AnK - Black Moon Rising
folder
+. to F › Ai no Kusabi
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
38
Views:
13,510
Reviews:
142
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
+. to F › Ai no Kusabi
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
38
Views:
13,510
Reviews:
142
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: Stating the obvious, I do not own Ai No Kusabi nor do profit from this little endeavour other than the sheer joy of clacking the keys and doffing my cap in reverence to Yoshihara Rieko for creating such complex and intriguing characters.
AnK - Chapter 2 -Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
Black Moon Rising
Disclaimer: Stating the obvious, I do not own Ai No Kusabi nor do profit from this little endeavour other than the sheer joy of clacking the keys and doffing my cap in reverence to Yoshihara Rieko for creating such complex and intriguing characters.
By: ElegantPaws
Edited by: Ainzfern
Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze
Rating: Mature
Parts:WIP – 2 of 25
Reviews are fuel.
This gift is dedicated to A_ngua and I hope it pleases.
Chapter 2 of 25 – Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (Post OVA)
~~~BMR~~~
Raoul’s speculative gaze roamed lazily about the second level office space of the black market dealer where he had been abruptly left to his own devises to wait while Katze dealt with Bison. The Blondie wanted to take offense but could not voice it under the circumstance.
Emerald eyes took in the Spartan yet exquisitely appointed space with its bank of holographic monitors on the far wall that afforded an excellent view of the main club below and the adjoining rooms. The man had a thing for dove gray by the looks of things.
“Pretentious, unimaginative…” the Elite cocked his head in query, acute hearing picking up something other than the low thrum of equipment.
It was faint, but definitely a melody, almost somnambulistic in its mesmerizing delicacy and cadence. He looked to the com’s controls for confirmation of what he already knew. All the monitors were set to mute; the pretext, according to the clever little mongrel, so as not to disturb Sir Am while he waited.
“Likely story,” the Elite drawled, continuing to look about him for the possible source. He casually strolled about the office, examining and subconsciously filing away the placement of items within the space with supercilious indifference. There was nothing here that gave a hint as to the slum rat’s origins. Then again it didn’t really matter, he told himself. This was merely an exercise to stave of boredom while he awaited the report to come at which point he could return to Eos and take a long, leisurely bath duly prepared by his own Furniture.
The Blondie’s curiosity was piqued though by the soft trill which, now that he focused, seemed to be coming from beyond the holographic displays. Though instinctively he knew this was the one room not apparently monitored, he grew furtive and on silent feet he approached the holographic bank and examined it with keen eyes. The music was emanating from it without question. A gloved hand tentatively reached out to trace the seam that gave way with the slightest pressure, revealing a thin shaft of light from a hidden space beyond the faux wall.
A slow malevolent grin touched his lips in victory.
“Katze…you devil. What have we here?”
The Elite’s deep green eyes grew hooded in anticipation as he pressed forward in vicious delight; a delight short lived.
It was often said that the vagaries of Fate were such that it oft times gave you exactly what you asked for, but at a very steep price. That price could, however, be exacting and irrevocable.
~~~BMR~~~
Guy’s deal had ceased to be of interest for the red-head as his phone gave a warning buzz in lieu of a silent alarm. Someone had entered his private space. The bile in his gut rose almost choking the bar’s owner in anger; he felt impotent in every sense of the word. There was nothing he could do.
Fiery amber eyes closed momentarily in fatigue and resignation as Katze tried to come to grips with the unforeseen while cold sweat coursed down his back. He felt naked. With luck, Raoul’s inherent sense of superiority would staunch his curiosity and he would have left as quickly as he came.
The red-head knew better. Fate had only deigned to give him reprieve once.
Raoul had always hated him for some unknown reason and enjoyed discrediting the young furniture at every turn.
Katze signed in memory as he lit another cigarette, barely acknowledging the attendant as more stout arrived and Guy continued to drone incessantly, unaware his audience was pre-occupied with memories of his former life.
Even then Sir Am had gone out of his way to find fault with everything Katze did in service. The black market dealer knew full well, Raoul Am was not above creating falsehoods just for the joy of watching his Master’s chastisement at private Elite functions in the penthouse in front of the Pets he cared for; a further blow to an already fragile ego
A wry smile came to the handsome, aquiline face as he blew out smoke and nodded perfunctorily where necessary.
“And how many credits would you require upfront?” he added.
He had gathered the gist of the conversation well enough; just another deal that would probably find Guy or members of his motley crew at the other end of a force whip to Iason’s satisfaction and Riki’s misguided pleas for mercy.
