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Entry tags:
Fanfiction | No Witch
Title: No Witch
Fandom: Soul Eater
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Eruka Frog
Summary: Eruka gets her freedom, but finds the conditions of her release difficult to bear.
Word Count: 1068
Notes: Manga-verse, spoilers for the last few chapters. Was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aztec as part of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
se_ladyfest.
The creak of rusted hinges roused Eruka Frog from a light and restless sleep. She couldn't even remember how long it had been since the door had been opened; Food was delivered through a smaller flap at the bottom of the door. How long had it been since she had been forced to help them open the Book of Eibon? A week? A month? The only measure of time in this dark cell was the comings and goings of the food tray, and it was so easy to lose track.
Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the presence of light; The corridor outside was only dimly lit by torches, but her cell was kept so dark that even that was blinding. So, she recognized Sid's voice before his face came into focus.
“Eruka Frog,” he said, stepping into the cell. “Step forward with your hands held in front of you.”
Eruka complied, her bones and muscles protesting after such a period of disuse. She held out her hands, shackled in irons. “Let me guess,” she said weakly. She'd been expecting this for a long time, and after hours of panicked denial, fear, anger, and futile attempts to bribe the guard, she'd resigned herself to it. “Execution day?”
Sid laughed. It seemed like an oddly jolly sound, in a dismal place like this. “Actually, pretty much the opposite.”
She'd expected him to detach her irons from the chains that led from her wrists to the wall, and lead her out that way. Instead, he slipped the keys into the locks which held the irons themselves closed. Eruka let out a befuddled “gecko?” as the manacles fell to the ground.
“Your parole's up,” Sid said by way of explanation. “You know what that means, right?”
“That...I'm free to go?” Eruka said it hesitantly, as though speaking it out loud would shatter this wonderful, wonderful illusion.
“With conditions,” Sid qualified. “If you'll come with us.” An order disguised as a suggestion. Eruka stepped out into the moldy corridor, rubbing her wrists, which were chafed where the irons had lain. Sid gestured for her to follow him, and she stepped out of her cell. A familiar face was waiting for her, a stern look on her face and brandishing a lantern.
“Kim?” Eruka said, turning the name into a question. Of all the Shibusen meisters she might have expected to help guard her, Kim would have been the last on the list. They'd never even gotten along at the Witches Coven.
“She actually testified on your behalf at your parole hearing,” Sid said in an amused tone, leading them down the hallway. Eruka turned her head around to look at Kim, who was bringing up the rear. Now that, Eruka couldn't believe. She had been right in the first place: this really was a dream.
Kim looked away, as though embarrassed that it had come up. “I told them you were too stupid to be a threat without someone telling you what to do.”
“You did?” Eruka could feel tears welling up in her eyes. “That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me!”
Freedom was very bright.
The Nevada sun was uncomfortably harsh, after three months (she'd worked it out from the dates on her release papers) in a dank cell. She'd taken to closing the blinds during the brightest part of the day, keeping her new apartment in a dim twilight until night began to fall, and she could poke her head out into the streets of Death City. Witches were always more comfortable at night, anyway.
Sometimes, though, she had to venture out before sundown. She usually only worked the night shift, but the moron who was usually behind the register in the afternoon had called in sick. “What a jerk,” Eruka said aloud, yawning as as she stripped off a green vest with the DEATH*MART logo embroidered onto the left side. “That's three days this week he's not come in. I hope they fire him.”
The vest was easily the ugliest thing she'd ever worn, and she felt – not for the first time – a sudden urge to toss the damn thing into a fire. Between it, the random shift changes, and the irritatingly human customers, she sometimes wondered if this job was worth all the crap she had to put up with. Only sometimes, though. She had to stay employed, or back into the cell she went. One of the conditions of her parole.
(Lisa and Alisa had gotten her an interview for another job, but the manager had taken one look at her and informed her that she didn't “have what they were looking for”.)
She yawned again. “And what am I supposed to do now?” she whined to the ceiling. “I'm so tired, but if I go to sleep now I'll fall asleep during my next shift! Urgh!”
She threw herself over the arm of her couch and moaned piteously into the upholstery. “It's so unfair, gecko,” she complained. “I finally get free from Medusa's grasp, and fall straight into DEATH*MART's! It never ends!”
Logically, she knew that she ought to force herself to stay awake for a few hours yet; There was nothing as embarrassing as falling asleep on the job. But logic had nothing to do with it; She could see her bed in the next room, and it was calling out to her. Grumbling still, she shambled to her feet and trudged into the room, flipping on the lights so that she could see to change into her bedclothes.
So exhausted was she that, when the final button had been closed, she simply collapsed onto the bed, pulling the scattered covers around her into a comforting envelope.
The lights were still on, her sleep-addled brain realized. How annoying. Without thinking, she cast one hand out towards the light switch.
Nothing happened.
Of course nothing happened, Eruka thought as her brain caught up to her reflexes. She felt like a fool. The very first condition of her parole: She had to keep Soul Protect activated at all times. If she turned it off, the collar she was forced to wear would inform Shibusen immediately, just as it would if she breached Death City's borders.
No magic. No familiars. No witch.
She got out of bed and shambled over to the switch, flipping it like a normal person would. Like she would have to for the rest of her life. She crawled back beneath the covers with an unhappy “gecko,” and drifted off to sleep.
