Clare (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
demisemidemon) wrote2012-10-29 11:45 pm
demisemidemon) wrote2012-10-29 11:45 pm
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Mount Shire is part of another huge dead spot: all rock and dust, and little else. There's nothing much for Raki to eat, unless he wanted to try gathering the skittering tiny life under the rocks, but that's why he has leftovers of yesterday's lizard.
The path here is the usual sort, narrow and haphazardly winding through boulders, rarely used even by traders. It would be overgrown if anything grew here. Clare walks, slower than she might, so that Raki can keep up. Truth be told, she doesn't really want to hurry.
Not toward this job.
Raki's been quiet all day, trudging behind Clare and shooting her worried looks she doesn't react to. But now: "Hey, Clare?" he ventures, more uncertainly than she's heard him be. "Are we going after a yoma?"
We. It's that word, more than anything, that makes her decide to answer. It's not we, and it never will be with yoma, and he needs to understand what he's traveling with. He can't keep acting like she's just a human, just a person, just someone kind and gentle and not a monster underneath.
"No," she says, without turning back. She doesn't care what looks he might give her. "My job today is to take down someone you would call a Claymore."
They're close. She'd know Elena's aura anywhere.
Raki, behind her, is babbling shocked questions. "One of your own? Why do you have to do that?"
He's so naive. It makes some emotion she can't name burn in the pit of her stomach, and puts an edge into her voice. "You do know that we're half monster, right?"
"Eh?" She can't see his face, but she knows exactly what blank, baffled look he's giving her. Already she's seen it on his face a dozen times. "Well, yeah..."
He has no way to know the details -- this is a secret of the organization, though Clare doesn't much care about the organization's secrets -- but he should know the heart of it. She's a silver-eyed killer, a half-demon slayer, and Raki has no reason to not be afraid of her. When Clare was a child, she had nothing left to lose, and grief deep enough to see the sorrow in Teresa's silver eyes and kind heart, but Raki doesn't even seem to notice that.
Fine. She'll remind him.
So she tells him: that the warriors called Claymores have human minds and half-demon bodies, and the yoma half wins eventually. The more they draw on their power, the closer that day comes. Sooner or later, they become monsters. She shows him Elena's card, and her own, drawn from its socket inside her sword's hilt. Each card is marked with the unique identifying symbol of the individual warrior, the same symbol on her collar and her sword's blade; each card lives inside the hilt until the warrior knows all hope is lost. When she knows her mind is breaking down, she sends the card to the one she wants to be killed by.
It's the fate they all face. They know that from their trainee days.
"Her name is Elena," Clare says to her sword, and the wind, and the aura she can feel just a few yards away. She'd know that aura anywhere, even tainted as it is now; she's been feeling it growing closer and closer. "We joined the organization at the same time. We comforted each other when things grew hardest." Raki hasn't earned this truth -- but maybe he has, in a way, and anyway Elena deserves the reminder of her human heart. She deserves to know that Clare will remember her. "When our bodies were transforming and we were wracked with pain, we'd hold each other at night so we could sleep. And--"
She breaks off, turning, because another armored foot has clanked against rock, and Elena's aura is flaring with emotion. Clare turns, and looks for the last time at the smiling face of her only friend.
Not her only friend. She has Ambriel too, now. But her oldest, and her only one for a very long time, and the one she's about to lose.
"It's been a long time," Elena says, her low husky voice wistful. "Hello, Clare."
"Elena." Her sword is a weight in her hand; emotion is a weight in her heart. Grief, she thinks. That's what this feeling is called. "You haven't changed. You look just like you did back then." It would be enough to make Clare hope, but she can feel Elena's aura: sick, corrupted, flaring irregularly. "I thought you'd be more distorted now."
"I'm forcing it back to meet with you," Elena says. She hasn't stopped smiling, small and sad and wistful. It's completely unlike Teresa's faint smile, but the pain in her silver eyes goes just as deep. "How long has it been? It feels like ages. But I remember it like it was yesterday. There was so much pain back then, but for some reason I can only remember the good times." Her aura is swelling sluggishly. She drops her eyes, but Clare catches a glint of gold in them. "I started this job after you. I never thought I'd end up like this before you did."
