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Kamiki
She had lain there, motionless, for the better part of an hour. Sleep had been fitful and she drifted in and out of consciousness, a silken wave that danced over her mind and muddled her senses. Her eyelids, thick and heavy, fluttered and wrenched themselves open. The images that floated before her eyes were unclear, blurred around the edges; but she fought the urge to shut them out.
The thrill of the hunt pumped through her veins, and tugged the corners of her mouth up into a small smile. She lifted one hand to push her long, thick braid of dark hair back over her shoulder, using the same hand to grip the reins of the chestnut-colored Gelding underneath her. She peered out over the fields, towards her partner, who flashed a bright smile, lifting and dropping his shoulders in a careless, cheerful shrug.
“Tricky little thing…” The words were uttered under her breath as she set to scanning the fields herself for the tiny fox that continued to elude both of the hunters and their horses, as well as their team of well-trained hunting dogs. She felt the smallest glimmer of frustration spark when she caught no sight of the fox. She knew very well that it was meant to be a sport, yes, but by nature she was the type of person that didn’t easily swallow defeat. Her husband, her hunting partner, tucked his lower lip and gave a blasting whistle, tugging at the reigns of his own Gelding. Hound, horse and man set off at a run, bounding over the thick underbrush that bordered a dense pocket of forestry.
She sat up, her eyes bright and wide against the creamy mocha of her skin. She braced one hand behind her, shoving her palm into the soft, dry greenery that littered the floor. Her other hand she pressed against her forehead, letting long moments pass before the curtain of dizziness that plagued her lifted.
It wasn’t a vision that had just rocked her, she was sure of it. Visions you only saw in your mind’s eye, and this she had lived before, she knew.
A rustle of leaves, and a bird called cheerfully in the distance, accompanying the urgent fluttering of what must have been a fairly small pair of wings. The air trapped underneath the tall canopies was pleasantly scented with the thick, warm fragrances of the flora that surrounded her. Colors danced, vibrant and charming. But the brilliance of sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and citrines, the delighted cries of this flashy nature and the beauty that simply dripped all around her affected her not. She was frozen on the ground, her hands clenching hard and crumbling dried bits of foliage against her palm. The beauty of the forest around her didn’t affect her, because there something else - something a great deal more pressing - on her mind.
She couldn’t remember who she was.
Her name…no, she couldn’t recall. Her age - she couldn’t be sure. And how she had appeared there, how she had woken alone on the ground in the middle of the forest was just a mystery. She was a stranger in her own body, victim to what must’ve been a horrible, cruel joke. She ran her hands, shaking, over each other, exploring her own smooth flesh and the slender appendages. Hers. Her hands flexed up her wrists, over her elbows and to her bare shoulders, until she found that she had wrapped herself into a fierce hug and shut her eyes tight against the world. The forest might have been teeming with life around her, but she was, she felt, abandoned and alone.
She tugged hard on the leather reins, clucking her tongue at the Gelding and pulling him in the direction of her husband and their horses. They, woman and horse, had only trotted forward a few feet, and steadily picking up speed, before the underbrush quivered and a small figure, a flash of silver lightening, darted out and headed straight into the thicket.
Her response was automatic. She pulled back on the reins again, bringing the heavy horse to a stop. With a rather smug smile, she kicked her horse into a gallop after the fox and into the thicket, as well, crouching low and bouncing on the horses back with an expertise ease and uncanny grace that proved visual testament to the years of practice she had at the sport. This hunt would, she felt, be over soon.
She shook her head, hard, releasing her shoulders to scrub her hands over her face. She obviously had…memories, or at least flashes, of what she had once lived. To get through this sudden ordeal, she knew she would have to think clearly, establish what she knew and what she didn’t know. She folded her legs, tucked them in so that she sat Indian-style. Drawing in a deep breath, she silently coaxed her heartbeat from an urgent pounding to a slow, steady rhythm. Her attention drew upwards, towards a sky that filtered in bright and promising through the thick leaves of tall trees.
