She, Upon a Crimson Field
The wild do not pity.
I sure as heck didn't feel very wild at the moment. Being tied up and
half drugged in a cold, damp basement could do things to a person's
confidence. Not to mention that I was weaponless and guarded by two
thugs who eyed me like if my body was a juicy steak, ready to be
devoured at any moment.
Shit.
Maybe Kirika did have a point with wearing so casual clothes whenever
we went on a mission, the miniskirt and sleeveless top wasn't exactly
helping my situation here. The poorly lit room blurred for a moment
when I felt the effects of the drug they had used on me, it became
harder to collect my thoughts as I closed my eyes and lay back against
the rough wall, determined not to fall asleep. It seemed like this gang
had fallen pretty deep since I took out their leader together with a
bunch of their clients a few years back. They couldn't even afford a
dose of decent sleeper judging by the crap they had shot into me,
morphine would have worked better than this.
Maybe it had been a tad naïve of me to believe that we could just
settle down without any hassle after the whole mess with Soldats. They
were still watching us from the shadows, now and then leaving a little
reminder of their existence for what I believe, to scare us. Not that
we really minded, since they were the ones who should be afraid. Kirika
and I were by all their traditions and rituals Noir, officially. Not a
title I would have raved for after learning its meaning but still, we
were the eternal darkness, feared by even those who had created us.
The passing months had been quiet ones, Soldats seemingly having chosen
to leave us alone for the time being. Maybe Graipaul had meant more
with the 'Good luck' than he had given on, knowing that ultimately,
they would never be able to control us. To long of tranquillity seemed
to have it downsides besides cooking, the small matter of that I had
other enemies seemed to have slipped my mind as we had lived our rather
simple life. You did make a lot of enemies in this job; people have
this annoying habit to take an assassination personally on the count of
the assassin, while I was only getting paid for a job done.
Someone of the gang must have recognized me on the streets and decided
to call for a grand revenge, hence my current situation.
I have to admit that I am a bit out of shape, I don't recall that being
hit over the head hurt this much. We had been out for dinner after
purchasing Kirika some new watercolours. She had become really good
with her pencils in those few weeks which meant that she also drew her
pictures with a obsessed frequency that would turn Dali green. I had
been on the outside getting some air when they attacked me, two went
down before a punch caught me in solar plexus, knocking the air out of
me before one of them dealt me a blow over my head. The rest of my
memories were in a blur, being hauled into a car and getting a shot,
then the all but pleasant awakening of being here. The whole mess must
have taken less than a minute while Kirika was off to the restrooms, my
luck could obviously have been better. I made out the grumbling of the
two thugs through the thick haze, my mind clearing for a few moments.
"Shit, is the boss serious about killin' this bitch?" One of the men
said, his breath leaving a white cloud in the chilly air as he emptied
the last of a beer. "I mean, look at her..."
"Hey, patience Tony. Never said anything about not touching her did
he?" I could hear the leer in his voice and fought back a wave of
nausea. "Won't be wasted, chill it 'til the boss gets back. I'm sure
you'll get your share."
A rough hand cupped my face and forced me to look upwards, the face of
a sombre man in his late thirties whose face was in desperate need for
a shave and soap leered down at me. I smelled the alcohol he had been
drinking in the sour odour of his breath, suppressing all urges to
brash actions as he eyed me hungrily with his small, pig-like eyes. I
really should be afraid. It may have sounded absurd to me a couple of
years ago; the idea of an assassin that was afraid of death was
laughable but a lot have changed in my life since then.
I want to live.
The clicking sound of a safety was heard, I felt something cold against
my stomach and let out a small whimper when I realized that the man was
shoving his gun against me, pressing it painfully against my bared skin
while he snickered in that disgusting lustful voice. I don't want to
die, not now when I have someone to live for.
Another wave of dizziness struck me and I lose my holding, falling back
towards the ground while clinging to my last string of consciousness.
There is swearing, I am lifted up again and shoved against the wall, my
shoulders slamming painfully against the uneven stonewall while my
aggressor is holding me by the front of my top. His other hand was all
over my body in disgusting violation while the other man watched in
amusement. The drug made my rage somewhat unfocused together with the
growing feeling of sickness in my stomach.
Kirika.
I kicked out blindly, screaming like a lunatic while using my tied arms
to push him away. My foot connected with something soft, a stream of
angry curses followed and the man let me go.
