Grazing the Sky

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 36 (v.1) - Some Kind of Comfort, Part III

Submitted: December 02, 2019

Reads: 14

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Submitted: December 02, 2019

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His stomach dropped as Arzo stepped forward. Zidane immediately slowed to a stop. He was still a good distance away—far enough where the Spiro would have to lunge forward in order to grab him. But Arzo didn't move; he stayed put, eyes locking with Zidane's.

"Zidane..." His voice was soft as his eyes lightened just slightly, concern touching his face. "What were you doing in there?"

The change stunned Zidane as much as it did Lance; the crossbreed didn't reply, and as Lance found himself in the middle of the side yard with a clear view of them both, he could see Zidane's mind was somewhere else entirely. His stare was still on Arzo, but his focus was captured by shock—perhaps also overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last few minutes, and how it seemed to be repeating again.

He didn't notice as Arzo moved forward, closing the distance between them and crouching down until he was nearly eye-level with Zidane.

"Zidane," he said again, the light in his eyes still there. A hand rose; pad of his thumb touching Zidane's cheekbone and gliding along his skin in a stroking motion. "You can tell me."

Zidane's eyes shifted, focusing on Arzo's lighter ones. A smile came to Arzo's face, a light curve of his lips. A touch of blue moved into Zidane's eyes.

"I like him." Zidane spoke in a whisper, more spots of blue fading into his eyes. "I like how he treats me. I like how it's nice...And warm there..."

Arzo's eyes closed, head bowing in a nod that never came back up. The hand touching Zidane's face slid back, his fingers gently but tightly clenching his ear. Lance felt the nails burrowing into the back of his own; sharp curves that stung horribly as they dug and added to the pain of Arzo's hand moving downwards, creating a strain between the skin of the ear and head. Like he was slowly trying to separate them.

The pain let up for Lance, enough for him to look up and see Zidane's face, for him to watch Arzo lean forward, words ripping through clenched teeth.

"Nothing can possibly disgust me more—" He stood up, bringing the crossbreed with him. His arm rose, raising Zidane by his ear until they were once again nearly eye to eye. Zidane's mouth opened, but only a breath cracked from his lungs, wide eyes stunned. Arzo leaned closer, anger trembling in his voice—choppy waves on a smooth current.

"How dare you." His fist uncurled and he held the point of Zidane's mutated ear with two fingers. Zidane dropped a few inches downwards from the shift, the impact creating even more pain on his reddening face.

"How dare you." It was repeated through clenched teeth. "This is an insult to both races, and one of the deepest to mine. The fact you've mixed everything together. The worst, most disgusting two things on the planet. You're even more of a monster than I thought."

His hand released, dropping Zidane and allowing his knee to connect with the crossbreed's side. As the impact hit, Lance's eyes shut, mind screaming at Zidane to remember what he told him.

His eyes opened. The tension, all those horrible snarls in his stomach fled. The snow was still, the air silent. But there was an energy that seemed to scream in pain. Lance's gaze traveled, moving along the spots of blood. A path that led him to Zidane, lying face-down. He was motionless. But then movement, a slight rise of his back. Breathing. Slow breathing, but still alive.

Sensing an energy leading him, Lance followed a particularly large path, surprised to find Arzo's knife at the end of it. The chain had broken off, bits of metal scattered around. With his breath a little more ragged than before, Arzo bent down, picking the knife up with a handful of reddish snow. The broken chain hanging from his sleeve dragged against the ground, the end of it swinging in the air as Arzo stood upright again.

The sound of a door opening brought Lance's focus away. He sensed Arzo look towards the front of Kazuo's building as well, and as footsteps moved down a set of stairs, the Spiro hesitated. Then he turned back, attention glossing by Zidane as he walked past.

"Consider it a parting gift to a treacherous waste of air."

Darkness set into Lance's vision, dimming it and then brightening it again. The blackness slowly pulsed in and out, allowing him the sight of figures rushing towards Zidane's body, being careful of the wounds that Lance's own mind refused to see as they turned him over. Zidane was picked up and the dimness fell over Lance's sight again.

As they moved back towards the front of the house, as they opened the front doors, blackness set in completely. There was no feeling with it. Just darkness... And as a deep red faded in, some kind of comfort came as well.


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