“The sky is blue,” she said aloud, reasonably and matter-of-factly, fighting both the disappointment and fear when her voice, soft and sweet, was unfamiliar to her. She sat for a moment, her tilted back while her eyes, wide and hopeful, studied the sky above her. “Leaves,” she murmured, swinging her gaze back down towards the forest floor. She stretched out her hand, picking up a wide, fallen leaf. “Leaves are green.” She stroked the pad of her index finger over the dewy veins. “One…two…three…four…five…” Allowing the leaf to dangle by its stem from her fingertips, she pulled her legs towards her chest and rested her chin on her knees. It was important, she knew, for her to clamp down on the fear that threatened to overtake her. Her memory, by whatever twist of fate, hadn’t been completely wiped out. She had retained basic knowledge…just not anything that was immediately relevant to her own life. And at that thought, she couldn’t hold back the quick bubbles of laughter that rose and slipped out past her lips. What kind of person was she, she wondered, to deserve such a fate? Certainly only truly horrible people were victim to this sort of treatment; nature’s payback, it might’ve been called. And if she was such a horrible being, she wasn’t entirely certain that she wanted to remember who she was.
But that wouldn’t do, not for her to sit on the forest floor, clutching her legs and giggling at the breeze like a madwoman. But for the life of her, and all that she was worth, she couldn’t control the laughter. She laughed and laughed, like a resounding bell, until finally she touched a hand to her face and felt that her cheeks were hot and wet. She hadn’t been aware that her joyous and befuddled laughter had so quickly evolved into a desperate sob.
“I remember how to count.” She announced it suddenly, desperately appealing to the wildlife around her. “I can still recognize colors.” A giant sniff and she was wiping the back of her hand over face, clearing away the tears and struggling to regain her composure. “There’s nothing wrong with me, so there’s no reason for me not to know who I am. My name is…is…” A tear, fat and heavy, squeezed out from the corner of her eye and slipped down her cheek. With a quick, defiant motion of her finger, she flicked it away. It would be the last she would allow to fall. “My name is…”
A scuffle, a quick scurrying of tiny paws against the forest floor had her quickly whipping her head around. The dim spark of recognition lit in her eyes when her gaze fell on the small silver fox only a couple of feet behind her, patiently settled on its haunches and watching her through large eyes of a pure ice-blue.
For a couple of moments, the chase was fierce. Crashing into the thicket, she guided her horse deep into the greenery, urging him to first a slower cant and then a steady mosey. The low-hanging branches and leaves started to crowd in, so that at first she could block them away from her face with her arm, but further in she had to nearly hug herself to the Geldings back. It formed sort of a cave-like entrance, dimly lit by the dappling of sunlight through the leaves; one way in, one way out. Bringing the horse to a complete halt, she carefully swung her leg over the trunk of his body, using her arms to lower self to the cracked, rocky ground - there clearly wasn’t ample enough sunshine for life in this cave. Her rifle she hoisted up from its holster on the side of the horse, levering it up in both hands while she continued deeper into the cave on foot.
Her eyes fluttered briefly as she came out of her brief vision. “It’s you.” Her voice came out in a hushed whisper, cut with the emotion that came with the realization that there was at least some small link to the life that she no longer remembered. She gave a small sniff, and was mildly surprised when the fox, which was surely playing with her, lifted his muzzle into the air to sniff back at her. The corners of her mouth jerked up into a quick smile, and slowly, she positioned herself in such a way that she could face the fox and remain sitting, her legs swung around to her side, the skirts she wore fanned over her calves in a creamy spill of light blue cotton.
Tentatively, she reached out to gently run the pads of her fingertips over one of the foxes pointed ears, and then when he bowed his head to her touch, over the crown of his head. The fur was as soft as silk, and it shimmered like silver moonbeams on the surface of a crystalline lake.
Tiny, weak rocks were crushed to dust underneath the heels of her boots, and others were either mowed over or shuffled aside, but she crept along as silently as she could. During her first hunt, she remembered, she had been so scared that she could feel her heartbeat in her ears, her palms were clammy against the gun, and she felt slightly queasy to her stomach. But now, the whole sport of it came second nature, and she almost swaggered with each careful step.
She had to squint her eyes to see in the dim light, but years of training had her easily spotting out the bundle of silver fur in a narrow, rocky crevice of the cave. It was trembling, but that hardly mattered to her. Her mind was already shooting ahead to her prize: the glory and recognition that would come at having caught such a fine and rare specimen, and the glorious, silky coat that would hang nicely in her bedroom or perhaps in her parlor for all of her visitors to admire.
