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Carnivale	By : Lykomancer Category: +S to Z > Soul Eater Views: 1758 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater. My fanwriting is for entertainment purposes only, never for profit.

Chapter List
- 1-Carnivale
- 1
It was three o’clock in the morning, all the lights were off, and after a
moment’s silence and held breath to evaluate the situation, Spirit
congratulated herself on sneaking into the apartment successfully.

Mission accomplished.

She hadn’t intended on staying out so long, but she hadn’t gotten a chance to
do anything but study since the last mission, and then Allen called her up and
he was so much fun, and then he invited a few more people over and soon
one thing led to another…

And, she realized after two hours out, she’d also forgotten her keys.

It had been tricky, yes, getting back in without drawing her screwball
partner’s attention to both the irresponsibly late hour in which she was returning
and her own current state of dishabille, but Spirit had earned her victory.
Unlocking the window screen from the outside had been a bit more challenging
than she’d expected, but as has been said before: where there’s a will,
there’s a way.

Spirit smoothed her short black plaid skirt into place, noting that there were
dark streaks of dirt on her hands and thighs, and that her stockings were
shredded. If there had been anyone out on the street for the last twenty
minutes they might have gawked at the curvaceous young red-head’s lacy pink
panties as she shimmied up the drainpipe and then precariously balanced on the
window sill to crack the screen, but as it was so late there was no audience
for this particular unplanned showing, appreciative or otherwise.

Alright. Clothing a bit mangled, sure. Maybe even some bruises. No biggie. It
was worth it. Spirit quietly shut the window and began to pick her way through
the room by moonlight. She’d hit the shower and then hit the sack and scrape
herself up in time for class none the worse for the wear.

The light popped on.

Spirit shrieked at the sudden brightness, flailed, and promptly fell over her
own feet. She scrambled behind the side of the couch blindly, trying—
belatedly, unthinkingly— to hide herself from sight. Her heart thudded in her
throat as she squinted over the arm.

Stein stared back, her expression completely unreadable to the older girl.
“Spirit?”

It’s just your partner!

“H-h-hey… St-Stein,” Spirit stammered, rising up to her knees. Her fingers
kneaded the overstuffed arm as she suppressed the urge to giggle nervously. She
should have known. Stein kept odd hours, after all. “I didn’t expect you to be
up so late, and, uh, I… I, um…”

Stein cocked her head so that the light skimmed over the lenses of her glasses
and hid her eyes as she tuned Spirit (and her lame excuses) out.

How long…?

Hours.

It must have been hours, then, though it seemed like Spirit had just left a few
minutes ago. Time had continued its relentless march even as Stein lost herself
in her work.

How many hours, exactly? And how many rats?

At least five rats, she was sure of that at least. Her hands ached from the
delicate work of cracking the living animals’ small skulls to expose the brain
tissue. It had just been a whim to start with; just an overwhelming urge to see
those wrinkled organs gleaming like pink-grey pearls nestled within their
setting of bone and fur…

A loose sprig of silver hair fell across Stein’s forehead in a lazy arc and as
she lifted a hand to swipe it back, she drew her weapon’s attention to the dark
maroon drips spattering down the front of her shirt.

Spirit’s voice withered. “Oh,” she finished, her dry throat closing with
a soft click.

Yeah… Just your partner, alright.

Stein settled on the edge of the couch. The failed experiments on the rats were
dismissed from mind almost immediately. Here was a different test subject, and
her insatiable curiosity pushed out the bewilderment of calculating lost time
in order to focus on her partner and her interesting behavior.

Spirit eased herself up onto the couch as well, watching her technician warily.
“Seriously? I can’t even leave you alone for a few hours without you—”

“Your makeup is smeared.”

Stein had watched her weapon fastidiously apply powder and lipstick and
eyeliner for over forty minutes earlier in the evening, entranced by the length
and detail of the process, but she thought it looked far better now than it had
to start with. There was something unexpectedly appealing about the messy
smudges and blurred colors, though Stein didn’t quite understand why it should
be so.

Interesting.

Spirit blushed a brilliant shade of red and huffed in mingled embarrassment and
frustration, crossing her arms over her breasts. “Yeah, well… You’re the one
covered in blood. Do I even want to know what the hell you’ve been
doing?”

