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look we all know i have a problem.
again, lyrics are from Amanda Lee's English cover of aLIEz
which is still [here]
i said i wanted to edit slaine to this entire song. do not test me. xD
also gimp screwed up the still images. ugh.
the gifs are not mine.
i realize the first one doesn't quite line up.
i should fix that.
I'm back with more comparisons.
This time, RL!Inaho and RL!Slaine!
No one asked for this but I've got it anyways. Lessgo.
(shout out to Ember for helping with Inaho's rl fc <3)
inaho -> haruma miura
slaine -> lucky blue smith
look i was listening to judgement day (here)
comes in at: 2250 words
There is something different in Inaho's eyes when he enters the cell. Slaine eases up from the bed and watches the other sink into the chair as if an anchor is holding him to the ground. "Orange?" he says, taking the seat opposite, watching him. Then he sighs, leans back, arches a pale brow. "Is this about the announcement?" He sees the shift in the other's shoulders and he let out another long sigh. "What? What punishment do they have in store for you? Are they demanding I live with you?" Eyes widen, a smirk at his lips. "Wouldn't that be awf-"
"They won't listen."
Slaine stops, expression shifts, fractures. "Huh?"
"They won't listen. I can't stop it."
Swipes a hand through his messy hair, blinks and sinks like a rock. "I told you they wouldn't." His voice is weak, trembling as he looks down at the pallor of his hands. "So, I guess this is it." He smiles that heartbreaking smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Inaho's head raises and Slaine meets his remaining eye with strength he doesn't feel within the stuttering of his horrible heart.
There is a flicker of anger in the other's maroon eye before it settles back to neutrality. "We have until tomorrow." Curt, to the point. Slaine laughs because he'll miss it. It's hollow and it catches on the inside of his throat, but he lets it out because if he doesn't, he'll cry.
"Chess?" says Slaine and there is a quirk to his lips (it trembles), leaning over the table to jab Inaho's shoulder. He wants to ease the tension in the air, to erase that fair away glaze laying across the other's eye. Normality; he wants normality for the last few hours of his life. Heavens above. His eyes scramble, trying to find the stretch of floor where he can sometimes see the sun. It's there, bloody red against the floor. Soon, he thinks, breath catching. Soon- He cuts off the thoughts and focuses on Inaho as the other rises and retrieves the chess board. "I'll beat you this time," says Slaine with false vigor.
"You haven't won a game since we started," reminds Inaho and Slaine huffs. It's true and there's no malicious intent behind the words the other boy speaks. It is merely fact. In the two years Slaine has been a prisoner here, he has never won a game of chess against Inaho. In the beginning, he didn't understand the game having never played. Slowly, that changed, and he tried harder, finding the challenge in the movements and wishing to actual beat the other. He's never managed it.
He doesn't want to win today. That would be different; abnormal.
The pieces clink against the board as they play. Otherwise the cell is silent, save their breathing. Then, he sees it, catches on and pauses; puts his piece down. "Inaho."
"Don't let me win." Their eyes meet; cyan and burgundy. Slaine is frowning, Inaho is straight -faced but Slaine can see past the mask, see the wheels moving. It's easy now, to see through Inaho and sometimes he wonders how he never could before. Still, he is no mind reader.
"You already won."
The words bury in his heart, head falls forward after a moment of suspension. His fists clench and he breaths out shakily. He finishes the game, letting the words continue to pierce him over and over. He wins. There is no victory, so they clean it up and return to the table. Slaine clasps his hands and stares, Inaho is equally as silent.
"When do you go to Mars?" asks the criminal to fill the silence.
"Next month," replies the hero.
The teen nods, looks at his long fingers curling together. He squeezes, and his breath strangles, comes out heavy. "Will you be there? When-" He doesn't finish. He doesn't need to.
"Yes." The answer is instantaneous. There is no pause, no beat.
A guard comes to the door, taps his watch. "Three minutes, Kaizuka." He's gone again, heels clicking on the cold stone floor. Slaine swallows, stares at his hands and closes his eyes. This will be his last night.
He looks up.
"I'll be there."
His heart stops. That one eye is suspiciously misty.... Is Inaho- Lurching from his chair, Slaine's arms wrap around the other's shoulders, his face falling to press into Inaho's neck. "Thank you," he breathes out past the rising tide of his emotions. He doesn't know what he's thanking him for. Maybe it's because he knows when he dies there will be a face out there that is not jeering. Maybe it's for all that Inaho has done, all the time they have shared in these iron walls. Maybe it's for trying to stop the inevitable.
