Claymore Fanfiction Discussion

[shelter]

@Shiek, this is the 2nd (and last) part of the fic I posted previously.

Working Title: Nothing but White (Part 2)
Rating: T
Word Count: 3,342

Notes: It got a bit longer than expected.

Spoiler for Nothing but White (Part 2):

Part 2

6.
The road leads down into the last valley before the ruins of Pieta. Here, it narrows till it passes onto higher grounds. Woods flank the road like walls along a corridor. Here, for the first time during the journey, does Raki know that they are being watched.

Isley didn’t train me for nothing, he thinks, his hand flirting with the temptation to draw his weapon. But he’s stopped by something else: that both Isley and Priscilla know too, and both choose not to do anything about it.

At the crest of the valley he sees two men. They wait in the middle of the road. Too obvious. Raki thinks they’re either looking for trouble or looking for someone. Yet Isley keeps walking, closing the distance, as if both men were permanent fixtures in the landscape.

“Isley?”

He hears him sigh. Then he turns to Priscilla, addressing her like how one would talk to a very small child:

“I want you to wait here while I talk to these gentlemen. Understand?”

Raki waits to be asked forward. But he sees Isley turn to him and say: “Why don’t you replenish our food and water?”


7.
“Who do you think they are?” Priscilla asks him, when he returns.

He had taken their water pouches – leather-skinned and hardly drunk anyway – down to the nearest stream. He emptied everything, refilled them, dumped the bits of food he hadn’t already thrown away. He had left Priscilla there, waiting at the foot of the rise while Isley met at the summit. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he had returned.

Against the backdrop of cloud and sky, Raki watches sunlight illustrate their features. They could pass as farmers. Perhaps even bandits. But he knows: no human would ever approach Isley with such military restraint, with their eyes directed at his. He eyes their lack of weapons, the way they loosen their muscles, the polished frowns on their faces when they pause for Isley to respond to them. He knows: they answer only to Isley. He thinks they are the remnants of Isley’s old marauding army.

“His former men.”

He sees Priscilla frown.

“They’re anxious,” she declares.

“I can see that too.”

“No. All three of them.”

He sees her with her eyes closed, one hand out, palm up. A single lock of hair has fallen across her face. It flows absently across her lips.

“Can you hear what they’re talking about?” he asks, pressing.

“He’s giving orders.”

For a strangled moment, Raki sees one of the men’s eyes warp beyond Isley’s frame and connect with his own. The man’s expression hardens, and he can see the animal-like edge to the narrow eyes and the slit sides of his mouth. He can almost imagine the Awakened form of this man. The man appears to bark in protest at something Isley says, before softening with a dog-like obedience.

“He’s talking about us,” Priscilla announces.

Raki feels his frame tighten. He isn’t sure about so many things, and this isn’t something he wishes to add to his list of worries. He eyes the clouds, splitting light, behind the men. Again, like during their conversation in the tavern days ago, he feels the muscles in his legs clench. He drills a fist into his jutting kneecap. It disappears.

Then he sees Isley hand over the papers to the two men.

On the dusty trail, a thundercloud rapidly approaching from the south, Raki thinks he finally understands. He thinks he knows his – their situation. He looks at Priscilla who, to his surprise, nods. He turns his back on Isley’s meeting, and says:

“I think that the time has come for us to make a choice.”


8.
As he expects, Isley doesn’t tell him what he talked about in detail. He simply says they were old friends, who had arranged to meet long before. When Raki tries to get more out, he adds:

“Old warriors-in-arms,” Isley gathers his directions. “They asked about you and Priscilla. But I told them if they spoke another word about you, I would’ve not let them leave here alive.”

Isley smiles, and Raki finds the soreness in his muscles develop into a beating, lingering pain. He sneaks a hand down to massage the flat plateau behind his knees again. He knows this is the kind of phantom pain that has been with him for years. The leftover strain from all the training with Isley, from having his human frame pushed to its limits.

But he knows better: his pain will be nothing compared to what he’ll feel when he reaches Pieta. And he knows too that Isley, who has begun to walk away, is always – somehow – the centre of this discomfort.


9.
Raki thinks Pieta looks different in summer. The road leading to the desolate city splits off from the main route, sloping down into yet another valley swamped by shell-green grass as far as his eyes can see. At the highest point before hitting the slope, he can finally see it: the grey smudge of a town sprawled below, cuddled in the elbow of a meandering stream like a horizontal cut on the landscape.

They stop so he can eat. Raki eats, Isley takes a swig of water, Priscilla stares. There’s no snow, no blizzard. There’s no blasting, coughing wind. Instead, Raki finds the air strangely still. Storm clouds loiter above the town, but they are blurred across the sky by the time they reach the bottom of the valley. In their place, hangs the shallowness of a sea-blue sky, laced with clouds and the watery yolk of the sun. Raki has never seen the north so beautiful before.

But as they near the ruins, he feels that familiar atmosphere again. It’s the absence of movement, the stillness of the surroundings, with nothing but the destroyed town. The sense that something terrible happened here all those years ago.

They pass through the front gate, its stone columns smothered by weeds. Moss blossoms on the buildings, like colourful wounds on their stone bodies. The afternoon sun plays with Raki’s eyes, casting floating shadows under the empty husks of all the ruined buildings. To him, the spreading black along the edges of the blasted and potholed street looks suspiciously like blood.

Priscilla falls back. Raki sees her eyes closed again. The air is filled with the scent of fresh grass, stagnant water and something else. He knows it’s the sense of decay.

He walks towards the monument waiting behind the next cluster of buildings. Isley glances around, and begins to speak:

“People say that the Organization had never lost so many warriors before in one place,” he says. “And nobody had seen so many Awakened Beings dead among them.”

“You’ll know it better than most.”

Raki sees Isley smile, too politely. “Have you discovered something I don’t know?”

“You probably knew exactly how many Awakened Beings were here on that night.”

“Ah. And how would you know that?”

When he doesn’t answer, Isley softens, his smile melting away.

“Raki, you mind telling me what you think you know?”

Raki looks to the taller man. He makes an elaborate shrug, and says:

“Nothing you already don’t know.”


9.
At the first sight of the memorial, Raki feels something spreading over his chest. Something – nostalgia, perhaps. Or dread. Or grief.

He remembers the last time he was here: winter, a storm and their cloaks waving to each other across the cold square. He remembers seeing the blades for the first time and how, listening to Isley’s opinion, he had poured his tears over the swords. He could only be separated by Isley’s insistence that he’d freeze to death if he didn’t move.

That was years ago, Raki thinks. Now, as he breaks into the square, he sees the blades, like tombstones, distributed haphazardly on a carpet of quivering pasture. He wades through the knee-high grass. Flowers, blood-red poppies like open sores, seize his trousers as he brushes past them. The blades have turned dull-coloured. Some have been overwhelmed by vines.

And roughly at the centre of the scattered blades lies a heap of stones. He remembers building it. Now, years on, he plucks a rock from the grass and lays it on the summit his makeshift monument.

He goes to the farthest blade. It is tilted and rusty, lying in a yellow blush of sunlight. There, he kneels. He rights the blade with some effort. He images the warrior who last held it. He rests his head on the vertical steel. He closes his eyes. He pictures Clare.

Her face, chewed away from his memory, fails to appear.

Behind, in mumbled tones, he hears Isley talking to Priscilla. He can’t hear the words exactly, but he can make out the strain in his voice. Instead, he listens to Priscilla’s footsteps, departing.

Raki hears her say to Isley: “I wish you would stop treating me like a little girl.”

Then, he knows – feels – Isley approaching him. The two of them are alone on this deserted square of land, accompanied by an audience of unused swords.

Isley’s voice hits him like a smack of thunder:

“So you knew.”

Raki sees the open plain through the stripped-down walls and cratered buildings. The shadows of clouds stamp shapes on the land. Green smears the hills beyond them. He can hear wind slicing through the fingers and splinters of stone left from the nearest building. He touches the large blade. He makes no attempt to stand.

“I think I’ve said this before,” Raki says. “But she saved me.”

“Uh huh.”

“And after all these years I can even remember how she looks like.”

“Time does that.”

“So she could be buried here. I won’t even know.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Clare.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You were here, weren’t you?”

He hears Isley walk closer, and turns to face him. Like that short interval at the tavern, like the first time he disarmed him, Isley doesn’t look him in the face. His fringe shrouds his eyes. He stands with shoulders squared.

