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View Full Version : .::[Usukairi]::. [PG-14/One-shot]



Knightblazer
9th July 2006, 11:33 AM
This is the sequel to 'Splinters', since it was a rather big hit. Another will come later on, perhaps during August, so... yeah. And its rather PG-14 for some, eh... stuff. And eh... the names of Doc and Schrodinger are from Hellsing. (A little tribute)

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And now, I shall present to you *looks at title name*......... great. There's no title name! Well, I shall call it Usukairi.


.::[Usukairi]::.

The moon floats in the sky, gently shivering, like the slow sway of an autumn leaf. It’s as if the Earthly wind is brushing over it, twisting the fragile silver, the chill of the arctic winter permeating the ethereal glow. The stars are flickering like candles, churning with life, and Mew can almost feel the burning heat of them on her flesh, scalding her. The pain is there, she can feel it, but it is the only thing she can feel. Her skin, flesh, and body are completely numb, lost in some deep realm of sleep the fallen feline does not understand.

Mew feels her hand move almost of its own accord, the numbness of her body fading only for the briefest of moments. The feline’s fingertips brush against one of those stars, the light of it blinking like a golden firefly. Pain instantly erupts in her paw, up her arm, an acidic burn tearing through her veins.

Where am I?

The soundless question sends a shudder through the cosmos of the void, and Mew recoils. The stars blink at the fallen legendary like thousands of eyes, staring at her from the inky blackness. It’s almost as if they’re watching her, seeing her in ways she has never been seen. Mew averts her gaze, trying to close her eyes and sink into a blissful darkness, but she cannot remember how.

She can’t remember how to stop a dream.

Tell me…

A soundless plea, a desperate prayer, but the stars remain silent. The feline can feel them on her, pressing against her soul like embers. She wants to cry out, to struggle, to scream, but the fear feels so distant. The once pure feline reaches deep inside herself for that fear, tries to grasp onto it, but it seems just out of her reach. It’s nothing but a vaguest fog of memories, sensations she can barely recall.

Mew knows she cannot feel anymore. There’s no emotion, no understanding of the pain digging into her body. She remembers one thing, though; she remembers what emotion feels like, knows that she should be screaming, crying, begging God for an end to this pain.

I don’t understand. Why am I here?

The tremulous moon before her flickers and dies in the blink of an eye, the black shadows enveloping the silver glow. The feline watches with rapt attention, trying to see through the inky blackness of nothingness. She tries to find some sign of life, some sign of reality within the void.

The stars disappear soon after the moon, vanishing like candles in a cold gust of wind. The burning sensation against her skin instantly stops, replaced by a vague numbness. It’s breathtakingly lonely, a dark place where she cannot feel, nor see, nor hear. There is simply nothing but the darkness, a suffocating blanket of it that crushes against her soul. There are no senses left to tell him where she is, just a distant stir of emotion she cannot quite reach. There are memories she cannot grasp, names she cannot remember.

Mew voicelessly cries out, praying silently to God that his voice will come back to her, but the vacuum around the feline simply pulls her words away. The darkness smothers them before the sounds can reach her ears. Mew tries to coil her body, tries to feel her own form, but she cannot seem to move. It’s as if she’s trying desperately to protect a body she no longer seems to possess.

Time passes without distinction, and the feline tries to make her mind determine how long it has been, but there is nothing but an empty space where the memory should be. Trying to recall time in the void quickly proves to be a fruitless effort. What does time mean in a place like this? And indeed, Mew knows there is no meaning for such a thing here.

This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Messiah?

A sound, a voice drifts out from the darkness. Mew instantly tries to seek it out, to recall the meanings behind those words. She feels a pierce of hope run through her. A part of the feline wonders why it hurts so much to feel hope, but it’s unimportant. She quickly banishes the feeling, concentrating instead on listening to the faint whispers coming from the shadows.

Isn’t that right, Messiah?

Mew’s reply is tentative, voiceless, and she isn’t sure if the creature hears it. Messiah? Is that my name?

There is a single light in the darkness, and Mew feels joyful at the sight, joyful that she knows that the color is red. In an instant, the fallen legendary realizes she can remember colors, beyond the empty black of this void. The crimson glow in the darkness is an eye, she realizes.

An inhuman eye that’s so familiar, so familiar…

You wanted to stop feeling. To become nothing but a weapon… to erase everything which you done… every mistake…

Mew wants to deny the accusation, but whatever voice she possesses breaks like shattered glass, lost again to the void universe around her. There’s something inside the feline that refuses to let her dispute the creature’s words. The fallen feline tries to reach out to the almost soothingly glow of the crimson eye, but her body seems frozen, seems utterly trapped in place. There’s a vice she cannot see surrounding her, something that refuses to let her feel.

You did this, Mew.

Pain tears through Mew, the first real sensation, the first sensation that seems truly corporeal. It’s not a blinding pain; it’s the utter opposite, a white flash of light. It overtakes her vision, newfound vision flinching, trying to escape the agony. The feline tries to breathe into nonexistent lungs, tries to calm the fear that suddenly bombards her foggy mind, tearing her apart in some way she doesn’t understand, a soul deep torture.

You destroyed your humanity.

Humanity?

Mew struggles to remember this word, struggles to understand what it means. She knows what humans are, knows it somehow, even if she can no longer remember who they are. The feline knows that she isn’t one of them, not really. She hasn’t been quite human for a long time. She never really connected to their kind, never quite understood them.

Are you satisfied?

The answer is obvious, but the feline tries to speak anyway, tries to deny accountability for whatever sins this creature is blaming her for. Still, nothing comes out, just a pang of sensation before the sound of her voice is swallowed into the darkness. The shadows are devouring the lies the feline knows she’s trying to create. She’s desperately trying to fight that voice, that creature, a reflexive desire to prove him wrong.

The red irises are gazing at her from the shadows, like a predator. Distantly, Mew knows the creature fangs, knows they’re hidden somewhere in the cloak of shadows. She simply knows it; those fangs are the weapons of this creature, the very definition of this beast’s identity.

Do you want to relive your sin, Mew? Do you actually want to remember? There’s a laugh in the dark, an unkind laugh, cold. I can see inside you, Mew. You’re begging me, aren’t you? Trying to talk with lungs, even when you’re not even breathing. The creature gives another cruel laugh. You might as well have torn your lungs from your own chest.

Struggling, the feline stares at the crimson eye. A second eye flickers into view, a slanted mark in the void, almost a rip in the perfect blackness of it. There’s a white crescent in the darkness, the pale grin of a Cheshire cat. A fanged smile.

What did I do?

The creature’s grin fades, eyes narrowing into faint slits. Mew feels a curious mixture of relief and fear at this, knowing the creature heard the attempt at communication, knowing he was not completely mute. But if this creature could hear that, could understand her…

Was it the Angel of Death? The Grim Reaper?