Fandom: Soul Eater
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Eruka Frog
Summary: Eruka gets her freedom, but finds the conditions of her release difficult to bear.
Word Count: 1068
Notes: Manga-verse, spoilers for the last few chapters. Was written for
aztec as part of se_ladyfest.The creak of rusted hinges roused Eruka Frog from a light and restless sleep. She couldn't even remember how long it had been since the door had been opened; Food was delivered through a smaller flap at the bottom of the door. How long had it been since she had been forced to help them open the Book of Eibon? A week? A month? The only measure of time in this dark cell was the comings and goings of the food tray, and it was so easy to lose track.
Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the presence of light; The corridor outside was only dimly lit by torches, but her cell was kept so dark that even that was blinding. So, she recognized Sid's voice before his face came into focus.
“Eruka Frog,” he said, stepping into the cell. “Step forward with your hands held in front of you.”
Eruka complied, her bones and muscles protesting after such a period of disuse. She held out her hands, shackled in irons. “Let me guess,” she said weakly. She'd been expecting this for a long time, and after hours of panicked denial, fear, anger, and futile attempts to bribe the guard, she'd resigned herself to it. “Execution day?”
Sid laughed. It seemed like an oddly jolly sound, in a dismal place like this. “Actually, pretty much the opposite.”
She'd expected him to detach her irons from the chains that led from her wrists to the wall, and lead her out that way. Instead, he slipped the keys into the locks which held the irons themselves closed. Eruka let out a befuddled “gecko?” as the manacles fell to the ground.
“Your parole's up,” Sid said by way of explanation. “You know what that means, right?”
“That...I'm free to go?” Eruka said it hesitantly, as though speaking it out loud would shatter this wonderful, wonderful illusion.
“With conditions,” Sid qualified. “If you'll come with us.” An order disguised as a suggestion. Eruka stepped out into the moldy corridor, rubbing her wrists, which were chafed where the irons had lain. Sid gestured for her to follow him, and she stepped out of her cell. A familiar face was waiting for her, a stern look on her face and brandishing a lantern.
“Kim?” Eruka said, turning the name into a question. Of all the Shibusen meisters she might have expected to help guard her, Kim would have been the last on the list. They'd never even gotten along at the Witches Coven.
“She actually testified on your behalf at your parole hearing,” Sid said in an amused tone, leading them down the hallway. Eruka turned her head around to look at Kim, who was bringing up the rear. Now that, Eruka couldn't believe. She had been right in the first place: this really was a dream.
Kim looked away, as though embarrassed that it had come up. “I told them you were too stupid to be a threat without someone telling you what to do.”
“You did?” Eruka could feel tears welling up in her eyes. “That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me!”
Freedom was very bright.
The Nevada sun was uncomfortably harsh, after three months (she'd worked it out from the dates on her release papers) in a dank cell. She'd taken to closing the blinds during the brightest part of the day, keeping her new apartment in a dim twilight until night began to fall, and she could poke her head out into the streets of Death City. Witches were always more comfortable at night, anyway.
Sometimes, though, she had to venture out before sundown. She usually only worked the night shift, but the moron who was usually behind the register in the afternoon had called in sick. “What a jerk,” Eruka said aloud, yawning as as she stripped off a green vest with the DEATH*MART logo embroidered onto the left side. “That's three days this week he's not come in. I hope they fire him.”
The vest was easily the ugliest thing she'd ever worn, and she felt – not for the first time – a sudden urge to toss the damn thing into a fire. Between it, the random shift changes, and the irritatingly human customers, she sometimes wondered if this job was worth all the crap she had to put up with. Only sometimes, though. She had to stay employed, or back into the cell she went. One of the conditions of her parole.
(Lisa and Alisa had gotten her an interview for another job, but the manager had taken one look at her and informed her that she didn't “have what they were looking for”.)
She yawned again. “And what am I supposed to do now?” she whined to the ceiling. “I'm so tired, but if I go to sleep now I'll fall asleep during my next shift! Urgh!”
She threw herself over the arm of her couch and moaned piteously into the upholstery. “It's so unfair, gecko,” she complained. “I finally get free from Medusa's grasp, and fall straight into DEATH*MART's! It never ends!”
Logically, she knew that she ought to force herself to stay awake for a few hours yet; There was nothing as embarrassing as falling asleep on the job. But logic had nothing to do with it; She could see her bed in the next room, and it was calling out to her. Grumbling still, she shambled to her feet and trudged into the room, flipping on the lights so that she could see to change into her bedclothes.
So exhausted was she that, when the final button had been closed, she simply collapsed onto the bed, pulling the scattered covers around her into a comforting envelope.
The lights were still on, her sleep-addled brain realized. How annoying. Without thinking, she cast one hand out towards the light switch.
Nothing happened.
Of course nothing happened, Eruka thought as her brain caught up to her reflexes. She felt like a fool. The very first condition of her parole: She had to keep Soul Protect activated at all times. If she turned it off, the collar she was forced to wear would inform Shibusen immediately, just as it would if she breached Death City's borders.
No magic. No familiars. No witch.
She got out of bed and shambled over to the switch, flipping it like a normal person would. Like she would have to for the rest of her life. She crawled back beneath the covers with an unhappy “gecko,” and drifted off to sleep.