“Those two will be the death of me,” he added, stubbing out the butt in the fresh ashtray.
Guy’s pale eyes looked somewhat confused at the non-sequitur.
“Amoi to Katze, man, are you even listening to me?”
Startlingly beautiful amber turned from its inner musings.
“No…not really, let’s meet up tomorrow. Your crew,” he waved a listless hand about. “are welcome for the next two hours. Do not touch any of the ‘entertainment’ in the salon. They are for paying customers.”
A half smile played about thin lips as Bison’s leader gave a long meaningful look to his fellow mongrel before pushing back his seat violently and stood threateningly over the more willowy, less powerfully built male.
“You’re no better than me, despite your airs. It’s just luck why you ended up serving him and lining your pockets legally.”
The black market dealer’s eyes travelled lazily over the newly acquired arm sported by Bison’s leader, at his expense. It was still markedly smaller in muscle mass, but getting there.
“Enjoying that arm, are you?”
It was enough. Guy’s face went white beneath his tan, reflexively making a fist with the aforementioned arm before turning and heading to the billiard room to join his gang.
Katze chuckled mirthlessly and lit another Black Nocturne while eyeing the street beyond the window before raising his eyes to the moons in the sky; pale, pristine in their beauty, cold and indifferent. So like the Elite of myriad caste.
His smile broadened at the antiquated names taken from their ancient home, Earth and given to the rulers of Amoi. Representations of prized jewels once deeply coveted; Onyx, Ruby, Jade, Sapphire, and more to mind, Platina. One of which had found his own secret. Katze often wondered, privately, what perverse thrill the second in command got from these incidents of cruelty other than the physical signs of the punishments exacted upon his person.
He closed his eyes. This was far worse than the night Iason had caught him at his com delving into the secrets of Amoi and its founding fathers so many centuries before.
Luck indeed.
Curiosity had almost killed Katze that night as a swift and powerful arm with the strength of twenty froze mid air and a cool and calculating look came into those pale blue eyes as they assessed the damage done to the young furniture holding his bloody cheek.
A solution had presented itself to the Syndicate leader in that moment. He had finally found a public face to do his biding in the underworld of Midas.
Katze uncoiled himself from the booth and rose to meet his Fate. There was always a price for the most minute of freedoms.
~~~BMR~~~
There were many adjectives that came readily to mind when thinking of the quietly diffident, inordinately clever and delicate, almost fragile of features, mongrel.
Sensual was not one of them.
In truth the Elite had anticipated, with malicious glee, finding something illicit. Oh the triumph had he found anything Katze’s silent partner was not privy to. It would have been an instant passport to death or better, a swift visit to his offices and a purge. He would delight in handling it himself. Nothing but a rag doll would be left, mindless and devoid of that sentient gaze that housed hidden and rather disturbing depths.
This was untenable. The soft bedding of jeweled tones and rich textures of delicate make suitable for an Elite of ultimate refinement and costly beyond measure. Raoul girded his indignant loins and entered the room, swiftly removing a glove without thinking.
Narrowed eyes looked about the room refusing to find purchase, becoming more and more frantic in hopes of finding a flaw. Eyes the colour of emeralds glowed with anger and confusion. The musical piece soared now resplendent in its appropriateness engendering peace in the soft ambient light designed for rest.
This was Katze.
Raoul blinked while long tapered fingers, of their own volition, touched the velvety material of the bedding in tactile wonderment. His eyes closed enjoying the soft feel beneath his fingers. A delicate scent permeated the air that he could not identify at first as it had not been there before.
This too was Katze.
~~~BMR~~~
The former furniture had not lost his skills of silent presence in the seven years since his servitude under Master Mink and so he watched with rapt attention, the subtle shifts in mood of the Blondie’s features in discovery.
Anger and solitude had long been Katze’s friends and allies and they abandoned him swiftly as he watched with growing sadness and a new sense of pathos the mighty Sir Raoul Am well beyond his depths and incapable of understanding the intrinsic human need for comfort, despite breeding and origin.
It was his expression as he sat at the furthest corner of the bed that held sway with the former furniture and retrieved so simple an object as a night shirt and raised it to his nose with an unexpected reverence.
To a facile mind this was invasion, but Katze was in no way simple and the years of abuse, direct or otherwise, were unraveled in that singular act.