Clare didn't think she would either.
"It's no good," Elena murmurs. She lifts her head, and Clare can see what she already knew. The veins are standing out in Elena's face, throbbing with demonic energy. When she speaks, her teeth are visibly pointed. She's losing the battle. She's been losing it for a long time. Her voice is still calm -- that, at least, Clare will remember without the yoma's growl ever tainting it -- but her golden eyes are welling up with tears. "I thought that taking on the yoma's power would give me strength. But to control it, you have to have a strong human heart. So--" She breaks off, gasping, to fight back a surge in her aura. Clare should be moving already, but--
"Please hurry!" Elena gasps. She's got control again, but it won't last long. "Do it. Do it while mine's still human."
There's a clatter of rocks, and hands clutch at Clare's free arm. Raki -- of course it's Raki. He's sobbing, ugly and unashamed and human in a way Clare can barely remember being. Silver eyes can cry, but no warrior weeps with the same open emotion Raki's displaying. "Clare!" he yells through his tears, though she can hear him perfectly well. "Stop! Don't do this! She's your friend, isn't she? You can't do this! Please, don't do it!"
Raki really doesn't understand anything.
Clare moves. Raki's human hands can't hold against her strength, even when she's barely exerting it; she covers the ground in one long leap, and her sword slices exactly where she tells it to. She lands behind Elena, her claymore extended at the end of its swing, and hears the soft familiar patter of blood spraying outward.
"Thank you, Clare," Elena whispers. Her friend's last words. Clare will remember them, and Elena's voice. She'll remember everything. "Now I can die as a human."
Elena's corpse hits the rock with a wet, final thud. The only sound now is the wind, and Raki sobbing.
Clare doesn't move. Her eyes are dry. All she feels is empty.
Goodbye, Elena.
When they leave, the mountaintop will hold a new cairn of boulders, and Elena's sword sunk point-down in them. It's the same memorial every warrior of the organization gets. In the end, maybe they really are their swords.
But Elena's body, under the rocks, looks wholly human again.
The path here is the usual sort, narrow and haphazardly winding through boulders, rarely used even by traders. It would be overgrown if anything grew here. Clare walks, slower than she might, so that Raki can keep up. Truth be told, she doesn't really want to hurry.
Not toward this job.
Raki's been quiet all day, trudging behind Clare and shooting her worried looks she doesn't react to. But now: "Hey, Clare?" he ventures, more uncertainly than she's heard him be. "Are we going after a yoma?"
We. It's that word, more than anything, that makes her decide to answer. It's not we, and it never will be with yoma, and he needs to understand what he's traveling with. He can't keep acting like she's just a human, just a person, just someone kind and gentle and not a monster underneath.
"No," she says, without turning back. She doesn't care what looks he might give her. "My job today is to take down someone you would call a Claymore."
They're close. She'd know Elena's aura anywhere.
Raki, behind her, is babbling shocked questions. "One of your own? Why do you have to do that?"
He's so naive. It makes some emotion she can't name burn in the pit of her stomach, and puts an edge into her voice. "You do know that we're half monster, right?"
"Eh?" She can't see his face, but she knows exactly what blank, baffled look he's giving her. Already she's seen it on his face a dozen times. "Well, yeah..."
He has no way to know the details -- this is a secret of the organization, though Clare doesn't much care about the organization's secrets -- but he should know the heart of it. She's a silver-eyed killer, a half-demon slayer, and Raki has no reason to not be afraid of her. When Clare was a child, she had nothing left to lose, and grief deep enough to see the sorrow in Teresa's silver eyes and kind heart, but Raki doesn't even seem to notice that.
Fine. She'll remind him.