She lifted her gun, pointing the narrow barrel at the fear-frozen fox and moving her index finger to rest on the trigger. A shot right to the base of the ear would do, she concluded, “…don’t want to damage that coat.” She whispered it to herself, closing one eye to peer through the aim. She stopped just short of pulling the trigger when the fox locked it’s big, sorrowful eyes on hers. Lowering the gun a fraction, she was unable to stop the overwhelming sense of guilt that suddenly washed over her.
“What am I doing…?”
She jumped out of the vision, gasping suddenly with her hand outstretched and frozen on the foxes head. Her mouth had fallen open, but any words that she could’ve said had clumped together into one large, greasy knob that was stuck in her throat. When her eyes filled and spilled over, her nostrils quivering uncontrollably over the intense flood of emotion, she knew exactly what sort of person she had been: a killer. She was someone that murdered for sport, a woman that stole innocent lives away without as much as a bat of her eyelashes.
“I-I’m sorry.” She stuttered it out when the knob dissolved, taking with it a fresh flood of tears that she allowed to flow freely down her face. The fox merely tilted his head to the side, staring at her tears with its bright blue eyes. Then without warning, the fox ducked from under her still hand, streaking away into the forest without a glance back towards her.
“No! Wait!” Her stomach gave a desperate and sickening lurch, and she scrambled up to her feet - which she hadn’t noticed were bare - to stumble off in the direction of the fox. She ran over broken twigs, dried leaves, and small pebbles as if they were soft blades of grass and moss, ignoring the tiny cuts that they impended into the soles of her feet. She used her hands to shove aside the branches and leaves that dangled in front of her, though she didn’t catch them all. A few of them whipped into her face, their sharp ends nicking the sensitive flesh of her cheeks and her jaw. She powered her way through the forest, catching no sight of the quick little fox and relying purely on blind instinct to guide her. She leapt over the fallen, rotting trunks of dead trees, and stumbled over the gnarled roots of standing trees that time had unearthed.
She had been on a countless number of hunts, and there was no reason why this one should be any different. She gave a small clearing of her throat, jerking the rifle back into place so that she could take her shot. And then she felt it, the inexplicable sensation to burst into tears that had her lowering her gun all the way to her side. No…this was wrong. For her to shoot this fox would be the worst thing she could possibly do. She was unable to explain the sudden turn of her emotions and keeping her eyes locked on the fox, she slowly lowered herself towards the ground, setting the gun aside and lifting her hands to show that she was, in fact, now harmless.
“I didn’t mean it!” She called it out to the forestry, pushing forward until she could see just through the clearing and to glittering surface of what appeared to be a lake. There was no sign of the fox whatsoever, but she shoved through a particularly dense overhanging and into the clearing.
The fox watched her for a moment or two, and the silence was tense between them. Then, finally, he gave a few tentative steps forward, paused, his head flicking towards the narrow exit just behind her.
She glanced backwards and then back to the fox, tilting the corners of her mouth up into a small smile and giving a slight, encouraging nod. “Don’t worry.” If it was at all possible, the fox gave some sort of sigh of relief, and was just preparing to make a dash for the exit when the ground beneath them started to quiver.
“Whoa…” The light shake had inspecting the crossing of branches over her head, and then the creases of the floor. Tiny rocks bounced along the surface and there was a steadily rising, thin cloud of dust. One of the large creases suddenly split into a deep crack, snaking along the ground and towards her boots. She stepped back away from it, but it raced underneath her, widening, out the mouth of the cave. She sent a frightened look back to where her horse was before she heard the fox give a surprised mew of distress. Her head whipped back around in just enough time to see the silver fox tumble into another ever-spreading hole.
“No!” She had just taken a few steps forward of her own when another violent shake of the ground had her tumbling backwards. She vaguely registered the sound of her horses frantic whinnying before the ground completely split open. Her husband, her life - it took only a fraction of a second for it all to flash through her head -
- before her entire world crumbled from underneath her.
Her foot caught on an uneven patch of ground and she sprawled forward, giving a surprised cry and throwing out her hands to catch herself. With a bright splash of water, she found her upper body soaked as she lay on the slippery bank of grass. She had landed, halfway and stomach-down, into the lake, supported by her arms and staring, wide-eyed at her reflection on the rippling surface.
