#yALL KNOW I DO SHIT LATE WT F

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KiMa Week 2017: Day 1- Apocalypse

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hohoho firstly, several thanks to rose and ash for their bountiful support in every direction imaginable, and here we are fam. flamakness back at it again with another giant au that we don’t know what to do with. kima week is going to have a strange influx of a kima witch au starting with these fics. just wait fam, more comes.

Binding; a KiMa AU

"Apocalypse" (ἀποκάλυψις) is a Greek word meaning "revelation", "an unveiling or unfolding of things not previously known and which could not be known apart from the unveiling"

To those foolish mortals out there who believe there is no such thing as magic: think again.

It comes in the form of luck. Of the unknown. Accidental practices that result in something strangely good. Deliberate intent. A force that perhaps we all wish we had a little more of. The happenings we have no words for.

And perhaps most of all-- love.

I’ll prove it.

She was walking home from wherever she needed to be, bags trailing along after her and dancing with the flick of her finger tips. Heavy things simply weren’t good for her back, so what’s it to you if she casted a little enchantments here and there? There was no need to suffer that evening, or any other unnecessary evening at that. Her front door unlocked by itself at the sound of her foot steps. And she caught the glow of her bioluminescent plants for just split second before the lights flickered on when they sensed her arrival.

Guiding her new wares to their places, checking on the little bit of magic still activated from chores, changing the musty air with the fresh night sky’s, Maka’s list of things to do was just about complete. There was only just one thing that she’d been putting off. You see, she’d inherited the house from an aunt on her father’s side after her children had decided to move away. It wasn’t like they’d rejected magic-- no, wouldn’t that be tragic? But it was that they had new families to start, new lives to begin, new places to call their home.

Aunt Tisha was more than happy to pass down the house along to Maka, who she loved as much as her own. It may as well go to someone who could truly enjoy the beauty of what it had to offer, she said to her only niece. There was no reason that such a piece of their family’s legacy needed to die just because the main branch was married off into different circles. The Albarns were powerful witches, and Maka had always been in awe of the rich history behind her pedigree.

Of course, as magic began to thin out, the more people used other reliable means of technologies-- such as their own two hands-- Maka felt even more of a need to preserve it. She kept a copy of her grimoire both on her google docs and in her shelves, left a spell or two within her new neighbors’ flower beds to attract ladybugs, never drank water without a drop of lemon… the usual things a modern witch felt the need to do. The shapeshifters across the street looked at her funny whenever she was found digging in her yard on a blue moon, but Maka sweared they still wanted to join her more than anything.

Back to the house though. She’d moved in a little over a month ago and there was still so much to be done before she could truly call the place home. From dead plants that needed to be replaced in the backyard to sorting through old belongings to send to cousin Sylvia’s ranch-- Maka may as well start cleaning out the dusty attic. They told her that it hadn’t been opened since her grandma’s time, but if there were really birds roosting up there, then a cleaning was long overdue.

It was dangerous for wee creatures to play where there could be expired magic stored, after all.

With her home still getting used to being in tuned with her will, it took moment for it to lead her to the unmistakable entrance of the attic. Using a barrier to keep dust from falling through and onto her freshly mopped floor, Maka forced the handle to turn, and a rickety ladder fell from above. She supposed that she could check what she was dealing with now, and then actually deal with it in the morning. Putting one hand over the other, she climbed to the top, only to be met with the flutter of wings immediately.

The little finch was excited for reasons she couldn’t quite figure out. It tugged at her bangs and poked at her back until she was lead into her dark, crowded attic. There were boxes stacked as high as her cousin Trent. Dust clinging to every surface. Bits of cobwebs that swayed from the beams, which Maka almost ran into despite the bits of light coming in from a little porthole. But from that light, she saw another finch emerge, joining its little nest mate in their attempts to push Maka deeper in.

She didn’t think that they were malicious in any way, but you had to admit, it was strange to be lead on by a couple of birds; it made her cautious. There was something in the attic that they wanted her to see, and that something was something she could be potentially worried about. Still, she followed them all the way to where the light of the moon entered through, where it bounced off behind the little holes of a white sheet, and where the unmistakable frame of a mirror stood.

A small chirp triggered a little chorus of beeps, and with them came a voice unbelonging to Maka. It was surely male, surely soft and testing, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Confusion, not fear, was what she felt in that moment as she called back, answering his question with her name.

“My name is Death the Kid,” came his silvery words in response. “Free me, and I’ll reward you handsomely.”

“How does a disembodied voice have anything to give me?” Maka tried.

And she heard him groan under his breath. “Just-- whatever you want. I’ll give it to you. Get me out of here.”

There was a certain desperation in his voice as Maka saw a faint shadow of a hand pressed against the surface of the mirror behind the sheet. She steeled herself, deciding then that she wanted to see just who was negotiating his freedom. As if the house heard her, the fabric was blown away, stirring up the dust and causing Maka to shield her eyes momentarily. She really had to get this house under her control.

Lowering her hand away from her face, she saw the glow of a golden eyes more beautiful than the moon itself first. The man unveiled in the mirror was dressed formally in attire not from her era, with an older form of a suit and the shine of cufflinks on his wrists. He fit his clothes well, filling out the shoulders best and showing off his height with the illusion of a long torso and even longer legs. His black hair was styled carefully, or at least to the best of his efforts since he had no reflection to help him, she figured. But there were three incomplete bands of white that circled left around his bangs and to the back of his head.

He placed his hand back behind him, scrutinizing her image as much as she was to him.

“Well, don’t you look oddly like her.”

“Her?” Maka inquired, briefly registering the many finches that quickly perched on top of the mirror. “Who’s that?”

“Never mind that. Free me. I’ve been trapped in this hell for longer than you have a right to know.”

“And why should I?”

“There’s no reason to mistrust me. I was wrongfully imprisoned during the rebellion and I have done nothing to warrant this prison.”

“You must have gotten sealed for a reason,” she said cooly. “Souls don’t just casually end up mirror bound.”

“Trust me, Maka. There are a lot of reasons to keep me here, including just out of pettiness, but the very fact that you can hear and see me is enough reason for you to believe that I’m someone who has finally earned the right to leave. You’ve probably figured it out, but I have nothing to give you in return other than my gratitude. However, I’ll tell you everything you want to know once I’ve escaped and given a physical form. For now though, I know you know the curse binds my words too.”

“Then why haven’t you left before, if you’re so ready for it now?”

“Who’s been up here in this past century?” he said simply.

She mulled it over again in her head. If it were true, if what she’d learned about mirror bound souls were true, then his emergence really did mean that he was worthy to leave under the contract of a witch. And if he was, if the birds were truly comfortable perched on that mirror’s frame, going as far as to assist him… then perhaps she had to trust their calling.

With a bit of preparation and time, and even a hint of preservation, she reached into the mirror and grabbed his hand, pulling him out and letting him step into the world for the first time.

Maybe there is a little magic in the concept of fate, too, by the way.

You’ll have to just wait and see.

#kidmaka-week2017 #kima #kidxmaka #soul eater #nessie spills #yALL KNOW I DO SHIT LATE WT F #flamakness does kima week