And what makes you think you deserve to know your sins? the voice growls. The shadows around the creature stir and shift, the faintest, most indistinguishable line of his body visible in the soft red glow. An almost human form, just like any other, yet still vastly different from any other human.

Two paws reach out in the darkness, long fingers splayed out gently, seeking.

The first touch to Mew’s cheek is a painful shock, but she lacks the will or ability to pull away. The white finger traces down her jaw in the dark, almost sculpting the feline’s body back into existence, the fingers drawing her corporeal form back from the abyss. Mew can feel the very faint tingle as her body begins to regain sensation, the tips of her fingers twitching restively; they’re the only part of her she can move.

You’ll remember, Mew, murmurs the creature quietly.

The tingling sensation of the creature’s fingers against her skin finally lessens into a gentle warmth, a comfortable feeling. Mew tilts her head into the feather light caress. It’s barely a shift, but the motion seems like the greatest of feats. Her body is still paralyzed, frozen in a weightless cold. Even her lungs are still refusing to work, refusing to draw in a breath.

The crimson eyes stare at the feline from the dark, a thoughtful, almost placid expression in the creature’s gaze. It’s still not a kind gaze, and it sends a cold feeling down Mew’s spine. It’s an icy stab against her heart every time those eyes meet his.

Listen, says the creature firmly.

Mew speaks soundlessly, but the words still reach the creature. Its red eyes flicker to his fully. I am listening, says the fallen legendary simply.

The creature scoffs, head tilting. A single blood red streak falls right in the centre of those eyes, a serration of light falling over the crimson glow. It only takes Mew a brief moment to realize that it was a tail in front of the creature’s face, as red as blood itself. It sways weightlessly, unheeded in the darkness.

Like water…

You aren’t listening, drawls the creature, hand gently resting on Mew’s throat. Stop listening to me. Listen out there.

Mew isn’t sure why the order seems reasonable, doesn’t understand where out there is, but she listens anyway, brows furrowed in concentration.

Nothing happens at first, but before she can protest to the creature that there is nothing at all to hear, there’s a violent shift in the universe. The blissful void is brutally cut away, and the stars are back, burning into his flesh like daggers. Mew tries to scream out as the pain jerks through her, but her paralyzed body refuses to even shudder at the intense agony ripping through her. There’s a burning heat in the feline’s veins, eating at her from the inside out like an acid.

Listen, whispers the creature again.

Desperate to finish her task, Mew does so, straining her senses, trying to hear something over the pain. There’s the faintest murmur, a vague sound. It’s so far away Mew can’t find it, can’t grasp hold of it. She tries to interpret it, tries to hear the vibrations of sound that seem to shiver against her fragile body.

What is that?

The creature’s hand soothes against Mews chest, but it does nothing to lessen the agonizing pain. The two sensations seem to intermingle, like a simultaneous caress of both dream and reality. The creature’s fingers, the burning pain… they don’t affect one another in the least. The pain does not lessen the pleasure, nor does the pleasure lessen the pain.

They’re voices, says the creature, voice staying carefully soft, not wishing to interrupt the feline’s concentration. Can you hear what they’re saying?

The feline listens again, but there is still only a vague hum of sound from another world. The creature is right; they are undoubtedly voices, but there is no way Mew can understand them. Her ears feel smothered by something; it’s the same sensation against her lungs, her body. Nothing he does seems to permeate her muted senses.

No, answers Mew finally, body and mind aching with exhaustion. It’s distorted.

The creature sighs, an impatient sound, but his voice does not betray his irritation. Then look, says the creature. Open your eyes and look, Mew. And tell me what you see.

The feline doesn’t argue this time, just accepts the creature’s words. She doesn’t have the stamina to debate it anyway.

Desperately, Mew tries to open her eyes, to see the other world, that other place she is trapped inside. The second reality that the creature speaks of is certainly there, just on the tip of the fallen one’s consciousness. It’s as intangible and elusive as a fading dream.

Her body feels suddenly heavy, descending slowly into consciousness. It’s a curious discrepancy between the two worlds, one that she does not care to understand. She knows the void is just some twisted form of a dream, yet the feline is sinking into to a heavy consciousness that seems far more surreal than any fantasy.

Her eyes drift open, and the black world is suddenly torn away as a bright light blinds her vision, a dappled silver glow shining through a watery surface.

Mew still does not breathe, and she realizes her lungs are filled with the water. Yet, it isn’t water; too blue, too thick to be water. It feels like liquefied air, suffocating her as well as nourishing her. She can feel the substance deep inside her. Her lungs are freezing with it.

It comes as a distant, hazy revelation that this is why she hadn’t been able to speak; she’s drowning in a liquid air. The sting of fear that strikes into her is as sharp and utterly precise as a blade, tearing brutally at her insides. This is too real, too familiar.

Mew can scarcely see beyond the cerulean liquid, just a pale whiteness of a room that she now knows can only be a laboratory. There are bright lights shining down at her from the ceiling, stinging her eyes, and she desperately wants to move, to tilt her head away from them. But her body is still numb, completely unrelenting to her will. Her fingers twitch just faintly in the thick liquid, but it is still all she can manage.

There’s a shift of movement, and a man donned completely in white – a scientist, she realizes – moves towards her. Mew tries to close her eyes and succumb to the void again, a void that seems far more precious than anything else, especially now that she knows where she really is. Her eyelids don’t even twitch, and she stares at the man that comes to a halt in front of the glass. Even in the distortion, the feline can see a pair of striking blue eyes.

Unfamiliar eyes, but that cold, cruel curiosity is something she recognizes.

The scientist holds up something, a white remote that Mew feels she should remember, and a moment later – almost far too quickly – the void is back. The pain she felt before has completely vanished, leaving a sense of clarity, and she knows now what those stars actually were.

Needles. Hundreds of needles, stabbing deeply into her flesh. Whatever liquid it was being forced into her body was unbearable, a scalding heat that seemed to reach every inch of the feline’s soul. But Mew pushes the recollection of that pain from her mind. The agony is gone, along with the definitive sensations of her body; it’s a blessed relief.

The Doctor was there.

It’s not simply ‘a’ doctor, not in Mew’s mind. The title seems appropriate, and she knows, somehow, that The Doctor is an important figure. It’s someone that both she and the creature had known in the tangible world. At the very least, they have both known of The Doctor. Mew can’t quite recall a face, nor a voice to fit the mysterious man.

The creature moves closer, the glowing eyes staring into Mew’s sharply, as if he’s trying to see the memory himself. Whatever he is looking for he finds, because his white mouth is suddenly grinning, a grin of triumph. But the feline doesn’t care at this point, doesn’t care about the lab or the scientist; it just feels like a repeat of years long past.