I want to live for her, live with her.
A slap accompanied with a cry of anger snapped me out from my drugged
stupor, the sheer force from the strike made my vision go grey. More
screams and curses followed while the fists and kicks rained down onto
my body. I had fallen again and was now facing the wall, curling up as
much as I could to prevent damage to my vitals. A hard kick to my
stomach made me scream out in unbearable pain, violent coughs rocked my
midsection as my lungs fought to get precious air.
Religion had never been a big part of my life but I could really use
some divine help right now.
Who was I kidding? My only chance to survive this would be Kirika. I
could only hope, and pray that she had been in time to see us before
they had stuffed me in the car. The floating image of the girl's serene
smile settled my nerves somewhat, she would be here, I would believe in
her.
I heard the door being opened and slammed into the wall with a cold
metallic bang, the beating stopped. Footsteps of men filled the room,
there were two dozens of them least, all armed with handguns and a few
of them carried steel pipes. God, my chances weren't exactly getting
better here. A medium sized man with sloping shoulders, dressed
sloppily in a worn out, grey suit and striped shirt stepped up closer
to me. He gave me a sadistically amused smile and leered down, giving
me a shove with his foot and kicked my back.
"How the mighty can fall, am I right Miss Bouquet? Your confidence
seems to have lagged compared to our last encounter." Another kick
followed as he talked on, did he really expect me to listen in this
condition? "You know, my uncle even considered to hire you a few times.
We could have all been good friends." I couldn't for the world remember
his rather dull face. Great, another one of those self-proclaimed
hot-shots, king of another molehill.
He pulled out a gun from his pocket and toyed with it in his hands,
releasing the magazine and reloading it. The punk was probably around
my age judging from the voice but his skill was laughable, Kirika could
have taken her Beretta apart, polished it and put it together again in
the same amount of time. None of the thugs seemed to be any better
either, the whole group consisted of street trash, first class. Even
trash could obviously be smart thou, the drug hindered me effectively
to put any focused thoughts or plans in action and I doubt I would have
been able to stand straight if I had tried.
Shit.
"But you just had to go and blow the old man's head off do you? Not
that I minded, seems like none of the whores he ever banged could spurt
a kid from his load. Leaves me the heir you know, pretty good really,
that you took him off, spared me the hassle." He said. I was lifted
again, this time I didn't have the strength to struggle, my whole body
hurting after the severe beating I had received.
"I mean shit, why couldn't you have just settled for the old man? What
fucking good was it for me to take over when you had blown all our
regulars to hell and beyond?" He lifted my arms and tied them to a
lower pipe on the roof, forcing me to stand while he droned on, much
like an angry child that had been snubbed of his candy.
"You know what that feels like princess? To wait and wait for the old
geezer to die and receiving nothing more than a grand piece of nothing
and a crumbling syndicate?" His hands, on my hips, I felt like
retching. The small eyes darted down my body, scrutinizing my curves
like a hungry wolf as he stepped closer. "My, you really are a sexy
little piece of fun aren't you?" He smirked, inclining every inch of
his lecherous intentions to me with his hands. I so wanted to kick out,
cry, vomit, anything to get him away. His face was just in front of me
now, hands still resting lazily around my sides as he pressed me
against the wall with his body. Oh god, no, please...
"Don't worry bitch, you're not going just yet. Me and my men will be
with you all the way there, one and one or a couple at one time? Your
choice." His voice literally dripping with malice and lust as his hands
wandered. The weight of his body was becoming suffocating and I
coughed, hopefully spitting on his clothes in the process.
"It's really a crying shame you know, the red-light district would pay
good for yo-" He was interrupted when the door opened again with an ear
shattering bang. One of the thugs who must have been standing guard
outside stumbled in backwards and rammed into two of the men. The both
men swore in surprise and irritation, shoving their comrade back who
fell headfirst onto the floor in a seemingly lifeless heap.
And hell broke lose.
Five shots rang out and echoed against the walls, followed by the
pained cries of the five unlucky men that had been closest to the door.
They fell and sent their guns clattering to the ground, leaving the
rest of the men in shocked stupor as they stared at their fallen
comrades. The familiar sharp sound of a gunshot brought my senses back
to attention again, my instincts telling me to take the moment of
surprise to full advantage; I shoved my knee upwards, ramming the guy
in his Oh-so-sensitive part with all my remaining strength. He cried
out, his voice having become a lot more soprano than I thought was
possible for the male species and fell backwards in a crouched
position. It took me another few seconds to realize and register the
sudden change of my situation. I was the least of their troubles now by
the looks of it.
