Four reviews. Lol. I feel so popular.

Death princess: yoyo neeesa. Woddupp.

Dmitri Cassidy: awww thankies! You're review gave me the fuzzies.

Toxic-noodle725: haha. eid was foreverrr ago. & bleh. I'm reading a quran for a huttham. Haha. so it's not as goodgirlish as it sounds (there be a motive). & pshhh. This soon enough?

That g i r l x: yayyy that you did review! & I like your rambling. Bareli anyone says anything about this fic, so rambling is always welcome. Hehe. & the fullness of what happened will be explained in this one. No worries!


.her ashes




she's decided that she just might make a plan


There was blood on her hands.

Eire cradled the knife to her chest. Blood seeped through her dress and there was silence. Marigold faintly moaned, strewn across on her face. Was she dead yet? Most likely not. Eire touched the hilt of the knife. There was a decision. If she let Marigold go, then she would only try to kill her again. If she killed her now, then she would be safe. There was no satisfaction to be gained from this. It was all about survival.

Her phone was ringing.

No happiness. Only a choice. Since when had it all turned into Stain's way? When had there been the beginning, the need to make decisions based on the event - what was pushed into her face and the acting upon the consequence. The creating of the consequence. Because this was a consequence. Everything that had happened up until now had been the action and the action had resulted in her stabbing Marigold. The action had made her decide the consequence.

Her phone was still ringing.

Shaking, she picked it up and tried to press the button. Fingers fumbled, slipped, and she finally managed to press.

The voice didn't wait for her to speak. "I've suddenly grown excited, so I decided to buy some ice cream. Want to come with me?"

"I just stabbed Marigold."

"With a knife?"

"No, a toothpick."

"Nice. So are we on for that ice cream or not?"

Eire wanted comfort. She started crying. "I just killed my best friend."

"Did you?"

"No," she sobbed, phone trembling in hand. "But she's bleeding all over the floor."

He paused. "Then why don't you call the ambulance?"

"Because -" It was because it hadn't occurred to her yet but she wasn't going to say that. She needed pity. "Oh, Stain, I feel so alone."

"Let me go get my ice cream," he chirped. "Then I'll come pick you up and we can call the ambulance together."

"But what if she dies?"

He solemnly replied; "Whatever is fated to happen will happen."

His words were deep. She needed something to latch onto, so she did. "Okay."

He hung up and Eire waited. A clock chimed the hour but she didn't bother to check. Marigold had stopped moaning now; she was still. And was it wise to call the ambulance? Eire traced fingers over the buttons of her phone. If she called the ambulance, they would probably make her sad with all of their long faces and white coats. She hated white. Why did they all wear white? She decided not to call them. Instead she would call Lucifer. Lucifer would know what to do. She rang and he picked up after the third bell.

"Hello?" He sounded bored.

She needed concern. Emotion. Anything. "Lucifer, Marigold's bleeding."

"Then get her a plaster."

Eire looked to the body. Her tongue was now lolling out. "No, I mean, seriously bleeding."

"As in how serious?" He was paying attention now.

"I stabbed her in the back."

He sighed. "Have you apologised?"

"I want to, but she's not waking up."

"Is she dead, dear?"

"I hope not."

A thoughtful pause. "Shall I call the authorities?"

"But they'll think I purposely stabbed her!"

"And did you?"

She hated the way he always managed to put her on the spot.

"She started it," Eire mumbled. "She came at me, so I retaliated."

"So it was purely self defence?"

Eire considered. "Yes."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about."

For some reason, she felt relieved. If Lucifer said there was nothing to worry about, it meant that there wasn't. He was meticulous. Always had been. Had sorted out every mess from childhood, so why would now be any different?

"I feel happier now." She smiled broadly. "Only, Marigold's blood is ever so icky. It's staining the hem of my dress and I do so like this dress."

"She'll bleed to death if you don't call someone," he pointed out, obviously in a hurry to finish this conversation.

Why? She didn't bother asking. "I nearly forgot! Thank you, Lucifer. Goodbye."

He hung up first. She rang the ambulance, suddenly excited, and Stain arrived shortly after. He took in the body on the floor, then the array of wedding dresses.