He fights not to break when he feels arms slide around him in return. Holding on tight, Slaine tries to breathe, tries to be strong for Inaho who is always strong. They part, and it is too soon, Slaine steps back and blinks quickly.
"Good night, Slaine Troyard." It sounds like farewell. No! Not yet! Slaine's not ready.
"Wait!" he blurts, reaching out, cold fingers closing around Inaho's wrist. The other turns to look at him. That eye is closer to breaking now, he can see the mist. His own eyes fill and his lip trembles. "Here-" He reaches around the back of his neck and unhooks the pendant, holds it out.
"Wha- No." A soft, weak and disbelieving laugh. "For you."
Inaho looks at it, swinging faintly and twined through Slaine's fingers. Lips turn up into his rare smiles and Slaine steps forward, taking it as permission, looping it around Inaho's neck. He smiles back, tilts his chin up.
"Good night, Inaho Kaizuka." A one-armed hug before they part for the final time. It leaves Slaine breathless and staying composed is a harder struggle than before. He manages it and watches Inaho go, watches his former enemy, his friend, leave the cell and pause. Don't look back, pleads Slaine softly.
He doesn't. He leaves.
When he's alone, he stands in the center of the room and he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes briefly. He does not cry, simply sinks to the ground and stares up at the ceiling, decorated in tiny little florescent stars that do little to illuminate the room when the lights go out, but he likes them. They remind him of the sky, of the stars he'll never see again. Now, he cries; silent tears burning down his cheeks and vanishing into his hair line.
They come for him the next morning, find him curled on the ground where he fell asleep. His eyes open when the cell open and they step inside. "Get dressed," one snaps, the other says nothing, frown creasing. They leave him for the moment and he stares at the reds sitting on the table. He drags himself from the ground, steps to the edge of where they played chess and presses his finger tips to the cloth. A heavy exhale falls from his lips and his eyes squeeze shut. It's the same, the very same he wore before.
The ghosts settle on his shoulders with the golden epaulets of the red jacket. His fingers do not shake as he does up the buttons and straightens the collar. He is Slaine Saazbaum Troyard. He is a criminal of war and he is sentenced to death for his crimes against Earth and his treachery against the Versian empress, Asseylum Vers Allusia. He is her would be assassin. He is her traitor, he is her devil. This is his fate, and he deserves it.
He owns his guilt and he wears it on his sleeve as the guards take either side of him, leading him from the cell after shackling his wrists together. A silent goodbye is passed between the boy and his cage and a low smile flickers on his lips. In a strange way, he will miss it; miss all of this.
It's not until he starts walking, guards' hands at his elbows and chains jingling, that it truly hits him. He's being herded to his death, like a pig to slaughter. His eyes close, he stumbles. The guard to his wrist tightens his hold, says a word but it doesn't sink in because all he can think is: I don't want to die. He wants the coldness of his cell and the warmth of Inaho's rare smile. He wants the irritation at losing another chess game and he wants that rock-hard mattress he hates. He wants the little stars on his ceiling and the dreams of the outdoors. He does not want to die. It's this fact that finally shakes him to his core.
The sob chokes up from his throat, tears a waterfall down his cheeks. Pleading, his thoughts are pleading. Isn't there another way? There must be another way! He will repent! He will fall upon his knees and beg every god there is for their forgiveness, to find the good in him. His sins can be forgiven, can't they? For the blame on his shoulders is not all his to bear! It was not he who plotted the assassination. It is - Can he not change this?
He does not allow himself the weakness as they enter the lower level. As they push him into the back of the vehicle, he sniffs up his melancholy and tilts his chin up. He will be their villain. He will be the antagonist they wish to see when they look upon the executioner's stage.
"How?" he asks.
"What?" The voice is sharp.
He speaks up, "How will they do it?"
"You mean kill you?"
He flinches. "Yes."
"They're going to shoot you, right through the noggin." A predatory grin in the mirror, a point finger pressed to a temple. Eyes glint, anger shimmering within them and he knows. Someone they knew must have died in the war. This man has been waiting for this day since the world was lied to. Waiting to see the witch hang.
Slaine leans his head against the window and wishes he could pull it down, wishes he could feel the air rushing through his hair. The sea is outside his window, he can see the waves rushing in and out, lapping at the shore. He yearns to smell the salt, to feel the sand beneath his toes and he nearly whines in his desperation for the outside, but he holds it in. That too is weakness and he must not be weak; must meet his fate with his chin up and his eyes clear.
