face
Cutting through to my disgrace
Disregard for bone and flesh
How can I be in such a mesh of unlikeliness? I smash my likeness
Still thinking of the needle Xelloss leaned backwards, paused without noticing and then flung his upper body forward. His head connected with the mirror, causing it to shatter into meaningless fragments of sparkling snow and ice. Knives of glass slid through his skin with insulting ease only to be disappointed by the fact the wounds closed almost as soon as they were formed. Xelloss stood where he was, looking at the empty mirror-frame for a moment longer before shaking his head to remove the bits of glass stranded in his hair.
The needle sunk in deeper and deeper with time it seemed. There was always an icicle stuck in his solar plexus, melting a bit at a time so that one day he would wake up and find his whole body was frozen and he couldn't move.
Xelloss looked at the floor and after a second's thought he bent over and picked up on of the larger shards of glass. It ended in an angry point and both sides were as sharp as teeth.
At my fingertips
With this blade turned in on me
Cutting an ancient tree
A cutter in a forest of industry
The glass sank indifferently into the pads of his fingers, blood gathering at the edges in expectant, shivering ridges before being forced forward by the pulse of Xelloss' heart to slide down his hands in primal rivers. Funny how something so simple as a shard of glass could slice open skin centuries older than itself. Of course the wound were not permanent or damaging but Xelloss still found it amusing. This wound was not fatal. The hole the needle was tearing in his spirit might be, however, if he were not careful.
Upturning
Usurping
Happiness was poison to his kind, but he had never heard of any Mazoku who had actually DIED from joy. That thought was mildly comforting. Of course, he had also never heard of any Mazoku who had felt love. Xelloss sighed and yanked the shard out of his fingers so they could heal properly instead of trying to knit flesh around immobile glass. Everything seemed so muddled today, like his life had been immersed in a stream where silt and dirt fell freely into the previously clear waters.
What did he want? To stop caring for Filia? Oh sure, great idea, then he'd be lonely again and incomplete in some way he didn't understand. To keep loving her? There was the chance that he was slowly but inexorably killing himself if he kept on in this fashion. He tried to remember a reason why he should hate her kind but came up with nothing. He never had hated the Ryuzoku anyway. They were too beautiful for him to loathe even though he'd slaughtered so many and enjoyed the act so thoroughly. Red blood and golden scales, what a lovely combination that had been.
But what was he supposed to do now? What was he supposed to feel?
Love me
Hate me
Help me
Save me from me
Hold me
Hurt me
Stop me
Take this love out me
He couldn't just leave Filia. That wouldn't do a bit of good since he would still carry in his heart an unrequited love for the rest of his very long life. The only thing he could think of to do was somehow make himself stop loving her completely, cut the emotion dead before it could grow enough to tangle him. But how the hell was he supposed to do a thing like that?
Xelloss looked around, hoping without real conviction that an answer would present itself. None did. He sighed and thought of how Filia's eyes had looked when he'd finally said what she had already known, the three simple words that neither of them had quite dared say out loud for decades. It had always been something they had both ignored for some reason, content to simply accept the bastard love they shared and not articulate it. Why had he broken that silent tradition? He didn't know. A moment of chaotic impulsiveness he supposed, and now here he was wishing he could take it back. But what's done is done and can't be undone, so instead he'd have to work out a way to cut Filia from his heart, a way to erase the memory of her tender eyes from his mind.
Anger tinged with sadness it's always been like this
Place the dagger twixt my breast
My nearest and dearest
He toyed with the shard of glass, placing the snarling tip over his heart, feeling his veins pulse in time with its eternal beat. Dammit, why should he have to make this decision? Why had L-Sama chosen to make his kind this way? In that bruised second of time as the glass hovered above his pale skin Xelloss cursed his kind, his maker and his own soul.
I hurt it
I hurt me
Hurt everything around me
There's nothing no trace
Still cutting to find the place
Mazoku felt no love, that was the old belief. Not true, but many old beliefs were false so what was one more lie in the history of the universe? The only thing a Mazoku could bring to anyone was pain, and lots of it. With such thoughts flapping through his mind like haunted bedsheets Xelloss jammed the mirror fragment downward into his chest, relishing the sudden sweet sensation of pain as it lanced through him. He withdrew it then stabbed again, again, not sure if he were trying to cut out his heart or just that damn needle. He smiled as blood escaped from the wound, feeling every pulse and throb as it fled his body. He twisted the shard sharply, grunting slightly in pleasure/pain. He withdrew the makeshift knife and threw it away, barely hearing the symphony of tinkling glass when it hit the ground.
Love out me!
Love out me!
Before the wound could heal he stuck his fingers inside, pushing the knitting flesh apart. He hissed air in over his lower lip, letting blood throb out to run its dark course down his body. Dimly, in the regions of the mind where thought is not really intelligible he hoped in some vague way that his actions could cleanse him. He removed his fingers from his chest after a minute or so, his conscious mind finally aware of what he was doing. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs that were gumming up his thoughts and licked the blood from his fingers.
Anger tinged with sadness it's always been like this
Every time he had ever felt close to anyone... the needle was always there. A quiet and frigid intruder reminding him eternally that he was not what he once had been and that he was supposed to have lost the capacity for love.
No nothing no more no
No & no & no & no
I can't take this
He shook his head in silent negation. If only he hadn't uttered those damn words aloud! But the truth still would have remained. Mere words could not break the needle. He and Filia... they DID hate each other at times, this was true. Whether that was because their kinds were designed to loathe each other or simply because they had clashing personalities was anyone's guess. The answers didn't matter anyway. Xelloss still found himself torn internally in such a way that seemed utterly foreign and alien to him. The damn needle...
Love me
Hate me
Help me
Save me from me
Hold me
Hurt me
Stop me
Take this love out me!
Needles sting.