This prompt was given to me by the lovely Darkpurply, based of Edgar A. Poe’s “Pit and the Pendulum”. Thank you so much Pur! How did you now that I loved Poe?!
warning: this contains some violent content and is a little graphic. This isn’t angst so is still has a happy(ish) ending. KEEP UP THE PROMPTS. Once i get back in the groove of things i might finally get to that firefly AU. Enjoy.
Edited by the wonderful Professor Maka
The first thing that woke her up was the music. Eerily familiar tunes played slowly and softly into her ears, coaxing her mind to stay calm and asleep. She trusted the music, knew it, why should she fight it? Her eyes were too heavy to open and she couldn’t feel her limbs. The only thing that existed right now was that sweet sound slowly increasing its pace. She could almost feel the music vibrating and pulsing down her spine. Slowly, ever so slowly, senses crawled their way back to young woman like a prodigal son returning home. Callused fingertips met the smooth touch of cherry wood; fingernails delicately scraped the flat, smooth surface. Aching muscles lay still in rebellion, pretending not to hear their instincts to move, a throng of voices throbing in the young warriors head, telling her to let the world melt away and drown in the sound forever.
Of course, themeister was stubborn, and in that legion of voices she heard the one sole voice, that familiar, comforting but urgent voice, telling her there was a reason she woke up. Listening to the solitary voice of defiance that spoke so bold in her soul as much as her mind felt like the right thing to do. With twitching fingers, heavy lidded eyelids slowly blinked themselves awake.
The room was dimly lit in candle light. She was facing the ceiling, vision still blurry as sleep took its time to fade. The music continued, louder now, more chaotic and fast paced. Her fingers lightly touched the wood once again, and it seemed to purr itself to life in sync with the music. In fact, the meister felt her whole body vibrate with the sensation of the music. Without needing to see, she knew from the sound what she was lying on top of.
This was not the first thing the skilled individual noticed, death grips cut into her skin around her wrist; she writhed around but was impeded from any movement as her arms and legs were restrained. Maka Albarn was tied to a piano.
With this revelation came confusion and fear, lining up in her conscious like a firing squad, shooting down the false sense of security she was foolishly eased into. Panic set in as Maka bucked her tied limbs against the restraints. The music played faster and faster, madness flowing from every note in the barbaric rhythm. Turning her head, she caught sight of who was playing the music. Maka’s heart stopped.
Hunched over the black and white keys was her own partner, Soul, or at least what used to be Soul. His eyes were wide with a maddening excitement and an even wider smile. She screamed and cursed and writhed but it was futile, her partner was gone, replaced by a puppet, too entranced to know she existed. It was when she tried looking around for anything she could use. That’s when she saws it—a scythe blade— much like Soul, swinging above her head. It sluggishly swung back and forth, the large glinting terror descending maddeningly slow.
Howling in rage, fear, confusion, Maka’s blood boiled with an animal instinct that told her to survive no matter the cost. The bladed menace’s descent increased with the music, getting closer, moving right for her chest. It was angled oddly however; instead of being diagonal or vertical, it swayed across her in a way that would cut the meister from her left shoulder down to her right hip.
She wouldn’t let this happen. She wasn’t going to die, not here, not like this, not when she didn’t know if she could still save Soul. Angling the back of her right hand face down against the flat surface of the piano, Maka pushed hard against the wood, bruising the tissue and cracking the delicate bone. It hurt, but as the pendulum descended even closer, only three feet above her chest, the music painfully loud, and with the adrenaline rushing through her, Maka made the final push and broke her wrist.
Nearly blacking out from the pain, Maka blinked away tears. The swing scythe was only a foot from her chest; she had to move quickly. Unfortunately, although her right hand was free, having a broken wrist made untying the restraints on her left hand next to impossible. With death looming closer, Maka began gnawing furiously at the rope. It hurt her gums, but not as much as it was going to hurt should she not escape. The knot was nearly undone. So close… just a little more..
A hand grabbed her right shoulder and forced her back down. Soul’s strong hands gripped her throat. She looked into his red eyes but they were dead; Her Soul Perception felt no spark of life behind his eyes.
“Soul…” she finally gasped. “Soul..!” no response, the pendulum was only inches from her chest, she could feel the kinetic energy from its movements as it made its final swing. Just as she predicted, the blade began at her shoulder and ended at her waist. unfortunately, it wasn’t deep enough to kill her yet. Maka screamed as her torso was torn open, the momentum of the blade moving her with it slightly. Hot blood gushed from her wound. “SOUL!!” She wailed as the pendulum came back to finish the job.
Silence enveloped him and his empty bedroom, save for his own severe panting. Darkness laid a heavy blanket over his eyes. Clutching his chest, Soul swung his legs over the edge of his sweat soaked bed. The scar on his chest wouldn’t stop throbbing.
“Soul!? Are you ok?” Maka barged into his room, her visage full of worry. Standing up, Soul walked up to her and grabbed his meister by the shoulders, needing to make certain she was there for real.
“I’m fine,” he sighed in relief when he finalized he wasn’t still asleep, “just a bad dream.”
The weapon embraced her, resting his chin above her head. Soul didn’t want to seem clingy, but he just couldn’t let her go, not after that. He needed to make sure she was ok.
“The black blood again,” the technician told him rather then asked, “it’s getting worse.” The Scythe only nodded. They didn’t know what would become of this, how they would handle it, but this was something they would confront it together. Soul knew that the madness would overcome him eventually, but with Maka by his side, his sanity was worth fighting for, if only just so he could enjoy moments like these for a little while longer.