Shadows pass over the water and his heart leaps. He cannot see them, but he closes his eyes and he can imagine their white wings, beaks open to allow a caw to exit. Have you seen the birds, Princess? Tell me Klancain and Inaho have shown you the birds... Have given you the life I cannot. His breath fogs the glass when he let it out, chest burning in need. Please take care of one another, my friends. He hopes she will find peace when he is no longer in this world to burden her.
Finally, the car stops. They pull Slaine out and for the first time in two years he feels the wind. His lips part and his eyes close, breathing in the clean air. It ruffles through his hair and he nearly weeps. The sun presses in and kisses his pale skin, warms his cold fingers and attempts to thaw the ice he's been building up in his chest. Overhead, he hears them, the seagulls and his eyes snap open. They're beautiful, wheezes the slipping thoughts, hands roughly moving him towards the crowd he can hear.
Suddenly, the world he longed for is forgotten.
Pressing in on all sides are angry faces, shouts rising above in a grotesque cacophony. Words meet his ears, threatens and insults and each one is a barb through his heart. But they are words he has said to himself every night for the past two years. Traitor. Killer. Liar. Criminal. He is breathless, and his cheeks are wet by the time he reaches the stage. They are an angry mob and they hate him, hate the blood red of his jacket and the coldness he had tried to put forth while fighting down the childish glee that had rose up only to be snuffed out. They force him to his knees, and they collide with the ground, sending shocks of pain up his legs. He gasps, eyes shooting up to search the angry faces.
He must be here. He has to be here. He said he would be here.
Breaking. He's breaking and suffocating, everything is shaking. He can't do this. This isn't right. He's - No. His eyes find Inaho's. On the edge of the crowd, he stands restrained with a fire in his eyes.
Oh, Orange. Even you are not strong enough to stop fate. He shoulders his regrets and he dries his tears, the last of them dripping forlornly off his chin. He looks up at the sky, at the perfect round sun overhead and the puffy clouds rolling lazily across it. Behind him they lay his crimes bear and the crowd melts away. He focuses only on the spring breeze and closes his eyes as they press the cold muzzle of a gun to his temple.
so i've been listening to from here to mars (here)
this is very au but i was bored and wanted to experiment. here we are.
ps: this is going to be multichaptered i might post them here. maybe.
comes in at: 2461 words
You can taste blood in your mouth, you can’t tell if it’s from one of your other wounds or if it’s bled down from your head. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You cough up another clot; you can feel your life leaving you with every painful beat of your heart. A whimper claws its way out of your throat, a hand falling across your gut, trying to keep it inside you.
You hear a voice calling you and your eyes struggle open, eyelids fluttering. He’s there, at your side, his arms around you, cradling you against his chest. There is something broken in his eyes, something you can see he’s trying desperately to push down as his hand presses down on top of yours.
“Do you remember the rose bushes?”
A laugh falls weakly from your bloody lips. You nod, not trusting your voice as your eyes slip closed again. He says your name and you think he is pleading with you.
Japan. Your father says this is the second time you’ve been to the city, but you don’t remember the first time. He laughs and the sound is nice, it brings a smile to your face, one that only grows when he ruffles your hair. He tells you that it’s okay you don’t remember and you fit your small hand into his as the two of you disembark into the streets. Above you, in the early morning, you can see the fractured bits of the moon, suspended in space. Heaven’s Fall, the name brings shivers and you clutch a little tighter.
“Father,” you say, softly. “Tell me again, about Heaven’s Fall.”
“You have heard this story at least ten times now, Slai,” says your father, and he gives you a look. A single brow is raised, a frown pulling down his lips. His eyes flicker away from you, to the city as he walks. You stay quiet and finally there is a sigh and he begins: “You know about the moon, the Hyper Gate malfunctioned-”
“Destroying it,” you murmur back, tilting up your head again to catch a glimpse of those broken pieces.
Your father nods and tells you as the two of you walk how the Earth suffered major destruction from that act. Earthquakes, tsunamis, everything bad. You breathe deeply, in awe over how important the moon is to the Earth. So much about Earth brings you awe even though you know your father waters down much of the science for your young brain. “The Martians are up there?” you ask, tugging at your father’s hand when the two of you pause at a crosswalk. “Right now?”
Doctor Troyard glances up from his watch to the light then down at you. “Yes, Slaine.”