So she tells him: that the warriors called Claymores have human minds and half-demon bodies, and the yoma half wins eventually. The more they draw on their power, the closer that day comes. Sooner or later, they become monsters. She shows him Elena's card, and her own, drawn from its socket inside her sword's hilt. Each card is marked with the unique identifying symbol of the individual warrior, the same symbol on her collar and her sword's blade; each card lives inside the hilt until the warrior knows all hope is lost. When she knows her mind is breaking down, she sends the card to the one she wants to be killed by.
It's the fate they all face. They know that from their trainee days.
"Her name is Elena," Clare says to her sword, and the wind, and the aura she can feel just a few yards away. She'd know that aura anywhere, even tainted as it is now; she's been feeling it growing closer and closer. "We joined the organization at the same time. We comforted each other when things grew hardest." Raki hasn't earned this truth -- but maybe he has, in a way, and anyway Elena deserves the reminder of her human heart. She deserves to know that Clare will remember her. "When our bodies were transforming and we were wracked with pain, we'd hold each other at night so we could sleep. And--"
She breaks off, turning, because another armored foot has clanked against rock, and Elena's aura is flaring with emotion. Clare turns, and looks for the last time at the smiling face of her only friend.
Not her only friend. She has Ambriel too, now. But her oldest, and her only one for a very long time, and the one she's about to lose.
"It's been a long time," Elena says, her low husky voice wistful. "Hello, Clare."
"Elena." Her sword is a weight in her hand; emotion is a weight in her heart. Grief, she thinks. That's what this feeling is called. "You haven't changed. You look just like you did back then." It would be enough to make Clare hope, but she can feel Elena's aura: sick, corrupted, flaring irregularly. "I thought you'd be more distorted now."
"I'm forcing it back to meet with you," Elena says. She hasn't stopped smiling, small and sad and wistful. It's completely unlike Teresa's faint smile, but the pain in her silver eyes goes just as deep. "How long has it been? It feels like ages. But I remember it like it was yesterday. There was so much pain back then, but for some reason I can only remember the good times." Her aura is swelling sluggishly. She drops her eyes, but Clare catches a glint of gold in them. "I started this job after you. I never thought I'd end up like this before you did."
Clare didn't think she would either.
"It's no good," Elena murmurs. She lifts her head, and Clare can see what she already knew. The veins are standing out in Elena's face, throbbing with demonic energy. When she speaks, her teeth are visibly pointed. She's losing the battle. She's been losing it for a long time. Her voice is still calm -- that, at least, Clare will remember without the yoma's growl ever tainting it -- but her golden eyes are welling up with tears. "I thought that taking on the yoma's power would give me strength. But to control it, you have to have a strong human heart. So--" She breaks off, gasping, to fight back a surge in her aura. Clare should be moving already, but--
"Please hurry!" Elena gasps. She's got control again, but it won't last long. "Do it. Do it while mine's still human."
There's a clatter of rocks, and hands clutch at Clare's free arm. Raki -- of course it's Raki. He's sobbing, ugly and unashamed and human in a way Clare can barely remember being. Silver eyes can cry, but no warrior weeps with the same open emotion Raki's displaying. "Clare!" he yells through his tears, though she can hear him perfectly well. "Stop! Don't do this! She's your friend, isn't she? You can't do this! Please, don't do it!"
Raki really doesn't understand anything.
Clare moves. Raki's human hands can't hold against her strength, even when she's barely exerting it; she covers the ground in one long leap, and her sword slices exactly where she tells it to. She lands behind Elena, her claymore extended at the end of its swing, and hears the soft familiar patter of blood spraying outward.
"Thank you, Clare," Elena whispers. Her friend's last words. Clare will remember them, and Elena's voice. She'll remember everything. "Now I can die as a human."
Elena's corpse hits the rock with a wet, final thud. The only sound now is the wind, and Raki sobbing.
Clare doesn't move. Her eyes are dry. All she feels is empty.
Goodbye, Elena.
When they leave, the mountaintop will hold a new cairn of boulders, and Elena's sword sunk point-down in them. It's the same memorial every warrior of the organization gets. In the end, maybe they really are their swords.
But Elena's body, under the rocks, looks wholly human again.