Rook the Librarian (gisho) wrote,
Rook the Librarian

  • Music:

"nothing to believe in " (incomplete. watch this space.) [Xfic]

I wish I was a girl
So that you could believe me
And I could shake this static
every time I try to sleep ...

- Counting Crows

X, anime canon (although not contradicting manga), introspective and weird.

Are you bored anymore?

Yes. She's seen them through the crack in the door, and she knows that they've seen her, or known she was there. She is not vouyeristic by nature, but neither does she posess any sense of propriety or personal space. She makes up for in indifference what she lacks in modesty. The strange half-dance they do fascinated her as the fluttering wings of a blue morpho fascinate a lepidopterist, the peeling on and peeling off, the carefully pulled-up sheets, the unwillingness to let be seen what will soon be felt intimately, or had just been.

I don't see the appeal, she told him on one of their strange occasional tea meetings.

We understand each other, he said, hiding that odd little smile behind the rim of his cup. We're neither of it in it for anything but business, and of course friendship - although not much of that.

Then why do you dance around so much? she said, suprising herself with morbid curiosity. Other than that you both pride yourself on appearing so sophisticated and suave.

It comes naturally after a while, he said with a shrug.

She watched, pressed against the doorframe with the candlelight glittering off her glasses, as they pressed against each other and whispered little words that were not endearments to each other, or perhaps that were their definition of endearments, at odds with the rest of the world's. They never moved with anything but languid careful touches, but somehow one or the other or both always wore scratches when they were done.

She had never understood human beings. Even nineteen years of experince being one have not brought her any closer to comprehension. The sight of the two of them, and the sound, bring a strange bitter feeling to her, like the acid taste of vomit. She still watches, although she is not sure why.

Beast disliked them, she was aware. After all, they were humans. So was she, but Beast was willing to overlook that. She tried her best not to be human. She tried to be the Angel, the Dragon. She tried to forget she was a girl. It felt like a betrayal, although she could not have said of what, when she dreamed of the things she saw through the crack in the screen. The dreams came and went in frequency, and there was no pattern to them that she could discern. She did not speak of them to Beast. Beast would not understand. Neither did she.

She decided one night to follow him home, half-aware that he probably saw her, but she guessed that he wouldn't care. He did not seem, certainly, to be aware of her presence. But neither did he go home. Instead he took a train to the outskirts of the city, and went up to a ground-floor apartment, and knocked on the door. She lurked behind a tree across the street.

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