There are more important things at hand.

Who are you?

The creature barks a short laugh, a cold sound that Mew can almost feel. You still don’t remember? he asks, a taunt in his voice. Nothing at all?

Mew feels himself tense with irritation; the creature is teasing him, even now, in this dream world. It’s familiar, the anger that she feels towards the beast with red eyes. She doesn’t know what’s causing it, doesn’t understand why she feels such vindictiveness towards it. The feline doesn’t feel any real fear of the creature, no real hatred. It’s just an honest to God feeling of utter annoyance.

The aura of the creature is a competitive one, and the fallen feline feels like she’s lost somehow. Lost a game she doesn’t quite remember playing.

If I remembered, would I be asking?

The creature chuckles quietly. Touché, Messiah, concedes the creature, amusement clearly marking his tone. It is nice to see you haven’t lost any of your infamous mordacity. I was almost worried your personality would be a casualty of your pitiful attempts at being omnipotent.

You’re ignoring my question.

The creature shakes his head. No, Messiah, he replies, sounding uncharacteristically serious for the briefest of moments. The crimson glow fades as the creature closes its eyes. I’m only looking for a memory.

Mew doesn’t even have the chance to question this, because a moment later there’s a blinding flash of blinding light. Suddenly, too suddenly, gravity is present again. For the first time in too long, she has a body again; she has fully functioning senses.

The feline reels back in shock at the sudden, inexplicable shift, nearly overthrowing her balance with the movement. Her head is hazy, eyes bleary as she tries to reassert her senses, senses she hasn’t used so clearly in what seems an eternity. Mew manages to catch her balance before collapsing, staring at her surroundings with a feeling of grim familiarity.
There’s nothing but destruction, a frozen moment of war. The particles of ash and dust hang in the air weightlessly, the smoke from the fires frozen in its ascent. Mew remembers this, remembers that this place is the battlefield of the war.

Demons had once tormented these lands. They had become a living nightmare to the humans.

Don’t tell me you don’t remember this, Mew.

Mew’s head snaps up to the voice, eyes falling on the form of Mewtwo standing before her, the proud demon, the enemy. The feline’s fingers tighten, body instantly poised for an attack against the heathen. The fallen one remembers him well; this repulsive monster that once dominated her mind. The demon had stolen away her every waking thought with painful ease, eventually becoming a nightmarish obsession that Mew couldn’t seem to shake.

Mewtwo laughs softly, a coldly vicious grin drifting over his features. “I remember that fire in your eyes, Messiah,” he purrs, a disturbingly seductive tone in his voice. “I never thought I’d have the chance to see it again.”

“Why are you here, traitor?” snaps Mew. She hears a commanding tone in her own voice, and distantly recalls that she was a legendary. It’s nothing but a menial tidbit of information, but a promising sign nonetheless. The memories – all of them – are beginning to drift back to her. The recollections are sudden and varying in importance, like piecing together a broken mirror.

Mewtwo steps closer to her, hand tucked casually in the pocket of his cloak, other hand grasping a sliver spoon with a pale inscription at the top. “You disappeared,” says the clone quietly, iridescent eyes upturned to the sky, focusing onto the moon. “I left you for one moment, but the next you disappeared.”

Mew only vaguely remembers this. There’s an obscure memory of being only half-alive, yet someone was moving her, dragging her away. The feline almost tells Mewtwo this, but doesn’t, keeping carefully silent. The demon doesn’t really need to know, and Mew doesn’t feel like speaking of it.

At least, not until Mewtwo tells her the exact reason they are speaking now.

“Several decades ago, I destroyed the laboratory I where my new life began. Everyone was destroyed… or so I believed,” Mewtwo’s eyes darken in thought, lips drawn into a scowl. “To my knowledge, however, two of them survived. A doctor simply called ‘Doc,’ and a hybrid creation named Schrödinger.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but no memories of the boy readily present themselves.

“A boy that’s neither dead nor alive,” adds Mewtwo thoughtfully. “I wasn’t able to kill him.”

“Can’t manage to kill anything that doesn’t die by your spoon, eh?” mutters Mew, impatience creeping into her tone. She almost adds that Mewtwo hadn’t managed to kill him either, but it would have been an overstep of pride. According to Mewtwo, she already had been with him. If that much is true, then Mewtwo truly would have won long ago.

“The Doctor slipped away before I was able to find him,” continues the twisted clone, blithely unperturbed by the insult. “Schrödinger bought him enough time to escape.” From the look on Mewtwo’s face, it is clear that he has no lingering respect or amusement for the cat boy. “Two survivors are more than enough to start the entire process over again. Decades from now, they would be able to compile an army again. And this time, they would be able to even best me.”

The demon frowns, brows furrowing in thought. “Unfortunately, this time around they decided to begin using my personal acquaintances against me.”

“Rukario,” says Mew suddenly, a brief flash of memory flittering over her consciousness. It’s a memory of a two-legged wolf/dog hybrid legendary, metal wires threading through his fingers like cat’s cradle.

"And you," adds Mewtwo, eyes flashing with simmering irritation. “You nearly killed me, Mew. Came closer to it than anyone ever has or ever will. And that drew their attention.” A frustrated sigh escapes the clone’s lips, fangs bared faintly in a expression of utter disgust.

“You’re a damn fool, Messiah, and because of it, we both nearly got killed. And because of it, you’re now very close to becoming a puppet for those monsters who still call themselves human.”

Mew instantly feels disgust at the thought. That human has her now, slowly brainwashing her for their own goals and dreams. It feels like retribution for what she did to Mewtwo so long ago.

The demon turns away slightly, eyes focuses on the scenery, on the frozen vision of the Legendaries’ thriving city burning to the ground. “I warned you, Mew,” he says. “I warned you that committing suicide would never end well.”

The feline growls, stepping forward to the clone, grabbing onto the creature’s forearm. She pulls hard, so the demon is facing him. “I did not commit suicide,” she says darkly, fingers digging into the demon’s arm like a vice. “I would remember that.”

Mewtwo raises an eyebrow at this, a condescending glance that causes Mew’s blood to boil, hatred and utter irritation washing over her. “You did commit suicide,” insists the clone languidly.

It’s a statement of simple fact, and it bothers Mew more that Mewtwo doesn’t sound like he’s trying to convince him. The demon simply sounds like he knows it, has irrefutable proof of it that will halt any attempts of argument.

The feline hates it when she knows the clone has the upper hand.

“You stabbed yourself in the heart, with that,” says Mewtwo, nodding his head to the wooden nail in Mew’s hand. The feline nearly drops it; she hadn’t noticed it before then, hadn’t felt it. “You stabbed yourself because you felt trapped, felt you had no way out. It was escapism, and an act of incredible cowardice. If that isn’t suicide, then I don’t know what is.”

