|harukami (harukami) wrote,|
@ 2007-06-17 22:49:00
|Entry tags:||digital devil saga, yuri_challenge|
[fic] Digital Devil Saga, "Where the Sun Sets"
Where the Sun Sets
Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
R. NOT SAFE FOR WORK. ...Coercive hermaphroditic fake h/c incestuous extreme lolicon. Seriously I can hardly even cope with the level of warnings on this. u__u
Sera calls her 'Doctor Angel'. This isn't unusual; nearly everyone calls her Doctor Angel, and there is no reason Seraphita should be an exception.
When Sera is one and a half years of age and the experiments have aged her instead to a talkative and explorative child who was to all appearances closer to six years old, Madame came to visit her. Old and well-respected, Sera viewed her with more than a little trepidation; there were stories mapped out in the fine array of wrinkles on her face that Sera didn't know how to read.
It's a matter of time; she has heard that is what these experiments are for. Inside her is some power, and that is her worth.
"Seraphita," Madame says. "And how are you finding it here at our facility?"
Sera considers the question with the seriousness it deserves. "I got to ride in an airplane," she says finally.
"And did you like that very much?"
Sera's hands rise and dance in the air. "The airport... it was very large. Is that where the sun goes when it sets?"
Madame chuckles. "The sun never sets, child. We only think it does because of our limited vision."
"Oh," Sera says.
"And..." Madame's eyes are somehow sharp; Sera finds herself avoiding them for fear of cutting herself. "Is it nice to be with your mother again?"
Sera busies herself with a loose thread on her hospital gown. "Doctor Angel has been very kind," she says.
When Margot Cuvier emerges from the room, Jenna Angel is waiting for her, arms crossed. "I presume you have something to say?" Jenna's voice is cool and a little scornful.
Cuvier looks her over, up and down, dressed from head to toe in utilitarian white clothes, as beautiful and distant as her own namesake. "For shame, Jenna."
"Shame? A fine thing for you to talk about shame," Angel says. "Do you think I am not aware of why you were talking to her?"
"I think you forget who you're talking to," Cuvier says sharply.
Angel's eyes go colder and she draws herself up, sketches a stiff bow. "...My apologies, Madame Margot."
Cuvier sighs, heavily. "That aside, Jenna, would it kill you to show the girl a bit of human kindness?"
Angel lifts her head abruptly from the bow. "That's unnecessary."
"She's your daughter." Cuvier says.
One of Angel's eyebrows lifts. "My daughter? Are the serums I make in the labs any relation of mine? I'm a scientist. It's my job to create things."
"I had thought," Cuvier says, slowly, "that perhaps you had chosen to deliver that child because she was all you had left of that David boy. But you show her none of the love you showed him. She isn't anything of David's at all, is she, Jenna? You used that body of yours to create a child of your own, both her mother and her father. And God alone knows you've never had enough love for anything except David, especially not yourself."
Angel whirls on her and for a moment neither of them are sure if Angel will strike her. Instead, she pulls her composure together with a herculean effort and says, ice cold, "Never mention David to me again, Madame Margot." Still shaking with rage, she turns and heads out.
Sera hesitates a long moment before knocking on the door. There aren't enough beds; the building had been made to house only fifteen candidates and there were four children without. Various of the scientists were being encouraged to put them up, just for the time being; Madame had taken one look at her and had pointed out that, at the least, there was someone here who would have to take her in.
Sera slides the door back and stood uneasily, rubbing the inside of her calf with one bare foot. "Doctor Angel..."
Angel looks irritated as she glances over. "What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be under supervision?"
"Yes," Sera says. "Ah, there aren't enough beds--"
"Then they should rotate the tests and rest periods," Angel says, more aggravated.
"The equipment for the psychic tests," Sera says, her voice rising to a squeak. "Ah, it needs a few more tests before it's ready for us, so they can't start yet--"
"Incompetent fools," Angel mutters. "This project should have been ready months ago."
"Very well," Angel says. "Come in, and get ready for bed. I was just about to try to get some sleep myself."
Sera strips down for bed, and as she slides her hospital gown off and turns to look for something else to wear, she catches sight of Angel watching her.
The look in her eye is strange and alarming; she looks like she's angry with Sera for some reason, or jealous, and a hint of longing hides behind it. Sera swallows; her throat has gone dry. She looks down at her own body -- aged again, starting to grow hair though her chest's flat still -- and resists the urge to hold her gown in front of her.
"Here," Angel says. She holds out a long loose shirt of her own. "Cover yourself up, for the love of God."
When Angel herself changes, Sera averts her eyes; looking at Angel as Angel looks at her has always only seemed to trouble Angel.
Once the initial candidates have been removed through the first experiments, it is time for more intensive studies to find those of the remaining with true Cyber Shaman ability. It's something of a relief to Angel that Sera has indeed qualified; Sera now has a number instead of just a name.