"Want to go out now?" He seemed happy, excited even, just like her. It was uncanny, but she was far too concerned with how she was inwardly dealing with the stabbing of her best friend to really pay any attention. After all, what had happened was deeply psychological -traumatic, even, and she had to make a transition through all of the psychological stages as to reach acceptance. It was something she would tell her grandchildren.

"Yes. But I want to go somewhere where there aren't any people. I want to have fun and just forget everything. If only temporarily, I want my mind to be at ease."

"We can't get ice cream, though," said Stain. "Because I've already had one and too many'll give me a stomach ache."

He turned to leave and she followed. When they came nearer to the door, he handed her a coat. It was to cover the stains on her dress. She hadn't thought that far ahead. The stains were so common nowadays that they felt almost normal. Expected. Nothing out of the ordinary. But other people wouldn't see it like that. This knowledge spurred irritation. Why was everyone always on her case?

They walked their way out, through the bustling streets. Barely anyone spared them a glance. Eire felt slightly neglected. Maybe it was because of some inner emotion overdrive, where everything was just peaked. Or maybe it was just because she needed the attention. It wasn't as if Stain was giving it to her.

"I just stabbed my best friend in the back," she told him, hoping that it would remind him to offer comfort; she drew level with him.

The reminder didn't spark anything new. "Is that how you killed the taxi driver that one time?"

"No. His death was more clean, same with Cantt's. All I left on them were the smilie faces. Why?"

"So you were the one who killed them." He turned a corner. Eire ran to catch up. The speed was annoying her.

"Yes. I thought that was obvious." She was panting now and he kept walking quickly. After the adrenaline rush from earlier, she was tired. She didn't need him to walk so fast.

"But you didn't tell me." The streets were getting emptier. Now trees lined their path.

Her response was typical to the situation. "You didn't ask."

"And you knew I wouldn't."

"You're asking now."

"No," he corrected. "I'm stating."

A bench came into view, along the side of the path. He sat on it and looked up at the sky. There were no further words. No asking as to whether she was okay or not. No elaboration on his earlier point. Just one gashing silence and it set her on edge - made her at a loss for words. The words were necessary at a point where everything felt like it was falling apart. An elaboration on the subject could spark an argument, though; destroy his need for finality. Was that what the silence was? Did it mark the closure to the conversation?

(and all will be buried but it's still going to stay there)

She sat down beside him and decided to respond like a mature adult. There was a solemn look. "This is about more than just the people I've killed, isn't it?"

"No. It's just about the people you've killed."

That had meant to be his opening. He hadn't taken it which made her situation more difficult. "I'm sure that that's not all. Tell me what's wrong, Stain, and we can work through our problems like adults."

"We're only legally adults," he said. "But not technically. Why pretend to be something that you're not? I'd rather be petty."

She was getting angry now. "Why are you trying to put me into a mood?"

"I'm not trying to put you into anything. You're doing it all yourself."

A few leaves fell from the tree above them. One slid into her lap and she lifted it up, began to twist the stem. "I'm trying to fix this."

"Maybe I don't want to fix this."

Twist. "Maybe you should tell me what you don't want to fix."

"And maybe -" He stood up suddenly, about to leave, "maybe I don't want to."

He took a step and two arms suddenly snaked around his waist from behind. They moved up his chest, the head dug into his back. Nails, still caked with blood, pressed against his torso.

"Stain, what's wrong?"

"Maybe you should ask your fiancé."

"You've met him?"

"Yes. Today."

Eire sighed. "Was bound to happen eventually. Shall we go get some ice cream and discuss this while we're eating? It's getting awfully hot."

Stain considered. "Okay. But then we have to finish our argument. It's fated to happen, you see."

"Only if we have ice cream first. It'll level my sadness and anguish from the arguing with creamy goodness. That way, my emotions will be balanced."



They left to find ice cream.


Rix shifted on the doorstep. It opened and she regarded him. The look was hard.

"You're back," she boredly said. "Why don't you just get it done and over with, huh? Why are you biding your time?"

Rix put a hand to his heart. "It's because I love you."

