#knighterrors

BLOOD CODE : ZERO.

this blood code contains ample guilt --- an unfulfillable desire to die --- and ample hope --- a willingness to do what must be done to save.

allows for the use of heavy armor and is excellent for enduring close - combat fighting, but has naturally low ichor stock.

    Lelouch’s wyvern moves restlessly beneath him, muscles rippling beneath scaled skin, tongue flicking against cool air. Left hand tightening on the reins, Lelouch assumes the dragon’s restlessness is attributed to Suzaku approaching the meeting place.

    It’s a cold night, to put it mildly, and Lelouch can’t stop the chattering of his teeth despite the amount of layers he’s wearing, but still his breath fogs up the mask of Zero, fingers threatening to numb beneath his gloves. “It’s fine,” he mutters to his wyvern, patting its neck as comfortingly as he can.

    To be on opposite sides of the war is unfortunate. Lelouch figures Suzaku deserves the truth of who Zero truly is; that the wyvern rider who’d claimed many lives without hesitation in the name of Edelgard von Hresvelg was his friend. He also knows that they would have to fight one another and that this war would likely not end until at least one of them had died for their cause. To turn on Suzaku and Claude hurts his heart; but no one has ever mattered more than Nunnally, and she deserved to live in a world where Those Who Slither In The Dark didn’t threaten them, where political leaders didn’t turn on their families and murder each other for the sake of a Crest.

    The approaching footsteps draw Lelouch from his thoughts and back into the realm of Zero.

i have re;surrection screencaps………………. i can upload them to dropbox and give them to you if you want !

Oh woeful king, who stands with the world’s hatred burning on his shoulders, who embraces hate as he does his lover – who turns him into his right-hand man. Lelouch’s knuckles are red on pale skin, his fingers turning over the edge of his throne. Beside him: Suzaku. Knight. Friend. Enemy. The day discerns between these things; even Suzaku’s attitudes are irregular. Lelouch prefers the days where Suzaku treats him coldly. It’s only fair.

The day draws near.

Lelouch holds his head high like a king does. Vulnerability is not in his DNA; he was not blessed with time for such things, not from Charles, not from Marianne, certainly not from geass. The color fades before it reaches his eyes. Bug noises scratch the upside of his skull. Death lingers ; memento mori, wrapping loving fingers around his neck / waiting to tighten the noose.

Suzaku stirs beside him. The world snaps back into focus. “We will perish together.”

Lelouch swallows and sits straighter, a resolute nod accompanying his moves. He has been made into an emperor for his final hurrah. It is not his own death that waits for them with the completion of the Requiem – Suzaku gets to fulfill his dream, too, finally, in a sad, macabre way.

Part of Lelouch finds it a fate worse than his own. The other part of Lelouch is glad – he wants for Suzaku, at least, to live.

“…Do you remember?” He asks, boyhood cinching words together, “When we first met. Nunnally was on my back. She was so weak…we hadn’t seen a friendly face for days – and then we saw you. You threatened to beat me up if I didn’t tell you who I was. When I told you I was a vi Britannia, you looked so…angry. I couldn’t understand why. There were the bodies of the Japanese all around us and somehow, in my naivete, I refused to put two and two together.” He swallows and continues. He can feel the eyes of corpses upon him, beckoning further. “We aren’t those boys anymore, Suzaku. I refuse to be naive.”

‘…..you always come back. ‘ It’s soft; her hair and eyes glimmering in the darkness of the half-light; ethereal; lovely, unchanging. As he removes his mask, she shifts her weight on the couch; a thing that should be dead in living view. After all she is the Wicked Witch for the Noble Knight to have slain.

Instead he nestles into the slender; ivory curve of her flesh and presses sweaty curls from wearing a mask that was both his curse and his living death into her as if he could merge their sufferings together. Silly boy, but you haven’t been one for a long time…since Genbu, right, she thinks softly, with an odd sense of that long buried sentimentality she hasn’t been able to let go no matter how long the centuries have passed. Normally a glib, blunt remark would follow; as if to fill the chasm that fills their hearts. 

They miss him. Perhaps even in some ways resent him. The feelings are too deep and run too far to name; but they are beyond their mere connection of a dead emperor. The fleeting witch who keeps vigil as she comes and goes as she pleases on the dead Noble Knight turned ‘Savior’. Zero, Zero, Zero —

—- Requiem. 

‘I know.’ It’s simple and soft; almost gentle voice filling the protected darkness and silence that cradles them, has long cradled them before Lelouch died. Something she finds herself keeping emotions long buried now revived in the most ironic of ways. She does not talk of her feelings, does not speak them to the lost boy, the dead Knight, the dead man who clings to life in simple touches of her skin. 

‘I know.’ C.C. repeats; pulling his head upwards until it’s against her chest; lacing arms around soaked, caramel curls and sifting unblemished fingers through, lips against his head to press the words tight and close. She wants him to hear the only thing that resurrects him, the only thing that puts them both into a glimpse of an era they have both created and let pass by. 

“I know…”

Her chin atop his head; the Witch murmurs it plaintively to the dead, Noble Knight who should have slain her Wickedness long ago …. to the voidless entity of Zero, she gives life in the shadows to a name for him alone to hear: