“What are you thinking about?” Heero asked abruptly, shattering the meditative silence that had settled into the air. Duo let his eyes fall half-closed, focusing on nothing in particular as he paused, setting his thoughts in order, then spoke.
“I was thinking that if I tried to talk that way to one of my soldiers, he would have boxed my ears,” he replied. Heero tensed behind him, coming to focus almost painfully on Duo’s words as he continued. “They didn’t follow me because I ‘outranked’ them, or because some God had come down and told them to obey my orders. But they believed in me... they trusted me to know what to do, to do the most damage to Oz and take the fewest deaths I could.
“They followed me, but I looked up to them as much as they looked up to me. We knew that we could depend on each other, because we all wanted the same thing. Revenge. On Oz. For what they did to Maxwell.” His eyes burned indigo fire, an old, old blaze of hatred that had been lit when he was only seven years old. Behind him, Heero couldn’t see the fire, but he felt a hint of it echoing throughout Duo’s crippled body, and sheer disbelief froze any words before they could leave his throat. How could Duo still find the strength to feel that much, after everything he’d been through? How could he still have fire left, after all this time?
What was this boy?
Heero finished with the braid, at last, and used the piece of string Trowa had given him to tie it off. He held it in his hands for a moment, running his fingers over the smooth design of crimps and ridges, the way it twisted into itself over and over again in a complex pattern, before letting it slip through his grasp and rest against Duo’s back. “Do you remember who you are, now?” he asked finally, keeping his voice gentle. The braid bobbed up and down as Duo nodded, and turned to face Heero.
“I am Duo... Duo Maxwell.” He paused for a moment, as if searching through the unfamiliar territory of his own mind. The overwhelming dark crowded at the edge of his consciousness, but he pulled away from it, avoided those memories, pushing through them only long enough to remind himself that they were only memories, only past, and could no longer hurt him.
“I am the God of Death.” Ore wa Shinigami desu. “And I...” Ore wa...
Re: Spoil of War, prologue
Date: 2006-02-27 11:32 pm (UTC)“What are you thinking about?” Heero asked abruptly, shattering the meditative silence that had settled into the air. Duo let his eyes fall half-closed, focusing on nothing in particular as he paused, setting his thoughts in order, then spoke.
“I was thinking that if I tried to talk that way to one of my soldiers, he would have boxed my ears,” he replied. Heero tensed behind him, coming to focus almost painfully on Duo’s words as he continued. “They didn’t follow me because I ‘outranked’ them, or because some God had come down and told them to obey my orders. But they believed in me... they trusted me to know what to do, to do the most damage to Oz and take the fewest deaths I could.
“They followed me, but I looked up to them as much as they looked up to me. We knew that we could depend on each other, because we all wanted the same thing. Revenge. On Oz. For what they did to Maxwell.” His eyes burned indigo fire, an old, old blaze of hatred that had been lit when he was only seven years old. Behind him, Heero couldn’t see the fire, but he felt a hint of it echoing throughout Duo’s crippled body, and sheer disbelief froze any words before they could leave his throat. How could Duo still find the strength to feel that much, after everything he’d been through? How could he still have fire left, after all this time?
What was this boy?
Heero finished with the braid, at last, and used the piece of string Trowa had given him to tie it off. He held it in his hands for a moment, running his fingers over the smooth design of crimps and ridges, the way it twisted into itself over and over again in a complex pattern, before letting it slip through his grasp and rest against Duo’s back. “Do you remember who you are, now?” he asked finally, keeping his voice gentle. The braid bobbed up and down as Duo nodded, and turned to face Heero.
“I am Duo... Duo Maxwell.” He paused for a moment, as if searching through the unfamiliar territory of his own mind. The overwhelming dark crowded at the edge of his consciousness, but he pulled away from it, avoided those memories, pushing through them only long enough to remind himself that they were only memories, only past, and could no longer hurt him.
“I am the God of Death.” Ore wa Shinigami desu. “And I...” Ore wa...
“I have returned from Hell.”