~~~BMR~~~
Author’s Note:
Okay, so I lied. Not willingly mind – am victim of the old muse.I go where it tells me and it insists this is where the next bit ends. Yes, yes, stop throwing things at me. It will make no difference. We will get there in due time. Hope you enjoyed. Blame Debussy’s Claire de Lune. It inspires (wink). Hope you enjoyed.
EP
Disclaimer: Stating the obvious, I do not own Ai No Kusabi nor do profit from this little endeavour other than the sheer joy of clacking the keys and doffing my cap in reverence to Yoshihara Rieko for creating such complex and intriguing characters.
By: ElegantPaws
Edited by: Ainzfern
Key Pairing: Raoul/Katze
Rating: Mature
Parts:WIP – 2 of 25
Reviews are fuel.
This gift is dedicated to A_ngua and I hope it pleases.
Chapter 2 of 25 – Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (Post OVA)
Raoul’s speculative gaze roamed lazily about the second level office space of the black market dealer where he had been abruptly left to his own devises to wait while Katze dealt with Bison. The Blondie wanted to take offense but could not voice it under the circumstance.
Emerald eyes took in the Spartan yet exquisitely appointed space with its bank of holographic monitors on the far wall that afforded an excellent view of the main club below and the adjoining rooms. The man had a thing for dove gray by the looks of things.
“Pretentious, unimaginative…” the Elite cocked his head in query, acute hearing picking up something other than the low thrum of equipment.
It was faint, but definitely a melody, almost somnambulistic in its mesmerizing delicacy and cadence. He looked to the com’s controls for confirmation of what he already knew. All the monitors were set to mute; the pretext, according to the clever little mongrel, so as not to disturb Sir Am while he waited.
“Likely story,” the Elite drawled, continuing to look about him for the possible source. He casually strolled about the office, examining and subconsciously filing away the placement of items within the space with supercilious indifference. There was nothing here that gave a hint as to the slum rat’s origins. Then again it didn’t really matter, he told himself. This was merely an exercise to stave of boredom while he awaited the report to come at which point he could return to Eos and take a long, leisurely bath duly prepared by his own Furniture.
The Blondie’s curiosity was piqued though by the soft trill which, now that he focused, seemed to be coming from beyond the holographic displays. Though instinctively he knew this was the one room not apparently monitored, he grew furtive and on silent feet he approached the holographic bank and examined it with keen eyes. The music was emanating from it without question. A gloved hand tentatively reached out to trace the seam that gave way with the slightest pressure, revealing a thin shaft of light from a hidden space beyond the faux wall.
A slow malevolent grin touched his lips in victory.
“Katze…you devil. What have we here?”
The Elite’s deep green eyes grew hooded in anticipation as he pressed forward in vicious delight; a delight short lived.
It was often said that the vagaries of Fate were such that it oft times gave you exactly what you asked for, but at a very steep price. That price could, however, be exacting and irrevocable.
Guy’s deal had ceased to be of interest for the red-head as his phone gave a warning buzz in lieu of a silent alarm. Someone had entered his private space. The bile in his gut rose almost choking the bar’s owner in anger; he felt impotent in every sense of the word. There was nothing he could do.
Fiery amber eyes closed momentarily in fatigue and resignation as Katze tried to come to grips with the unforeseen while cold sweat coursed down his back. He felt naked. With luck, Raoul’s inherent sense of superiority would staunch his curiosity and he would have left as quickly as he came.
The red-head knew better. Fate had only deigned to give him reprieve once.
Raoul had always hated him for some unknown reason and enjoyed discrediting the young furniture at every turn.
Katze signed in memory as he lit another cigarette, barely acknowledging the attendant as more stout arrived and Guy continued to drone incessantly, unaware his audience was pre-occupied with memories of his former life.
Even then Sir Am had gone out of his way to find fault with everything Katze did in service. The black market dealer knew full well, Raoul Am was not above creating falsehoods just for the joy of watching his Master’s chastisement at private Elite functions in the penthouse in front of the Pets he cared for; a further blow to an already fragile ego
A wry smile came to the handsome, aquiline face as he blew out smoke and nodded perfunctorily where necessary.
“And how many credits would you require upfront?” he added.
He had gathered the gist of the conversation well enough; just another deal that would probably find Guy or members of his motley crew at the other end of a force whip to Iason’s satisfaction and Riki’s misguided pleas for mercy.
“Those two will be the death of me,” he added, stubbing out the butt in the fresh ashtray.
Guy’s pale eyes looked somewhat confused at the non-sequitur.