“But back to the question,” says Isley. “Why don’t you tell me what you know?”

“I think I know enough.”

“Really?”

“Pieta. The massacre. The warriors who died.”

“That’s a bit vague.”

Raki explains: “You ordered your army to wipe out the town. And you’re still giving orders because of a new creature the Organization has come up with.”

“Ah that’s – so you know about the Eaters.”

“You can’t carry a piece of paper for two days without reading it.”

“Then you probably should know what’s next.”

He doesn’t. But when he sees Isley draw the blade and lean on it like a walking stick, he thinks he might.

“I think it’s time to complete your training,” Isley tells him.

Raki takes a deep breath.

“A human travelling with two Awakened Beings, isn’t going to survive when the Eaters tracks us down.”

“Your point?”

“Getting there,” Isley swings the blade. It is massive, almost bigger than a Claymore. But he sees how it lands with a smack in Isley’s other hand. He repeats it, flinging the blade in blurry arc. A blatant display of strength. “My men thought I’d gone crazy. Wanted to know what a human was doing with the White Silver King.”

“That’s what they called you?”

“It was a nice title.”

“Why not tell them you’re not fighting anymore?” Raki answers back. “Why not tell them you’re with us? Not with them?”

Isley slaps the blade into his palm. The sound breaks off from the surrounding buildings. Raki notices: his eyelids curl behind his bangs, and he turns very still, as if he’s deep in thought.

But he speaks: “I told them when we meet next, the human will be one of them.”

Raki understands. The blade, Priscilla’s dismissal, Pieta. Isley’s investment in his training. Everything.

“What if I refuse?”

“I don’t want to do this by force.”

“What? Cut me up?”

“I’ve done this before,” Isley says. Finally, he brushes his hair away, and Raki sees those eyes, full of intent. “It hurts less than the real thing.”

Raki sighs. He knows this could be it. He knows that, from now, every move would be a wrong move. He wants to plead, to run close the distance and embrace this man, his brother, who is bound by his own actions to hopeless cause. But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns, faces the Claymore’s sword.

He kneels. He prays. He’s only prayed once before, for Clare. So he repeats that prayer now.

In the middle of it, Isley’s voice:

“I just realized something.”

Raki continues to pray, rushing to end with Clare’s name on his lips.

“You’ve known all this while?”

Raki nods.

“That’s a lot of time. To plan. To tell Priscilla.”

Raki gives Isley another nod.

When he gets to his feet, he sees Isley’s face, no longer confident. The sword, however, still remains firmly in his hands.

“So are you going to ambush me with something?” Isley asks. He looks around.
“Like one of your self-learnt moves?”

“You took a drink before we arrived at Pieta.”

“Go on.”

Raki takes the pouch from his side. He feels its lightness. When he lifts it up with his left hand, Isley seems to understand. For effect, he draws his dagger with other hand.

“Where do you think all the pills went into?”

For a second, Isley’s face hangs suspended in surprise. But he breaks into a smile. It makes Raki more uneasy than he already is.

“Very smart of you.”

Raki shrugs.

“You forgot I’m the better swordsman.”

Then, a voice: “You forgot about me.”

Priscilla strides into their midst, and then things happen very fast. Isley moves his sword-arm. She stops it. Raki sees Isley’s instinctive reaction: he tries to protect himself with his other arm. It cuts through the air, chopping. But before it connects with Priscilla’s face, he’s on the ground. Priscilla flexes the arm under her. It snaps. It twists outward at an obtuse angle.

“Wait!”

Both pause. But Isley struggles to stand. Raki sees Priscilla apply pressure. He lets out a painful shout. It’s the first time he sees him in agony.

“Priscilla! Stop!” Raki finds himself saying.

“Let him stand.”

She looks up at him. Unsure, but she still obeys anyway. Raki helps Isley stand, but holds the dagger close.

“You planned this,” Isley pants.

“Yes.” He aims the blade at Isley, who’s clutching his broken arm, struggling. Raki hesitates. He’s reviews the sight of this man before him. This man: Isley. Not just any man, but the man who taught him to hold a sword properly.

But Raki says what he’s been wanting to say all this time: “Show me she isn’t buried here.”

Isley stops. He looks at the Claymore’s swords, his gaze flying back and forth through them.

“I think your obsession with that warrior has made you crazy –”

Raki puts the dagger in the centre of his forehead, and orders:

“Dig them all out. And show me.”


10.
Raki measures their shadows. As the sun drags itself across the entire length of sky above Pieta, their shadows get pulled towards it. They merge with those from the ruins, pooling in a mass of dark colour along straight fragments of stone and debris. At one point of the day, Raki turns to find the sun at its brightest, an orange flower made luminous by the hills crowding around its descending form.

Isley has exposed the seventeen shallow graves beneath the blades. His face is mucked with soil, his arms bloodied with dirt. Raki examines them. Nothing. Years of winter storms and summer humidity have eroded the warriors’ symbols at the hilts. The skulls that stare back at him mouth at some inner pain he can’t interpret.

“Recognize anyone?” Isley says, goading.

Raki presses hard on the hilt of the sword he took from Isley. He thinks: there’s nothing to prove that she’s here. There’s nothing to prove she isn’t

Raki walks up to Isley. He makes sure the blade is pointed at the taller man’s neck. He knows there’s no possibility of a good answer, but he asks anyway.

“You don’t remember anyone named Clare?”

“Can we stop playing games?” he says. Then whispers: “Listen Raki, put down the sword and let’s talk. I know what you’re thinking. But you don’t want to be alone with a monster –”

Priscilla: “What’s he saying?”

“You think just a few years of swordsmanship is good enough when she awakens?” he says. Raki endures this, till Isley moves closer, his butcher shop breath filling the narrow space between them. “And she will awaken – it’s just a matter of time –”

“Raki, I don’t think you should listen to what he’s saying.”

In Isley’s face he tries to pry free any memory, any hint of Clare’s face. He tries to see the ridge of her forehead, the sloping hair, the way sweat perches like a mustache on the upper reaches of her lips – he sees the shaky way she swings her large sword, the rustling of many muscles when she jumps. He can’t stop thinking. And he knows it.

“She’s alive,” he says. Isley’s face breaks out in exasperation. “I’m going to find her.”

“Good. Now let’s –”

He holds up a hand to stop Isley from talking, then points at the nearest grave, where the bones of a dead warrior look like a curled fingers of an open palm.

Isley appears to understand. But, he raises his hands, and says: “Raki, I trained you –”

“I know.”

“I taught you everything you need to know.”

He nods.

“You can’t do this! Leaving me for a monster –”

He lands the first blow lands on Isley’s temple, so fast that he hears the wind of his retracting fist. As his former friend and mentor stumbles, he thrusts up the flat of the blade at him. Isley shouts, but the blow muffles it. Isley crumples, his legs bend and he crashes into the open grave. The last Raki sees of the white silver king is a folded man clutching the side of his face, his long hair speckled with bloodstains.


11.
“Raki, are you all right?”

Evening falls. All he wants is to get out of here, to exit the valley with its ruins, graves and wounded man he’s left in one of the graves. He walks to where his memory triggers a route, skirting the stream, climbing the slopes till the wind comes at him, gusts punching into his face. As the orange remnants of sunset drip away from the horizon, he continues walking, darkness coating him like a blanket.

He hears Priscilla walking behind. Her footsteps fall like whispers. He’s grateful for the space she gives him. But soon, whether he likes it or not, he will have to face her, face the truth of who she is, and his own frailty in the face of greater things.

He gropes in the dark. His feet strike rocks and bounders, and the huge sword he took from Isley catches the weedy arms of plants more than once. Ahead, he stares down an intense darkness, so black he imagines fires, colours, spaces on it. Somewhere beyond it, he knows, is the Central lands, his home, the trails he’s familiar with, and everything he’s hoping for,

“Raki?” Priscilla again. “Where are we going?”

In the thick nothingness, he tries – again – to reassemble that face once for all. He sees the ripped knuckles of a closed fist. Then an inverted tick of blood trailing downwards from a busted lip. Hair brushing shoulders, its ends sharp, as if hacked by a machete. The sound of breathing, drenching from the very bottom of lungs –
His own. Filling the space around him and Priscilla. In the absence of a face, the darkness swallows, and pulls him forward. He wants to tell Priscilla, this where we’re going. Forward.

