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Carnal Catharsis	By : PandaBearzh Category: +A through F > DRAMAtical Murder Views: 1219 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own DMMD or make any money off of this work.

Chapter List
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It was the soft scratch of rubber against tarmac which peeled open the eyes of the one who had been waiting to hear it. Trip and Virus were down the hall to the left, behind a closed door with a broken lock. If either of them were aware of it, they didn’t seem to invest much concern, because such details never preoccupied their minds once the lights dimmed and the leather began to breathe. After two thirty in the morning Hersha and Welter could resign themselves to sleeping without much worry about being disrupted for “social events.” Tonight was such a night that if he were to be disrupted, he wouldn’t be available to entertain their toy. He had a date of his own, and although Welter was something of a brother to him, he most certainly wasn’t going to share.
“What,” the rumbling voice had asked him when he had passed the living room. No matter how quietly Hersha tried to maneuver, the damn male had ears like a fox, and he always had a way of knowing when something was about to happen. Hersha graced him with an annoyed look.
“Go back to sleep.” This didn’t produce the intended effect. Rather, Welter sat up from the couch where he had been lounging, dark tresses falling onto his shoulders as his steel-toed boots hit the floor.
“What has you so full of piss and vinegar so early at night?” It wasn’t so much of a question now, but a demand. ‘Tell me,’ the tone provoked, ‘Or I’ll rat you out.’ Hersha didn’t like it, but he didn’t do much to fix it, and instead merely continued to the back door. “Where are you going?” The acute question struck the air with such boldness that when it didn’t receive an answer, it became questionable if it had even been asked at all. He left it hanging there, and he proceeded through the darkness to the back door of their mainland retreat.
Hersha didn’t need lights to see where he was going. Blindfolded, he could still find his way through by hearing the sounds, inhaling the smells, and by embracing the textures underneath his fingertips. The origin of the sound which woke him from his nap stood there at the gate, pale fingers woven into the dark iron lattice with a wash of hopefulness and apprehension frothing in his eyes. The moonlight spotlighted him, but even if the skies were dark otherwise, Hersha would have picked him out by the angelic glow that his pale skin exhibited against the unyielding cloak of the night. His lips glistened like silver as Hersha met him there with raking eyes that devoured every peak and valley of the curves of the foreigner’s appearance.
“Good evening!” The youth was the first to speak. Hersha smirked with wickedness, and felt his nostrils constrict. The gun had fired: the evening truly had begun, and it was going to drip with deliciousness before dawn.
“Good evening,” he mused, swaying the tilt of his head from one direction to the other. A ghastly snake of air escaped his mouth when he did so, though it evaporated quickly due to the chill of the cold intentions on his tongue. “You’re early.”
“Is it okay?” The German accent chapped immediately through the iron with eagerness, procuring a fiddle of joy to chord within the host.
“It’s fine.” The gate was heavy, but quiet when he released the lock and opened the path that he’d require the boy to traverse, “I’m sure you’re excited to see him, that friend of your brother’s. Does Wilhelm know that you’re here?” The teen shook his head furiously. That’s right, it was meant to be a surprise, wasn’t it? “So you intend to surprise him when you bring him back to Midorijima?”
He wouldn’t be bringing him anywhere.
A brilliant smile erupted from Theodore’s lips as he passed through the threshold, and the gate was made secure once again behind him. “Exactly. He’s been down. I think it’ll be good for him to meet again. He was the only friend that Wilhelm mentioned, so he must mean a lot to him, and I think he’ll be happy to know he was found!”
Found…Right. Aoba had never been lost. Rather, he only wished that he could have been. Hersha nodded cordially, and directed the boy to the rear of the home. “You understand,” he explained, “Everybody is sleeping, and so it’d be best to go in through the cellar quietly.” A stark lie. His forked tongue wasn’t a novice to them, but manipulation was a tactic that he and Theo weren’t abashed to use in their own way. Hersha didn’t understand Theo’s power, but he knew that he possessed it. There was a purity that saturated every fleck of light from the halo of gold which grew from his crown; it was the likes of something which the sinister male had never seen before. Here, tonight, he had to know that he was offering himself to the spawn of evil’s union, and yet here he was, claiming that it was out of the interest for a love that he wasn’t even a party of. What defense did he think that he had against his host’s evil disposition? Hersha would tear it from his bones, and destroy the light which forged within him.
The doors to the cellar came into sight: dark, heavy wooden panes which rested against a concrete drop in the earth. They moved soundlessly as Hersha lifted them, which visibly startled his companion by the way he flinched at the hasty grip with which he seized them. It earned him a warm, affectionate chortle: if Theo was already jumping at a lack of noise, then Hersha questioned if he’d have a strong enough heart for what he’d be hearing that evening.
The stairs that stretched below weren’t many in number, and were fairly well illuminated due to a dim red glow which reached them from somewhere in the interior. “Lock it,” Hersha instructed, turning the boy by placing a hand on the small of his back and applying gentle pressure until the visage of a crucifix shaped skeleton key hanging on a fine 14” chain became recognized. Theo, without tossing a single glance over his shoulder in question, snatched the chain from the hook and did the deed. He turned and went to hang it where he had found it, but Hersha stilled him with a strong grasp to the forearm. “Listen carefully.
“This place is very special.” Theo’s brows furrowed with intrigue before Hersha continued, posing a gentle pout of the lips unconsciously, “It’s much more than what you might think it is initially. It can be therapeutic. I’m not certain that Aoba will want to leave, and I’m not convinced that it will be so easy to let him go without a replacement.” He paused, the two holding their position while pale eyes searched him for clues. He felt them probing his expression, his position, and even the dilation of his pupils. Yet, there wasn’t a lie to be found there, only red hue from the den of the cellar. Theo’s muscles became tense.
“What do you mean?” Ah, the sweet bounce of his honest accent was invigorating.
Hersha’s grip loosened on his forearm and dropped under his hand, signifying that the key should be passed to him. “If you want to learn what I mean, you have to risk yourself in a way that most people will consider it to be a sacrifice. But, I can promise you that if you embrace it, you’ll find yourself living more freely here than you could ever imagine. If you trust me to show you the value in that sacrifice, and if you want to see your brother’s friend again, give me the key to this door.” The chain began to pool in his hand as Theo’s choice occurred without consideration, though Hersha continued to speak. “You won’t leave this cellar without this key.” Its weight settled in his hand, and Theo retreated his arm.
“Don’t vorry,” he offered in a sweetly loving tone. Hersha’s fingertips wrung the key, and he draped it over his neck, “I’m not.” In their own pervasive way, Hersha sensed that they held another meaning that he couldn’t quite perceive. Did he think he was misleading him? A frown seized his expression, and the cordiality shed from his disposition. Was this simply a glimpse into that power of purity and forgiveness? Theo's innocence silenced him, and stole the words from his throat before the air with which to speak them had been pried from his lungs. This man. This boy. He was incredible. Hersha felt as if he had met his match, and fixated on the heavenly ease of tranquility beneath that red dying hue that revealed his features. He didn’t trust it. He never trusted what he didn’t understand.
“You will change your mind,” the allmate informed quite plainly, draping the crucifix over his neck and wearing the key as a necklace. “And when you do, you can cry for ‘asylum,’ for mercy.”
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Carnal Catharsis