Title: Touch
Author: Keeper of Tomes
Song: Three Day's Grace, "Pain"
Summary: 38 of the 100 Challenge. MC/P-"Pain? She loves this pain. Pain is better than nothing!"
Words: 831
Pairing(s): MC/P
Well, yes! Yes, I am not dead!
I did watch episodes 29 and 30, but neither registered anything so drastic that I needed to write a response. Episode 29 was waaay too Aerrow X Piper fluffy. Sorry to all you rabid fangirls out there, (and fanboys!), but I'm starting to dislike that pairing. And episode 30, although it did sport the fantastic and awesome Mr. Moss, with his hilarious accent, was a tad over-predictable. None of the episodes have number 27's innuendos! It was AWESOME!
So I've decided to do another Cyclonis and Piper fic! Go yuri! The more you write it, the more it...sucks you in. What can I say? I've got the femslash mindworms. This one's even a bit limey. It is, also, my first M fic. I'm growing up. Tear.
Dedicated to Xekstrin, for pulling me into yuri, and Hermonthis, for keeping me here. Kudos to you, ladies!
The apple was round in her hands, cool to the touch, smooth and glossy with some natural wax that seemed to be emitted from the rosy skin.
The knife in her hand was put to work, peeling away the outer layer of color to reveal yellow-white flesh, dripping with succulent juice. Piece by piece, spiral by spiral, the skin was taken away and disposed of, until a perfect white orb with a small brown stem remained, sitting on the counter top. Her hands were sticky and wet with juice, one clutching the knife, the other, empty, resting on the counter.
This was too perfect to eat.
She picked it up, her violet eyes dancing from one piece of it to another. She wasn't sure why, but she lifted the hand with the knife to the flesh. Drew it across the soft and velvety core and made a line. A line. Like an I. The letter I. Then...two more lines. Connected to the I. To form an extremely angular P. P...
Her name. She carved the name of a girl. What did she long for at the moment? Who was her heart palpitating for, who did she sleep only to dream for, who did she wake up and think about? Who enraged her yet encouraged her all at once? Piper. The lines formed the letters formed the sounds formed the word. Piper. She slit the vowels, carved the consonants, until there it was, in rigid and steely form. A name. A name!
What's in a name? A rose by any other name is just as sweet.
No.
She'd be nothing without her name...
A pied piper, leading me off the path, to a land that doesn't exist. I fell for her all to easily...
And then, as if to cement the truth in place, a hastily carved heart, beneath the letters. She set the apple down. P. I. P. E. R. A gentle name made with harsh strokes of a metal blade. With silent fury, Cyclonis proceeded to hack the apple into small, bite-sized pieces. She watched the name disintegrate, watched the letters become lines become nothing. Then, diving the point of her knife into a piece, she shoved it into her mouth.
Delicious...
Delicious...
Mmm...
It crunched beneath her teeth. Is this how her skin tastes, if you lick it? How her lips taste, if you kiss them? How her breath tastes, if you inhale it? Like apples?
Soon, the apple was gone, nothing left but a browning core, containing seeds of a different nature. Hard and inedible. To the trashcan with you, you rotten truth. Go away. Gone.
The euphoria of the cutting is over, but she doesn't want it to end! No. The walls. The walls. Large, black canvases, waiting for paint. Or in this case, the lack of it. She sped up to them and silently began to hack. P. I. P. E. R. A heart. And then, to rip the letters apart. Make the feelings become nothing, please...please...please...The word, ripped up. Another. And it meets the same fate. Soon, all four walls of her chamber, dissected to pieces.
"MORE!" she hisses. The table, the curtains.
She's mine, I so want her to be mine...NO, I hate her! She is an enemy! Who does she love, then? The Sky Knight who's not fit to kiss the dirt she walks on? Who does she want, who does she sweat for at night? Who does she long to feel on top of her, who's hands does she wish for to caress her, to explore her, to give her pleasure? WHY NOT ME?!
No more surfaces to carve, no more, no more. But the destruction. It is not done.
Her skin.
Smooth. Penetrable. Why not there? Why not there, as well?
The blade slides in like it would into butter: effortlessly. Pain? She loves the pain. Pain is better than nothing! Blood the color of the apple spills out of her veins, oozes to the floor. She carves, tears welling out of her eyes, dripping to her arm, singing the already roaring wounds. Carves. P. I. P. E. R. Carves. Carves. Hacks. Peels. Pain, blessed pain...
...
Her screams pulled him and others from their beds. The Dark Ace was dressed and out of his quarters in record time. The doors to her chambers were rapidly opened.
A chaotic scene greeted them, a horrifying visage of destruction. Windows cracked, mirrors shattered, curtains torn, the walls defaced with words that were now illegible. Huddled and shaking in the middle of it all, a sobbing Cyclonis, clutching arms splattered with her own blood, a crimson blade lying a few inches away with which she had done her work most efficiently. She's finally cracked, the Dark Ace thinks to himself.
"A doctor!"
She's lifted and set down on a ruined bed, feathers everywhere.
"What's the matter with you?" he growls.
A forced smile. Parched lips turn upwards. Her tears cling stubbornly to her face.
"She." Cyclonis points at the wall with a massacred arm, before letting it fall and closing her eyes. Repeat, please? What did you mean?
"She," she whispers again.
Piper.
P. I. P. E. R.
P.S: The apple thing? I actually did that once with the name of this kid I didn't like. Yet sorta liked. It helps with the venting, especially when you have mixed feelings.
Don't worry, though, the wall carving and the skin cutting is all...er...made up. As in, I didn't actually ever do that. Just letting you know.