Zatch Bell Fan Fiction ❯ Odysseus ❯ Odysseus ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Feliz 
Once burned, twice shy. The follow up to "The Scent". Mature themes, adult situations. S/B
Anime/Manga: Zatch Bell Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 06.20.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.5K | Visits: 806 | Status: Completed
Once burned, twice shy. The follow up to "The Scent". Mature themes, adult situations. S/B
Anime/Manga: Zatch Bell Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 06.20.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.5K | Visits: 806 | Status: Completed
Odysseus
A Konjiki No Gash Bell (Zatch Bell) fan fic by Wega the blue sun
No copyright infringement intended, these characters don't belong to me. This fic does belong to me!
A/N: Sweets for the sweet! Readers may consider this a continuation of "The Scent". But it can be read as a one shot, on its own. Either way, this is a mature fic that deals with mature themes - but by now you guys know that, right? ;)
For the reviewer who knows the Greek texts
Odysseus
Brago eagerly inhaled the fresh scent of the northern wind. Icy needles pierced his flesh when he whipped off his cape to expose his overheated skin to the howling gale. This was what he needed, this was so much better than being inside the stifling house ...with her. The ice and the wind would scour him clean and leave no trace of her touch behind.
The mansion wasn't far behind him, but in the dusk his view was further obscured by the driving sleet. He trudged on, leaving deep tracks in the snow. There was no one out here, he was utterly alone. Animals knew when to avoid the fury of the elements and no human in his right mind would step outside a comfortable shelter at a time like this.
He didn't have to see the house to know that some windows would be glowing with the faint reflection of light from a blazing fireplace. It was the promise of that fire that had driven him outside into the storm.
Sherry had been quiet and reflective all day, as was her wont, but once evening rolled around and the weather worsened she'd turned her attention to creating a cozy atmosphere, as she called it. Although the mansion was heated by other means, old man Jii had soon busied himself and started a roaring blaze in the sitting room's fireplace.
As soon as the wood caught fire Brago felt the heat singe his skin. The burning pain was caused by the memory of an earlier time when he and Sherry had sat before a fire. A time when he had been weak and given in to temptation and let her lead him astray.
Was it any surprise he'd fled the room as if he were scalded? Sherry had called after him and the sound echoed in his mind. But he wouldn't return now, he owed himself that much.
Some time ago they had encountered a strange sight, a human even more pathetic than most in a race of weaklings. This revolting creature hung about the streets of the city they were haunting in search of new opponents. Thin and dirty, wild eyed and twitchy the man harassed pedestrians for money. But he was different from the beggars Brago had seen before. There was something about this man that set Brago's teeth on edge. A strange need bled off the human like a cloud of poison gas.
Sherry explained later that the man was a junkie. Addicted to certain chemical substances he and others like him dedicated their lives to scoring their next hit, she said. And even though it was illegal and very dangerous to use those substances many could not withstand the siren call and suffered and died as a result of their toxic devotion.
He'd snorted in derision, not just at the disgusting spectacle but also at the sheer lunacy of the man's desperate need for poison. If Brago ever needed a reminder that humans were weak, this was a shining example he wasn't likely to forget.
But over time he'd formed a somewhat different view of the junkie's predicament. Although he hated the man's weakness no less, Brago knew now that even the strong could fall prey to temptation, no matter how superior they thought themselves to be. Yes, habits were easy to aquire but hard to break, a bitter lesson he'd learned the hard way.
And this was yet another reason why he hated this world so much. It had forced self awareness upon him, made him face facts he wasn't ready for and unwilling to acknowledge. He'd come to this world to get stronger but in his struggles he also absorbed weaknesses into his system.
His lonely trek through the storm continued. He ignored the intense sting of the cold - icy at first, then burning hot. No mere discomfort would persuade him to return to the house with its promise of heat from a different source. He would be strong, he would last until Sherry would wonder if he'd ever return.
A bitter smile curled his cold lips. No, she knew he'd be back, after all, she held his book and his destiny in her warm hands. Free will was always denied to him, but in his resentment he would drag out his absence until the bitter end. Only when he deemed the time right would he return. Let her wait, he thought.
He saw an image of her, stately in her elegant way she'd sit before the fireplace, her attention drawn by a book or maybe just a memory, a fleeting thought. Then her focus would shift to him. No one else shared her life to the extend he did, most of their time was spent in close proximity. He was always there, so was it not natural that she would turn to him?
