music: sara's death // nanase hikaru (angel sanctuary soundtrack)
mood: thoughtful
mood: thoughtful
prompts: katana, nightingales and fireflies;
He would have wished for singing in the trees, but what nightingales there might have been were silent and only the wind sighed while fireflies lingered around and over the flowers, flickering embers clinging still to dissipating ash.
You should have died before you allowed them to take her. The words rang in his mind as clearly as they had three days before. I was a fool to believe that you were worthy, the voice continued. That you could protect her. In the nearby pond, something splashed, possibly one of the fish feeding upon poor insects who wandered too near the water's surface. Even in a garden as beautiful as this the vicious cycle of predator and prey followed it's course; it was nature at it's finest, yet Isawa Seiichiro could not appreciate the beauty of it.
Fortunate, these animals, he mused, his heart heavy in his chest. They kill and pillage to survive. Men are far less honorable.
It was midnight and he was awake in a house that did not welcome him. Years ago it might have been different, for the mistress and former master of the house thought of him kindly as a second son, and their son he called friend at the least, brother at the most. The privilege, it appeared, was his no longer.
He curled his fingers into a fist and tilted his head to the side, aware of the figure watching him from the shadows. "This belongs to you, Hideaki," he murmured, one hand falling over the hilt of the beautiful katana that lay on the floor beside him. "I was honored when you gave it to me, but you are right," he breathed, his breath shuddering in the cold. He had not yet recovered from his ordeal in the snow. His wounds were bandaged and his bruises fading, but the cold that had crept into him still lingered in his bones. "I should have died before I let the nobuseri take Kotori."
The crickets greeted him, singing their songs while the fog crept over the walls. What had begun as a beautiful winter had now dwindled down into a bleak season of regret. "Say something, please." But his only answer was silence and the hollow beating of his own heart.
He would have wished for singing in the trees, but what nightingales there might have been were silent and only the wind sighed while fireflies lingered around and over the flowers, flickering embers clinging still to dissipating ash.
You should have died before you allowed them to take her. The words rang in his mind as clearly as they had three days before. I was a fool to believe that you were worthy, the voice continued. That you could protect her. In the nearby pond, something splashed, possibly one of the fish feeding upon poor insects who wandered too near the water's surface. Even in a garden as beautiful as this the vicious cycle of predator and prey followed it's course; it was nature at it's finest, yet Isawa Seiichiro could not appreciate the beauty of it.
Fortunate, these animals, he mused, his heart heavy in his chest. They kill and pillage to survive. Men are far less honorable.
It was midnight and he was awake in a house that did not welcome him. Years ago it might have been different, for the mistress and former master of the house thought of him kindly as a second son, and their son he called friend at the least, brother at the most. The privilege, it appeared, was his no longer.
He curled his fingers into a fist and tilted his head to the side, aware of the figure watching him from the shadows. "This belongs to you, Hideaki," he murmured, one hand falling over the hilt of the beautiful katana that lay on the floor beside him. "I was honored when you gave it to me, but you are right," he breathed, his breath shuddering in the cold. He had not yet recovered from his ordeal in the snow. His wounds were bandaged and his bruises fading, but the cold that had crept into him still lingered in his bones. "I should have died before I let the nobuseri take Kotori."
The crickets greeted him, singing their songs while the fog crept over the walls. What had begun as a beautiful winter had now dwindled down into a bleak season of regret. "Say something, please." But his only answer was silence and the hollow beating of his own heart.
4 comments:
And here we witness the beginning of the disintegration of a man.
I can understand why he would feel this way, all things considered. I can understand why he feels the way he does. After all, he has not only lost the woman he has loved, but he has earned the disdain of the man whom he calls his best friend.
But which is the weightier loss: the lover or the best friend? Poor Seiichiro...
But which is the weightier loss: the lover or the best friend?
Good question. This piece actually sends shivers up my spine considering just what I've mapped out and planned for Seiichiro. Hideaki's a bit evasive when it comes to character development, but I'm getting there.
Methinks you need to educate me more on the Crane, because the boy has particular traits that might not necessarily be like a Crane and that sort of worries me.
I will educate you willingly on the matter.
*snicker*
Just remember that quote from Throne of Steel: a great Crane samurai is one who can kill someone and drink tea with equal poise.
*laughs*
Poise. *snorts* XD Stop it, you're giving me ideas. Heheheh...
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