Her appearance…was nothing like what she had seen in her visions, but there was no mistaking that it was her that she had seen. Every emotion, every thrill and sorrow from the middle of the hunt and to the end of it she had felt. But in the visions, she had been dressed in the prestigious red-and-black riding gear of the hunting elite. Her hair had been a long, tight, dark brown braid that trailed down her back. Her eyes, though she had never seen them, she knew were the color of brown sugar. She lifted one hand out of the water to stroke her fingers gently over the curve of her cheek. The features were the same, but now her wide eyes were a sweet hue of violet. She gathered her braided hair into her hands, moving her body around so that she could kneel and stare at her reflection as she slowly used her fingers to work the braid loose. The silken tresses were the same tone of violet as her eyes, but several degrees lighter, and it shimmered as if it had been frosted with silver.
She couldn’t help but to stare down at the rich blue waters of the lake, and as she did, she felt something blossoming inside of her. It was like a great, sugary relief, like velvet dusted with gold, and it spread through her with a warm flood, tilting up the corners of her mouth, though she had no idea why. It was like something was awakening within her, and what she saw next simply stunned her to further silence: Bringing her hands in front of her face, she saw her trim and manicured nails grow just a bit longer, the slightest bit thicker, right before eyes. She glanced back at her reflection and felt a slight itching in her mouth that had her parting her lips and watching as her canines, a pearled white like the rest of teeth, elongated and came to a slightly sharper point; relatively painless, but fascinating. The felt the smallest of hums at her backside, and twisted herself around in such a way so that she could witness the thick, silky bundle of fur grow from the base of her spine, long and shapely, still the same hues as her hair and her eyes, with a far bit more silver woven into the soft, thick hairs. It was a tail, and it had easily torn through the delicate fabric of the cerulean-colored skirt, making ample room for itself while retaining a decent amount of dignity. With a delighted laugh, she gave it a brief flick and watched in wonder as she tail shimmered in the sunlight.
When she looked back at the water, she was hardly surprised to see that with the tail, a lovely, long pair of fox ears had replaced her own human ears and were perched on the top of her head, slightly angled out to either side. The same silver/lavender tone, the fur blackened at the tips. While one of her hands was busily stroking along the length of her newly acquired tail, her other hand reached upwards to run her fingertips along the edge of her ears, as she had done with the small silver fox.
He was there. She saw him when she turned around to look back up the bank of the lake, settled down and watching her with a look that she understood to be understanding, patient, amused, and somehow loving all in one. Her lips spread into a complete smile, and she pushed herself up onto her feet, using her hands to lift her skirts out of the way as she climbed the bank and knelt next to the fox. He came to her easily, and she gathered him up into her arms, cuddling his small form close to her as she placed a delicate kiss to the tip of his small black nose. She stood, the fox with her, and looked back towards the forest that was no longer strange and foreign to her. It was home, she knew, or at least it was apart of the land that she would now be calling her home. There was something else that she knew, in the same mysterious way that her transformation had taken place, and the thought of it had her grinning at the fox, and the fox grinning back at her. It wasn’t the name that had been given to her at her natural birth, but rather this fantastic rebirth, and it was hers nonetheless.
“Hi…” There was no fear in her voice now, only a sparkling hope. “My name is Kamiki.”
 oO- Minte -Oo · Tue Nov 14, 2006 @ 07:54am · 0 Comments |
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Rising Shadow
The amber-tinted alcohol had a very distinctive taste - one that was familiar to him, but he still couldn’t quite place it. He lifted the heavy glass-carved mug once more, swishing a hefty mouthful of the ale over his tongue and only idly trying to identify that hidden flavor. One of the “perks” of traveling, he surmised, an amused little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips - new sights and flavors. True, not all of them were pleasant, but that was one of the main reasons he had taken so fondly to the sea: the freedom of choice. Be it between whose ale he would consume or where he would kick up his feet until his ship was ready to sail again, that option to choose was well-worth the occasional condition of undesirable circumstance.
The impetuous kick of wind carried with it the scents of the tavern behind him and wide open sea to his distant left. Hunks of sausage and onions fried merrily for those hungry enough to brave their slightly spoiled nature and rum and ale poured freely to fuel the indignant souls of the loquacious patrons. Such scents were common on the tiny port of Lielythe - with a heavy dash of salt from the sea. They ran rampant tonight, when the crew of the Sweet Maria docked their tired ship.
Thinking of the great battle the ship had fought against Poseidon’s rage, the one that he had apparently seen only in his mind’s eye, the pirate Captain known as Rising Shadow shifted his emerald-hued gaze out to where he knew the ship has been anchored, in the exact condition it had been when it first set sail from the small fishing village that Shadow had called home. With a small shake of his head, he lifted his glass again, only to have it nearly pitched out of his grip when a heavy hand came thumping hard against his shoulder blade.