“Mmm…” Stein made a soft noise of acknowledgment; yes, she was covered in blood
(what else was new?), and no, her senpai probably didn’t want to know at all
(again: nothing new). It didn’t really matter, now did it? And though it wasn’t
much of a answer, it was enough; the younger girl watched as Spirit’s slightly
swollen lips began moving again, as she resumed the same tired chastisement
once more.

The makeup wasn’t the only thing out of order: green eyes swept downward,
noting the mismatched blouse buttons and ripped stockings and single untied
shoe. Spirit’s hair had started to work its way free from its two neat
pigtails, and the stray tendrils had begun to loosely curl around her face. A
rather suspicious pair of strawberry-colored bruises decorated the side of her
neck, too.

It was clear to Stein that she hadn’t been the only one misbehaving herself
tonight. Spirit really didn’t have any room to talk, especially regarding the
subject of self-control.

“Hey! Are you even paying attention?” Spirit scowled. Three-fifteen in the
morning was not a good time of day for much of anything, and that included an
attempted conversation with her scalpel-happy nutcase of a tech, but she gave
it a shot anyway, even as the luxury and relative safety of the shower called
to her. That could wait another moment.

Stein nodded. Some response was needed since Spirit had been talking at her for
a few solid minutes, but her voice was dim and distant, snowed under in the
hiss of static filling Stein’s head, and the conversation was just reheated
left-overs. She didn’t need to pay attention; she’d heard this all before.

Now… The real question was: How far down did the older girl’s still-lingering blush
reach? Past the clavicles; Stein could see that much easily. Further?

Her fingers twitched. The buttons on Spirit’s shirt were done up all wrong.

“Stein?”

Spirit really did have such beautiful skin. Silky. Smooth.

It was the color of rich heavy cream, softly dusted with the finest of copper
hairs.

“Hey!”

The muscles underneath were strong and supple and also beautiful.

Truly…lovely.

Stein could see them in her mind’s eye: the taut crimson springiness of fibrous
muscle and pale pink tendon wrapped around ivory bone… She caught her breath
even as her inner demons roared out their savage desires once more.

The first cut would be a relief.

The second would be nothing but pleasure.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and she bowed her head to let her pale hair
obscure her expression as she tried to swallow down the urge to contort her
face in a vicious grin. Her shoulders shook and her hands knotted into fists.

And if Spirit hadn’t been out for the last few hours? If she’d stayed home and
gone quietly to bed earlier in the evening, then what?

It wouldn’t have been rats, then, would it?

Spirit had almost reached out to grab the younger girl’s bloody shirt and give
her a good hard shake at that moment to get her to focus just a little,
frustrated to high hell that she wasn’t listening— it wasn’t that she’d checked
out in the middle of the discussion; it was obvious now that Stein had never
ever checked to begin with.

(Or maybe Stein was more like that old song lyric: she could check out anytime she
liked, but she could never leave.)

But this… Spirit frowned, trying to figure out who she should be more worried
about: herself or her partner. It was often hard to tell with Stein. She
reached out to tentatively touch her shoulder.

“Hey, are you o—”

“Your buttons are mismatched.” Stein didn’t lift her head.

“Ah… Well, that is-- I mean…” Spirit verbally spun out for a few seconds and
she flushed again, then her brows snapped down and she gave herself a stiff
mental shake. Stein didn’t care about her flirtations— not really, though
sometimes she still teased Spirit about them— so that statement wasn’t an
unsubtle accusation. “So? I’m going to take it off soon anyway. Why do you
care?”

Stein’s hand floated out and splayed across her weapon’s chest. “I want to
see,” she said, finally looking up. Her pupils were dilated and her lips curled
at the corner, but her tone was flat and steady and her hands had stopped
shaking.

“What?”

“I want to see,” she repeated, gathering her legs under her to lean forward
more comfortably.

Spirit’s back was pressed into the curve of the couch-arm. There was no more
room to scoot away from the advances of her flaky partner.

“S-See what?” Oh, that probably wasn’t the best question, but Spirit wasn’t
thinking clearly. Stein shifted her weight to her knees as she moved closer,
and as she brought her head up to meet Spirit’s gaze squarely, the older girl
realized how little space remained between them. She squirmed against the
couch, feeling both trapped and morbidly curious. “You’re thinking something
weird again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Stein nodded agreeably, but the twisted little smile didn’t recede. “I
am.”

