title: Slaves Emotional and Otherwise (SEaO)
part: part 6
author: Sunday
Notes: this part is all description...why? because I needed to get a diving board into part 8…because that part becomes more brutal…and then it goes from there. I do not fully remember anythign that I promised to have written within these parts. I cannot remember anything at all. All that I can claim to knowing is my obsession with ellipses, which is not gone.
Furthermore, I have gotten back on the wagon with this fic, and who knows, it might get more interesting. Again, thank you to all the nice, lovely, huggable people that have remained my friends (even though I was absent) and thank you to all those that commented…it is you that make this fic move forward. *offers imaginary pocky to all*
Warnings: I do not own GW, I do own this work, and this world. Try not to run away screaming at the angst, and the weirdness of Heero, and the strangeness of Duo…both of whom are confused and do not know what the hell it is that they are doing lusting after each other. YAY!!!


Slaves Emotional and Otherwise


The city of nightmares. They had named it well.

When the tall grasses had parted, they unveiled a field of the richest green. Black horses walked the graceful landscape, arching their exquisite onyx necks to dine upon the frail grass. But it was not them that left the impression of a dream; rather it was that which loomed behind the grassy hills, before the black of the Nightmare forest.

The city walls.

Walls of pure black stretched forever into the blue sky, radiating a heat that we could feel upon our bodies from the moment that we stepped out of the grass. The walls, mirror smooth, bordered the soft belly of the city. The onyx leaving nothing to be seen of the buildings it confined.

Two armed men pull up on horses, their black armor blending with the city, and for a moment I wonder how they could survive the oppressive heat. Quatre cheerfully walks up to one and begins to discuss something rapidly in a language I can not understand. The men nod, and escort us towards the gates.

If the walls, it appears, were nothing but a shadow of what the life of the Nightmare City was. Inside, the almost claustrophobic clustering of white washed houses diminished what little of the wall’s black could be seen. More impressively still, when the body of the city had expanded to the point that it was threatening to spill from the confines of the walls, the people had built upward. Upon that onyx mirror lay hundreds of various homes. Each shaped like a small clay circle, much like millions of Pigeon nests, had sprouted upon the seemingly flawless surface of the black walls. These white huts, like tumors against the black, were linked together with various small wooden planks, and bridges. They stretched tens of stories upward, so far, that the most distant could no longer be distinguished from one another, instead giving the appearance of a solid white bubbling mass. Here and there the movement of people dressed in colorful clothing could be seen. Women, with turbans wrapped around their heads, their slender bodies covered in light robes balanced over deadly heights while hanging up laundry. Children of various ages ran, and played tag on the weathered wood, hiding behind some of the clay homes, running to jump on top of them, or, some jumping fifteen feet down to the next level. All remained utterly unperturbed when the wood would splinter beneath their feet, causing them to make a quick jump to another landing, or face a precarious fall.

Below, was the city, the buildings clustered so tightly together that the white of their surface made it appear like a solid wall of ivory, with passages into the streets hidden beneath the exotic growth of vines, and palm trees.

“Are you planning to stand there and stare all day, or do you think we should follow our quickly disappearing guide?” Wufei’s calm voice brakes my trance, and I soon find myself being dragged into the throbbing mass of people that make up the cities populace.

The suffocating heat continues, radiating from the black wall, and reflected from the white buildings, the inside of the city feels like an oven, a very moist oven. I feel my garments sticking to my slick skin, the fine material, though airy, not cool enough to render any shade for my abused skin. Duo too appears affected, his demeanor somber as he leads us past various homes, hotels and stores. I laugh at that…the streets are in shadow…it appears that a land tax is in place on the city, therefore in order to minimize the amount of taxes paid and maximize the space, the city had built upward. The white washed houses tower on both side of the streets, some of the landings, and balconies, meeting over the street, to form a type of roof.

The various balconies with their strange vines linking themselves to a neighbor’s wall, or another balcony to form a solid roof over our heads. The warm light is cooled by the green shadows that play upon the street surface. So densely packed are the balconies, the clothes lines hung with laundry, and the plant life that the sky remains obscured from sight. I wish that I could say that this place is unattractive, that the homes that grow upon those onyx city walls are disgusting, that these smiling laughing people, are wrong…I cannot say that. Non of it would be true. These people, this country is one that I have tried to destroy, and for once I can say that I feel guilt.

“Duo, where do we restock our supplies?” Wufei’s voice cuts through the hum of the street, once more drawing my attention away from the exotic surroundings, instead focusing on keeping track of Duo, as he pushes us through yet another wall of people, all standing in line to get to a theater of some sort. Duo grins in response, before catching Wufei’s hand, and pulling him out of the crowd and into the doorway of a Hotel. I quickly follow, tugging a bewildered Quatre along. It appears that the young man had been too stunned by the surroundings to take much note of Duo, preferring instead, to let his eyes wander wildly over the shaded cobblestone pathways, and the fountains.

“We are staying in here guys.” Duo laughs, his cheeks red, and his clothing sticking to his sleek from like a second skin, it appears that he weather is not merciful to his black clad form. His breath comes a bit quickly as he grins, basking within the shadows offered by the hotel’s main entrance. And then I realize what kind of place we have entered. The almost tropical weather had allowed for the room to be totally open, the lack of walls astounding me. Marble, and polished mirrors lined the few supporting walls that held up the multistory building. The chatter of various visitors filled my ears, but it was soothed by the sound of water, which poured from various fountains. Beautiful. This whole place was beautiful.