He takes steps after step, closes his eyes. And before he knows it, he can’t tell the difference at all.


END

Lame ending? Not believable? Too dramatic? Comments & critique appreciated. I'm not satisfied with it, so I would like feedback to improve.

[Shiek927]

First of all.....why was I the only one who reviewed the first part when their were more people who gave you advice? :/

It was much more like your other works Shelter -- it was dark, much darker then I expected. Isley's machinations finally caught up with him, and one thing that I felt that makes your story a success, is the regret - I genuinely felt the regret that he had; he gambled one too many, and lost. In a sense, you could argue that making Raki into an Awakened Being would be protecting him, but even that is unknown -- that's what I like about him here, because it's unknown what he's feeling regret for: for the loss of his plans, or his companions. Isley is a strategist, who takes advantage of everything he can, whether it be people or situations -- he has no remorse in sacrificing his army and so called friends, and tried to do the same with them, which is why it was such a shock that Raki would pull one over him.

That's why I feel he's the star here, because even at the end, I feel it's unknown where his feelings truly lie - so much of this story in both parts, were just acting: both Raki and Isley playing roles and hiding their true intentions, much less feelings. It feels Shakespearean the kind of betrayal that happens....because what gets me is...who really betrayed who? did Isley betray Raki? or vice-versa? you could very well argue that it goes both ways. What I felt from the first part, in that they are both using eachother as a means to an ends, continues and explodes here.

And yet, you have to wonder if it's a hollow victory for Raki if Isley really did feel something for these two, and yet, we'll never know and I prefer it that way -- I love the ambiguity of his portrayal. Was he really doing everything he did for Raki's welfare? to suit his own purposes? to further his own control over Priscilla? a combination of reasons? it's so hard to say really. One thing feels clear to me though -- he went where he shouldn't have; he couldn't leave well enough alone. He played a game with the two closest people he could call a family, and the result was losing them both - that is where I feel the regret comes from.

What made this story so dark though was from the most unexpected source -- Raki. The story felt somewhat predictable until the end: I did not expect whatsoever, that Raki would force Isley to dig up the graves of the Claymores. You could almost call it twisted revenge for the massacre that he ordered. Yet, the sheer fact that this demand is coming from Raki of all people makes the feeling of it more shock then anything else - I feel his time with him has made him more like Isley then he expected. He himself has pulled off a move that overthrew the Silver King, and leaves him looking upon the decomposed faces of the warrior women he is responsible for -- it made me think of your previous stories and just how dark they were, which the first part didn't have as much.

....It just feels so wasted; you could argue on how any sort of relationship between these three could have possibly worked out, but you have to wonder just how things would have happened had they not been so busy playing games with eachother and simply been honest with their intentions. You could say that it was never going to last, but you definitely took it to the next level Shelter; you definitely expressed the tragedy and regret that occurs in the manga, so it ties in relatively well.

I could go on and on about my impressions, but I want to make some sort of point -- I did get a feeling of rushness. Not the story, but the mechanics -- more and more, especially toward the end...it feels kind of sloppy. You definitely should look this over for editing because I feel you could do better. The spacing, the wording...this part definitely needs a second look through.

Gotta go, but it was a very enjoyable look at one possible way these three could have split up: if nothing else, I'm just happy another fic with them was made.

[shelter]

Originally Posted by Shiek927

What made this story so dark though was from the most unexpected source -- Raki. The story felt somewhat predictable until the end: I did not expect whatsoever, that Raki would force Isley to dig up the graves of the Claymores. You could almost call it twisted revenge for the massacre that he ordered.

Personally, I got most satisfaction out of writing about Raki. Both Isley & Priscilla act quite predictably, and every Claymore fan will know their histories, but in Raki's case, I felt I needed something powerful to show the change.

In the end, this story is about Raki & Clare as much as it is about Raki & Isley, or Raki & Priscilla. With Raki reappearing again in the new manga releases, I think Yagi did us a disservice by not really making it clear who/ what he is looking for. This story tries to push readers towards the idea that Raki has changed, he can't remember Clare. He just remembers an idea. And it drives him to do things out of both desperation & hopelessness.

Unfortunately, the last 2 sections were very badly pieced together. I couldn't end well, because it took so long to reach the climax. I also regret pitting Raki & Isley against each other, because Priscilla seems a bit left out. I'm happy that you think I'm trying to tie it to canon, because it's getting more and more difficult. I only know how to make things dark.

I wish there were more people commenting. But more writers other than just those here would be better. Since I'm more free, I'm trying to write a fic once every 2 weeks to keep things going.

[Bikerider]

Meanwhile in the possible future

Warrior 23: GET MOVING SCUM !!! You got a lot of cleaning to do.
Warrior 31: You don't want me to smack you on the butt with this training sword... again... Get moving Org Assassin Scum. Back to work.
Warrior 44: Wow ! These training swords are quite handy !!
Warrior 43: Can I smack them this time ?

[Bikerider]

meanwhile in the possible future

Yuma: This is great. We find this cache of hundreds of warrior swords. Now I can carry extras...

Cynthia: Umm.... just how many of those do you intend to take with you ?

Yuma {holding many swords in her arms}: Not all of them. I'm gonna have some of the trainees carry them.

Cynthia: You're supposed to be training them to fight. Not to carry around extra swords for you.

Yuma: umm.... Who says it's not training ? Carrying heavy weights will build up their strength.

[Weird D]

Sorry but I'm not as good at analyzing as Shieky

In the middle of the relationship between Isley and Raki, there was one thing that struck me, mostly in the first part. Several times, the word 'friend' is used, yet at this point, there is not much friendship displayed between Raki and Isley. It's more like Raki is staying due to a strange, reluctant fascination to Isley, as well as a sense of obligation - that is, until Isley finally pushes his manipulations too far, unable to see the rift that has been growing between them.

It's probably why Raki chooses Priscilla in the end, as while he knows what she is, he has yet to be betrayed by her in any way. As time passed, Raki became aware of Isley's manipulations whereas as far as he can tell, Priscilla has no hidden agenda concerning him.

Which makes it all the more bittersweet considering that Priscilla is using him too. Honestly, wince you're so good at exploring the depths in characters' relationships, you could try a similar piece involving Priscilla leaving Raki.

[shelter]

Originally Posted by Weird D

Which makes it all the more bittersweet considering that Priscilla is using him too. Honestly, wince you're so good at exploring the depths in characters' relationships, you could try a similar piece involving Priscilla leaving Raki.

I'm not as good as analyzing as Shiek is either. Which is why I didn't think too much about it.

It's an very strong observation you have. Even though it sounds really ironic, I believe everyone is using everyone else in Claymore to some extent. It's pretty sad & hopeless.

Two things are stopping me from putting it down as a fic. One is obviously the lack of a good plot. The second is I can't really decide on Priscilla's character, whether she is really consciously manipulating or she can't really help herself. I will probably wait until Yagi touches on Priscilla again. Or until someone gives me some fresh new perspective.

Thanks for the comments, Weird D.

[Bikerider]

meanwhile in the possible near future

Stacy breathing real hard): Whew... I made it... but did I make it in time ?

Helen: HOY !!! number 7 !! What took you so long ? We're all done here. You missed all the fun.

Stacy (looking at the badly torn up Warriors and bedraggled Ghosts): Some how I'm sort of happy I did.

[Bikerider]

meanwhile in the possible furture

Miria: That is amazing straegy Cynthia. How ever did you think of it ?

Cynthia: Oh Miria-san, Every Warrior enjoys tea and scones. Even resurrected ones, it seems. *sips tea*

[Weird D]

The insanity continues...

Spoiler for The Claymores, the captive and... a beast? - chapter 2:

Even though she could not see them, just knowing that the rocky lands that made Staff were in front of her was enough to make Galatea frown. The disguised Claymore, who was still dressed as a nun, ignored the curious looks she could feel on her and requested the nearest warrior for Deneve’s location. Instead however, she was simply told to wait and that Deneve would meet her soon.

Galatea frowned at the dismissal until she remembered that most warriors here didn’t know her. With her Yoki suppressed, all they saw was a blind human travelling with two Claymores. Considering Miata’s age and Clarice’s colored hair, they must have seemed a rather strange group.

Behind her, her two companions took a moment to breathe, as Galatea had enforced a quicker-than-normal pace to arrive. It was made obvious by the amount of dust on them and their slightly disheveled state.