I doubt the low class thugs even knew what had hit them with such fatal
efficiency as another three of them went down, one of them being the
spoiled brat who had led them and was still on the ground when he
suddenly let out a pained gasp. A rusty, nine inches long iron nail,
those you often see during bridge construction or in factories pointed
out from his neck, puncturing the larger blood veins in the neck
perfectly. He stared at me with a look of disbelief and watched down
the floor where his blood where spilling, oozing out from the wound
that in a few seconds would be his bane.
A last gurgling sound escaped his throat and he fell by my feet, the
look of horrified surprise forever etched into his unshaven face. The
other two had been in the way for the throw, both eliminated by the
small figure who had struck them before hey had even reacted to the
first shots.
My lips tugged upwards in a tired, yet revealed smile at the sight of
her. She was still in the clothes we had purchased for her this
morning, and by the looks of them, we would have to go shopping again.
The stylish, black pants had been ripped by the knees and were dusty
all over; the cornflower blue blouse seemed somewhat whole together
with her regular white jacket, if you let out the missing sleeve and
bloodstains. The journey into this basement had apparently not been an
easy story, her hair was even more messy than usual and she was clearly
out of breath. The gun was balanced in one hand with refined ease while
she held another nail in the other, droplets of red liquid dripping
down the rusty metal.
Then, she saw me.
Oh god, I couldn't make a nice picture. Drugged, beaten and with torn
clothes, go figure. She opened her mouth in silent disbelief as her
eyes wandered over my battered body. Her transformation was immediate
as the look of relevance upon her face faded; all traces of my kind
Kirika disappeared while time seemed to come to a halt. Her face
contrasted as I sensed her other side wakening within. It wasn't the
slow, almost sneaky way of usual transformation. The awakening I sensed
now through our silent communication was like nothing I had seen
before. If Kirika's body was a cage, then the beast within was raging.
And she was not trying to hold it back.
Her eyes which had still held the softness of her lingering innocence
vanished like a shadow facing the sun. Everything in her posture to the
way she gripped her weapons changed in the momentum of an instant. The
crushing presence of approaching death was suddenly so heavy in the
room that it made me shudder, as much in freight as in anticipation.
What surprised, and scared me the most was that this time, she clearly
lacked her usual collected cool of a professional.
The remaining thugs had somewhat recovered from the sudden death of
their leader and were starting to move but, Kirika was faster. Her eyes
were still resting on my limp form as she let out an enraged scream, it
a primal sound of anger and pure rage, like a wounded beast that had
been released.
The first of them fell before even detecting her lighting fast
movements. She leaped into their midst, attacking simultaneously in all
directions with kicks and stabs, both to cripple and to kill while
using their own weapons against them with techniques so brutal yet
smooth that her movements became a crimson blur. A rather small man
with a greasy looking ponytail received the full honour of Kirika's
superb skills in martial arts when she kicked away his gun, locking her
arms around his neck in a somersault and following it up through
breaking his neck with a loud snap. Another man leaped at her with a
steel pipe which she avoided with laughable ease, ramming the nail
through his eye into his skull with an almost casual move while firing
her gun, using the still twitching body as a shield from bullets.
Another shot rang and I tumbled to the floor, the bullet had pierced
the rough ropes I had been tied up in. I managed to sit up with
whatever strength I had left, picking up the gun of one of the dead
thugs despite that I would barely be able to do anything with it.
Kirika fired across the room, doing a perfect headshot on a man that
had been taking aim at her. She emptied her magazine on a bearded Asian
looking man near the exit and threw her gun away, now relying
completely on her skills in close combat. The horrid cries from the men
was almost deafening, it didn't take a genius to figure out that they
didn't stand a chance against her furious blood ridden rampage. Her
moves being primal, close to feline in her deadly fervour while taking
them down one by one in a blinding speed. Fleeing seemed hopeless as
she was everywhere; those who tried went down even faster as she caged
them in a battle that grew more and more desperate for every fallen
man.
