Sesshoumaru: Shard #1 - Legends
Mar. 30th, 2005 10:59 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
a-hollow-year.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
30shardsAuthor's Note: The tales referenced are authentic Japanese myths.
Title: Shiro Inu
Claimed Character: Sesshoumaru
Theme: Legends
Rating: G
Squicks: None
Pairings: None
Words: 322
Summary: He had always thought stories were made from history, and not the other way around.
Shiro Inu
It wasn't until long centuries after she died that he thought maybe, just maybe, he, like everyone else, danced at the end of fate's red noose, and even all his iron-clad control could not deliver him.
With chilly feet, the idea walks over his grave.
He ignores the sunsoaked summer breeze and leans forward in his chair, the bustling city world outside his head forgotten, his breakfast going cold as he reads and rereads the folktale in front of him. Turning dusty pages, running his fingers over the shape of the world in words, he frowns and rolls the myth around and around in his head, to see if it resonates --
-- mountain gods that take the form of dogs, always enormous, always white, extremely dangerous, always connected to a human woman, always always always, she is eaten, is taken as his wife, is prisoner in his home, is stolen, is sacrificed, is under a spell, never escapes, white dog human women wife white dog human girl --
-- and the echoes it creates are deafening.
He could almost believe that this is his footprint, left on the landscape of time, were it not for the fact that his is not old enough, and neither is his father. Nor his grandfather, for that matter. Its origins are lost, its beginning somewhere between ice and iron.
This is a tale so old that it crumbles at the edges from millennia upon millennia of retelling.
How far back do stories go? he wonders. How long do they linger?
He has always done as he pleased, but perhaps it was never his choice to make. How many had gone before? Maybe his father was as helpless as he; maybe his brother was just as powerless to resist.
How long had it been waiting for him?
For the first time in years, Sesshoumaru shudders, very slightly, and wonders what other fates will catch him before he is over.
Title: Shiro Inu
Claimed Character: Sesshoumaru
Theme: Legends
Rating: G
Squicks: None
Pairings: None
Words: 322
Summary: He had always thought stories were made from history, and not the other way around.
It wasn't until long centuries after she died that he thought maybe, just maybe, he, like everyone else, danced at the end of fate's red noose, and even all his iron-clad control could not deliver him.
With chilly feet, the idea walks over his grave.
He ignores the sunsoaked summer breeze and leans forward in his chair, the bustling city world outside his head forgotten, his breakfast going cold as he reads and rereads the folktale in front of him. Turning dusty pages, running his fingers over the shape of the world in words, he frowns and rolls the myth around and around in his head, to see if it resonates --
-- mountain gods that take the form of dogs, always enormous, always white, extremely dangerous, always connected to a human woman, always always always, she is eaten, is taken as his wife, is prisoner in his home, is stolen, is sacrificed, is under a spell, never escapes, white dog human women wife white dog human girl --
-- and the echoes it creates are deafening.
He could almost believe that this is his footprint, left on the landscape of time, were it not for the fact that his is not old enough, and neither is his father. Nor his grandfather, for that matter. Its origins are lost, its beginning somewhere between ice and iron.
This is a tale so old that it crumbles at the edges from millennia upon millennia of retelling.
How far back do stories go? he wonders. How long do they linger?
He has always done as he pleased, but perhaps it was never his choice to make. How many had gone before? Maybe his father was as helpless as he; maybe his brother was just as powerless to resist.
How long had it been waiting for him?
For the first time in years, Sesshoumaru shudders, very slightly, and wonders what other fates will catch him before he is over.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}