Galatea on the other hand still managed to look impeccable.

Soon enough, a rather surprised Deneve joined them and, after a quick exchange of pleasantries, Clarice excused herself, mentioning that she and Miata were in desperate need of a bath.

This of course immediately made the warrior-child take off like her life was on the line, starting yet another game of cat and mouse between her and her surrogate mother.

The two remaining Claymores exchanged a short laugh before Deneve asked, “By the way, not that I am unhappy to see you, what are you doing here?”

“I am not quite sure.” Galatea admitted. “I had this weird feeling that I had to come here… First I ignored it, but recently I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Right… you’re going to tell me it was a divine intervention.” Deneve smirked.

“Very funny.”

Galatea was leaving out the ‘signs’ that had made her leave Rabona. At the beginning, she was simply tripping on her own feet. Then she started missing the doors and walking straight into wall instead. Not to mention the old lady who had dumped an entire bucket of dirty water just as she walked under her window…

This was not so much a calling from the gods, than them kicking her out of the Holy City. That or they were punishing her for posing as a nun.

“Still, I am glad to see you, it saves me from sending you a message. I need your help with something.” Deneve said as she led her away.

()()()()

They had walking for a while through the maze of corridors, and Galatea was finding herself intrigued since she had never been allowed so deep into the complex. If she had to guess, she would say they were near the old laboratories, where sensitive experiments were being carried.

“Don’t come closer!” the panicked voice, identified as Tabitha’s, shouted, her statement enforced by the tip of a claymore aimed at the arrivals.

Galatea raised an eyebrow at the fear she could feel through Tabitha’s Yoki while Deneve remained calm.

“Tabitha,” she said with a patient tone, like she was addressing a five years old child, “we need to go down.”

“No! You mustn’t! The beast will get you! Like all the others!” Tabitha shouted back.

“A beast?” Galatea repeated in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s complicated.” Deneve replied.

“It’s a beast… it’s waiting down there, and any Claymore that faces it will… will…” she was unable to finish as words couldn’t describe the horror awaiting there (and conveniently forgetting the goofy grin on anyone who faced the ‘beast’). “So I must stand guard, and prevent anyone from going down.”

“Forgive Tabitha, the last few days have been rough on her, not to mention she hasn’t slept in a while.” Deneve explained since Galatea couldn’t see the dark circles under the rambling warrior’s eyes.

“Can’t sleep, the beast will get me… can’t sleep the beast will get me…”

“Taby, calm down, Galatea has nothing to fear from the beast, remember?” Deneve tried to reason her friend.

“She’s safe?” Tabitha asked hopefully.

“She’s safe; in fact she’s the safest out of us. No go take some rest.”

“It’s not a trick right? Several have tried already, you’re not going to go to the beast too, Deneve?”

“I won’t, I promise.” the short-haired warrior said soothingly.

“Okay then.” Shakily, Tabitha put her sword back and allowed the pair to pass.

As they walked down the stairs leading to Dae’s den, Galatea couldn’t help but ask. “What was that about?”

“An old human friend of Clare’s was infected by some kind of parasite shortly before our rebellion, and apparently he was taken here. I need you to ascertain whether or not he’s dangerous, and if not, release him.” Deneve explained.

“But what was that about a beast? Another experiment lurking down there too? Why didn’t you kill it? Heck, why did it look like Tabitha has been guarding this door for days non-stop?”

“Because she has. She’s the only one I could trust with this task.” Deneve answered with an eerie voice. “All the others had… problems.”

“Problems?” Galatea repeated in a way that made it clear that she wanted explanations.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Right… And why exactly do you need me? Why am I safe?” Galatea thought about it for a moment. Deneve wanted her to face something that no warrior had been able to take down, including those with extensive experience in dealing with Awakened Beings. “Heck, how could one creature cause so much havoc? Is it that powerful? Because if it is, I don’t think I can fight it alone.”

“It is not actually strong, and you won’t need to fight.” Deneve reassured her. “It’s… it’s just complicated.”

Ignoring Galatea’s increasing frustration, Deneve abruptly stopped. “This is as far as I go; the door is about thirty feet ahead.”

“You know Deneve, if I didn’t know you, I’d think this is some kind of trap. Instead I’ll assume you have a good reason, but I’d like to know why exactly you won’t even come to the door with me.” the fake nun scowled.

“Because any further and I’ll be tempted to go inside.” Deneve replied, only increasing Galatea’s confusion.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s…”

“All right, I get it!” Galatea shouted in exasperation as she stomped to the door, obviously wanting to get done with it, whatever it was.

()()()()

It looked like a race as the two blurs tore through the lands at breakneck speed, shoulder to shoulder even though each kept trying to pull ahead of the other. If anyone could manage to get a good look at the pair, they would have been surprised at the discovery that they were both women.

A male observer would have passed out at the fact that they were both naked, and completely unbothered by it.

And anyone who knew them would have been shell-shocked that these two weren’t trying to kill each other at the moment.

Then again, they had more urgent matters than revenge right now, namely securing their man before any other silver-eyed hybrid got their claws on him.

And even this unspoken truce, which would end as soon as the matter closed, didn’t stop the snide comments being tossed back and forth.

“I knew you were weak, but I didn’t think you were an exhibitionist as well.” the smaller brown-haired woman quipped.

“That’s rich coming from you, Miss I-flash-thirteen-years-old-boys.” the bob-haired Claymore shot back, idly noticing that she was keeping up even without Awakening her legs.

Amazing what you can do when properly motivated.

“You know you cannot win against me, so why don’t you save yourself more humiliation?” Priscilla asked with fake friendliness.

“In a fight, maybe.” Clare conceded before smirking. “But in this department, I do hold the advantage.” she finished with a pointed look at her rival’s chest.

Priscilla growled in annoyance, knowing that killing Clare would ruin her chances with Raki, though the opposite was also true. Still, while she enjoyed the after-effects of their melding, she couldn’t help but think she had gotten the short end of the stick.

Sure, being able to feed off from normal food would remove the biggest hurdle between her and Raki. However Clare’s major problem had also been solved and the Claymore now sported a flawless torso, perfectly devoid of any stigmata or marks.

It didn’t help that Clare‘s slender body was a good bit curvier than Priscilla’s lithe figure, especially her bust and hips. Sure Priscilla couldn’t be considered flat-chested either, but Clare easily outmatched her.

Clare’s smirk widened at having won this minor battle with her arch-nemesis : it may not be the same as defeating her in a fight, but it was still pretty satisfying. As people say, everything is fair in love and war.

Besides, as Helen said, if you’ve got it, flaunt it!

And now that she could flaunt it, there was no way in hell she wouldn’t!

()()()()

“Hello?” The hesitant voice greeted Galatea when she stepped into the cell, a smooth baritone that sounded warm and friendly to Galatea’s ears.

Still, she decided to remain cautious, so she gave a neutral reply. “Greetings.”

“Thank you God!” the man exclaimed. “Usually, all those who come here go out immediately. I don’t even have the time to say anything… My name’s Raki by the way. What’s yours?”

“I am Galatea, and I am the former Number Three of the now-destroyed Organization.”

Raki sighed. “You know, I’ve always wondered why you Claymores refer to yourself by your rank. You are people, not numbers you know. Anyway are you going to free me?”

Galatea raised a surprised eyebrow at being considered a person by someone she had just met, more so since this man knew what she was. “First I need to assess if you are a danger. According to Deneve, you were hit by some kind of parasite.”

“Oh yeah, those. I think they’re dead, they fell off a couple of days ago. Wait, you mentioned Deneve, I met her once. Is she here? Is Clare here too?” Raki asked.

“Clare is not here, sorry. But she is alive, don’t worry. You will not be able to see her for a while though.” Galatea explained, remaining deliberately vague. Deneve had said he was Clare’s friend, she didn’t need him to throw a fit. “Didn’t Deneve tell you?”

Raki managed to shrug despite hanging from the ceiling. “You’re the first person I’ve spoken to since I’ve been here. When the others come in, all I hear is some sloshing sound and I’m alone again before I can even speak.”

“A sloshing sound?”

“Yeah, like a small geyser going off. I wonder what it means.”

“Can’t you see what happens?” Galatea asked, trying to understand what the hell was going on with the other warriors, only guessing this young man was involved.

Galatea couldn’t quite describe the nagging feeling in her head. It was like she was deliberately being left out of something.

