cemetery_things | [soul campaign] Worlds Apart

+ Title: Worlds Apart

+ Characters: Count D, Rhode Kamelot

+ Rating: T

+ Word Count: 818

+ Author's Notes: A fic based in the world of the roleplay

soul_campaign, a game based on the series Soul Eater. If you're interested, feel free to stop by and look at the various communities.

She couldn't remember how she had arrived there, no matter how hard she tried or how long she waited for the memories to return. One minute she had been standing, shoulders hunched against the harsh desert heat; the next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes to a far cooler, dimmer place, unlike any place she had been before.

Perhaps it was the blow to her head that had done it, in the midst of the battle. It had been bandaged carefully, though it seemed to be nothing more than a superficial cut-- But, oh, it hurt when she moved too quickly, and Rhode staggered back down, leaning on her elbows as the horrific sense of vertigo washed over her.

As quickly as she gasped, he was beside her (though she hadn't sensed him in the room, oddly), gentle hands on her own, checking her over. He was talking, trying to reassure her, or something, but she couldn't... understand, for some reason. She simply stared at him, the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears, expression communicating all the bewilderment and confusion she felt more effectively than any words.

"I believe you have a concussion. Can you hear me?"

It was the first thing she could process, and she nodded slightly to show it-- Flinched, when the pain swelled again. He steadied her, gently pushing her back until she was lying down again. She didn't feel well, not at all, but there was something wrong with this. What, though--

"Mukuro?" It was hard to speak, oddly. The words tasted like cotton in her mouth. "I want Mukuro."

The fact that D looked appropriately sympathetic should have told her the answer immediately, but her heart didn't drop until she heard the words:

"We are in my world now, my dear. I believe the others are still in Death City."

===

She refused to eat, even when it was safe for her to do so again. No amount of persuasion or cajoling could get a reaction from the girl, and she didn't seem to care that it was making her feel worse. If she wasn't sleeping, she would simply lie there; refusing to speak, refusing to do anything at all.

Grieving was a new experience for her. Feeling this kind of loss was something she hadn't experienced in almost forty years. Rhode didn't know how to cope; she did not want to cope. Lashing out did nothing but make the sensation of emptiness worse. Wasting away seemed like a very appealing option, when this kind of pain was consuming her.

D was having none of it, unfortunately. When he wasn't doing something elsewhere, he would be sitting beside her: checking her injuries, forcing her to drink some water or tea, brushing out her hair. Sometimes he would talk the whole time, and other times he wouldn't say a word. Soon, though-- (how many days passed, she didn't know; time didn't seem to exist in here--) he brought some sort of rice-looking soup for her to eat, and his insistence finally forced her into an outright fit in her efforts to reject it. He kept her from spilling the bowl at the last, returning her glare with that infuriatingly patient gaze.

"Are you finished?" He asked quietly, watching her as she finally began to catch her breath. She was a spiteful little creature, and he could see it in her eyes. She hated him for being there with her, as much as she hated herself for losing her partner. But she had the instinct to survive, at the very least.

D held the bowl out again, ready to pull it away if she tried to attack it again. "Be reasonable, my dear. I doubt your partner would approve if you starved yourself for his sake."

He waited, watching her struggle with her own indecision for several minutes. At last, she reached out; took the rice, and ate it like a half-starved mongrel despite his warnings to slow down.

When the bowl was empty, Rhode stared down at it silently.

"Rhode?" D leaned down to try and see her face, reaching out to try and catch her chin with his fingertips.

Her cheeks were damp with tears, and she pulled back in shame when he made a soft noise of sympathy. He tsked, taking the bowl and setting it aside before pulling her into his lap.

Though she tried to fight it, she cried until she was sick. D soothed her, patiently, smoothing her hair and rubbing her back until she was too tired to wretch and sob any longer. When she fell asleep, he carefully cleaned her up.

For the first time since she had been torn from her own world, Rhode walked in her Dreams again.