Cantt's sister blinked. "That's intense. I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing at all. Let us only watch each other in silence."

They did for a few moments. Then it grew boring.

"Why don't you come inside? I have left over pie."

Rix smiled and they entered the house. Everything was just as he'd left it. Only, there was now a certain glow to the room. A soft whiff in the air. Maybe it was all in his head. All he knew was that he was now the happiest man on earth. And soon, soon she would bring him pie. Then they could sit and talk about all of the wasted weeks full of unrequited love. The weeks before he confessed his real emotions. But that would all come later. Now they had to merely get to know each other.

She came back. "Sorry. The snake ate the pie."

"You have a snake? How very artistic."

"It's for my protection."

An awkward silence.

"So, what's your favourite colour?"


Rix made a shocked face. "Mine is black, too. I feel it reflects my inner feelings and the true darkness of this world."

She seemed to consider. "You're very insightful. I always compared the world to the colour grey."

"The balance between light and dark?"


They shared a look of intellectual understanding.

"I think that we're going to get along," she said.

"I don't think." He took her hand and looked into her eyes romantically. "I know."


"Normally when I stab someone to death I get insanely happy. This time I'm not. I wonder why. Maybe it's because I don't think I actually killed her, but then -" Eire paused. "I feel like I've just completely wasted something but I'm not sure as to what that something was. Do you understand what I mean, Stain?"

It was at the point in there relationship that he felt the necessity not to lie. "Not at all."

She made a face. "Why ever not?"

He decided to keep her in a good mood. "You're an enigma."

"What a stimulating word. I guess you're forgiven. I mean, it's not your fault that I'm far too complex and deep for a normal human being to understand. I feel that I see things on a different level to other people - as if I'll never find someone who'll understand the way I see things and, therefore, I'll always be alone." She tore grass at every word.

Stain watched her fingers. Thin, lithe - so fragile he felt they'd shatter to the touch. "You don't necessarily need someone who'll understand everything about you. You just need someone who'll accept what they don't understand and still care about you regardless."

"Do I?" She stopped tearing grass and looked up at the sky, a myriad of blue and white and grey. "There are so many colours up there. How would it feel like if we couldn't actually see them?"

"There are only three." He looked too.

"Only three visible to the human eye, yes. But then if one was to break everything up into the spectrum using a prism, one would find far more than three."

There was some meaning to her words that Stain couldn't quite grasp. It hurt his head to do so and he decided that he wasn't meant to understand and, therefore, it was pointless to attempt something that wasn't going to happen anyway.

"There are always more colours than what is visible but we merely see those clear to the naked eye. Interesting." She looked at him again as if in deep concentration. "How did you meet Lucifer?"

"Your fiancé?"

"No, the devil."

He gave her a look. "He called me to his office and we discussed you."

"As if I were some sort of good up for sale. Please continue."

"He wanted me to stop seeing you because you're getting married next week."

"Ah, that." Eire sighed. "I was picking my wedding dress today before Marigold decided to ruin it by making me stab her."

Stain decided to voice the complications. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About what?"

"The wedding."

She smirked and in a moment she had clambered on top of him, pinned him to the ground. Brown hair brushed his face. "Because," she whispered. "There isn't going to be a wedding."

One hand moved up his torso. Nails, like claws, dug into his shirt and she kissed him slowly. They parted and cat-like eyes cut through flesh. "Do you like me, Stain?"


"Do you like me a lot?"

"A lot more than I'd like to."

She bent down, brushed her nose against his so that there was almost no space between them. One hand slipped under his shirt, touched bare skin and he felt his body react almost violently. "Do you want me?"

Stain turned her over and kissed her. Two lithe legs wrapped around his torso and he ground his body against hers - hot, snow white flesh melted to the touch and a few buttons of her coat came undone. A dress, stained red, pressed against his chest and nails raked through his hair. When they finally parted, the white skin was flushed red, looking up at him. He felt something inside of him melt, heat up, and encompass his whole body.

"I want you to do something for me," she said.

The words came of their own accord. "Anything."

"Do you remember that story I told you?" she asked. "The one about Cain and Abel?"


"Well." She smirked. "I think I have a plan."