“Do you think there will be another war?”
He doesn’t answer right away, walking with you across the street. “I don’t know.” You can see, in his eyes, that he is thinking of the war. He is thinking of Aldnoah, a concept you’re still struggling a little to grasp. You just know that this science takes your father’s head and it makes him distant. You know you don’t like it. You want to go back to the park and eat messy sandwiches with him. War terrifies you. Just the thought of it makes you hold tighter to your father’s fingers and this time he squeezes back and he gives you a semblance of a smile. You don’t want your father to go back to war, doesn’t want to see that far away look in his eyes as though this world means nothing and the one in his head is everything.
You look down at your feet as you walk, your father leading you deeper into the Japanese streets. There is tension in the air, there are whispers, all too aware of the shattered moon and the threat the Martians hold. You swallow down your questions and focus on the one that matters: “Where are we going, father?”
“To see an old friend,” replies your father, walking down another street. You nod and keep walking, straightening the bookbag on your shoulders. It’s wearing down on you and your legs are getting tired from the pace your father has set, but you say nothing. You walk with him and you keep quiet now. He has told you about Heaven’s Fall, how if you looked up at the sky you would see the explosion, a thousand million bits splitting off from that lunar guardian. He has told you that for days after, Earth suffered, that meteors rained down upon them, a sick reminder of Earth’s mortality. There are deep scores around the world, he has told you and you just want war to be over. You do not want to see this beautiful world torn apart more than it has already been.
Above you are the birds, you can hear them flapping and cawing and you can smile. You search them out in the gentle leaves of the trees. Yes, there are still trees. You were worried when your father told you the two of you were traveling to Japan. It was where the worst of the war was, but there are trees and there are birds and your smile stays until you come to the house where your father stops. It is modest, with rose bushes boarding the left side. It is there that your eyes go first, gasping softly at their beauty. “Father-” you start, tugging at his hand but he shakes his head and steps to the door, rapping upon it’s wooden surface.
You want to let go of his hand and go to the bushes, but you don’t. You stay at his side and cast your green and blue gaze to the door. The seconds tick by, your father is getting impatient. You see it in the shift of his shoulders, the way he glances at his watch. He raises his hand to knock again, face twisted into his impatience when the door opens and your father takes a step down as the man steps out onto the stoop.
“Why are you here Troyard?” he asks and his tone is iron, closing the door but not before you see a boy your age peering out from behind the corner, red eyes catching in the sunlight. You try to wave but the door closes.
“You know why,” replies your father, and you don’t see his glance towards you. You are studying the other man. He has dark brown hair, ruffled and unkempt, opposite to your father’s dusty blonde and your own nearly white locks. The other boy, the one in the house, had a similar hair color, or you suspect he did.
Both this man and your father have bags beneath their eyes. They look tired, they have seen the war and you wonder if the war won. You wonder if it was worth it.
He sighs, the dark haired man and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Come in,” he grunts out and opens the door. Your father ushers you inside. “Leave your shoes there,” the man nods towards the mat where two pairs of tennis shoes sit among large pairs.
The boy is gone.
As you’re pulling your shoes off, you see your father touch the other man’s wrist. “Thank you for this, Kaizuka. You don’t know how much this means.”
Kaizuka huffs and gives your father a slightly disgruntled look. “How long will you be gone?”
Gone?! You pause in your movements, left shoe half off. Your eyes go wide, staring at your father. What does he mean? Why are you here? You stand up, almost stumbling in your uneven footing, tugging at your father’s sleeve. He doesn’t answer you, just waves you off and you sit next to the shoes as your father follows Kaizuka into the other room.
“Not long. A month, maybe two. Just long enough to get my affairs in order. Then I’ll be back for-” His voice fades off as the distance increases. He’s also lowered his voice. You can’t hear Kaizuka’s reply, but you sit there for a moment, feeling a hole of anxiety opening beneath you as you pull off your remaining shoe. You set them beside your father’s and slowly enter the house.
The boy is back.
He stands on the staircase, one hand twisted around the railing and eyes staring straight into you. It makes you uncomfortable, his stare and you shift from foot to foot, anstey and ready to leave. “Hello,” you say instead, slowly easing towards him. “My name is Slaine Troyard.”
“You liked the rose bushes,” says the boy instead of giving you a name, his head tilting to the side.
