Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto > The Oracle

The Colour Of Blood

by Lyanvis 2 Reviews

That was when she knew.... The colour of blood ran through him too. (Dedicated to Baik, by Novocaine)

Category: Naruto - Rating: G - Genres: Drama,Horror - Characters: Orochimaru - Warnings: [V] [?] - Published: 2008/01/25 - Updated: 2008/01/27 - 1667 words

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I wrote this under the influence.



Under the influence of what, you may ask?



under the influence of a beautiful Orochimaru Fan-fiction



named Baik.



A fic so death-pretty It's grip entangled any who read it, and refuse to let go.


..................




The Oracle

Chapter Six

The Colour Of Blood



She was his best.



She still remembered the first time she knew she was a demon.



She remembered it painfully well.



She remembered the blood;



The looks of horror;



And the delight of killing.



She remembered it all too well, the first time she had taken a life. He had been there. He had seen her. And he had smiled. That was when she knew he was like her too.



That was when she knew the colour of blood ran through him too.



Blood burst forth from a deep slice to the man’s leg. This would stun most young children, but she only smiles. A smile that is so beautiful…



Radiant.



That is what this smile is. Radiant, blissful, and worshipful, and He knows. He knows.



She would be the best of his ninja, if only she would survive this. He cannot see how the child would- could survive, she must have been exhausted. The bodies that littered the floor numbered at least fifty, and she was young… too young to take so many….



The blood. It was so beautiful, so pretty… Not pretty, like sunshine or butterflies, but pretty like- death. So death-pretty death-pretty death-pretty, she needed more. More. And more, and more. She knew someone was watching but she disregarded him. She would take his blood, she knew, she wanted it as well. And what she wanted, she would have. There would be no more denial. No one would ever deny her again. And when she said no,



It would mean no.



No means NO.



The pale man watched her fight, marveling at the girl’s endurance. She was thin, but not waif-like, not delicate the way he enjoyed seeing young children that were broken, but she drew him in. In. In. In. Her obsession was obvious. When he had begun watching her, it was obvious at least to him if no one else, that she was fighting to defend herself, and killing because they had hurt her. At the first drawn blood, that changed. She killed…. She massacred them without any hesitation, though her strength was something to look into. He wanted to step in, but also wanted to watch. To wait and see… how this girl would fare.



Her eyes were drawn. Drawn. Drawn. This man watching meant her no harm but he was so death-pretty, like the blood was, so alluring, and she wondered if the man’s blood would be more than the others had been. His eyes –she could see cruelty behind them and did not realize she was one of the few who could- Were so alluring, the kohl darkened lilac rimmed-



She was watching him, and not paying attention to the battle, he knew, a deadly mistake for anyone to make. Those that were left, the thirty or so men took notice of her distraction and decided to take advantage. Now, it was his time to make a move, before he lost this delicious prize. He shifted slightly, and her eyes narrowed in recognition of his movement-



He was moving. The man had decided to come forward and- the posture was too wrong for him to intend her harm- her hand flicked out to her side. A bright blue flare of chakra blasted through the attacker, precisely aimed to destroy. She knew he would try to protect, to save her, and she did not need saving. Not from this man, from any man at all. Blood burst forth and she heard someone exclaim of her demonry, how she must have some fierce magic. Her eyes held to the man’s as she spoke, her voice singing in the air, as she spoke to him, to them, to the world, as a blood red haze fell on her body, the haze vaporized blood from the man condensing and falling down around them. Her words rang, singing in the air, echoing long after she stopped speaking.



No demonry can match me, was her boast, No fierce magic protects me from your sinful hands filled with your lechery. I am my own power. I do not need any one to save me or help me; I can do it alone. Orochimaru smiled sinfully, a smile that sent shivers down her spine. A sword swung at her, and even those cruel yellow eyes missed when the sword changed hands and sliced off the attacker’s head. He did not, however, miss the demonic gleam of her eyes, or how, when she swung the sword again –too heavy for her, but she wielded it well- though it did not touch the man, he was still sliced apart. And when she rested on the sword, breathing heavily, all her opponents fled or dead, her young body on the brink of a breakdown, he offered her lodging, a place to stay, to belong.



The girl lifted her head, and through her exhaustion, she was regal as any queen.



“I need no one.” Orochimaru smiled.



“Then think of this as…” he paused for a moment, trailing off as if he could not find the words, though he knew exactly what he was to say to her, “a respite, of sorts. And an offering, from a mere mortal, to such a goddess that I must admit stands before me.” Her eyes narrowed.



“I will have your blood on my hands one day.”

“What better way to do so than to follow me? I will not take you by force, my dear, so if this is the goal you with to attain, you must follow.” He was confident that she could be, if not broken, then turned to his will in time to be the most perfect of his vessels.



“Does this not concern you? A snake is always a snake, after all; one proffered kindness to it only for it to turn around and bite the hand that shelters it. It is foolish to invite thus into your home.” His amber eyes flickered with true amusement at her snake analogy, and then became snakelike in and of themselves as he summoned several to him silently, and without even a shift of his body. Though it was not really his body, after all… oh no. Orochimaru could not remember the last time he had his own body, nor what that body felt like, since he had defected from Konoha, he supposed.



“Male and female snakes of the same species have nothing to fear from the other.”



“Now you’re being arrogant. Whoever says you are the same species as I am?” Orochimaru chuckled softly, and she felt him to even her woman’s core. His amusement derived from the way she gave him her words, as though she were superior, She in control, she the one doing the offering, and him who would stand to gain from their relationship. Though, he mused, the last one was undoubtedly true.



“I am…” he did not continue, did not elaborate. Any further speech on his part would only give her something to fight against, something to struggle with, something that would –eventually, because even he could be manipulated by this girl, he was starting to feel- let her slip free. This calm assertion left her no recourse. And letting something so valuable slip away was simply not an option. It was not.



She gave in with grace, and agreed to follow him. In her mind, he died a million ways, and she tasted his blood on her lips, the coppery-sweet taste. Her arm tugged on his, and she looked up at him. At her request –and with a secret smirk she disregarded, {because- he is nothing near a clown, but he is just as tricky as one. He is there for no one's amusement, but they whisper that Death is macabre. } He allowed her to make a shallow slice on his arm and drink from it. Oh, yes…



She would be his best.


Here, my little psycho child, drink my blood. Orochimaru thought to himself with his secret smirk as the girls' tongue passed over his wound. I am just as psychotic as you.



She was his best.



She still remembered the first time she knew she was a demon.



She remembered it painfully well.



She remembered the blood;


The looks of horror;



And the delight of killing.







..................

This fic, as I said before, is dedicated to Novocaine, but is nowhere near the level of lovely death-pretty that that authors wOrK is. because oRochImaRu is gOdgODgOD to us all, as you must all know. And to me, Novocaine's Baik is the holy grail of all Orochimaru fics.

(Great... now I sound like a fangirl...)

I actually rushed through the last chapter to get to this one before I lost this Idea for it. It's still pretty short though, but I love it so much. It is probably the worst thing I have ever written (at least, In my opinion,) but I tried. I couldn't get it to match what I wanted or for it to come close to Baik, but I tried. I tried, I tried, I tried. oh well. It took me seven revisions and four-and-a-half days to get this chapter done, and the more I revised it, the worse it seemed to get. ~tears~ I guess that's what I get for being a fan-girl. The chara he is observing will come into play later on. I do realise that I really did not give a description of her, but there will be chapters in the future dedicated to her looks. For now, it's enough to know that she is just another one of the crazy abandonded strays that oro picked up. The reason she was fighting will appear soon also.
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