Sorcerer Stabber Orphen Fan Fiction ❯ Velvet Flames ❯ Estrangement ( Chapter 14 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

:: Velvet Flames ::

Sorcerous Stabber Orphen

Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters mentioned.

Rating: PG

Pairings: Krylancelo+Azari, Hartia+Krylancelo, Childman+Azari/Azari+Childman, eventual Orphen/Majic

Warnings: AU, possible shounen ai, mildly dark, mildly depressing

Notes: Heh. Sorry the wait was longer; I had a bit of trouble. But, ironically enough, I went through a lot of crap in the SM Crossover section and now I'm suddenly inspired again. *sweatdrop* And I already have an idea for a short-story sequel to this. Which I will never get to at this rate if I want to go through the entire first series. oO;; May Lord have mercy on our souls . . .

And . . . Look! We're caught up with the series even more! Whee!




Evening had already set. The sun was lowering itself into the horizon, throwing beautiful shades of rose and crimson across the once blue skies. It looked too peaceful, too pleasant . . . Especially during a funeral.

The crowd of people was amazing, especially considering that most of the adults seemed to be ashamed of Azari. But this hadn't daunted the students' admiration of her one bit. It seemed everyone was there . . . Everyone but the one person that SHOULD have been there, anyway.

Majic twisted his fingers nervously, only stopping when Flameheart gave him a sharp nudge for fidgeting. He hated funerals; they were depressing. But still, Azari had meant so much to Krylancelo. So even if Majic himself was scared of her . . . Well . . . He wanted to give her something anyway.

Even if it wasn't as significant as anything else.

Many female students placed personal items into the casket, pictures and the like. The oddest gift seemed to be from Childman; a single feather pen. When it was time for Flameheart's students to give if they wanted, only a handful stepped up, most of them the braver ones that didn't fear his wrath too much.

Majic was far from brave, but he moved up anyway. He uncurled his small fingers and dropped something solid into it, so that it clanked a little too loudly against the hard wood. "I'm sorry, Azari-san," he murmured softly so that hardly anyone heard him, backing up quickly for those that really wanted to pay their respects. He avoided Flameheart's scrutinizing stare but was startled when a hand rested on his shoulder. He glanced back to see Hartia, unsmiling but nodding slightly as though to put him at ease. Majic relaxed.

It was strange, actually. Only a couple hours before Krylancelo had been shut off to the world. But for a few precious minutes he had allowed Majic in, tempted by the promise of news of Azari. Krylancelo's reaction had been odd. Rather then become shocked or angry, he had suddenly looked calm, normal.

"Are they?" he had asked with utter calmness, as though they were discussing simple outing plans. "I see. Thank you."

Now the casket was being carried by two of the elder students. The trek may have been difficult, as they were carrying a rather long and heavy box up a slanted hill, but neither displayed much strain. Majic noticed that, a few yards away, Rai was looking slightly apprehensive. It made him wonder why he was so frightened of the graveyard. 'Maybe someone he cared about was buried here,' he thought vaguely.

Once they reached the grave marker, the two students took a rest. There was a heavy "thud" as they gently set down their burden. Both backed off quickly and then there was tense silence once again. It was time for the eulogy.

The speaker was none other than Azari's teacher, Childman. The refined man bowed his head for a few moments before he allowed himself to make eye contact with the people present. "Today," he said in his low, soothingly smooth voice, "we bid farewell to an exceptional student, young woman, and person." The silence was so great that everyone could hear a faint scuffle, but no one paid it any heed. "She had shown great promise in her studies; she'd had talent that far exceeded most students her age. May the higher ones bless her soul. Azari--"

There was a sudden cry that broke the man off in mid-sentence. Many people whirled just in time to back off from the shape hurtling itself forward. Childman wisely stepped aside just as the shape jumped into the air, wielding what looked like a shovel-- The one that had dug the hole for the coffin.

Before anyone could react, much less speak, the shovel was swung over the person's head in a wild, very ungraceful arc. The hard metal of the blade made contact with the wood. There was a loud, elongated splinter akin to a shriek, and then the shatter of pieces collapsing in.

"Krylancelo!" Majic heard Hartia whisper.

Indeed, once the figure had straightened and turned, sienna-coloured eyes wide and nearly crazed, the young blonde boy realized that it was true.

'But . . . Why?!' he cried silently, too frightened to speak up when the teenager was in this irrational state. 'Krylancelo-sama . . . What did you do?'

"Whose funeral is this?" he heard the boy spit acidly.

Childman, who had maintained his calm expression throughout the ordeal so far, calmly stated, "It is Azari's funeral."

The teenager tensed, his fists clenching at his sides as his body trembled with barely suppressed rage. "Azari's?! The coffin is empty! There's nothing in there!" he shouted, face flushed and eyebrows furrowed.

His teacher didn't even blink. Majic found himself staring in awe; he was so unlike Flameheart, who was softly cursing behind him, muttering something about his mother for some odd reason. "I believe that she died," he replied. "At least, the sorceress Azari died."

"That's stupid! Azari's alive!" Krylancelo's eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked almost sane. "I know what you guy are planning to do. You're going to kill her! Kill her for your precious HONOR!" He screamed the last word like a curse.

At this outburst a wave of murmurs arose. The Tower of Fangs was going to kill Azari? How? When had this been decided? Was this possible? The students that didn't know the whole story were asking even more questions. What had Azari, the role model student, done that was worthy of death?

Amidst it all, Majic was white as a sheet. His hands tingled with the sudden loss of blood due to shock. 'It . . . It was a mistake to tell him,' he thought. It was the only clear thought he could conjure. 'But . . . I had to! If I didn't, he would have stayed in there . . . Even now . . . He'd have killed himself somehow, wasted away . . . Committed suicide . . . I didn't have a choice!'

And yet, because of him this problem had risen . . .

Krylancelo was speaking, now sounding hurt and heartbroken. His eyes shone with tears that glistened in the setting sun's red light. "Azari's not a stain," he said sadly. "She was . . . She IS a great person." He bared his teeth in a sudden show of anger and determination. "And so . . . I . . . I will be the one to save her!"

"How?" came the reasonable voice of Childman. The question clearly caught the enraged teen off guard. "Do you not think that, were it within my power, I would have done so myself?"

Krylancelo shook his head wildly, hands flying up to cover his ears to block out the sound of his teacher's voice. "Shut up! That's a lie! You WON'T save her! So I'll be the one to do so!"

A few feet way from Majic, Hartia seemed to have finally found his voice, whereas the smaller boy's tongue was still choking him. "Krylancelo, please--"

"I'm NOT Krylancelo!" the brunette cried furiously, blue aura building around him in a frightening manner. He whirled on the remains of the casket. Items were strewn on the ground, littering the grave marker. "From now on my name is Orphen!" To emphasize his point, he thrust his hand out, ignoring the screams around him. There was a bright light, an explosion, and then a mess as wood splinters and precious items went flying.

Majic, now crouching on the ground and protectively covering his own head, stared up at the teenager he had admired so much. He was so different now, frightening, furious, dangerous . . . A faint whisper passed his lips, so faint that he couldn't recall saying it later on.

"Orphen-sama . . . "