You blink at him, dropping the hand you started to hold out to him. He hadn’t even looked at it. “Oh- yes, I… have not seen them in a long time. We move around a lot.” That was also why you were not allowed to have pets, a fact that still saddens you. From time to time, you still try to argue that with a pet you would not be so lonely. This brings forth apologies from your father, but never does he give in to your pleas. You don’t stay anywhere nearly long enough to make friends, besides you are usually taught by someone hired by your father. There is no need for you to attend school, even if you yearn for it sometimes as you would watch the children from the kitchen window.
“Where did you live?”
“Norway,” you tell him, still not used to the way he looks at you. It’s as though he is searching your thoughts, analyzing every word that you say.
He nods and steps down the last few steps. He walks past you and you realize with a jolt that he’s shorter than you. Not a terrible difference, but you are definitely a few inches taller. You don’t know why it amuses you, but it brings a faint smile to your face as you turn to follow him with your eyes. “What’s your name?” you ask of him as he sits down at one of the seats at the kitchen counter. He doesn’t answer, just tilts his head as the stairs creak and a girl wanders down them, yawning into her hand.
“G’morning Nao- oh! Who is this?” she blinks, pausing in the same spot her brother had been standing moments before, looking at you.
“Good morning, Yuki,” replies the boy, not even looking over. “This is Doctor Troyard’s son. His name is-”
“Slaine Troyard,” you interrupt, glancing to the girl and offering up your best smile. “My name is Slaine Troyard."
“Oh- shit ,” says Yuki, staring down at her pajamas then back at “Nao”. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner!?” she cries, gesturing at herself.
Nao blinks at her, finally tuning his head to take in her appearance. “Watch your language, Yuki.”
“You're insufferable!” she cries out and vanishes back up the stairs, leaving you and Nao alone again.
“Kaizuka Inaho,” he says suddenly and when you look at him, you think he might be smiling, but he looks away before you can tell and his father and yours return into the kitchen. You hurry to him without a second word, falling in at his side and he pats your head gently, offering a quick smile.
“I see you’ve met Inaho,” says Kaizuka, ruffling the boy’s dark hair as he walks around to the fridge. “You are staying for dinner, no?” he says, turning to your father.
Your father wars with himself, you see it plain on his face and again you are afraid. What does this all mean. “Father, what’s going on?” As soon as the words are out, you hear Kaizuka groan by the fridge.
“You mean you haven’t told him?"
Your father glares and leads you into the other room, crouching before you and squeezing your shoulders. “I need you to be strong for me, alright, Slai?” He smiles that smile you don’t get to see much anymore and your bottom lip trembles. This causing him to sigh and bring you forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. “I’m being sent to Mars, Slaine. I’m going to be gone for a month, so you’re going to stay with Hanae and his family, alright?”
You cling to him, your little arms around his neck and your fingers clinging into the fabric of his shirt. “Why do you have to go?” you tremble out, your words watery with barely contained sobs. You don’t want your father to go! And to Mars? Why is he going there? Why couldn’t Slaine come with him? “Why can’t I come with you?”
He leans back and puts his hands on your face. “Don’t cry,” he tells you and you think his eyes are a little misty. “I just need to get settled first and then I’ll come back, okay? The UFE needs me to research Aldnoah and I can’t do that without seeing it up close.”
You lean into his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry. “A month,” you say, reluctant, hesitant.
“A month,” he says back and when he smiles you try your best to smile back. He takes you out to lunch and shows you around Japan, he shows you Tanegashima where he saved a Martian’s life, a man he says is named Saazbaum. He tells you that you will meet him when you come to Mars and you hang onto his words. He bends down and hands you his pendant, he tells you that it is to help ward off evil spirits and you stare at it in wonder before laying it around your neck, feeling your heartbeat against it. You will keep it safe, you promise him that and he ruffles your hair.
You will miss that.
“Father,” you say as the light is fading. It is too soon, you do not want to let him go. He hm’s beside you. You are walking back towards the Kaizuka residence for the dinner Hanae has prepared. “Why is the sky blue?”
He laughs, a soft, short sound beside you. “Light refraction,” he says. You don’t question him, though there is a tone to his voice that you don’t understand. You store away the information you don’t know to be incorrect and you are just about silent as you and the Kaizukas eat dinner. When your father hugs you goodbye, you don’t cry. You don’t cry until Hanae leads you to your new room and shuts the door. You curl up in the bed - it is cold and it smells unfamiliar - and that is when you cry, your hand tangled through the chain of your father’s pendent.
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