She got a chuckle in answer. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am facing away from the door and I can’t move.”

“I am blind,” Galatea informed matter-of-factly. “I cannot see you.”

All trace of humor fled from Raki’s voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” he stammered, absolutely mortified.

Despite herself, Galatea couldn’t help but smile at how genuinely sorry he sounded. “This is nothing, rest assured that it doesn’t impede me in any way. In fact, it only made my sensing abilities even stronger. Speaking of which…” she finished as she focused harder on the lingering Yoki within Raki’s body. Immediately, the formless glob of Yoki she could feel started getting more defined.

“Sure. Oh by the way, do you think you could get me some water and food.” His voice then took a more sheepish tone. “Some underwear would be nice too.”

He didn’t know why, but he heard the blind Claymore blink. Hard.

()()()()

Meanwhile, Deneve was pacing in the corridor, casting nervous glances to the door of the cell and hoping that everything was all right, for Raki’s sake, for Clare’s sake.

For everyone’s sake.

‘Maybe I should check on them.’ she thought, taking a step toward the room. ‘Just a little peek… NO! Bad Deneve!’ She glared at the imaginary line mere feet away, as it was where her self-restraint would snap and her hormones would lure her inside the room. She could almost hear it whisper in her mind, tempting her, daring her… ‘Come on, just look… no one will know… ‘

Deneve’s mental struggle was interrupted by something impacting with her body and sending her to the floor, back into the ‘safe’ zone. Looking down, she was dismayed to find out that she was now holding a goofily grinning Galatea, the trail of blood coming from her nose as explanatory as the dazed look in her silver eyes.

Wait! Silver eyes?

‘Don’t tell me…’ Deneve thought in consternation, faintly noticing that the scar over Galatea’s eyes was gone too.

“Deneve… I can see…” Galatea breathed in amazement, apparently not quite able to fathom how this had happened. She could remember the image that had been formed in her mind’s eye as her incredible abilities allowing to ‘see’ each individual muscle through the Yoki that flowed through them.

Upon getting the entire picture, and for the first time in her life, ‘God Eye’ Galatea had honestly thought her abilities had failed her. There was no way a man could have such a fine ass. She just had this overwhelming need to confirm this with her own eyes, her regenerative abilities suddenly working harder than they ever had and then…

Galatea’s memory flashed to the very first thing she saw with her restored sight, which would forever be seared into her mind.

It looked even better in the flesh.

“So wonderful…” she giggled, squealed and finally passed out in Deneve’s arms.

“Excuse me! Galatea? Is everything all right?” Raki called innocently from his cell.

‘Someday I will have to tell him.’ Deneve thought tiredly.

Damn! How were they going to solve this problem? Any Claymore that went in would get thrown out in seconds, not to mention they kept trying to sneak back inside. That was why she had Tabitha guard the door. The poor warrior had been fine with Raki’s backside, but a single look at the ‘beast’ had traumatized her to the point she gladly accepted to ‘protect’ her friends from it.

She had thought Galatea’s blindness would make her immune, but it seemed Raki (or rather, his rear end) had caused spontaneous regeneration!

Would this madness ever end?

The approaching voices and sounds of running broke Deneve’s thoughts.

“Come back here!”

“I don’t wanna!”

“Miata! Come take a bath!”

“I hate baths!”

Well, at least Miata wasn’t running around naked and Clarice was wearing more than a mere towel. It looked like Clarice had yet to get her ‘daughter’ into the bathroom.

Deneve let out a small, amused chuckle as they ran past her and straight into Raki’s cell.

Pause! Into Raki’s cell?

“WAIT! DON’T…” Deneve shouted.

Her warning came too late as once again a Claymore was sent flying into La-La-Land. Checking quickly, she saw that Clarice was passed out, but fine.

As if the smile on her face was not enough proof.

Inside the cell, a small voice could faintly be heard.

“… Hurt… Mama…”

“Huh? Hello?” Raki asked tentatively.

“Bad man… hurt… Mama…” Miata repeated, speaking through gritted teeth.

SWISH!!

CRASH!!!

“YIKES!!!”

Deneve had no time to do anything as a large flesh-colored blur ran out of the cell, immediately followed by a smaller gray and blonde one.

“BAD MAN HURT MAMA!!!”

“HELP ME!!!”

“Don’t tell me…” Deneve groaned before she carried both Galatea and Clarice back into the main hallway. As soon as she was done, she saw Helen leaning unsteadily against the wall, holding her nose in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing.

“Deneve, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, Raki’s free. The bad news is, he’s running through the compound, buck-naked and chased by Miata.”

“What’s the damage?” the short-haired warrior asked, already dreading the answer.

“So far,” Helen continued, “fifteen warriors and twenty-three trainees have passed out. Those three warriors Dae was working on, you know, the ones he was trying to resuscitate… well, they started moving when the kid ran into the lab, can you believe that?”

Deneve looked down to the blissfully unconscious Galatea. “Somehow, I can.” Ignoring Helen’s confused look, she asked, “Don’t tell me those three are roaming around too.”

“No, luckily their bodies were too incomplete. They collapsed and died again in seconds.”

“Thank you God.” Deneve breathed, glad for the small mercy. Abyss Feeders were bad enough, no need for zombie warriors too.

“Still, there is a problem with Taby…”

“She’s having a relapse?”

“Actually no. You see, she was there when it happened. So she said she was going to put Miria’s body back together and ‘use the beast to bring Captain Miria back to life’.” Helen confessed. “Also, the few warriors who did not pass out have joined in the chase.” What Helen did not mention was that as soon as she was done here, she would be joining too.

“Do you have any good news for me? Please? Anything?” Deneve pleaded.

Her only answer was a very familiar Yoki suddenly being felt outside… very familiar and very pissed off.

“Yes, looks like Clare is back.” Helen replied. “And it feels like she’s not alone.”

()()()()

The chase had come to an abrupt stop when the group ran into the incoming duo. While they didn’t notice the finer details, including Raki’s state of dress, both Clare and Priscilla put two and two together and understood the gist of the situation.

Somebody was after their man. Quite literally in this case.

“All of you.” Clare growled at the assembled warriors, the iciness of her tone actually managing to break even Miata’s berserk mindset. “Leave. Now.”

The surging Yoki around Priscilla certainly added to the intimidation factor, as shown by the chasing group resuming their run; in the other direction.

Claymores may hunt Awakened Beings, but this was suicide.

Raki was so confused about the sudden appearance of the two most important women in his life he momentarily forgot about his nakedness. Part of his mind however did notice neither woman was clothed either, and enjoyed the sight.

As in, visibly enjoyed it.

“Clare, Priscilla, what are you doing here?” he asked, unaware of a certain growing problem.

At his question, and finally free of the other females’ presence, they looked at him and their eyes instantly widened. The only thing preventing them from fainting was that it would leave the other free to claim Raki unhindered.

“Are you two all right?” Raki asked, still not noticing his own predicament.

Clare nodded dumbly, only able to think about two things : one, she had been a complete idiot for leaving Raki seven years before. Two, she really needed to make up for lost time. Maybe even with interests.

Priscilla on the other hand was wondering how the hell this was supposed to fit…If she used her Awakened form… maybe…

“You know,” Clare began, her eyes never leaving Raki even though she wasn’t speaking to him, “there is only one way to solve this…”

Priscilla merely nodded. “Whoever catches him first…” she stated as she took a step forward, which was mimicked by Clare.

Raki instinctively stepped back.

“… WINS!” they both finished as they pounced.

Raki immediately started to run again, both women hot his tail.

He did try his best, which led to the tales of a naked man being chased by a pair of hot naked girls through the land, but in the end, they did catch him.

At the same time.

In case you're wondering, when I wrote the first chapter, I was under the impression that Miria was dead, and I couldn't find a way to fit her in this one... So sorry, our favourite Number Six gets a break for once. See for yourselves.

Spoiler for Extra scene:

In the Afterlife, we find a certain Phantom lounging in a deckchair, wearing only a sexy black bikini and tended to by three adoring fans.
“Do you need more air, Miria-sama?” fanboy#1 asked as he gently waved the large fan over his goddess.
“It’s perfect, thank you.” Miria replied, tiling her head to the side to catch a grape fanboy#2 was feeding her. Meanwhile, fanboy#3 was reverently massaging her feet,
“Is there anything we can do for you Miria-sama?”
“Actually,” Miria replied as she gracefully rolled over, presenting her backside to her personal (and very willing) servants, “I’d like to work on my tan. Would one of you be kind enough to put some lotion on me?”