Mew’s jaw clenches slightly in anger, but she doesn’t debate it; there’s no point to, not when she’s so disadvantaged. Her memories of the nail are fractured, distorted. She can only remember a few flashes of pure sensation, pure emotion; still, none of the memories are completely clear.

There’s a rather vivid recollection of the stab, a pain that seemed to burn with all the fire of hell, sending shockwaves through her body like lightning bolts.

She also remembers that the agony of the wound had lifted almost as quickly as it had come, and she had suddenly felt weightless, untouchable. It was an ascension of power that was utterly intoxicating, utterly irresistible.

She wonders if that’s how human leaders had felt in the end, when he had been given control. Unstoppable, righteous…

Godly.

And yet, all the while… Mew remembers regretting it. Even amidst the rush of adrenaline, the superiority, she had felt regret. It was a constant, dull pain in her mind, something she couldn’t quite grasp, nor simply push away.

“I want you hear you say it.”

Mew looks at the demon, lip curling. "Say what?" she asks viciously.

A knowing smile graces over the twisted clone’s features. “I want to hear you say you regret it,” says Mewtwo, sounding imperturbably smug. Yet, the expression in the demon’s eyes doesn’t quite match the tone of rampant self-satisfaction. “I know you were thinking it, Mew.”

The fallen feline glares, grabbing Mewtwo’s throat, violently yanking the clone closer. “I will not,” she hisses fiercely, fingers tightening.

Mew resists the urge to rip out the jugular, to harm the creature; this world is simply a farce of reality, a place that Mewtwo probably has complete dominion over. There is no point in beginning a fight when so lacking, trapped in a memory the clone himself had conjured.

The demon’s smirk fades. “You killed Pokemon, Mew. Innocent Pokemon,” he says, voice rough with passion. “You nearly killed me, and had you done so, the humans would still be infesting your precious city. By now, they’d probably have the entire world. And because of your idiocy, you’re a mere pet project to the enemy.”

Mew’s grip lessens just slightly, and Mewtwo steps closer, bodies so close she can feel the cold of the demon.

“You yourself could be used to kill for their cause, to end the era of the Legendaries. And if it weren’t for me, that’s exactly how it would end.” Mewtwo roughly grabs the feline’s arm, a possessive grip. He drags her down, eyes at equal level. “So I want to hear it, Mew! I need to hear it. Tell me you regret this, and I might consider finding you!”

“You arrogant-” begins the feline, but she immediately stops herself. The clone’s eyes seem to fill with an odd light of resignation, of apathy. It’s as if he’s simply disconnecting from his emotions, banishing them from his mind completely. Mew doesn’t like the expression, doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want Mewtwo to just determine that she’s trash and leave him to rot. Because really, Mewtwo probably doesn’t care about the other Legendaries, let alone the other Pokemon one way or the other, doesn’t feel that righteous drive to protect life. Mew knows if she spites the vampire, Mewtwo might as well just let the Earth fall apart.

“I regret it,” says Mew angrily. “You know I do, you demonic bast*rd. I’m always going to regret it, because I hate knowing you were actually right.”

Mewtwo grins. “Thank you,” he says simply.

Mew begins to retort, but it cut brutally short when Mewtwo’s cold lips press against his. Hard, sharp, needily fangs biting against her mouth. Perhaps in another world, another time, the feline would have resisted, would have torn away and told the clone exactly what she thought of human and demon couplings.

But Mew doesn’t, it doesn’t cross her mind to do so. She simply kisses back with equal ferocity, possessiveness, and both of their weapons fall to the ground, unheeded. Mew’s fingers grasp onto the form of the clone’s body with desperate force. The raw passion feels like power, a sensation that seems to grip her very soul, anchoring her to the lust, the brutal desperation.

Hazily, the fallen legendary realizes that the twisted clone is much more lithe than she had once believed. There is a slender body hidden beneath the many tresses of the demon’s cloak, one not comprised of hard, inhuman muscle. It is simply a normal body.

A great deal of trivialities strike Mew in that surreal moment, like how Mewtwo actually smells of lavender, not war and musk, or how the demon’s lips have an almost metallic flavor, one that doesn’t quite taste like blood.

The clone’s kisses are hard and dominating, but Mew persistently fights them. She sharply nips the moist flesh of the demon’s lips, mirroring the love bites Mewtwo gives him. She can feel the demon’s fingers raking against her flesh, a smooth sensation on her chest as Mewtwo brings her closer. Their bodies mesh together, so close that Mew can feel every inch of the clone’s torso, every dip of muscle, every inch of his frame.

There’s a sharp pain, a harsh bite against her lower lip. Blood dribbles down her chin thickly, the demon’s tongue greedily tracing the crimson fluid. Mew manages to snap out a few muffled expletives at the twisted clone, but doesn’t withdraw; withdrawing would mean surrender.

But Mew also feels no inclination to stop. The exhilaration of it is far too addictive, the lust too compellingly violent.

The demon’s cloak tears down the side when Mew grasps it, a loud rip filling the air as the fibers of cloth separate. A slim shoulder is revealed, as well as a narrow chest that’s nothing near the muscularity that the feline had often envisioned. But this form seems to fit the demon; there’s a strange grace to it, a predatory elegance that makes him utterly distinctive. Mew runs his hand down the shoulder, over the collarbone and chest as she memorizes the clone, increasingly frustrated by the presence of yet another cloak. She wants to feel the cold skin, to feel the agile body in its entirety.

Mewtwo chuckles into the kiss, enthused. “I thought you would have been much more difficult than this,” he manages to say between harsh bites, a strong paw running over the back of Mew’s neck. The fingers grip the back of her head tightly, and the demon bestows another fervent, painful kiss onto the feline’s lips.

“Basta*d,” growls Mew, with barely enough hostility to sound genuine. The demon knows that it’s a forced response, and he chuckles deeply, teasingly. The fallen legendary can feel the vibration of the laugh within the clone’s chest; it’s an oddly comforting sensation.

Mew’s fingers roughly shreds open the cloak around Mewtwo, a hand seeking out the pale flesh. She barks a soft curse when she realizes she’s holding the nail, and throws it away impatiently. The hand resumes its greedy exploration of the demon’s chest, her obsessive fascination with the creature’s slender body only increasing tenfold. She wants to feel it all, the violence mingling with the lust and passion she feels for this creature.

But evidently, this is not to be so. Mewtwo abruptly halts the kiss, ceases touching the feline, and Mew is painfully tempted to cause serious harm to him for doing so. The feline opens her eyes, glaring at her smirking twisted counterpart.

“Consider that two years of pent up frustration, Mew,” drawls Mewtwo amusedly, a paw tracing the scar along Mew’s jaw. “I haven’t had a good fight since you disappeared.”