“A bit early to be losin’ yerself to ol’ Sally’s brew, i’n’t it?” The burly voice boomed directly into his ear, peppered with the comfortable slur of a man that had long given himself to a beautiful drunken haze. Since it was a resting period for the entire ship, Shadow didn’t mind in allowing his crew in indulge. Shadow didn’t need to turn from the chipped wooden rail he had been leaning against to know that it was the voice of his boisterous first mate, William Baltimore - or Painted Billy the Leviathan as he had quickly came to be known as for his ungodly size and vast collection of tattoos that spread over each trunk-sized limb, a long torso and a brutish, carefree face.
“An’ what brings ye out here, Billy? Come to watch the stars dance with me?” From the eye not dominated by the single black eye-patch, Shadow stared down at the spilt ale, gold and topped with a fine lace of white foam, which glittered against a poor patch of crab weeds among a dirt ground.
The giant gazed upwards, as if expecting the twinkling light of the stars to circle around in each other in a choreographed reverie to the banging of a dusty piano and the off-key warble of a very drunk tenor from inside the tavern. Through his hazy vision, the light shimmered and winked and did, in fact, appear to be dancing. “Ah…” It brought a smile to his thick, moistened lips, and his tattooed face crinkled with pleasure. “Thar’ be magic in the air t’night, Shadow.” And with a cackle that had him slamming his palm again into Shadow’s back, he turned back to the tavern, flinging the door open and adding his own, deep baritone to the crass mix of noises inside.
“Aye…magic…” Shadow said to the heavy air, smoothing from his hand more of the spilled alcohol.
“Keep ‘er steady, men! We’ll fight the wors’ of this wench or be seen ter Davy Jones’ locker!” The voice could hardly be heard over the thunderous roar as the storm around the Sweet Maria i]showed the finest of her fury. Wave after wave crashed into the sides of the ship, sending even the bravest members of the harried crew into a grim and frightened state of mind. They saw the worst for themselves: pitched over the ship’s side and crushed against the ship itself by the waves, or drowned while standing by the torrents of rain that poured on top of them.
“Steady!” Shadow himself tugged hard on one of the twisted ropes that held one of the ship’s main sails taut, the muscles in his arm bulging against the strain. With a hurried curse at the realization that the sail had snagged against something particularly tricky, he lifted a hand to vainly shield his eyes against the ice-cold rain as he attempted to peer upwards at the caught sail. Darkness surrounded the entire crew, punched through occasionally only by the bright spears of lightening that pierced through the black skies. It was a terrifying symphony: the random cries of the crew, the constant batter of the water against the ship, the harsh wind tearing through the air at a high-pitched squeal, and worst of all - the booming echo of thunder commanding both attention and obedience, neither of which would be willfully given. Sweet Maria played host to a game of panic, with her men running and slipping as they shouted orders and tempted to steady their precious ship: to err now would certainly mean death.
Without warning, the bow above his head cracked at a sharp slice of lightning, sharp chunks of wood splintering off and twisting off against the wind as the ropes that held the structure together whipped and unwound. The thick, long pole of wood came swinging down from its broken hinges. With the sudden flash of lightning clearly illuminating his rapidly-approaching fate, Shadow only enough time to draw in a sharp breath of air before the beam plowed directly into his stomach, sending him violently flying over the side of the ship and into the black oblivion of the angry sea.
Down and down he sank, his arms and legs flinging uselessly and blindly as the pressures of the water dragged him deeper, like hands. Large bubbles of air streamed from his mouth, salt stung at both of his eyes - as his eye patch had been torn away with his entry into the water. Far above him, he couldn’t see that the sea had begun to calm itself, the rains had stopped pouring themselves with revenge from the dark sky, and the ship was righting herself once more. The transformation was swift, but lost to the young Captain who found himself becoming light-headed and inexplicably giddy at the prospect of his own death, most likely from the lack of oxygen.
Well, this is the end. His own words echoed smoothly in his head, and a lazy smile upturned his lips as his eyelids grew droopy. Never had he imagined that death would be so comfortable…
***
“Shadow. Rising Shadow.” The voice was as clear as a nightingale’s song, and carried with the faint echo of a dream long forgotten. He ached for it, reached for it, but found sleep so comfortable that he couldn’t help but to roll back into its lulling embrace.