Ten minutes and a fistfight later…
“Now I understand what Teresa meant when she said never to ask that.” Miria stated half-amused, half-annoyed, looking at the three unconscious men. “Oh well, I’ll ask her instead.”

[revan5]

Originally Posted by Weird D

The insanity continues...

Spoiler for The Claymores, the captive and... a beast? - chapter 2:

Even though she could not see them, just knowing that the rocky lands that made Staff were in front of her was enough to make Galatea frown. The disguised Claymore, who was still dressed as a nun, ignored the curious looks she could feel on her and requested the nearest warrior for Deneve’s location. Instead however, she was simply told to wait and that Deneve would meet her soon.

Galatea frowned at the dismissal until she remembered that most warriors here didn’t know her. With her Yoki suppressed, all they saw was a blind human travelling with two Claymores. Considering Miata’s age and Clarice’s colored hair, they must have seemed a rather strange group.

Behind her, her two companions took a moment to breathe, as Galatea had enforced a quicker-than-normal pace to arrive. It was made obvious by the amount of dust on them and their slightly disheveled state.

Galatea on the other hand still managed to look impeccable.

Soon enough, a rather surprised Deneve joined them and, after a quick exchange of pleasantries, Clarice excused herself, mentioning that she and Miata were in desperate need of a bath.

This of course immediately made the warrior-child take off like her life was on the line, starting yet another game of cat and mouse between her and her surrogate mother.

The two remaining Claymores exchanged a short laugh before Deneve asked, “By the way, not that I am unhappy to see you, what are you doing here?”

“I am not quite sure.” Galatea admitted. “I had this weird feeling that I had to come here… First I ignored it, but recently I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Right… you’re going to tell me it was a divine intervention.” Deneve smirked.

“Very funny.”

Galatea was leaving out the ‘signs’ that had made her leave Rabona. At the beginning, she was simply tripping on her own feet. Then she started missing the doors and walking straight into wall instead. Not to mention the old lady who had dumped an entire bucket of dirty water just as she walked under her window…

This was not so much a calling from the gods, than them kicking her out of the Holy City. That or they were punishing her for posing as a nun.

“Still, I am glad to see you, it saves me from sending you a message. I need your help with something.” Deneve said as she led her away.

()()()()

They had walking for a while through the maze of corridors, and Galatea was finding herself intrigued since she had never been allowed so deep into the complex. If she had to guess, she would say they were near the old laboratories, where sensitive experiments were being carried.

“Don’t come closer!” the panicked voice, identified as Tabitha’s, shouted, her statement enforced by the tip of a claymore aimed at the arrivals.

Galatea raised an eyebrow at the fear she could feel through Tabitha’s Yoki while Deneve remained calm.

“Tabitha,” she said with a patient tone, like she was addressing a five years old child, “we need to go down.”

“No! You mustn’t! The beast will get you! Like all the others!” Tabitha shouted back.

“A beast?” Galatea repeated in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s complicated.” Deneve replied.

“It’s a beast… it’s waiting down there, and any Claymore that faces it will… will…” she was unable to finish as words couldn’t describe the horror awaiting there (and conveniently forgetting the goofy grin on anyone who faced the ‘beast’). “So I must stand guard, and prevent anyone from going down.”

“Forgive Tabitha, the last few days have been rough on her, not to mention she hasn’t slept in a while.” Deneve explained since Galatea couldn’t see the dark circles under the rambling warrior’s eyes.

“Can’t sleep, the beast will get me… can’t sleep the beast will get me…”

“Taby, calm down, Galatea has nothing to fear from the beast, remember?” Deneve tried to reason her friend.

“She’s safe?” Tabitha asked hopefully.

“She’s safe; in fact she’s the safest out of us. No go take some rest.”

“It’s not a trick right? Several have tried already, you’re not going to go to the beast too, Deneve?”

“I won’t, I promise.” the short-haired warrior said soothingly.

“Okay then.” Shakily, Tabitha put her sword back and allowed the pair to pass.

As they walked down the stairs leading to Dae’s den, Galatea couldn’t help but ask. “What was that about?”

“An old human friend of Clare’s was infected by some kind of parasite shortly before our rebellion, and apparently he was taken here. I need you to ascertain whether or not he’s dangerous, and if not, release him.” Deneve explained.

“But what was that about a beast? Another experiment lurking down there too? Why didn’t you kill it? Heck, why did it look like Tabitha has been guarding this door for days non-stop?”

“Because she has. She’s the only one I could trust with this task.” Deneve answered with an eerie voice. “All the others had… problems.”

“Problems?” Galatea repeated in a way that made it clear that she wanted explanations.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Right… And why exactly do you need me? Why am I safe?” Galatea thought about it for a moment. Deneve wanted her to face something that no warrior had been able to take down, including those with extensive experience in dealing with Awakened Beings. “Heck, how could one creature cause so much havoc? Is it that powerful? Because if it is, I don’t think I can fight it alone.”

“It is not actually strong, and you won’t need to fight.” Deneve reassured her. “It’s… it’s just complicated.”

Ignoring Galatea’s increasing frustration, Deneve abruptly stopped. “This is as far as I go; the door is about thirty feet ahead.”

“You know Deneve, if I didn’t know you, I’d think this is some kind of trap. Instead I’ll assume you have a good reason, but I’d like to know why exactly you won’t even come to the door with me.” the fake nun scowled.

“Because any further and I’ll be tempted to go inside.” Deneve replied, only increasing Galatea’s confusion.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s…”

“All right, I get it!” Galatea shouted in exasperation as she stomped to the door, obviously wanting to get done with it, whatever it was.

()()()()

It looked like a race as the two blurs tore through the lands at breakneck speed, shoulder to shoulder even though each kept trying to pull ahead of the other. If anyone could manage to get a good look at the pair, they would have been surprised at the discovery that they were both women.

A male observer would have passed out at the fact that they were both naked, and completely unbothered by it.

And anyone who knew them would have been shell-shocked that these two weren’t trying to kill each other at the moment.

Then again, they had more urgent matters than revenge right now, namely securing their man before any other silver-eyed hybrid got their claws on him.

And even this unspoken truce, which would end as soon as the matter closed, didn’t stop the snide comments being tossed back and forth.

“I knew you were weak, but I didn’t think you were an exhibitionist as well.” the smaller brown-haired woman quipped.

“That’s rich coming from you, Miss I-flash-thirteen-years-old-boys.” the bob-haired Claymore shot back, idly noticing that she was keeping up even without Awakening her legs.

Amazing what you can do when properly motivated.

“You know you cannot win against me, so why don’t you save yourself more humiliation?” Priscilla asked with fake friendliness.

“In a fight, maybe.” Clare conceded before smirking. “But in this department, I do hold the advantage.” she finished with a pointed look at her rival’s chest.

Priscilla growled in annoyance, knowing that killing Clare would ruin her chances with Raki, though the opposite was also true. Still, while she enjoyed the after-effects of their melding, she couldn’t help but think she had gotten the short end of the stick.

Sure, being able to feed off from normal food would remove the biggest hurdle between her and Raki. However Clare’s major problem had also been solved and the Claymore now sported a flawless torso, perfectly devoid of any stigmata or marks.

It didn’t help that Clare‘s slender body was a good bit curvier than Priscilla’s lithe figure, especially her bust and hips. Sure Priscilla couldn’t be considered flat-chested either, but Clare easily outmatched her.

Clare’s smirk widened at having won this minor battle with her arch-nemesis : it may not be the same as defeating her in a fight, but it was still pretty satisfying. As people say, everything is fair in love and war.

Besides, as Helen said, if you’ve got it, flaunt it!

And now that she could flaunt it, there was no way in hell she wouldn’t!

()()()()

“Hello?” The hesitant voice greeted Galatea when she stepped into the cell, a smooth baritone that sounded warm and friendly to Galatea’s ears.

Still, she decided to remain cautious, so she gave a neutral reply. “Greetings.”

“Thank you God!” the man exclaimed. “Usually, all those who come here go out immediately. I don’t even have the time to say anything… My name’s Raki by the way. What’s yours?”

“I am Galatea, and I am the former Number Three of the now-destroyed Organization.”