To be effective as his partner in battle he needed her to be angry, needed to harness the power of her rage and hatred. She'd proved herself adept at digging deep, just as he was adept at manipulating her emotions. How had she turned the tables on him so quickly? A mere look, a slight gesture, a scent imperceptible to all but him - any and all would make his blood boil, not just because of the anticipation of what might follow, but also with the memory of what had happened in the past.
Her human body was ill suited for his demon touch, no matter how willing the flesh was too soft for his claws and teeth. Their mating left telltale marks behind, but she wasn't so easily dissuaded and set out to overcome their differences. She was nothing if not inventive and determined to wring pleasure for herself out of him. Although he wasn't new to the game she was the more experienced and just this once he yielded to her commands.
He overcame his suspicions and allowed himself to learn how to please her for no personal gain other than knowing it was his touch that made her writhe and gasp. A challenge had been made and he, as always, met it.
And although there was value in giving her pleasure he never felt fully comfortable to submit to her caresses nor with the emotions she aroused. Once their physical needs were satisfied he'd leave, mind abuzz with images and sounds, skin tingling with the memory of her touch. His very being seemed diffused with her scent and taste, until he hardly knew himself any more. How could he have fallen so low that the touch of her lips, the perfume of her sweat would make him forget his purpose?
Was it the same for her, he wondered? Or was she able to take her pleasure and remain unaffected? He'd previously considered mating a simple necessity for procreation and quick satisfaction of physical urges. He hadn't counted on being so utterly naked before her. She'd flayed him alive until his raw nerves were exposed and she played them as expertly and relentlessly as her piano.
Brago had reached the edge of the vast property, a stone wall cut him off from the outside world. The massive iron gate set into the stone was locked, but this represented no obstacle to him. If he wished it he'd be outside in no time. The wind had died down and it was bitterly cold. His breath twinkled in the early morning light, a pale cloud against the remains of the night.
He turned around. Somewhere in the white distance was the house, and Sherry. There was also the promise of weakness, with it's own sweet rewards. The junkie, Brago thought. That was why he'd reacted so strongly to the human, he'd recognized a kindred spirit.
But where the wretched human was weak, Brago would be strong. He'd pass through the gate and continue on, until he could hold out no longer. Sooner or later he had to return, for one reason or another - all were equally valid. Still, he'd push himself to the limits of his endurance. Maybe, just maybe this too was part of his training to become king. A ruler had to be experienced, had to gain all kinds of knowledge, had to know his own weaknesses and how to overcome them. So, maybe the woman was doing him a favor, he thought. After all, she had promised to make him king.
A Konjiki No Gash Bell (Zatch Bell) fan fic by Wega the blue sun
No copyright infringement intended, these characters don't belong to me. This fic does belong to me!
A/N: Sweets for the sweet! Readers may consider this a continuation of "The Scent". But it can be read as a one shot, on its own. Either way, this is a mature fic that deals with mature themes - but by now you guys know that, right? ;)
For the reviewer who knows the Greek texts
Odysseus
Brago eagerly inhaled the fresh scent of the northern wind. Icy needles pierced his flesh when he whipped off his cape to expose his overheated skin to the howling gale. This was what he needed, this was so much better than being inside the stifling house ...with her. The ice and the wind would scour him clean and leave no trace of her touch behind.
The mansion wasn't far behind him, but in the dusk his view was further obscured by the driving sleet. He trudged on, leaving deep tracks in the snow. There was no one out here, he was utterly alone. Animals knew when to avoid the fury of the elements and no human in his right mind would step outside a comfortable shelter at a time like this.
He didn't have to see the house to know that some windows would be glowing with the faint reflection of light from a blazing fireplace. It was the promise of that fire that had driven him outside into the storm.
Sherry had been quiet and reflective all day, as was her wont, but once evening rolled around and the weather worsened she'd turned her attention to creating a cozy atmosphere, as she called it. Although the mansion was heated by other means, old man Jii had soon busied himself and started a roaring blaze in the sitting room's fireplace.
As soon as the wood caught fire Brago felt the heat singe his skin. The burning pain was caused by the memory of an earlier time when he and Sherry had sat before a fire. A time when he had been weak and given in to temptation and let her lead him astray.
Was it any surprise he'd fled the room as if he were scalded? Sherry had called after him and the sound echoed in his mind. But he wouldn't return now, he owed himself that much.
Some time ago they had encountered a strange sight, a human even more pathetic than most in a race of weaklings. This revolting creature hung about the streets of the city they were haunting in search of new opponents. Thin and dirty, wild eyed and twitchy the man harassed pedestrians for money. But he was different from the beggars Brago had seen before. There was something about this man that set Brago's teeth on edge. A strange need bled off the human like a cloud of poison gas.