The blood from the dozens of bodies soon soaked the rough stone floor
in slippery pools, gun and stab wounds alike painting the dark room in
a field of coppery crimson. More of the red liquid stained the dark
walls as Kirika let out another snarl and stabbed a man from the back
when he tried to flee, puncturing his lung and followed up with several
more stabs to his vital organs before shoving him away like trash.
Another large man aimed for her throat with a knife but was easily
thrown into the remaining few of them with a classic jujitsu move,
trapping a smaller comrade of his under him in a cry of anguish. Kirika
paid their veils no heed however as she dived towards the struggling
duo, avoiding a rain of bullets by a fraction while slitting their
throats with the man's own knife almost systematically before leaping
for the next enemy.
One of the thugs seemed to not have completely forgotten about me and
made a dash in my direction with his knife raised. The tedious training
under Uncle Claude made itself present, my self-preservation instincts
kicked in and I raised the gun to blast his face off, focusing my mind
to rid the nausea from my tired mind.
I hadn't even released the safety before Kirika was upon him.
Another growl of blind fury escaped her throat as she dashed for a
jump, the nail raised in her now bloodied hands. She landed on his
back, knocking the air out from him with her knees, somehow avoiding a
couple of bullets that hit the wall behind me, showering me in shards.
I could see the cold rage clearly in her eyes; strangely, it gave me a
secure feeling of safety. It was not the eyes of a murderous beast as
one would believe but eyes which promised me tranquillity. Using the
full weight and the motion of her body, she stabbed the nail into the
back of the man's neck, breaking his backbone with a wet, cracking
sound. He didn't even have the time to scream.
She stood over me, crouched in a ready position partly in front of me
to provide cover from any other possible ambushers. My eyes watered
upon the sight of her. All we had wanted was a simple life, away from
all the pain and our past, why wouldn't god allow us that? Her clothes
were now drenched in crimson, the sticky substance dripped down her
arms and hands, streaks of red even covered her beautiful, yet twisted
face. Her features were frozen in a grim look of unrestrained fury
while she eyed the last of her enemies with an unfeeling, primal look
of hunger. I never wanted to see her like this again, bloodied and
stained by the countless crimes we have committed in our short lives.
She was not meant to be like this, I refuse to believe it.
She snatched the gun out from my hand without a word, released the
safety and pulled the trigger, all in one smooth move that put a SWAT
member to shame. Sending the remaining three thugs to the ground with
continues shots in the blink of an eye; she stretched up to retrieve
her own weapon, the last of them died in the hall, in a futile attempt
to flee his fate.The suffocating silence that followed the last shot
was soon followed by a hollow, metallic clang when Kirika let the iron
nail fall to the ground. How many times had I seen this scene before? A
girl child of barely mature age standing amidst a sea of blood, her
innocence corrupted by greed and wicked ideals.
And this time, for my sake.
I looked around the room; two dozen bodies or more lay on the ground in
the sparely spacious room, practically in heaps. The smell of blood and
gunpowder was so thick in the air that you could almost taste it. She
had done this because of me. Tears streamed down my face when I looked
up at her face.
"Mireille." Her voice, the tuneless voice called my name, not a
question of concern but a statement of confirmation. She kneeled beside
me and reached out but stopped halfway, seeing the condition of her
hands. Her other self was still dominating, merciless yet affectionate
eyes stared at my beaten body and I saw the flicker of anger upon the
sight of the bruises. She looked down, stopping her hands in midair
before she spoke after a moment of hesitation.
"I'm sorry." The mumble was barely audible. My heart cried when I
realized after a few seconds what she was apologizing for. Thinking
that she was the one at fault, believing that this would not have
happened if she had been there in time, it was so typical her logic to
take the burden upon herself. The signs of the conflicting emotions
were evident on her face even if an average person could have easily
missed it. The somewhat strained movements of her facial muscles were
just barely detectable for me but it was enough to be understandable.
This side of her was still confused about showing emotions, and mostly
didn't if not triggered.
I should be the one who is sorry. I was the one who had failed. It had
been my ignorance which had in the start caused this whole mess,
destroying the tiny resemblance she ever had to a normal life, even if
it had been brief. Maybe the old sayings of this trade were indeed
true, that an assassin could never retire. Maybe we truly are, and have
always been trapped in the endless cycle of carnage and destruction,
futilely believing that we even had a chance to escape. I was the one
who had acted like a fool, failing to protect her from the endless path
of murder out of naivety.
