《Vanilla Smoke (Blue Exorcist)》Chapter 8
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"Ah, I hate to inform you, but Shuku Murasaki does not exist." A wide, sadistic grin spread like the plague across the clown's face.
This. Was. Not. Good. Shuku was fucked, royally. Shuku's palm had begun to drip a steady stream of crimson blood onto the tiled floor of the dining room. But the pain was nothing compared to his shock.
"Then. Who are you?" Rin stiffly asked. Shuku stared at Rin with wide eyes, voice gone. Later, for all of this, he seriously wanted to stick his blades down the clown's smug little throat.
"That person there, the one who you are holding by the collar, that is someone who's been missing for over a year now. Someone who is possibly more sought after than the son of Satan." The brothers' eyes widened. That meant, whoever Shuku really was, he definitely had some sort of power. Shuku clenched his teeth even tighter, to the point of becoming painful.
"Who knows what would happen to her if she ended up in the wrong hands, even the Knights if the True Cross would take advantage of a power like the one she possesses. The most interesting indeed." What power would be so desirable, that anyone would want it? Rin looked at Shuku, he didn't fully understand the situation, but he knew Shuku was in a position worse than his own. And that he possessed some great power.
"Now, Shuku isn't Shuku, but a high figurehead of a powerful group and Shrine. Shuku Murasaki is truly Shukura Ryuunome, the High priestess off said Shrine." Sir Pheles announced with a flourishing gesticulation.
Shuku's eyes went dark and his eyes were hooded, and Rin looked at Shuku in shock and amazement. Shuku... Was a girl. Throughout all of this, Shuku remained frozen, eyes wide. A thin trail of blood coated the corner of his lip and down his hand. He still hung in Rin's grasp like a limp doll despite his urge to hit something.
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"So, Shuku is Shukura Ryuunome, a priestess of a Shrine. Then what's her power then?" Yukio inquired, staring at still Shuku.
"Well, only something that could change the entire world. Shukura is a prophet. They're accurate and down to the point. Her prophecies have never been false in the ones she predicted, or the priestesses before her."
Rin looked at Shukura. They were in the same position, except she was being hunted by their side, and she walked straight into their midst. Shuku was a priestess, just as Rin is a Son of Satan. Rin's flames, Shuku's prophecies. He released her, and she seemed to collapse back into her chair. She rested her head on her crossed arms, so no one could see her face, or the blood starting to pool on the table beneath her from her hand.
"Now now. No need to get upset Milady. I am not going to return you back to your temple." Shukura's head shot up, a few stray tears trailed down her face, her eyes as wide as moons themselves.
"Y...y-you're not?" She asked, a faint amount of hope was still left. Perhaps, this man would let her be? But very little hope could be placed in that thought.
"Of course not. I will let you continue as if this conversation never happened. But, before I leave. I would like you to tell me if you've had any prophecies recently."
Shukura slowly nodded her head. He would let her do as she pleased, but as long as she still delivered what she had always, even against her will. It was simply her job, no matter how horrid. Shuku then closed her eyes and let the prophecy come forth.
The two brothers watched with interest as SHuku seemed to space out, and Mephisto had a wolfish grin on his face. Like a wolf who had just caught the biggest, fattest rabbit in the forest.
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" When the blazing sun sets, and the earth decides to make a move,
The maiden of grass shall fall to the earth and a blue sun will rise.
As his flames scorch the earth, the maiden he reclaimed shall awaken,
and tame the sun's flames.
As the sun rises, the moon shall disappear, fading from the light they never had,
showing only darkness.
When the flames can become part of the sun, and the second sun burns just as bright, the moon will return.
Only by Showing both darkness and light from both sides of the moon and suns, the flames of hell can disperse"
Sir Pheles narrowed his eyes, not liking the sound of that prophecy, but it was clear that the Okumura brothers had not understood it immediately, but Yukio was intelligent and would figure it out eventually.
"Well then, I shall best be on my way. If you'd like Lady SHukura, you are excused from your classes, but you two best be on your way." And with that the clown left, leaving the three dorm mates alone.
The tension was so thick, that a butter knife could cut it and serve it to you on toast. The silence more nebulous than a dense fog. Yukio was the first one to move after a few minutes of the pressurizing tautness and stillness.
"Shuku, I'm going to confiscate your gun and the ammunition. You will be able to keep the blades since it's only fair. Rin was going to be late for class." Yukio said bluntly and stoically. Then, he got up and left, leaving the room. Only Shuku and Rin remained.
" Thanks," Rin said seriously. Shuku picked up her head and glanced over at him with a sad and confused mist filling her ice.
"For what? I've done nothing but hide, eavesdrop, and lie." Her voice was low, and still slightly shaky, with a strong undertone of guilt and pain.
"Not for that. But for not telling, and not treating me differently. That means a lot. I won't tell anyone your secret, and I hope, that we can become good friends." Shuku gave a slight nod, unable to say anything, still in too much shock and disbelief.
Rin got up and left the room leaving Shuku there alone with two bowls of 'oatmeal...?' and her blades and vapor pen remaining in front of her as she stared past them into oblivion.
Shuku felt exposed. Like someone publically had taken her, stripped her down, then put her in some kinky outfit then threw her on a stage. It was horrible. Shuku lifted her head up, picked up the pen, and took a long, deep breath.
Even though it was still morning, today had already gone to hell. Best just to go to bed.
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❝we are all searching for someone whose demons will play well with ours.❞quiet rituals and even quieter conversations; a collectanea.(© promethean 2013; cover by promethean)
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