“Shadow…” The voice spoke gently again, this time accompanied by the alarming sensation of an ice cold hand against his cheek, caressing gently over his flesh. “Wake up, my child.”
That did it. His eyes wrenched themselves open, and in his sudden haze, Shadow only vaguely realized that the vision from both was tinted with perfection. Dragging his upper body into a sitting position against what seemed to be some sort of flat rock bed, he lifted a hand to touch gently to his right eye. There was no eye patch. His lips, full and near-quivering, would’ve twitched up into a smile…had he not been riddled with absolute confusion.
He was in the water and by instinct, or perhaps he was still waking from his deep sleep, he trapped the breath in his lungs. He felt his hair wave about his head, pushed gently by unseen and gentle currents and unbound by gravity. He saw the crystalline forms ripple around him, and he saw random bursts of bubbles float up in chains, fat and spindly. Schools of tiny fish shimmered brightly in ruby, citrine, emerald, rose, amethyst, and sapphire hues - darting together with a stunning choreography, spinning and diving and spinning again.
Her laugh was gentle; her touch retreated from his cheek. “You might find your visit easier…if you breathe.”
Shadow took a cautious breath, and found that it was a fresh lungful of air that he drew in, and not the water he had fearfully expected. It seemed as if it had no affect on him - or the woman at his “bed side”.
She was slightly blurred around the edges, as if she were some distant memory not quite made reality. Her hair was the color of white sands, and it glimmered as if she had plucked stars from the night sky and planted them among her wavy tresses, floating about her form like a silken curtain. A headpiece that seemed to be formed of small sapphires hammered into a thin, delicate chain was perched on top of her head, and from the front point at her forehead dangled a single, tear drop-shaped pearl. Her face reflected both a virginal innocence and the wisdom of a long-lived woman, lily-pale and as smooth as cream; her cheeks tinted the color of blossoming roses. Her eyes were wide and lovely, and held within them all the colors of the sea, ranging from a pale and stormy gray to the most vivid of greens and blues, depending on the moods of the waters around her. As they washed over him now, patient and loving, they were an alluring and bright blue, both calming and reassuring. Her plump lips were unpainted, but were curved into a somewhat saddened smile. It was a struggle for Shadow to keep his gaze firmly locked on that ethereal face and the cluster of tiny bubbles that glistened in rainbow colors at her temples like decoration - but from the neck down…she was very naked, with only the long locks of her hair occasionally arching over to cover the nudity of her pale bosom and torso with the gentle waves of the water around them.
It was all he could do from slipping into a dead faint. For a moment he said nothing, leaning back onto his forearms with his chest rising and falling with a gentle rhythm. His first words should have been tinted with fear, but instead he found his voice to be sure and strong, though gentle.
“Xylae.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” Not an answer, but a confirmation.
“My eye…”
“…only while you are with me.”
“Am I dead?”
She tilted her head to the side, thoughtfully, and sent a fresh wave of panic rippling through him. “I do not believe so…”
“…but I should be.” Clearly, he saw the cracked wooden beam come hurtling through the air towards him.
“Yes.”
“Why am I not?” Every myth, every fantasy he had learned of the sea was living, if not breathing, before him.
It seemed to take no moment of thought on her part. When she spoke, the sadness from her lips lifted, to be replaced by a patient smile. “I see goodness in you, Rising Shadow, goodness that I once believed was lost among men.” She reached out, and with that same cold hand, brushed from his forehead the vivid blue locks that had been a startling trademark throughout his childhood.
“But I’m a pirate. Scourge of the sea? Rape, pillage, plunder and all that…” Though the lot of it wasn’t true for him, Shadow knew exactly what his sort was seen as, and he accepted it as a part of the job description.
“Yes, I am aware. Yet regardless of what you’ve chosen to associate yourself with, I see the regret in your eyes when pillaging and plundering are the only option to sustain the life for you and your crew. I know that the abuse and degradation of your kind’s women, while commonly practiced among pirates, is strictly forbidden for anyone that sails underneath your flag. You have fought with honor, and taken life only when it came to saving your own.”
“And you don’t look down on that?”
There was a flicker behind those blue eyes, and the color shifted in the most subtle way to a stronger green tinge. “No. Goddess that I am, I understand that there are balances to be kept. The waters give life; the waters will also take life away - and it is my command that influences them.”