It strikes Mew that it should somehow be significant, the fact that two years have already passed since that day. But it doesn’t bother her at all, not now that things are back where they started between them. Back to the more simple, enjoyable version of rivalry, back to the exasperating, yet harmless competition.

Nearly where we started, amends Mew with grim amusement, moving a paw to brush away the blood from her lips. Some things had indeed changed.

“While I am rather enjoying this encounter, Mew, I do have to go,’ says the clone, backing away from the embrace. He straightens the tear on his cloak carefully, the fabric simply mending together on its own. “But I want to know one last thing, before I go.”

“What?” asks Mew roughly.

The demon tilts his head inquisitively, his blood-red tail raised above his equally crimson eyes. “Why weren’t you breathing while you were in the void?”

It is hardly the question Mew is expecting, but luckily one she can answer with ease.

“Some kind of liquid oxygen,” replies the feline quietly. Mewtwo simply fixes her with a piercing glance, silently asking the feline to explain further. Reluctantly, the feline continues. “That’s what they used to keep you as well, since it holds one in stasis. Not surprising at all that the humans use it, really.”

“I see,” says the clone, sounding too nonchalant, too casual. There is obviously something important about this information, but Mew lets it go; if Mewtwo had wanted to enlighten her of the plans, he would have done so already.

It’s of little importance at this point anyway. Mew can tell that her time with the humans will be a short-lived captivity; Mewtwo had already said he was coming for her. Despite everything she’s learned about demons throughout her life, Mew cannot help but trust Mewtwo. She knows when the demon is being genuinely honest.

The clone looks around at the broken city, over the motionless flames, the slaughter. “I rather miss this,” Mewtwo admits. Mew is unsurprised by the admittance; the twisted clone has always been utterly shameless about loving war, loving death. As much as Mewtwo has done for the protection of the Legendaries, it’s still more than clear that he is still of demonic nature; he would never be able to resist his bloodlust.

“I don’t miss it,” says Mew dourly, and it is no lie. In her earlier years, war held meaning, held a purpose. But now it was nothing more than a disgusting business, utterly pointless. Even specie wars had become a tiresome burden; they were wars she had taken part in far too often. Mew would much prefer her rivalry with Mewtwo to the human’s war any day.

The clone chuckles quietly, as if he knows to what esteem Mew holds their rivalry. This, realizes the feline grimly, probably isn’t far from the truth.

A paw reaches out to touch Mew’s lower lip, a single finger lightly teasing over the small puncture wounds, gathering the droplets of blood. The demon slowly pulls the paw away, sensuously licking the droplets of blood from the tip of his finger. The gesture seems far more intimate than the violent lust, far more tender. A demon’s kiss of affection.

“Until next time, my beloved,” he says, and Mew trusts that the promise is no lie.

The memory surrounding her begins to fade, the scenery of war vanishing into a colorless nothingness, Mewtwo along with it. In the blink on an eye, the darkness swallows the last lingering colors away, and Mew is once again alone in an empty darkness. She feels the presence of the twisted clone disappear entirely from her dreams, leaving not even the faintest trace of himself in the black realm.

There is nothing left, no color, no sounds, not even the faintest residue of sensation. Yet, Mew is content with this, content with the numbness.

Until next time, Mewtwo.

Knightblazer ;262;

Sike Saner
13th July 2006, 5:53 AM
Wow.

This is an absolutely amazing work. I can't believe no one has replied to this yet. O.o

This is, without a doubt, my absolute favorite of your works. I find these to be your most engaging scenes, your most immersive description, and your most powerful dialogue. The early section presented a great image and feeling of a netherscape - there was a song it brought to mind: "Timelessness", by Fear Factory. Mew's awakening in a laboratory was a neat surprise, an unexpected change of scenery. And her scene with Mewtwo at the end - that was just fantastic. I absolutely loved the interplay between those two characters, lust being wielded by them as a weapon of competition.

Highlights:


It’s as if the Earthly wind is brushing over it, twisting the fragile silver, the chill of the arctic winter permeating the ethereal glow.

Pretty... ^^


She can’t remember how to stop a dream.

OMG. That should be a line in a song. *_*


Mew voicelessly cries out, praying silently to God that his voice will come back to her, but the vacuum around the feline simply pulls her words away. The darkness smothers them before the sounds can reach her ears. Mew tries to coil her body, tries to feel her own form, but she cannot seem to move. It’s as if she’s trying desperately to protect a body she no longer seems to possess.

A great example of how well you portrayed the sensation of unbeing in the early part of this story.


There’s a vice she cannot see surrounding her, something that refuses to let her feel.

Hell of a great choice of words, very potent. Another line that would go nicely in a song. ^^


She hasn’t been quite human for a long time. She never really connected to their kind, never quite understood them.

I can sure relate to that feeling...


The shadows are devouring the lies the feline knows she’s trying to create.

"The shadows are devouring the lies" = delicious. ^^ And again, another line that's strong and lovely in a way befitting a good lyric.


The two sensations seem to intermingle, like a simultaneous caress of both dream and reality. The creature’s fingers, the burning pain… they don’t affect one another in the least. The pain does not lessen the pleasure, nor does the pleasure lessen the pain.

Great job of conveying the duality of what Mew's feeling there. ^^


Unfamiliar eyes, but that cold, cruel curiosity is something she recognizes.

I love that. I love the notion of curiosity as a cruel, pitiless thing that prods without a care, without remorse. Sometimes, that’s exactly the way curiosity is.


The pain she felt before has completely vanished, leaving a sense of clarity, and she knows now what those stars actually were.

Needles. Hundreds of needles, stabbing deeply into her flesh.

That might just be the coolest part of the entire piece. The "stars" were actually needles...that's a hard-hitting, powerful notion, the kind that just makes me go "Dude! =O" God, I love that passage.


“I regret it,” says Mew angrily. “You know I do, you demonic bast*rd. I’m always going to regret it, because I hate knowing you were actually right.”

Mewtwo grins. “Thank you,” he says simply.

And that is an example of just how delicious the dialouge and interaction between those two characters is. ^^


The raw passion feels like power, a sensation that seems to grip her very soul, anchoring her to the lust, the brutal desperation.

Another example of how excellently you convey what the characters are feeling. ^^




Once again, I must say that I truly feel that this is your best work to date. It's solid, it's gorgeous...it's just damned good. Excellent work, this. ^^

Literate
13th July 2006, 6:06 AM
Wew. @.@ Why didn't anyone reply to this yet?

Well, it was very emotional and cool. ;) Like always. Though about once or twice you have place him/his/he instead of her/hers/she. Try proofread and see, since I don't want to sort it all out again. ^.^ All I can say is that it probably is in the first half.

Well done! ^.^

~Literate

EDIT: ._. It takes one hour to post a quick reply?