He has the gentlest face she's ever seen, and the prettiest. "Hello, Sera," he says softly. "My name is Serph. Let's work together on this, okay?"
There were several people hired on to take care of the chosen children; he was one of them along with an angry and frightening man and a smiling nurse.
"H-hello, Doctor Serph," she says shyly. She feels abruptly like she can do this, can do anything that's asked of her; she feels supported and nurtured.
The caretakers for the Cyber Shaman candidates had gone through several stages of selection: Madame Margot, the military, Angel herself. She's read over their profiles; she knows what sort of persons they are.
Eventually, after he has had a few weeks to settle in and start his business, she calls Serph Sheffield into her office again; they have come to know each other well enough in the time that's passed.
"Take care of Sera," she says. "Keep her under control."
She watches the idea settle into his eyes, and ambition with it. "Under control?" he asks, innocently; as if she's a fool -- she knows what kind of person he is.
But that's why he's good for this. She has to be pushed to the edge and what is created then may be something actually useful. Angel says, "She could be dangerous. She needs someone to look up to."
"You don't feel yourself suitable for the role?" Serph asks.
Angel laughs. It fills her chest deep and full and trails off after a few moments. "Do whatever you feel is necessary. Seduce her if you must."
Serph sounds amused more than anything. "A two-year-old child?"
"Only in years," Angel says. She turns to the window behind her desk, presses her palm against it. "And no child. She is a tool to the future; if she lives and dies it is of no matter. Only her obedience to ourselves and her contact with God are of any concern."
"The rumours must be false," Serph says. "Only a woman could connive so cruelly." There's a smile in his voice. He says, "I'll show myself out."
She waits until he has, then muses aloud, "Is it women who connive and men who have ambition, then? And yet, I believe you find people to be all the same, Doctor Sheffield."
She's separated from them by a floor and liquid and machinery and by God and she can still taste the blood flowing down like it's her own she can still hear his pained breaths and feel them echoing through herself. Nobody. Nobody of any importance nobody who's ever felt anything for her except it was all wrong and backwards
It's the betrayal that does it; it's like her blinders snap off and she stares directly into the face of God, a God formed of dying men and trust. People using people using people; she screams and God screams along with her.
Die she screams into the pain in her chest. Everything should die and it should
he's dying right now, pulling himself across the floor with a smear of blood and she's looking into Serph's eyes, he's not even looking at Heat he's not even looking at Argilla, he's looking at her with silver eyes and she thinks she can see calculations in it and maybe fear
Good! Fear me!
Shattering because I love you I love you what's love I love you and it doesn't matter now anyway, nothing matters now but people eating people, all along they've been attacking each other and corrupting and eating each other and themselves by the inside out that's all the are.
She stares into the familiar eyes Sera, is this nice? Do you like this, Sera? I want to make you happy, Sera, I want to always make you this happy, so let's work hard again tomorrow, all right? and all she sees is the demon he's always been.
In her office, Angel hears the static calls of alarm, the screams over the PA system, and she folds her hands in front of her face. The time has come. She feels cold.
Later, Sera says, "I'm sorry." It's all she's said for some time, since they subdued Varna and the other demons who had arose. The building is still in a state of alarm, sirens going off and barricades up. The city outside is impassable. Reports are still coming in, and Madame is quite busy dealing with them.
Angel looks at Sera distantly and says, "It's not your fault. Come with me."
"It is," Sera says. She follows after slowly, painfully, with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and damp in broad patches from the fluid she's used to. Technically, she shouldn't be out, as too many days out of the fluid and she'll have aged to the end of her natural lifespan and died. But investigations must be done and she must be convinced to return instead of letting herself die. "It's my fault. I did that to them."
She had, after all, had a first-hand view of what had happened. Angel ushers Sera into the relative silence of her room. In the emergency lights they're both red-lit and cast in unnatural shades.
"Get rid of that wet thing," Angel says. She turns slowly, heads into the bathroom to get a towel.
When she emerges, Sera is as comfortable in her nudity as she's become since becoming the Cyber Shaman; day after day in a machine naked and hooked up to God. She stands in Angel's room and shivers, the blanket in a heap around her ankles. Her body has developed to that of a young woman, small curves at her chest and her hips, hair no longer sparse and patchy. Angel sighs, wraps her in the towel.
"I thought he loved me," she says. "The sky has gone yellow, Doctor Angel."
"I know," she says. The windows are blocked off. "He didn't love you."
"N-no..." Sera agrees. There are tears in her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Angel says, "Love is, in a way, a terrible thing. Once it has pierced you, there is nothing left in the world but that monumental thing; if removed there is nothing left at all but the place where it had once been."
Sera covers her face. "Yes," she sobs. "Yes."
Sera is, perhaps, entirely broken now. Angel sees two options for her future to continue as planned; either Sera must be convinced to take her place in the EGG again and direct the future as Angel dictates, towards its destruction, or another must be made. She finds herself weighing the options with a contained shaking clinical mind; it would be best to use Sera herself, but to do so she must be obedient to others -- not impossible, due to her errors here. Otherwise, it would be best to use Sera to make another to increase the likelihood of the Cyber Shaman abilities being passed on.