“And how do you come to these decisions?”
Now she smiled again. “There are things that I will not explain to you, that I cannot, but know this: Since you first set foot in my waters, I vowed to protect you. Yes, since you were a boy. Since then, I’ve vowed to love you. With my kiss, you willl find your way safely to your ship.” Leaving no room for questions and without waiting for a response, she lifted her hand, her palm facing upwards. Transfixed, Shadow watched as a tiny ball of light simply formed from nothing, swirling about itself and glimmering brightly. The small form began to stretch itself out, and formed a thin silver chain that sparkled like miniscule stars that had been strung together by some patient, ancient hand. From the end of the growing chain was a heavy silver medallion, just smaller than the round hard tack biscuits that the cook onboard the Sweet Maria often prepared. She slipped the delicate chain over his head, and with her fingers still loosely linked onto that chain, leaned towards him to place her lips into his.
It was like ice through his system, trickling delicately from the meeting of their lips. The first shock had him momentarily stunned, but when she didn’t pull away from him, he parted his lips and lifted a hand to gently cup the back of her neck. The sensation was somewhere in between touching silk or air, just as icy as her kiss. After a hesitant moment, tongues began to slowly and gently dance as if they were naturally fit for the each other. She leaned further into him, her chest pressed to his, and he could feel her lips form his name underneath his.
“Shadow…”
“Shadow! Aw, c’mon, Cap’n, now’s not the time fer games an’ the like.”
Shadow stirred on his own sheets - dry as a bone - to a splitting headache at his forehead. Rather than staring into the lovely face of Xylae, the goddess of the sea, he found himself looking directly into the concerned, and very ugly, face of Painted Billy the Leviathan. “Xylae…?”
“No sir, as I’ve ‘ardly the looks for it.” At his own poor joke, Billy laughed whole-heartedly.
“What happened?” Shadow looked around; found himself gently rocking to the sway of the ship against sleepy waves, in the cabin that was his own. With something of a shock, his hand flew up to pat his fingers over his right eye, where he found his thickly woven eye patch securely in place.
“Er…well…” There was a moment of awkward silence. “Truth is, ye had a bit of a run in with the deck, sir. Tripped right o’er yer own feet and landed dead on yer head! Yeh’ve been sleep fer the past hour or three, but we’ve just pulled in to Port Lielythe…”
“Aye…That’d explain it.” By the way the ship was gently swaying, he knew that the storm outside had calmed to a distant murmur - and that just didn’t explain anything at all. Thinking it better not to share with his crew what had happened (less they think that there dear Captain had lost more than his consciousness in his slip), he settled back against his pillows, drowning himself out to Billy’s deep laughter.
With a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, Shadow kept his gaze locked on the twinkling stars up above. There wasn’t the slightest bit of clouds in the sky - no sign that there had been a raging storm or that the Sweet Maria had nearly met her end with the sea. The crew had sent a series of baffled looks in his direction when Shadow had traveled the length of the side of the ship, peering down at the sides and inspecting for the damage that surely would’ve provided the evidence he needed.
There wasn’t any. In fact, when he had cautiously questioned Billy about the storm and the outcome of it, the gargantuan man had only sent a raised eyebrow in his direction, and lumbered his way into the tavern, leaving Shadow to his own musings outside.
“So, Xylae, this is to be a secret between you an’ me…” It was barely a whisper, and the soft play of wind against his cheek had him reaching down into the opening of his shirt and drawing out the long chain. He turned the heavy medallion over in his hand, watching the light glint off of its gleaming surface: narrow, six-pointed stars and the curved silhouette of a long-haired mermaid, encrusted with the most delicate and tiniest of pearls and pale sapphires. They were, he mused, like her eyes had been.
He lifted the glass to his lips once more, his eyebrows, the same shocking shade as his hair, lifting when recognition of taste dawned. Peaches.
The End.
oO- Minte -Oo · Tue Nov 14, 2006 @ 07:51am · 1 Comments |
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...to quest.
I'll be questing for some items that I'm kicking myself for selling a long time ago - my Penguin Slippers. How much are those bishes now? Geeeeez.
I will also be questing for das impossibleness - Mini Nightmare Wings. Yush. I love them, and they shall be mine. Let the toil begin.
oO- Minte -Oo · Thu Nov 09, 2006 @ 09:06am · 0 Comments |
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