Astinus
13th July 2006, 11:38 AM
Why haven't I read a fic of yours before? *bashes head with soapbox*

A truely beautiful tale with great description thrown in. My favorite parts of this are the same as Sike's, so there's no reason for repetition.

Which means that this is rather short.

But I'm going to go back and read the rest of your stories, just so I have a better understanding of what was going on in this fic. ^^

There you go.

katiekitten
19th July 2006, 1:13 PM
=D

Now THAT was a good story. :)

I really enjoyed this! Like Sike said, you did really well with the emotions, the conversation and the like. I just blew me away... I loved all of it. =D

Like Literate said, Mew had a couple of sex changes... XD I picked out one, but I was reluctant to keep on scrolling down and losing my place, so that is all. Sorry!


Mew feels himself tense with irritation; the creature is teasing him

XD

A brilliant sequel. =D *gives cookie*

Will there be another?

Knightblazer
20th July 2006, 3:47 AM
Yeah, the final chapter to Splinters will be posted somewhere in mid/late August, or September even. I'm currently sub-temproliary grounded by my mom due to bad grades, so you'll just hafta wait. >.<

Knightblazer ;262;

Hahahabvc87
24th July 2006, 1:24 AM
O.O
Man, I'm really annoyed at myself for letting this awesome fic vanish in the sea of new threads! Thanks for bringing it to my attention via pm!

Sorry, I don't understand Japanese, so what does Usukairi mean?

You managed to convey a sense of "being there, but not being there" rather clearly, considering how confusing it really is. Shock factor was there as well (stars = needles etc.), but most of the examples I would have posted are already in Ms. Sike's post! However, this is the one that I had in mind:


Her body feels suddenly heavy, descending slowly into consciousness. It’s a curious discrepancy between the two worlds, one that she does not care to understand. She knows the void is just some twisted form of a dream, yet the feline is sinking into to a heavy consciousness that seems far more surreal than any fantasy.

I never actually thought of consciousness being "heavy" before!

Well, I would be too absorbed by your story to pick out the location of the gender errors, but since I just picked them up as I went along, here they are!


There are no senses left to tell him where she is,

and the stars are back, burning into his flesh like daggers.

“Several decades ago, I destroyed the laboratory I where my new life began.

She almost adds that Mewtwo hadn’t managed to kill him either

She doesn’t want Mewtwo to just determine that she’s trash and leave him to rot
Along with the one katiekitten pointed out, I hope that's all of them!

So, temporarily grounded for bad grades eh? I nearly got into the same kind of trouble (I aced three subjects yet almost flunked one) and so I have decided to limit my time online. That's why I haven't been very active lately.

That aside, I hope you can put all these one-shots together after you finish the series to create a conglomerate one-shot!

Act
26th July 2006, 3:20 PM
Here on request :D

I'm not sure why you feel the need to use a white font, but it's really annoying to us folks who don't use the default skin for the forum. I can't see anything you're typing. Your PM confused me for a little while; I couldn't figure out why it was blank.

What-ever.

------

Gah, this is long...

I'm inclined to ask why and how the moon would be sawying back and forth. I wonder what the tides look like. O___o


Her skin, flesh, and body are completely numb

If she's feeling *anything* she can't be *completely* numb. *shrug*


once pure feline reaches deep inside herself for that fear, tries to grasp onto it, but it seems just out of her reach

What? Why is she reaching 'deep inside herself' for fear? She seems to be pretty upset as it is.


Mew knows she cannot feel anymore. There’s no emotion, no understanding of the pain digging into her body. She remembers one thing, though; she remembers what emotion feels like, knows that she should be screaming, crying, begging God for an end to this pain.


I just feel like that's a big oxymoron. Either she remebers how to feel, or she doesn't. You say she doesn't understand what she's experiencig, and then say she understands what is happening but doesn't understand why she isn't reacting to it, and none of it makes much sense.

If she's numb, she's not in pain. If she's in pain, she's not numb. Choose. You keep saying she's in pain, then reminding us that she can't feel anything. If she can't feel it, she's not in pain. The end.


The burning sensation against her skin instantly stops, replaced by a vague numbness.

But wasn't she already numb?


There are no senses left to tell him where she is

To tell her, I think you meant.


And indeed, Mew knows there is no meaning for such a thing here.

Then why is she wasting everyone's time trying to find it?


The crimson glow in the darkness is an eye, she realizes.

...Sauron?


There’s something inside the feline that refuses to let her dispute the creature’s words. The fallen feline tries

You keep using the same word to describe her. Variation = love.


It’s not a blinding pain; it’s the utter opposite, a white flash of light.

What?


The creature’s hand soothes against Mews chest, but it does nothing to lessen the agonizing pain.

If it does nothing to lessen the agonizing pain, it doesn't soothe.


The two sensations seem to intermingle, like a simultaneous caress of both dream and reality. The creature’s fingers, the burning pain… they don’t affect one another in the least. The pain does not lessen the pleasure, nor does the pleasure lessen the pain.

What are you *talking* about? This makes about no sense. Just stop trying to overdescribe and get on with the story.


The creature sighs, an impatient sound, but his voice does not betray his irritation.

You should use 'and,' not 'but' here. But implies that she was not visibly irritated, which the first clause tells us he was.

God this is long... ;__;


Yet, it isn’t water; too blue, too thick to be water.

A semicolon can only connect two complete sentences. The second clasue is dependant. You can't use a semicolon here.


able to speak; she’s drowning in a liquid air.

This semicolon isn't used wrong, per se, but would be bettr as a normal colon.

And I repeat: What are you talking about? That it makes about no sense aside, you can in fact talk underwater, in liquid. The sound just doesn't travel well, and the words are distorted.


and a hybrid creation named Schrödinger.”

O___O. Schrödinger? If you're going to plug random names into an otherwise rather canonical fic, at least make them pretend to pertain to pokemon.


She almost adds that Mewtwo hadn’t managed to kill him either,

Again, I think you mean 'her,' not 'him.'


According to Mewtwo, she already had been with him.

What?

Can I ask what that Schroder thing was and why you bothered to mention it? I don't remember it being canon.


It was escapism, and an act of incredible cowardice.

Hm, it's very arguable that it was the act of ultimate bravery as well. Ever read The Things They Carried (if not, you should)? The cowards went to war.


Their bodies mesh together, so close that Mew can feel every inch of the clone’s torso, every dip of muscle, every inch of his frame.

Never mind that newtwo is twice mew's size. What an odd mental image I have right now.

This is really very strange. I'm also a little lost as to its relevance to the plot, whatever that may be.

----------

It seems this is a sequel to another work, as I read over your posts. I'm not sure why you asked me to read this independantly, as I'm sure it would ahve made much more sense to someone who was familiar with your works. I have to wonder if you were searching for me to review two of your works for the price of one.