Raki sighed. “You know, I’ve always wondered why you Claymores refer to yourself by your rank. You are people, not numbers you know. Anyway are you going to free me?”

Galatea raised a surprised eyebrow at being considered a person by someone she had just met, more so since this man knew what she was. “First I need to assess if you are a danger. According to Deneve, you were hit by some kind of parasite.”

“Oh yeah, those. I think they’re dead, they fell off a couple of days ago. Wait, you mentioned Deneve, I met her once. Is she here? Is Clare here too?” Raki asked.

“Clare is not here, sorry. But she is alive, don’t worry. You will not be able to see her for a while though.” Galatea explained, remaining deliberately vague. Deneve had said he was Clare’s friend, she didn’t need him to throw a fit. “Didn’t Deneve tell you?”

Raki managed to shrug despite hanging from the ceiling. “You’re the first person I’ve spoken to since I’ve been here. When the others come in, all I hear is some sloshing sound and I’m alone again before I can even speak.”

“A sloshing sound?”

“Yeah, like a small geyser going off. I wonder what it means.”

“Can’t you see what happens?” Galatea asked, trying to understand what the hell was going on with the other warriors, only guessing this young man was involved.

Galatea couldn’t quite describe the nagging feeling in her head. It was like she was deliberately being left out of something.

She got a chuckle in answer. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am facing away from the door and I can’t move.”

“I am blind,” Galatea informed matter-of-factly. “I cannot see you.”

All trace of humor fled from Raki’s voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” he stammered, absolutely mortified.

Despite herself, Galatea couldn’t help but smile at how genuinely sorry he sounded. “This is nothing, rest assured that it doesn’t impede me in any way. In fact, it only made my sensing abilities even stronger. Speaking of which…” she finished as she focused harder on the lingering Yoki within Raki’s body. Immediately, the formless glob of Yoki she could feel started getting more defined.

“Sure. Oh by the way, do you think you could get me some water and food.” His voice then took a more sheepish tone. “Some underwear would be nice too.”

He didn’t know why, but he heard the blind Claymore blink. Hard.

()()()()

Meanwhile, Deneve was pacing in the corridor, casting nervous glances to the door of the cell and hoping that everything was all right, for Raki’s sake, for Clare’s sake.

For everyone’s sake.

‘Maybe I should check on them.’ she thought, taking a step toward the room. ‘Just a little peek… NO! Bad Deneve!’ She glared at the imaginary line mere feet away, as it was where her self-restraint would snap and her hormones would lure her inside the room. She could almost hear it whisper in her mind, tempting her, daring her… ‘Come on, just look… no one will know… ‘

Deneve’s mental struggle was interrupted by something impacting with her body and sending her to the floor, back into the ‘safe’ zone. Looking down, she was dismayed to find out that she was now holding a goofily grinning Galatea, the trail of blood coming from her nose as explanatory as the dazed look in her silver eyes.

Wait! Silver eyes?

‘Don’t tell me…’ Deneve thought in consternation, faintly noticing that the scar over Galatea’s eyes was gone too.

“Deneve… I can see…” Galatea breathed in amazement, apparently not quite able to fathom how this had happened. She could remember the image that had been formed in her mind’s eye as her incredible abilities allowing to ‘see’ each individual muscle through the Yoki that flowed through them.

Upon getting the entire picture, and for the first time in her life, ‘God Eye’ Galatea had honestly thought her abilities had failed her. There was no way a man could have such a fine ass. She just had this overwhelming need to confirm this with her own eyes, her regenerative abilities suddenly working harder than they ever had and then…

Galatea’s memory flashed to the very first thing she saw with her restored sight, which would forever be seared into her mind.

It looked even better in the flesh.

“So wonderful…” she giggled, squealed and finally passed out in Deneve’s arms.

“Excuse me! Galatea? Is everything all right?” Raki called innocently from his cell.

‘Someday I will have to tell him.’ Deneve thought tiredly.

Damn! How were they going to solve this problem? Any Claymore that went in would get thrown out in seconds, not to mention they kept trying to sneak back inside. That was why she had Tabitha guard the door. The poor warrior had been fine with Raki’s backside, but a single look at the ‘beast’ had traumatized her to the point she gladly accepted to ‘protect’ her friends from it.

She had thought Galatea’s blindness would make her immune, but it seemed Raki (or rather, his rear end) had caused spontaneous regeneration!

Would this madness ever end?

The approaching voices and sounds of running broke Deneve’s thoughts.

“Come back here!”

“I don’t wanna!”

“Miata! Come take a bath!”

“I hate baths!”

Well, at least Miata wasn’t running around naked and Clarice was wearing more than a mere towel. It looked like Clarice had yet to get her ‘daughter’ into the bathroom.

Deneve let out a small, amused chuckle as they ran past her and straight into Raki’s cell.

Pause! Into Raki’s cell?

“WAIT! DON’T…” Deneve shouted.

Her warning came too late as once again a Claymore was sent flying into La-La-Land. Checking quickly, she saw that Clarice was passed out, but fine.

As if the smile on her face was not enough proof.

Inside the cell, a small voice could faintly be heard.

“… Hurt… Mama…”

“Huh? Hello?” Raki asked tentatively.

“Bad man… hurt… Mama…” Miata repeated, speaking through gritted teeth.

SWISH!!

CRASH!!!

“YIKES!!!”

Deneve had no time to do anything as a large flesh-colored blur ran out of the cell, immediately followed by a smaller gray and blonde one.

“BAD MAN HURT MAMA!!!”

“HELP ME!!!”

“Don’t tell me…” Deneve groaned before she carried both Galatea and Clarice back into the main hallway. As soon as she was done, she saw Helen leaning unsteadily against the wall, holding her nose in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing.

“Deneve, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, Raki’s free. The bad news is, he’s running through the compound, buck-naked and chased by Miata.”

“What’s the damage?” the short-haired warrior asked, already dreading the answer.

“So far,” Helen continued, “fifteen warriors and twenty-three trainees have passed out. Those three warriors Dae was working on, you know, the ones he was trying to resuscitate… well, they started moving when the kid ran into the lab, can you believe that?”

Deneve looked down to the blissfully unconscious Galatea. “Somehow, I can.” Ignoring Helen’s confused look, she asked, “Don’t tell me those three are roaming around too.”

“No, luckily their bodies were too incomplete. They collapsed and died again in seconds.”

“Thank you God.” Deneve breathed, glad for the small mercy. Abyss Feeders were bad enough, no need for zombie warriors too.

“Still, there is a problem with Taby…”

“She’s having a relapse?”

“Actually no. You see, she was there when it happened. So she said she was going to put Miria’s body back together and ‘use the beast to bring Captain Miria back to life’.” Helen confessed. “Also, the few warriors who did not pass out have joined in the chase.” What Helen did not mention was that as soon as she was done here, she would be joining too.

“Do you have any good news for me? Please? Anything?” Deneve pleaded.

Her only answer was a very familiar Yoki suddenly being felt outside… very familiar and very pissed off.

“Yes, looks like Clare is back.” Helen replied. “And it feels like she’s not alone.”

()()()()

The chase had come to an abrupt stop when the group ran into the incoming duo. While they didn’t notice the finer details, including Raki’s state of dress, both Clare and Priscilla put two and two together and understood the gist of the situation.

Somebody was after their man. Quite literally in this case.

“All of you.” Clare growled at the assembled warriors, the iciness of her tone actually managing to break even Miata’s berserk mindset. “Leave. Now.”

The surging Yoki around Priscilla certainly added to the intimidation factor, as shown by the chasing group resuming their run; in the other direction.

Claymores may hunt Awakened Beings, but this was suicide.

Raki was so confused about the sudden appearance of the two most important women in his life he momentarily forgot about his nakedness. Part of his mind however did notice neither woman was clothed either, and enjoyed the sight.

As in, visibly enjoyed it.

“Clare, Priscilla, what are you doing here?” he asked, unaware of a certain growing problem.

At his question, and finally free of the other females’ presence, they looked at him and their eyes instantly widened. The only thing preventing them from fainting was that it would leave the other free to claim Raki unhindered.

“Are you two all right?” Raki asked, still not noticing his own predicament.

Clare nodded dumbly, only able to think about two things : one, she had been a complete idiot for leaving Raki seven years before. Two, she really needed to make up for lost time. Maybe even with interests.

