Cloudy Reflections |D.Gray-Man - Lavi| Chapter 7
I hate this text editing thing. I hate how it doesn't let me format things right anymore. I hate that random code thing that shows up when I publish. Grr. I love Lavi :) I kind of like the banner. I love you who are reading this :)The memories of the past already done
These hands record them all
Chapter 7: The Destroyer of Time
Lavi yawned and stretched lazily as he woke from his evening nap. He mussed his spiky red hair and sat up in the uncomfortable hard-backed chair. A crumbling book, its title too faded to read, fell from his chest, bounced on the ground twice, and landed open. Lavi groaned as he retrieved the book, noticing the delicate pages that had ripped out.
"Gramps'll get me for this," he sighed.
"Lavi."
Lavi turned quickly, snapping the book shut to hide the damage and placing it on the chair. "Gramps. Hi."
His grandfather, head of the Bookman Clan, stood in the doorway. He was wearing that silly outfit that reminded Lavi of stereotypical Chinese scholars again. His beady eyes were circled with black that stood out sharply from his pallid skin. Lavi always thought this made him look like a panda, albeit one that wasn't cute.
"The Supervisor wants to see you regarding a mission," the Bookman grated in his gravel-under-a-bike-wheel voice, the kind of voice only truly ancient people have.
"Sure thing." Lavi bounded to the door, eager to escape before his grandfather could notice the book.
"Do not forget, Lavi—" the old man started as Lavi passed him.
"—We are only on the Order's side by chance," Lavi recited. He refrained from rolling his bright green eye.
"Good. And Lavi."
Lavi stopped and looked back.
"Don't you ever desecrate a book ever again, do you hear me, young man!?" he shouted, executing a flying kick that caught Lavi in the small of the back and threw him down the hall.
The door slammed.
"Geez," the young man muttered, getting up slowly from his undignified sprawl. "He takes this way too seriously."
Supervisor's Office
Aria Lisle
Aria tried to ignore Komui. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the stinging, half-healed cut on her face. She clenched her jaw and bit her lip, but the impossible man was brushing her face with a feather, for God's sake. "Lee!" she finally snapped, knocking his stupid white feather away before she sneezed.
"Yes?" Komui asked innocently, tucking the feather into his pocket.
Aria sighed. "My mission?" Just give it to me so I can leave, you idiotic freak of nature.
"Nope. Your partner's not here yet."
ANOTHER partner? Are they just trying to keep me from slipping off again? Aria glanced at Lenalee, who was sitting on top of a desk, swinging her legs and whistling happily.
Lenalee shrugged sympathetically and smiled.
"Hey, guys," a cheery voice declared. "Sorry for the wait."
A tall young man with an eye-patch over his right eye—Aria was reminded painfully of Lala and her missing eye—sauntered in. Aria didn't recognize him, but that wasn't unusual. She so infrequently visited Headquarters that most faces were unfamiliar. She greeted him with a curt nod and a cold look for keeping her waiting.
"Nice ta meet ya," he said with a grin. "I'm Lavi."
Lavi had messy red-orange hair that stood up because it hadn't been brushed that day. A strange black sweatband bordered with green scales kept his hair from falling into his good eye, which was an intense jade green. His skin was lightly tanned. His teeth, Aria saw when he smiled, were very white and even.
Lavi. The Bookman's apprentice, Aria remembered. She glanced sideways at Komui, who seemed absorbed in cleaning a speck of dust off his glasses. She gave him an annoyed look and sighed.
Lenalee nudged Aria in the side and cleared her throat.
Aria turned back to Lavi and gave him and annoyed look, too.
"Lavi," Lenalee said, throwing a reproving look at Aria, "this is Aria Lisle."
"Lisle," Lavi said slowly. "Hmm..."
Aria winced. "The mission," she prompted.
"Right," squawked Komui, clapping his hands together. "I know it's a little different from what you're used to, but this time..." He paused dramatically. With him, timing was everything. "It's an investigation." Komui leaned forward conspiratorially. "There's a strange phenomenon happening now. We don't know what's going on, except that it's not normal. Your job is to investigate the matter and see if it's Innocence-related. You know what to do if you discover it is."
Lavi asked, "What about the Finders?"
Komui shook his head. "The Finders haven't been able to get close. They report the disturbance, and we never hear from them again."
"Where's it?"
"Le Havre. That's in Fran—"
"Lee!" Aria stood abruptly. She could feel herself shaking with anger. Her hands were clenched into fists, her long nails biting into her palms. She glowered at the unrepentant Supervisor for a moment, then turned on her heel and walked out.
Komui went after her. "Aria," he shouted, jogging to keep up with her speed. "Wait!" He latched onto her arm.