As it stands, I have no idea what that was about. There was no point to it, and no in-story background to help a new reader. I could tell you what happened, I guess, but it didn't mean anything to me. There was no lesson in it, no clear reason for it existing. It wasn't really about anything. Though, granted, had I been familiar with its predecessor, that would probably not hold true. Or maybe it still would. Who knows.

On the mechanical side of things, I caught no misused words and very few grammatical errors, which is jolly.

Yet, your prose was very confused. It was all over the place, difficult to understand, with poor syntax and many, many contradictions. That made it almot miserable to read, when I feel like it shouldn't have been because you seem to have a grip on the English language, and it really added to the fact that I have no knowledge of the backstory.

So, yeah. All-in-all, unfortunately, I can't say I enjoyed it that much. That's all there is to it. :/ Even the stuff I did mange to work out just wasn't my cup of tea.

Good luck in the furture.

Knightblazer
27th July 2006, 9:38 AM
Usukairi actually means 'Twilight', but I've discovered that its Usukari (without the extra I)... I think. Anyway, sorry about the white font' Act -its really more of a habit for me. >.< I guess this could be a little confusing to ya, but I understand. Yes, its a little too fantasy-ish, but I hoped you liked it all the same.

About the names, they will actually play a part in a fic I am currently working on. The Splinters triology is actually sort of a sequel to that unpublished fic, so I hope you'll forgive me for that. ^^;

Knightblazer ;262;

The Pokemon Master
29th July 2006, 10:57 AM
*whistles* Now that was some incredible work! I loved it, it pulled me in and held me there from beginning to end. Wish I’d read this before writing one of the scenes in my own fiction, it would have helped description-wise. As Literate and Katiekitten pointed out there were quite a few him/her mixups, which actually had me looking over the paragraphs around it to see if I missed something. -.- Apart from that, though, there were a few little wording problems, so I’ll point out a couple.


You wanted to stop feeling. To become nothing but a weapon… to erase everything which you done… every mistake…My advice for this one is to put “you had done” instead of the bolded part. Just helps it to flow a little better.


Mew wants to deny the accusation, but whatever voice she possesses breaks like shattered glass, lost again to the void universe around her. There’s something inside the feline that refuses to let her dispute the creature’s words. The fallen feline tries to reach out to the almost soothingly glow of the crimson eye, but her body seems frozen, seems utterly trapped in place. There’s a vice she cannot see surrounding her, something that refuses to let her feel.Shouldn’t that be “soothing?”

Anyway, apart from those few minor errors, it was absolutely marvelous work, and I await the next one rather eagerly.

P.S. Let me know if you want my “official” review, ok? I just usually don’t do that kind of review for one-shots…
P.P.S. I believe I actually did read “Splinters,” but I can’t quite remember leaving a review behind. *is shot* Sorry ‘bout that, I’ll see if I can find the time to review it.


Until we meet again…
;150;

Bay
29th July 2006, 7:36 PM
Hey Knightblazer! Review by request! ^^

Well, so far I think this is your best worked I read so far, in my ophinion. Great description of the setting and the emotions there. :) Yeah, I agreed with you that the fiction has a lot of fantasy elements. Don't worry, I loved fics with fantasty elements. ^^

Okay, a few of my favorite parts:


The moon floats in the sky, gently shivering, like the slow sway of an autumn leaf. It’s as if the Earthly wind is brushing over it, twisting the fragile silver, the chill of the arctic winter permeating the ethereal glow. The stars are flickering like candles, churning with life, and Mew can almost feel the burning heat of them on her flesh, scalding her. The pain is there, she can feel it, but it is the only thing she can feel. Her skin, flesh, and body are completely numb, lost in some deep realm of sleep the fallen feline does not understand.

Nice descritiption of the beginning there.


Mew knows she cannot feel anymore. There’s no emotion, no understanding of the pain digging into her body. She remembers one thing, though; she remembers what emotion feels like, knows that she should be screaming, crying, begging God for an end to this pain.

I don’t understand. Why am I here?

Aw, poor Mew! :(


Time passes without distinction, and the feline tries to make her mind determine how long it has been, but there is nothing but an empty space where the memory should be. Trying to recall time in the void quickly proves to be a fruitless effort. What does time mean in a place like this? And indeed, Mew knows there is no meaning for such a thing here.

This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Messiah?

A sound, a voice drifts out from the darkness. Mew instantly tries to seek it out, to recall the meanings behind those words. She feels a pierce of hope run through her. A part of the feline wonders why it hurts so much to feel hope, but it’s unimportant. She quickly banishes the feeling, concentrating instead on listening to the faint whispers coming from the shadows.

Isn’t that right, Messiah?

Mew’s reply is tentative, voiceless, and she isn’t sure if the creature hears it. Messiah? Is that my name?

There is a single light in the darkness, and Mew feels joyful at the sight, joyful that she knows that the color is red. In an instant, the fallen legendary realizes she can remember colors, beyond the empty black of this void. The crimson glow in the darkness is an eye, she realizes.

Hehe, I think I know whom had said that. ;)


The creature sighs, an impatient sound, but his voice does not betray his irritation. Then look, says the creature. Open your eyes and look, Mew. And tell me what you see.

The feline doesn’t argue this time, just accepts the creature’s words. She doesn’t have the stamina to debate it anyway.

Desperately, Mew tries to open her eyes, to see the other world, that other place she is trapped inside. The second reality that the creature speaks of is certainly there, just on the tip of the fallen one’s consciousness. It’s as intangible and elusive as a fading dream.

Her body feels suddenly heavy, descending slowly into consciousness. It’s a curious discrepancy between the two worlds, one that she does not care to understand. She knows the void is just some twisted form of a dream, yet the feline is sinking into to a heavy consciousness that seems far more surreal than any fantasy.

Her eyes drift open, and the black world is suddenly torn away as a bright light blinds her vision, a dappled silver glow shining through a watery surface.

Mew still does not breathe, and she realizes her lungs are filled with the water. Yet, it isn’t water; too blue, too thick to be water. It feels like liquefied air, suffocating her as well as nourishing her. She can feel the substance deep inside her. Her lungs are freezing with it.

It comes as a distant, hazy revelation that this is why she hadn’t been able to speak; she’s drowning in a liquid air. The sting of fear that strikes into her is as sharp and utterly precise as a blade, tearing brutally at her insides. This is too real, too familiar.

Mew can scarcely see beyond the cerulean liquid, just a pale whiteness of a room that she now knows can only be a laboratory. There are bright lights shining down at her from the ceiling, stinging her eyes, and she desperately wants to move, to tilt her head away from them. But her body is still numb, completely unrelenting to her will. Her fingers twitch just faintly in the thick liquid, but it is still all she can manage.

