My Bloody Valentine
Chapter Two
By: Dove the Unoriginal CG
Slayers (c) TV Tokyo and some other people. The title comes from a WeiB song, which belongs to Koyasu and Project Weib. This story takes place after Slayers TRY.
Alone. Always alone, even when people were right there. … Even her.
It hurt to think about her, especially now.
He remained sitting on the uncovered floor of Zelas' abode. It was
like the rest of her island, a serene, deathly hushed atmosphere
where every sound was full of respect and a deep-seated fear.
The floor was made of sandy clay, brown and hard, like the rest of
the house. Even the vine choked columns and awnings that hung over
the gaping black door and windows was made of the same, earthy
material. The door was always open because there was no door. The
entire reception area was more like an enclosed porch, with rounded,
stained glass windows that had no glass in them.
He sat, just before the vague puddle of light that somehow made it
inside, watching as the breeze gently played with the jungle-tight
trees, which jostled and caressed one another in a maddeningly light
phantom play of togetherness.
The color and texture of the house reminded him of the unpainted clay
pots Filia used to sell in the store.
He felt nothing now. Somehow empty of everything but a vague sort of
depression that kept him quiet and listless.
His guilt was like an unsettled ocean. His only saving grace in his
mind was the fact that he had been the last one to drink her
emotions, to feed on them and make use of them. Which was barely
anything.
He had killed her. He felt guilty even being thankful that it hadn't
been Xellos to do the deed. That he at least hadn't gotten someone
else to `do the dirty work'. That thought never lasted long either.
When he had experienced a slow but sudden deluge of new emotions and
memories, old ones from long ago, he had been confused. Confused and
elated, horrified and hopeful at the thoughts that eventually filled
his head.
The other gold dragons had always been wary of him, though never
enough to do more than feed the loneliness gnawing inside him.
Humanity wasn't so bad but he had been unable to keep friends. He had
tried an adventuring career but it didn't work out.
He felt restless and wanted to help others when he could barely help
himself. In the end, he returned home after only a few months on the
road.
Filia was pleased to have him back. He loved her. She was a good
mother. It ached at his bones when he started to feel more for her
than that.
"Mom… I … wonder if… I need to ask you something," Valgarv in
Valteria had asked her one sunny afternoon while she was washing the
dishes.
"What is it, honey?"
"I… I … Mother… I love you. And… and I'm also… could you… would you
ever… be in love with me?"
Filia frowned a little at the question, "Of course I love you. Why do
you ask?"
"No! No… I mean. Filia… could you ever… be IN love… with me?" He felt
so uncomfortable asking her but he had to know.
Filia looked up with surprise, to see the worry and the hope etched
into Val's face. It took her awhile to respond. She stared at him and
then went back to the dishes, giving him a confused look.
"So… would you? Will you? Are you?" He asked, nervousness eating away
at him.
"…. Val… you're my baby. I… I… … where did this come from?"
After he explained things, he knew, just from the look on her face,
that his hopes were worthless. She was worried and uncomfortable as
well, while trying to explain her misgivings over this turn of events.
"It just… it would be too strange. And… you're still my little
Valteria."
He had always hated that name, especially when she said it then.
"Never? You never could… feel that way?"
"Val, this is so sudden! Maybe after a few days you'll feel
differently. Even if you have your memories… I mean… you're living
this life. How can you be so sure you're really feeling what you're
feeling and not just remembering how… it was?"
Val shook his head stubbornly. And he was right. The feelings hadn't
faded. He only became more desperate as the days went by. Each moment
with her tugged his heart in two directions.
When Filia started seeing another dragon her age, making dinner
arrangements in the shop, laughing with the gold most of the time and
feeling relaxed in a way she hadn't felt in months, it broke his
heart. He told himself she was doing it just to change his mind but
he could never be sure. He didn't want to get out of bed anymore,
nothing seemed worthwhile. Filia eventually had to force him up and
about, but it did little to ease either of them.
He regretted it all now. He regretted what he did the moment he
decided to rejoin the mazoku, to at least feed off of the suffering
he was finding everywhere in his life. Xellos came with an offer from
Juuou-sama. It was a stupid decision, but he felt maybe it would be
better than nothing.
But he couldn't stop thinking about her. The few times he saw her she
seemed to be sad. He heard from Jiras and Grabos, once he'd sworn
them to secrecy, that she went wild with grief after he left. The
shop was in a shambles and the wreckage left alone. She spent the day
gardening now and then and just living. Selling pottery that was
still unbroken to anyone who asked. He never did find out if the shop
had been destroyed over him or because Filia was no longer with the
other dragon or something else. It didn't matter at the time. He
couldn't stand to hear how he'd upset one of the few people that
seemed to really care about him anymore.
He wasn't sure who suggested the idea of killing her first, as a
means of getting her off his mind. He knew that the notion was insane
but went along with it anyway. It wasn't as if he could really
disobey Zelas. And Zelas wanted her dead because Filia was starting
to cause trouble. She was actively seeking out mazoku, attacking them
in vain hopes of gaining information and killing them when they
couldn't or wouldn't tell her what she wanted to know. The minions
were lesser mazoku, usually, and fairly replaceable, but Zelas was
highly annoyed.
Filia gave up before he even agreed to the idea. Returning home, he
couldn't see much of a change in it since he had been gone. There
seemed to be no change in her, even though she looked down over a cup
of hot tea. Always that hot tea.
No. He regretted it all now. He still did. Killing her hadn't made
things any easier.
And he was always just in front of that golden puddle… unable to move
into the yard and be surrounded by the mingling trees and their
incessant soft, rustling chatter. Did they talk about him, those
trees? Were they wondering why he never bothered to wander the
island? The island reminded him of her too.
He envied the animals and plants that lived here. They knew better
than to step out of their bounds, to break that hushed, fearful
feeling that pervaded everything on the island. But he could never
return to a hushed life of fear and respect. He just had that cooling
brown slab of clay and the dying rays of light that spoke of a new
dawn tomorrow.
~~~~~
To be continued… *insert October Project music here?*
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