Ignoring the blood on her clothes, I dragged her into my arms, crying
softly against her neck as I felt how she put her arms around me and
hugged me back. An unsure yet strong embrace which she crushed me into
when she was sure that I didn't mind the gore. The feelings she poured
into this didn't go lost on me. I could feel the tiny droplets of tears
that hit my forehead. She sobbed as her arms around me tightened even
more to an almost choking strength. The sobs sent her petite body into
tremors as she drew in air and dug her nails into my back.
I peeked up at her, surprised that it was still the same unemotional
eyes but yet so different this time. Tears streamed down her face,
making streaks among the stains of blood. The mixed look of confusion
and surprise was saddening, like if she was unsure why she was crying
in the first place, yet she clutched herself to me like no tomorrow.I'm
not giving up my life with this girl, never. All the old sayings can go
to hell.Trying to mouth my thoughts into words, I opened my mouth,
realizing just how long ago it must have been since I drank any water.
No words came when the dizziness overtook my senses again, sending me
reluctantly yet seductively into the awaiting darkness of sleep, and
the inviting warmth of Kirika's arms.
***
It was dark when I came back to my senses, and warm.
A few moments of recognition relieved me when I realized that we were
back in our apartment. Kirika must have carried me back after my black
out, across the whole ruddy town while looking like if we had come
straight out a horror movie. No, she must have taken the sewers, it's a
small miracle itself that she managed to find her way.
I opened my eyes slowly, still feeling heavy headed from the sleep. The
effects of whatever drug they had used seemed to have worn off now, I
was still a bit sick but that was about all. Moving my head, I felt
something soft shift under the weight of my head, the familiar presence
behind me didn't stir at my motion. I tilted my head and looked up at
her.She had positioned us on the bed with me taking the most of the
space while resting my back and head against her in a rather cuddly
way. Her own back was against the wall in a rather uncomfortable
position while looming over me protectively, almost like a mother who
was defending her young. One of her arms were draped over my stomach,
holding me against her while the other hand rested at her side where
she had placed her gun, maintained and loaded from its earlier usage by
the looks of it.
A droplet of water fell from her hair and landed on my face, she must
have been fresh out of the shower which couldn't have been long ago.
Her breathing was even, almost hypnotically rhythmic as she rested in
something like a half daze while still holding me in place, confirming
my whereabouts on a subconscious level. Her face was still locked in a
slight frown but it had regained its usual refined grace, no longer
twisted in a grimace of cold, savage anger. I shuddered at the memory.
Never had I seen her like that before. Being the most professional one
of us, she always made killing look as easy as breathing while she took
down targets with a brutal precision and cool unmatched by anyone but
possibly Chloe.
The incident today had triggered something else in her, something even
deadlier, even if it was hard to imagine that it was possible in her
case. The Kirika I had witnessed today had been something else,
something with the same or even superior killing skills. A side of
Kirika that witnessed the loss of all the unfeeling calmness she had in
her usual act of murder. The memory of her bloody, enraged figure
amidst the fallen bodies came unbidden to my mind and I shuddered. No,
I didn't want to think of that.
I buried my face in the loose fitting shirt she was wearing, trying to
flee the horrid visions in her calming presence. She smelled of lilacs
from the new shampoo I had purchased just yesterday, plus her own
personal fragrance that was a mix of sweat and something that reminded
me of fresh olives. Strange as it seemed, lying like this in her arms
always reminded of my home in Corsica. It seemed absurd that a Japanese
girl would have any resemblance to the warm island country in southern
Europe, even if she did smell a little like olives. Maybe it was
because of her presence, the warm feeling of having a person who cared
and loved you despite all your human faults, something that felt like
more than a friend and deeper than a lover, a family.
Yes, Kirika is my family. Even if I'm not entirely sure on who had
adopted who. Our relationship had been pretty clear in the start when I
held the dominating role in our duo. I had solemnly decided on our
missions, targets and methods while Kirika was something of my
tag-along. That lasted through the whole mess with Soldats until we
returned to Paris. The side which Soldats and Altena had desired from
her did not, and I doubt that it will ever, disappear. Deadly and cold,
yet strong and affectionate, the other side of my sweet artist was
truly an enigma that more or less shot her way into my life, sending
tsunami sized ripples through the koi-pond of my heart.