The truth, at first I was a little confused as to how Mew suddenly was in a labortory, but then I reread some parts a little bit and saw that Mew had closed her eyes, like what the first sentence from the quote above.


She wonders if that’s how human leaders had felt in the end, when he had been given control. Unstoppable, righteous…

Godly.

Oh my gosh Mew is the world leader now! Everyboby run before she destroy us all! XD Just joking around a little. Anyways, I really liked that quote. That gives a sense of how Mew felt she had control, but acutally regretted it.


“You arrogant-” begins the feline, but she immediately stops herself. The clone’s eyes seem to fill with an odd light of resignation, of apathy. It’s as if he’s simply disconnecting from his emotions, banishing them from his mind completely. Mew doesn’t like the expression, doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want Mewtwo to just determine that she’s trash and leave him to rot. Because really, Mewtwo probably doesn’t care about the other Legendaries, let alone the other Pokemon one way or the other, doesn’t feel that righteous drive to protect life. Mew knows if she spites the vampire, Mewtwo might as well just let the Earth fall apart.

“I regret it,” says Mew angrily. “You know I do, you demonic bast*rd. I’m always going to regret it, because I hate knowing you were actually right.”

Mewtwo grins. “Thank you,” he says simply.

Mew begins to retort, but it cut brutally short when Mewtwo’s cold lips press against his. Hard, sharp, needily fangs biting against her mouth. Perhaps in another world, another time, the feline would have resisted, would have torn away and told the clone exactly what she thought of human and demon couplings.

But Mew doesn’t, it doesn’t cross her mind to do so. She simply kisses back with equal ferocity, possessiveness, and both of their weapons fall to the ground, unheeded. Mew’s fingers grasp onto the form of the clone’s body with desperate force. The raw passion feels like power, a sensation that seems to grip her very soul, anchoring her to the lust, the brutal desperation.

Now that is hot! XD Seriously, it is always fun when you put Mew and Mewtwo together in emotions like that: two hopless lovers! ^^;


“While I am rather enjoying this encounter, Mew, I do have to go,’ says the clone, backing away from the embrace. He straightens the tear on his cloak carefully, the fabric simply mending together on its own. “But I want to know one last thing, before I go.”

“What?” asks Mew roughly.

The demon tilts his head inquisitively, his blood-red tail raised above his equally crimson eyes. “Why weren’t you breathing while you were in the void?”

It is hardly the question Mew is expecting, but luckily one she can answer with ease.

“Some kind of liquid oxygen,” replies the feline quietly. Mewtwo simply fixes her with a piercing glance, silently asking the feline to explain further. Reluctantly, the feline continues. “That’s what they used to keep you as well, since it holds one in stasis. Not surprising at all that the humans use it, really.”

“I see,” says the clone, sounding too nonchalant, too casual. There is obviously something important about this information, but Mew lets it go; if Mewtwo had wanted to enlighten her of the plans, he would have done so already.

It’s of little importance at this point anyway. Mew can tell that her time with the humans will be a short-lived captivity; Mewtwo had already said he was coming for her. Despite everything she’s learned about demons throughout her life, Mew cannot help but trust Mewtwo. She knows when the demon is being genuinely honest.

The clone looks around at the broken city, over the motionless flames, the slaughter. “I rather miss this,” Mewtwo admits. Mew is unsurprised by the admittance; the twisted clone has always been utterly shameless about loving war, loving death. As much as Mewtwo has done for the protection of the Legendaries, it’s still more than clear that he is still of demonic nature; he would never be able to resist his bloodlust.

“I don’t miss it,” says Mew dourly, and it is no lie. In her earlier years, war held meaning, held a purpose. But now it was nothing more than a disgusting business, utterly pointless. Even specie wars had become a tiresome burden; they were wars she had taken part in far too often. Mew would much prefer her rivalry with Mewtwo to the human’s war any day.

The clone chuckles quietly, as if he knows to what esteem Mew holds their rivalry. This, realizes the feline grimly, probably isn’t far from the truth.

A paw reaches out to touch Mew’s lower lip, a single finger lightly teasing over the small puncture wounds, gathering the droplets of blood. The demon slowly pulls the paw away, sensuously licking the droplets of blood from the tip of his finger. The gesture seems far more intimate than the violent lust, far more tender. A demon’s kiss of affection.

“Until next time, my beloved,” he says, and Mew trusts that the promise is no lie.

The memory surrounding her begins to fade, the scenery of war vanishing into a colorless nothingness, Mewtwo along with it. In the blink on an eye, the darkness swallows the last lingering colors away, and Mew is once again alone in an empty darkness. She feels the presence of the twisted clone disappear entirely from her dreams, leaving not even the faintest trace of himself in the black realm.

There is nothing left, no color, no sounds, not even the faintest residue of sensation. Yet, Mew is content with this, content with the numbness.

Until next time, Mewtwo.

That is a very emotional ending right there! Aw, two bad Mewtwo has to go! At least there will be another sequel to his! ^^

Well, good luck on the sequel! Sorry I had read "Awaken" or "Zircon" yet. I will when I have the time.

Oh, if you want, I can the banner for you! I already thought of a couple of ideas on how to make it! ^^

;134;~Good night, and good luck~

Brian Powell
1st August 2006, 4:57 PM
*Nods* Interesting read.

I noticed how the characters were feeling during the whole story. The way you described them was great as well and as much as I like to point them out, I think everyone else has done that for me... plus, my eyes are feeling a little tired.

I didn’t spot the mistakes because of the tiredness, so I’m going to let that go for now.

My main problem is that most story didn’t blow me away for some reason but still it was interesting. One of parts I liked most was the kissing part between Mew and Mewtwo, I felt some passion there.

Another problem is that although you used present tense, which was okay, I prefer it if you use past tense... but that’s just me being picky.

Overall, very interesting read but it didn’t blow me.

Overall score: 4/5

Faerie
2nd August 2006, 2:01 AM
Now this is weird.


...and...


...I love weird.

This is an amazing fanfic. I've really never read anything like it. The description, dialouge, characters...Everything was just beautiful. I'm not going to pick out any bits that I particularly loved because there were so many of them, but I'll find something to talk about. I ought to since you sent me a request for a review anyway. xD

Um. Well, I'd have to say that I liked the floating-in-space or whatever it was bit better than the other parts. I've always loved nothingness/emptiness as a setting for stories because it's just so interesting. Introducing Myu - okay, fine, Mewtwo as a disembodied voice matched his character perfectly. The "Messiah" bit was interesting too. What am I raving about? Everything's creative in this. xD

Now, the kiss at the end was just...strange. It was utilized in a very interesting way. I definetley didn't see it coming.

Overall...I loved it. I'm gonna have to read Splinters sometime. ^__^ *checks off review list and subscribes*