“Oh… Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…” Spirit started to hyperventilate.
“D-don’t… Don’t cu—”

“You have such a perfect body.” Stein’s fingers slowly began to pop the buttons
on Spirit’s blouse. The older girl’s weak push against her shoulder didn’t
deter her in the least; if anything, it was encouragement…possibly even
permission of sorts. If Spirit really felt threatened, she could— and would—
defend herself easily; Stein knew that better than anyone. There was no real
resistance, no dark blade curving against Stein’s throat. “Absolutely perfect.
How can I help thinking about it? Especially when I know what you feel like…”
She pushed the thin fabric aside to palm the swell of one firm breast. “…in my
hands.”

Spirit caught her breath abruptly, her eyes wide.

Hey...She’s not hurting you!

The younger girl’s hand slipped into the cup of her bra and both of them felt
Spirit’s nipple pucker pertly in response. Stein caught the nub between two
knuckles and squeezed, and Spirit made some strangled, inarticulate noise, both
surprised at her tech’s strange fit of carnal interest and her own stupid
body’s automatic response to the attention.

She suddenly became hyperaware of the curve of Stein’s hip settling against her
inner thigh.

It’s not--

I mean, I’m not…not like that.

Not with Stein!

She’s… I mean…

Stein pressed her lips against one of the dark lovebites on her weapon’s neck—
burst blood vessels under the skin, that’s all that was. She pinched Spirit’s
nipple again, fascinated by the noises the other girl made in response, and she
thought of the mass of bloated white fat cells right under the skin. Adipose
tissue covered the grape-like clusters of mammary glands, and it was all
spiderwebbed through with dark blood vessels and delicate nerves, and under
that was the muscles of the chest wall and then the arching cathedral of her
ribcage...

“Wh- what are you doing?” Spirit’s one hand slipped down from Stein’s shoulder
to catch her wrist, and she straightened up a bit more against the support of
the couch for better leverage. This wasn’t happening. It was four in the
morning, her partner was mad as a March hare, and she had to be the responsible
one. As always. She gave Stein a harder nudge. “C’mon, Stein… Knock it off.
It’s... It’s late. We, ah. We have class in—”

“This feels good, though, doesn’t it, senpai?” Stein’s smile widened until her
lips sheared back and her teeth pressed against the pulse-point in Spirit’s
throat. A shiver wound down her back. “Your soul is trembling harder now. You
like this. We all have our…inclinations. There’s no reason to deny it. I
like it too.”

For completely different reasons, of course.

Spirit hesitated, caught between irresistible aching need and some heinous
mish-mash of guilt and fear and increasing sleepiness, and then felt furious at
herself at her own hesitation. This shouldn’t even be a choice! The answer was
obvious.

But…Stein did have a point.

Yeah, so? Did you forget that Stein’s also crazy?!

There was still blood dried into the front of her shirt. The creases of her
knuckles were rust-orange with the stuff. Spirit focused on that. That much
blood meant vivisection, not dissection. (Spirit was more than a little
horrified to realize she could now differentiate between the two; when the hell
had that happened?) So what had Stein been cutting up all evening? Mice?
Guinea pigs? Cats?

Something else entirely?

Yeah, that turned the trick. Spirit had never realized she could feel so
grateful to be nauseated, but in this moment it was exactly what she needed.
She pitched the younger girl onto the floor with no warning whatsoever and
quickly stood up, looking down with the most ferocious scowl she could summon,
hands on her hips.

“No. That’s enough, Stein. It’s late and you… You’re not well. You should go to
bed. You’ll feel differently tomorrow when you’re calmer. Okay? But we’re not
doing this now, you understand me?”

“Not now?” Stein seemed unfazed at finding herself on the floor. She shook her
long hair back and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with her
shoulder, then peered up at her partner with a curious expression.

“No! We’re not! Absolutely not! God, I…” Spirit seethed for a moment,
pushed beyond coherency, then sharply turned on her heel and stormed into the
bathroom. The door slammed behind her hard enough to shake the whole apartment,
then in the ringing silence that followed came the soft snick of the
lock engaging.

Not now, she’d said.

What an interesting choice of words.

Stein’s mad grin slashed across her face once more.

She could work with that.
- 1
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Carnivale