She shook him off furiously without even glancing his way.
Komui caught her shoulder and spun her around. She would have punched him had he not looked so unusually solemn. Instead, she hissed at him.
"You can go on this mission. Listen. No, stop hissing at me and listen. Are you a snake?" He said with annoying insistence, "I understand your situation, Aria, which is exactly why I'm sending you." He rested a hand on her head in an awkward fatherly gesture. "It won't be as hard as you think." After giving her a concerned, anxious look as though worried she'd do something incredibly stupid, he walked back to his office.
Aria rubbed her arms, which had sudden gone cold. "Merde," she whispered.
[Merde – shit]
Half an Hour Later
Aria fumed as she threw clothes into a drawstring canvas bag. She stomped in and out of her dressing room, flinging out pieces of clothing and shoes. Her normally tidy bedchamber was an atrocious mess now, with shirts and pants and the occasional dress strewn about.
"Stupid, meddling fool," she muttered, but she didn't manage the anger she thought she might have.
Someone knocked on her door. "Hello~?" It was Lenalee, who came in without waiting for an invitation. She looked around the room curiously. "Nice," she said sarcastically, eyeing the pile of clothes. "Very neat."
Carefully sweet, Aria replied, "Thank you."
"He was just trying to help," Lenalee explained.
"I know."
"He can get annoying at times, but he really had your best interests at heart!"
"I know."
"He should have told you earlier, but he didn't have time. I swear he wasn't trying to make you angry," Lenalee continued, not quite catching on that Aria wasn't protesting.
"I know." Aria cleared a space on her messy bed. "Sit down."
Lenalee smiled, sitting down and helping Aria fold her clothes. "Let's talk. Are you feeling okay? Allen told me about the mission already."
"I'm fine," Aria assured, which was mostly true.
"You don't hate him. Do you, Aria?"
"Who?" she asked, though she knew perfectly well.
"Allen."
Aria thought about how he had comforted her, despite the fact that she certainly hadn't given him any reason to care about her. She reached into her pocket and fingered the fringe of the handkerchief that she still had to return him. "No. He's a little like you. Only British."
"And he's a boy," Lenalee said with a hint of a grin.
"Really? I think his hormones are confused."
"Aria!" Lenalee exclaimed, laughing. "Don't. He's very masculine."
"Which part? Is it the narrow waist? Or the long eyelashes?"
When she was finished laughing, Lenalee said, "I told him about our promise. To see the world changed. Aria," she plowed on quickly when Aria opened her mouth to protest. "Didn't you hear? He's the one."
"'The one'?" Aria echoed. She swallowed; her throat had gone very dry. "Which one?"
"The one. The Destroyer of Time."
Aria closed her mouth, indignation draining out of her. "The Destroyer of Time," Aria repeated thoughtfully. She dropped the pair of socks she had been folding into an open drawer. "Sorry, Lenalee. We'll talk next time."
Lenalee nodded. "Be careful in France."
Aria found Allen in the first place she looked: the refectory. It wasn't lunchtime yet, and breakfast had been eaten hours ago, but there Allen was, biting into a chicken leg with uncalled-for relish. Two people in white lab coats—the frizzy-haired one with glasses and another named Tup—sat opposite him, watching him eat with shock.
Aria tapped the two scientists on their shoulders.
"C'mon, Johnny," Tup muttered, standing up. He gave Aria an untrusting look, like he was afraid she'd chop off Allen's head.
Aria sat down sideways on the vacated bench, leaving her legs stretched out before her.
He stopped shoveling food into his mouth momentarily. "How are you feeling?" Allen asked.
"Better. Thank you." Aria gripped the handkerchief in her pocket. "I have your handkerchief. I washed it."
He smiled. "It's all right. You can keep it." The smile faded. "Although, if you mind that I am British, maybe you think it is tainted?"
She couldn't tell if he was serious. "No." Aria shook her head for emphasis. "You are British, but you're..." She shook her head again. "Lenalee told me. You're the Destroyer of Time. No. I don't care that you're British."
Allen blinked in confusion. "It is that important?"
"You just joined the Order. Do you understand? The Black Order has been fighting the Millennium Earl for millennia. Since the beginning so long ago when the Innocence was scattered, we have fought this war. They kill us. We kill them. It doesn't stop." Aria glanced at him, then away. She had, for the first time in a long time, so much hope in her that she was afraid it would leak over her eyes. There was no need to intimidate him. "Time moves in this pattern. Walker, if you are the Destroyer of Time, surely... you are meant to break us free from this endless cycle of destruction."
Allen pushed his laden tray away from him, suddenly no longer hungry. On the contrary, he looked like he was going to be sick. Responsibility, the weight of the fate of the world settling on your shoulders, would do that to you.
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