Mind you, it is kinda hard to dominate over someone who can freeze the
sun with a yawn. It was the only rational reason I could think of to
explain the feeling of peace and home whenever I was with her, the both
of her. She was my family, like the one I had had on Corsica,
therefore, she smelled like olives...?
Dear gods, maybe there is still something stuck in my system. I
stiffened a yawn and massaged my temples, letting out a deep sigh to
still the tumbling thoughts. Waking in the middle of the night, effects
from a bad sleeping drug and various injuries did not make a good and
stable ground for deep reflections upon your life.
"You should sleep." It was a statement, not a suggestion nor an order.
I blinked in surprise; she had still not reverted back. The slight
monotone voice together with the familiar commanding aura surrounding
her was never to be mistaken.
She looked down at me with a questioning face; her tune was soft and
heavy with the drowsiness of sleep as she shifted her back into a more
comfortable position. I smiled to reassure her, earning me a satisfied,
fond look aback. She moved her hand over my stomach, caressing my
sensitive skin until she reached a part which was covered in bandages.
There was a sting of pain but it was soon covered by the comforting
warmth from her hand, I relished in the slow massage as her hands moved
to my sides, working her way down my stiff muscles until I was
completely relaxed into her embrace.
I never wanted to move again.
I let out a content sigh as I felt how she pulled a blanket over my
body, cuddling me even closer. She draped both her arms around me in a
firm squeeze, placing her cheek on the top of my head as she pulled her
hand through my hair in a slow, if not seductive way. I could feel her
breathing settle down again despite that she was not asleep. She was
not planning to sleep before I did.
I moved my head so I could see her delicate, yet strong profile in the
poor light from the moon. She glanced down at me, asking me in our non
verbal way of communication if I was still not satisfied. Even if I
hadn't minded another hour of her skilful ministrations I doubted that
either of us was really up to it, she was hiding it well but I could
tell that she was tired to her bones. Shaking my head in a meaning way,
I raised my hand and touched her soft chin, knowing that she liked
that. Very much.
I could understand why Chloe had loved this Kirika so desperately now.
Staring up at her impressive figure from her lap, I could only awe at
her being. A girl, no, young woman who had lived through enough
suffering and pain in her short span of life to atone for this whole
cursed world. Yet she remained strong, clothing herself in emotional
apathy to survive the trials of her life but never truly losing the
thin thread to her own humanity. Even in this state, she was still
human and ruled by her emotions, the outburst of primal rage she had
exhibited today was no exception. It had been her desire to save me
that drove her to the brink, and I swore silently to myself that it
would never have to happen again. The petite, appearing unemotional
girl who right now held me against her protectively was indeed someone
who deserved admiration and love more than most selfish people I had
crossed in my life, including myself. She was probably the most
efficient assassin in the world, cold, professional and lethally
skilful in all the arts, someone to be admired and feared. But also,
while behind the locked door of our apartment she was another human
girl, affectionate, craving and passionate, starving to be loved and
eager to give it back alike. She was a maelstrom of human extremities,
destruction and death yet love and passion so fierce and protective
that it put Shakespeare to shame.
To be loved by her is like being the nexus of a storm. You could only
awe at her wild magnificence and reveal in the safety she provided.
Soldats would never be able to control her, and if those who claimed
the world couldn't, who could? When I watched her like this, under the
pale light from the moon, I was seriously in doubt that our lives would
ever resemble something called normal.
How do you tame darkness itself?
I admired her perfect, beautiful face. She looked like a death angel,
sent by someone to guard me. If that was indeed true or all a
calculation of fate, I am however, grateful. Grateful for having her
coming and staying in my life and grateful for being the one whom her
heart had chosen. A lone tear rolled down my chin, leaving a taste of
salt on my lips as I closed my eyes, ready to let sleep take me anew.
"Mireille?" She asked, whispering into my hair, her voice hoarse with
stuffed emotions.
"Something on your mind Kirika?" I mumbled, God did I sound tired.
She didn't answer immediately, only tightening her arms around me even
more while cuddling against my neck.
"Go back to sleep, you need to rest."
"Mmm, I'm doing so." Peeking up at her a last time before slipping from
reality, I gave in to the heavy weight of sleep. It wasn't like she
would tolerate any protests from me in my current condition.
*Sleep Mireille, I will protect you.*
I know you will.
*Like I promised.*
Promised?
*Yes.*
I wasn't conscious enough to ask about it.
***
...Concluded in "Sing for Me"
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