"Come here," Angel says. She puts an arm around Sera, leads her into the bedroom, sets her down. Sera looks up at her with red-rimmed eyes; there's a tension in her body of pain, and one hand is clutched to her chest.
"I don't know what to do," Sera says.
Angel says, "For now, forget." She bends forward and presses her mouth to Sera's.
Sera mmmphs into her mouth, eyes flying wide and filling with tears again. Angel ignores them; they're a sentimentalism Sera will soon have to abandon. Sera's mouth is soft under hers, unresisting, the lips trembling.
"A-Angel," Sera manages, high and needy, when Angel comes up for air. "I don't -- I--" Those tears are spilling down her face; Angel reaches up and wipes them away with the heel of her hand.
"Shh," Angel says.
She undoes Sera's towel and looks down at her, traces the budding curves of her body with one hand. She is such a perfectly proportioned child, and so perfectly normal. Angel grits her teeth, curves her fingers between Sera's legs, rubs lightly, careful to keep the tension from her hand.
Sera cries out, jerks her head to the side and doesn't look. But she doesn't fight; her hands remain at her sides as loose as if they didn't belong to her.
"Poor thing," Angel says. She pulls back after stroking her long enough to drag wetness across her folds, licks her fingertips. Sera makes a choked noise. "You'll sleep better for it."
Angel doesn't bother to answer; she undresses. Sera's head slowly turns back, and Sera looks at her. Angel lifts her chin; the cool air has teased her nipples hard, though she's still limp between her legs.
"Angel," Sera says again.
Somewhere along the way, Angel seems to have lost the title of 'doctor'; well, she has to suppose that's only to be expected. Instead of correcting the point, she takes one of Sera's loose hands and presses it to her, strokes until arousal is sufficient. Sera has stopped looking again, has pressed her face to the pillow and is crying.
It's easier this way, reminding herself of how much she hates Sera, Sera's sudden power to destroy anything Sera needs to destroy; if she'd had that power she wouldn't have to work nearly so hard for everything she's gained. Sera cries out, high and sweet as Angel enters her, lays still for a long few moments.
And then she reaches up, abrupt and convulsive, wraps arms and legs around Angel as if she's the only bit of wreckage to cling to in this flood and sobs into her shoulder, high sharp wet gasps in the rhythm of their movement.
Shakily, later, she rises and heads into Angel's bathroom. She stares at herself in the mirror, splashes herself with water, fumbles through the cabinets looking for medication; the pain in her chest is increasing to the point it's hard to breathe. Her hands' shaking knocks bottles over, but at least they're closed and don't spill. She can't find anything, instead stumbles out into the hall moments later. She thinks she knows where the EGG is; she thinks she remembers where she came from.
"Oh -- I'm sorry," she says. It comes out almost automatically. "M-madame."
"Easy," Madame Cuvier says. "Where were you headed?"
"The EGG," Sera says. "I -- maybe I can fix things. I can't -- I can't stay here anymore. There's nothing for me here. In there, I at least -- there's still things I can do, and she can't--"
"Stop you? Rule you?"
"No, that's not--"
"I understand," Madame says, with a serious voice and a smile on her face. "Come. Let's get you back in, and you can get to work. Ah, the military has been investigating due to the unfortunate death of that Colonel--"
Screaming as he gets eaten-
"-- but it seems like they're willing to approve the project. You can at least keep yourself busy."
"Oh yes," Sera says. "I'll do that. I'm sorry. Thank you." Madame takes her down, grabs a scientist with a remarkably firm grip, helps slide Sera back into the Egg, where the cables wrap tight around her again. "I'm sorry. I'll do whatever I can."
"I'm sure you will," Madame says.
By the time Cuvier shows up knocking on her door, Angel has cleaned up and is immaculately dressed again. "Madame Margot."
"Jenna, I was surprised when you withdrew so quickly. I suppose Seraphita did need someone."
"Yes," Angel says. "What's the news?"
"Hmm, well," Cuvier says. "The demons are contained when we could, and killed when we couldn't. No change in the outdoors. You do realize I've added a contraceptive to her fluid, don't you?"
Angel laughs. "...It makes no difference to me," she says.
"Your own child," Cuvier says.
"Under the circumstances," Angel says, "I was only doing what was necessary. You know neither of us view each other as family. And she was very stressed."
"She can't afford to emerge from the fluid again after this," Cuvier says. "You won't get to do it again."
"It was hardly for my pleasure."
Cuvier catches her in a sharp gaze. "...I'm sure," she says. "Well, since you're, as always, devoted to the cause, perhaps you feel refreshed enough now to bend your mind to our work."
Angel sketches a bow. "...Of course, Madame Margot."
Cuvier smiles on her. "Then, let's continue to work hard together."