Sherry explained later that the man was a junkie. Addicted to certain chemical substances he and others like him dedicated their lives to scoring their next hit, she said. And even though it was illegal and very dangerous to use those substances many could not withstand the siren call and suffered and died as a result of their toxic devotion.
He'd snorted in derision, not just at the disgusting spectacle but also at the sheer lunacy of the man's desperate need for poison. If Brago ever needed a reminder that humans were weak, this was a shining example he wasn't likely to forget.
But over time he'd formed a somewhat different view of the junkie's predicament. Although he hated the man's weakness no less, Brago knew now that even the strong could fall prey to temptation, no matter how superior they thought themselves to be. Yes, habits were easy to aquire but hard to break, a bitter lesson he'd learned the hard way.
And this was yet another reason why he hated this world so much. It had forced self awareness upon him, made him face facts he wasn't ready for and unwilling to acknowledge. He'd come to this world to get stronger but in his struggles he also absorbed weaknesses into his system.
His lonely trek through the storm continued. He ignored the intense sting of the cold - icy at first, then burning hot. No mere discomfort would persuade him to return to the house with its promise of heat from a different source. He would be strong, he would last until Sherry would wonder if he'd ever return.
A bitter smile curled his cold lips. No, she knew he'd be back, after all, she held his book and his destiny in her warm hands. Free will was always denied to him, but in his resentment he would drag out his absence until the bitter end. Only when he deemed the time right would he return. Let her wait, he thought.
He saw an image of her, stately in her elegant way she'd sit before the fireplace, her attention drawn by a book or maybe just a memory, a fleeting thought. Then her focus would shift to him. No one else shared her life to the extend he did, most of their time was spent in close proximity. He was always there, so was it not natural that she would turn to him?
To be effective as his partner in battle he needed her to be angry, needed to harness the power of her rage and hatred. She'd proved herself adept at digging deep, just as he was adept at manipulating her emotions. How had she turned the tables on him so quickly? A mere look, a slight gesture, a scent imperceptible to all but him - any and all would make his blood boil, not just because of the anticipation of what might follow, but also with the memory of what had happened in the past.
Her human body was ill suited for his demon touch, no matter how willing the flesh was too soft for his claws and teeth. Their mating left telltale marks behind, but she wasn't so easily dissuaded and set out to overcome their differences. She was nothing if not inventive and determined to wring pleasure for herself out of him. Although he wasn't new to the game she was the more experienced and just this once he yielded to her commands.
He overcame his suspicions and allowed himself to learn how to please her for no personal gain other than knowing it was his touch that made her writhe and gasp. A challenge had been made and he, as always, met it.
And although there was value in giving her pleasure he never felt fully comfortable to submit to her caresses nor with the emotions she aroused. Once their physical needs were satisfied he'd leave, mind abuzz with images and sounds, skin tingling with the memory of her touch. His very being seemed diffused with her scent and taste, until he hardly knew himself any more. How could he have fallen so low that the touch of her lips, the perfume of her sweat would make him forget his purpose?
Was it the same for her, he wondered? Or was she able to take her pleasure and remain unaffected? He'd previously considered mating a simple necessity for procreation and quick satisfaction of physical urges. He hadn't counted on being so utterly naked before her. She'd flayed him alive until his raw nerves were exposed and she played them as expertly and relentlessly as her piano.
Brago had reached the edge of the vast property, a stone wall cut him off from the outside world. The massive iron gate set into the stone was locked, but this represented no obstacle to him. If he wished it he'd be outside in no time. The wind had died down and it was bitterly cold. His breath twinkled in the early morning light, a pale cloud against the remains of the night.
He turned around. Somewhere in the white distance was the house, and Sherry. There was also the promise of weakness, with it's own sweet rewards. The junkie, Brago thought. That was why he'd reacted so strongly to the human, he'd recognized a kindred spirit.
But where the wretched human was weak, Brago would be strong. He'd pass through the gate and continue on, until he could hold out no longer. Sooner or later he had to return, for one reason or another - all were equally valid. Still, he'd push himself to the limits of his endurance. Maybe, just maybe this too was part of his training to become king. A ruler had to be experienced, had to gain all kinds of knowledge, had to know his own weaknesses and how to overcome them. So, maybe the woman was doing him a favor, he thought. After all, she had promised to make him king.