Soon the rooms were booked and we found ourselves within our rooms. Duo had promised a day of exploring tomorrow, where each of us would be able to gather supplies, furthermore he needed to contact the Justices. He had stated that only they would be able to help. Or rather, he had mentioned that only one of them would be willing. I sigh, dropping upon the covers of my bed, allowing the silken fabric to envelope me, the sheets cool against my feverish skin. I sigh once more.

It had been three hours since I last tried to fall asleep. The weather, this close to the ridiculously humid forest, has proven to be too wet for my taste.

Of course, the heat and humidity, were hardly the only things on my mind. I grin at the darkness, so oppressive that I cannot see even the furniture within the room. But not dark enough to hide him as he opens the door to my room, stepping almost hesitantly inside, before silently shutting the heavy wooden door behind him. Him. I have been thinking of him by far too much to my liking. I desire him. I cannot lie to myself over this fact. Every time I see his face I cannot figure out how I should act, and the sheer stupidity of my indecision is causing me to call myself a fool more often then not. Who is he to hold so much power over me? Who is he to have eyes the shade of the lightest moment before the most oppressive darkness, to have hair as silken as that which the silk worm spins, and lips that are as sweet and bitter as the most poisonous fruit.

The smiling God of Death, who wields a scythe as skillfully as he wields his fake innocence. I snort, before sitting up, looking at the shadows, in which I know he resides.

He does not disappoint me. Sliding from them with an uncanny grace, only to light a candle and place it on a nearby table. His long hair catching the light and reflecting it, throwing it back to any eye that cares to see. His alabaster skin seems even more surreal, as the darkness washes away its colors, pulling the red from those cheeks, and basking those luminous eyes in shadow.

“I could not sleep.” He whispers, his voice carrying over the muffled sounds of a party happening far away in the streets, and the constant rush of water. I do not pay them any mind, intent, instead, at watching the light play upon a silver necklace at his neck. He moves soundlessly over the plush rugs, coming closer…within reach. “…I was thinking about everything you said…you know. The regret and the like.”

I look up at him, remembering my words ‘and if we did not regret it?’ his eyes, the way his lips had tasted and his skin had felt. “and?”

“And. I want to know…who do you want me to be? Do you want Iris? Or Duo? Or do you want a prince? Hell, maybe what you want is the nameless and soundless slave boy…I don’t know…it probably won’t matter soon anyway. But I need to know just now…who do you want?” I stare at him. “Who do I want you to be? Or are you asking something totally different. Are you asking whom Do I want? Because the answer to both is you.”

He nods lightly, before turning on his heel to leave the room. But I will not let him, not after I have agonized over him, over his body…over the strangeness within his mind. I refuse to release him. I grab his wrist, and pull him to me, and he follows, obliging, expressionless. Like he had looked when I beat him. Did I want him like that? Did I care?

I pulled him onto the bed, and he fell onto it, sinking into the covers, and gazing at me, indifferent. But I do not care…as I lean down and kiss his lisp, his mouth warm and inviting beneath mine.

He pulls away, gasping for breath, a mad smile dancing over his lips, when he flips us and pushes me onto the bed, swallowing my yelp of dismay, laughing against my lips, as he grinds his body against mine. Laughing louder, when he pulls away, and moves from the bed, slipping from my fingers before I even had a chance to register that, for a moment, I had had him.

“You are an idiot Heero. To love me is death.”

“I do not love you.”

He looks up at that, and a slightly strangled sound leaves his throat, before he smiles at me again.

“That is good, at least then you are safe…and I will not break my promise…because I cannot love you either. So lets not love one another, all right? Lets dwell in companionable hatred.”

I nod without meaning to, standing up, and pulling him to my chest, because for a moment, he looks to need comfort. He laughs again, muffled by the material of my nightshirt.

“You don’t get it…I am death.”

“Duo…you are not …”

“I am.” He cries in conviction. Like a child that is demanding that his peers see him the God he had made himself out to be. I sigh, and hold him closer to me.

He wrenches away, so that I am left holding his wrist, in an attempt to keep him from leaving. Anger floods his features, and when he speaks his voice is cold and empty. “I am the personification of Death to my people. That is what my father was…my grandfather…no…no they were not death. They were servants of Death. Do you know why?”

I shake my head no, watching as his body begins to shake, and his hand moves to cover his mouth, he is giggling. His shoulders shake violently, and for a moment I am under the impression that he may collapse.

“I am death…because. I killed everyone that loved me. There is no one left Heero, no one but me, and if I can survive such a mascara it is not because I am lucky, but because I am death himself.” He smiles at me, and for the first time I realize that this is how he cries, because laughing can hurt so much more.

“Duo, I am sorry.” Sorry? I told him that I was sorry? What for, for not being there to stop the slaughter of his family, for being there to order my troops into the country? For not loving him, but for lusting after his body? What the HELL am I sorry for? black master, I cannot be sorry, because it is not my fault that I care about him enough to want to have changed myself as to meet his needs. I cannot be sorry for not being able to cater to what will make him happy.

“Yah…I’m sorry too. Good night Heero. I do not love you either.” He carefully walks out of the room, our bodies sliding past each other, and our hands briefly entwined, separating. He closes the door with a slight thud.

So I guess it is back to the bed, and the silky sheets, and the darkness.

I blow out the candle.

Dreaming about the boy that I do not love.

Dreaming about the man that I do.

I wonder how much longer I have to lie to myself.




Comments? criticism? Flames (so that I can have a good laugh)?