Priscilla on the other hand was wondering how the hell this was supposed to fit…If she used her Awakened form… maybe…

“You know,” Clare began, her eyes never leaving Raki even though she wasn’t speaking to him, “there is only one way to solve this…”

Priscilla merely nodded. “Whoever catches him first…” she stated as she took a step forward, which was mimicked by Clare.

Raki instinctively stepped back.

“… WINS!” they both finished as they pounced.

Raki immediately started to run again, both women hot his tail.

He did try his best, which led to the tales of a naked man being chased by a pair of hot naked girls through the land, but in the end, they did catch him.

At the same time.

In case you're wondering, when I wrote the first chapter, I was under the impression that Miria was dead, and I couldn't find a way to fit her in this one... So sorry, our favourite Number Six gets a break for once. See for yourselves.

Spoiler for Extra scene:

In the Afterlife, we find a certain Phantom lounging in a deckchair, wearing only a sexy black bikini and tended to by three adoring fans.
“Do you need more air, Miria-sama?” fanboy#1 asked as he gently waved the large fan over his goddess.
“It’s perfect, thank you.” Miria replied, tiling her head to the side to catch a grape fanboy#2 was feeding her. Meanwhile, fanboy#3 was reverently massaging her feet,
“Is there anything we can do for you Miria-sama?”
“Actually,” Miria replied as she gracefully rolled over, presenting her backside to her personal (and very willing) servants, “I’d like to work on my tan. Would one of you be kind enough to put some lotion on me?”

Ten minutes and a fistfight later…
“Now I understand what Teresa meant when she said never to ask that.” Miria stated half-amused, half-annoyed, looking at the three unconscious men. “Oh well, I’ll ask her instead.”

This ending to the extra scene reminded me of Shelter's reaction to a short story I wrote and posted on Animesuki:

"Story-wise, I think maybe the ending needs a bit of explanation. To have a glider come out of nowhere is a bit of an act of God, slightly too-convenient for a fleeing Leo & Irene. The ending also doesn't make use of Raphaela's presence in your story. As with all your previous stories on how each character has its role to play, I expected either Raphaela to pardon Irene or a bloodbath to allow Leo to justify how he can sacrifice his own seemingly insignificant life for a warrior. The glider-ending (even a happy ending) disappointed me. It's as if you're trying to combine your narrative-action style with Dany's humour."

Dun-dun-duh. I enjoyed the ending Weird D, so no worries, because evidently you have my literary support according to Shelter.

[Weird D]

Thanks for the support Revan

At first I was going to use people here for the extra scene - I asked Shieky his opinion for the 3 greatest Miria fans, and I would have asked for their permission to include them. But there are just so many...

And come on, I dare you to tell me people would not fight for the honor of putting lotion on Miria (or Teresa as implied)

[Blue Pentacle]

Hello there,


It has been quite a while, and I firstly apologise for it. A mix of personal issues, then technical problems impeded me during later May and June; the latter issue still not wholly resolved, though hopefully soon in the future .


I am glad to see that the forums are as colourful as ever, and for those still thinking of my series, I will be getting back to it in July, hopefully with new exploits for the boy and the Abyssal One .


Still, in getting back to the forum, I have had a little time to think and hit upon something from the past; a little issue of discussion from back in 2009, if I recall, which has caught my attention.


Raki, as a boy, has been the subject of much speculation; especially concerning the circumstances if his partner was not Clare.


Many other candidates have been raised in the past, and explored, though one that was previously dismissed intrigued me recently; enough to raise it here for interested eyes.


I was wondering how those here would see and feel about a pairing of Raki with Galatea - as she was before escaping the organisation and seeking Rabona.


A pairing which was rarely raised and barely discussed, though I bring the idea here now .


Blue Pentacle.

[Shiek927]

Mmm....I don't know; Galatea has gotten plenty of attention from the community over the years. While admittingly their are some pairings I can't help but love, like him with the ever-popular Miria, I'd rather see him with people that usually get pushed to the side -- like you did with Luciella and Yuma -- both your fics, were the first time anybody has paired him with them, that becomes center-stage, not to mention is a centric fic for those two.

I prefer that kind of continuing record-breaking to go on. If you go ahead with Galatea though, that's fine; I'll read it all the same

[warlock7]

it might be interesting,but can you try make it into more then a oneshot or a twoshot, but rather a full length fic, with a developing romance and lemons?

cant wait for next adventure of luciella and raki: teaching him about the birds and the bees

[revan5]

Originally Posted by Shiek927

Mmm....I don't know; Galatea has gotten plenty of attention from the community over the years. While admittingly their are some pairings I can't help but love, like him with the ever-popular Miria, I'd rather see him with people that usually get pushed to the side -- like you did with Luciella and Yuma -- both your fics, were the first time anybody has paired him with them, that becomes center-stage, not to mention is a centric fic for those two.

I prefer that kind of continuing record-breaking to go on. If you go ahead with Galatea though, that's fine; I'll read it all the same

Originally Posted by warlock7

it might be interesting,but can you try make it into more then a oneshot or a twoshot, but rather a full length fic, with a developing romance and lemons?

cant wait for next adventure of luciella and raki: teaching him about the birds and the bees

Been a little while since I last posted a link to my latest chapter! Shiek, I know you think I'm some sort of spoiled writer, but if you could find it in your heart to ever review my stuff on ff.net, I'd be grateful!

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6610358/...r_eyed_Empress



She'll be expecting you!

[Tempest35]

*looks around* ... heh, I don't know why, but lately my mailbox has been exploding with faves for Homecoming and my other two Claymore fanfics... I guess people actually liked it - it's kinda forcing me to start writing again.

And here's a teaser for Chapter 4:

Spoiler for Just a sneak peak:

Moria lead him outside behind her house along a narrow path through the brown knee-high grass. "Everyone was so afraid, I couldn't even get close to the spot where they destroyed your house."

"..." Raki's eyes fell to the trail before him as he followed. They destoryed his house...? Did they think it cursed or something?

"I'm probably the only one who goes there any more. I suppose it's become my secret spot away from everyone," she gave a sad smile.

"Why do you go there," Raki asked her in a subdued voice.

"You'll see."

~*~

"How go things down in our village, 'Mr. Elder'?"

The elder's face was a mask of fear as he stared into her eyes. By all accounts, she was a beautiful young woman that even the fresh blood that smeared her lips did not take away from. But the remments of her latest meal very much made him feel like puking right then and there. It was taking all of his self-control not to.

"Th-the Claymore has left already. And we have another visitor..."

"Oiya? Another one so soon? This is good news! I'll be well-fed this week thanks to you, Elder."

"...he's been here before. We threw him out more than 7 years ago. Now, he is back..."

"That doesn't concern me. Did he bring anyone else?"

"Yes, a silver-haired man, and a little girl is with him."

"Ah, so where are they now?"

"They are with my daughter."

"Mmm, you know, I've always fancied tasting females. And I'm absolutely drooling at the thought of how your daughter tastes." She gave a giggle and seductively licked her lips, enjoying the sight of the man losing all color in his face.

"N-no..! You promised...!"

"Oh relax, I was just teasing," she gave him an off-hand wave. "Now, do what you need to do to get them to come up here. We'll take care of the rest."

[Shiek927]

*blink, you made two other Claymore fics? I totally forgot -- it's been too long .

Shocking to see an update really - after 3 years though, that's to be expected . Their's a drought lately since Shelter's last story basically, so if you really are making an update, it's relatively good timing .

Looking forward to it, especially the direction you take

[Tempest35]

Well, for some reason, people want me to make another chapter for 'All Work and No Play', but Fenrir's 'Stories from the North' basically cover all the material I would have written on, plus more so I really don't see a reason/need to write any more for that particular one...

I haven't really been following the newer gen of Claymores all that much (I probably should) but I suppose I'm a Generational Purist on this matter. I'll see what else jumps into my brain.

[Kinematics]

Originally Posted by FormerAbyssalone

Well the good thing for Nina and co is that everything is set up for Deneve and them to save them.

Helen appears!

Roxanne: Oooh! Stretchy arms! I need to find out how to do that... Oh Helennnnnn~~ /Bounces over and gazes adoringly at Helen/

Helen: The secret to my technique? Sure! First /swings arm over Roxanne's shoulder and starts whispering conspiratorially/, you need a whoooooole lotta beer......

Deneve: /Facepalm/ .... Well, at least we only have to fight two of them now...



- random randomness, but probly better suited to fanfic thread than the discussion thread.