“Amoi to Katze, man, are you even listening to me?”
Startlingly beautiful amber turned from its inner musings.
“No…not really, let’s meet up tomorrow. Your crew,” he waved a listless hand about. “are welcome for the next two hours. Do not touch any of the ‘entertainment’ in the salon. They are for paying customers.”
A half smile played about thin lips as Bison’s leader gave a long meaningful look to his fellow mongrel before pushing back his seat violently and stood threateningly over the more willowy, less powerfully built male.
“You’re no better than me, despite your airs. It’s just luck why you ended up serving him and lining your pockets legally.”
The black market dealer’s eyes travelled lazily over the newly acquired arm sported by Bison’s leader, at his expense. It was still markedly smaller in muscle mass, but getting there.
“Enjoying that arm, are you?”
It was enough. Guy’s face went white beneath his tan, reflexively making a fist with the aforementioned arm before turning and heading to the billiard room to join his gang.
Katze chuckled mirthlessly and lit another Black Nocturne while eyeing the street beyond the window before raising his eyes to the moons in the sky; pale, pristine in their beauty, cold and indifferent. So like the Elite of myriad caste.
His smile broadened at the antiquated names taken from their ancient home, Earth and given to the rulers of Amoi. Representations of prized jewels once deeply coveted; Onyx, Ruby, Jade, Sapphire, and more to mind, Platina. One of which had found his own secret. Katze often wondered, privately, what perverse thrill the second in command got from these incidents of cruelty other than the physical signs of the punishments exacted upon his person.
He closed his eyes. This was far worse than the night Iason had caught him at his com delving into the secrets of Amoi and its founding fathers so many centuries before.
Luck indeed.
Curiosity had almost killed Katze that night as a swift and powerful arm with the strength of twenty froze mid air and a cool and calculating look came into those pale blue eyes as they assessed the damage done to the young furniture holding his bloody cheek.
A solution had presented itself to the Syndicate leader in that moment. He had finally found a public face to do his biding in the underworld of Midas.
Katze uncoiled himself from the booth and rose to meet his Fate. There was always a price for the most minute of freedoms.
There were many adjectives that came readily to mind when thinking of the quietly diffident, inordinately clever and delicate, almost fragile of features, mongrel.
Sensual was not one of them.
In truth the Elite had anticipated, with malicious glee, finding something illicit. Oh the triumph had he found anything Katze’s silent partner was not privy to. It would have been an instant passport to death or better, a swift visit to his offices and a purge. He would delight in handling it himself. Nothing but a rag doll would be left, mindless and devoid of that sentient gaze that housed hidden and rather disturbing depths.
This was untenable. The soft bedding of jeweled tones and rich textures of delicate make suitable for an Elite of ultimate refinement and costly beyond measure. Raoul girded his indignant loins and entered the room, swiftly removing a glove without thinking.
Narrowed eyes looked about the room refusing to find purchase, becoming more and more frantic in hopes of finding a flaw. Eyes the colour of emeralds glowed with anger and confusion. The musical piece soared now resplendent in its appropriateness engendering peace in the soft ambient light designed for rest.
This was Katze.
Raoul blinked while long tapered fingers, of their own volition, touched the velvety material of the bedding in tactile wonderment. His eyes closed enjoying the soft feel beneath his fingers. A delicate scent permeated the air that he could not identify at first as it had not been there before.
This too was Katze.
The former furniture had not lost his skills of silent presence in the seven years since his servitude under Master Mink and so he watched with rapt attention, the subtle shifts in mood of the Blondie’s features in discovery.
Anger and solitude had long been Katze’s friends and allies and they abandoned him swiftly as he watched with growing sadness and a new sense of pathos the mighty Sir Raoul Am well beyond his depths and incapable of understanding the intrinsic human need for comfort, despite breeding and origin.
It was his expression as he sat at the furthest corner of the bed that held sway with the former furniture and retrieved so simple an object as a night shirt and raised it to his nose with an unexpected reverence.
To a facile mind this was invasion, but Katze was in no way simple and the years of abuse, direct or otherwise, were unraveled in that singular act.
Author’s Note:
Okay, so I lied. Not willingly mind – am victim of the old muse.I go where it tells me and it insists this is where the next bit ends. Yes, yes, stop throwing things at me. It will make no difference. We will get there in due time. Hope you enjoyed. Blame Debussy’s Claire de Lune. It inspires (wink). Hope you enjoyed.
EP