Sesshoumaru: Shard #17 - Soul
Apr. 18th, 2005 02:50 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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30shardsTitle: Correction
Claimed Character: Sesshoumaru
Theme: Soul
Rating: R
Squicks: Character death. A lot of it.
Pairings: Sesshoumaru/Rin
Words: 772
Summary: You can always get it right next time.
Correction
Even heaven cannot fight time.
Sesshoumaru learns this when Heaven's blade cannot bring her back, so when she is over, she is over. And that, it would seem, is that.
He sees that she has a proper burial before he wanders away, wondering what to do now. A little bloodshed, a little fighting, maybe. Something soothing.
It takes him a while to understand that she took something of him with her. Little hands on his face, and then not-so-little hands on his body, and then wrinkled hands in his own - somewhere in there, those hands wrapped a ribbon of him around her, for her to hold for eternity.
When he realizes this, the hole inside makes sense, and there is only one thing to do.
He waits, impatiently, looking for her soul to steal.
. . .
She begins again.
When she is seven - that perfect age when first he saw her - he takes her away to live with him again.
Except something goes wrong. She does nothing but cry, sniffling and sobbing and asking for her mother. His Rin never cried, and he is still carved hollow.
Frustrated, he realizes the truth: that this is not her. Even though her soul shines out from behind her eyes, this is Rin-who-is-not. Were he patient, he would let her go back to her parents and wait to try again the next time she begins.
But, then again, he has never really been a patient man.
And now she is over.
He washes his claws in an icy creek - somehow, it wouldn't seem right to suck them clean - and, before he buries her next to herself, he licks the tears away from her face. He never could stand to see her cry.
. . .
He waits.
She begins again.
This time she is five, and she bites and scratches, kicks and screams. His Rin would never fight him.
This is not her.
And now she is over.
Her tears are salty.
. . .
He waits.
She begins again.
This time she is ten, and she runs away. His Rin would never run from him.
This is not her.
And now she is over.
Her tears are salty.
. . .
He waits.
She begins again.
This time she is fourteen and she stays with him. She is obedient enough, though quiet and withdrawn, so he forces himself to wait a little longer.
And then when he takes her the first time, he watches the feeble light fade from her eyes, and she turns her head away. She refuses to move, remains limp and still beneath him. Her cheeks shine. His Rin would never reject him.
This is not her.
And now she is over.
He doesn't even withdraw from her before letting the salt of her weeping grace his tongue.
He buries her next to herself and herself and herself and herself.
. . .
And he waits.
. . .
Even heaven cannot fight time.
The centuries roll by.
There are more and more humans every year, so it gets harder and harder to find her. Sometimes he doesn't find her until her late teens. It has been a long time since she has been older than that, and sometimes, almost wistfully, he wishes he had let her live just once. He really enjoyed her at thirty.
Still, every time, without fail, he knows he cannot wait.
This time she is sixteen, and he runs into her quite by accident in a forest.
To his shock and sudden, painful elation, she recognizes him.
"Sesshoumaru-sama," she whispers. She stands in the middle of the nature trail, rooted in place while her friends scramble away, clumsy beneath their backpacks and in their clunky hiking shoes. They are soon gone, so blinded by panic they do not notice that they have left her behind.
He pays no attention to them. She is all that matters.
"Rin," he says.
Then she begins to shiver and his hollowed heart plummets. His Rin would never fear him.
With a sigh, he raises his hand.
"Wait!" she says.
Even though he has waited long enough, he pauses and waits for her to speak.
She is already crying, her face shining and shadowed in the light of the spring morning. It takes a moment for her to find her voice.
"How long?" she finally asks, voice trembling. "How long will you keep doing this?"
He blinks, a thin thread of puzzlement slipping through him, and then it is gone.
He raises a brow and cracks his claws. "Until you get it right," he tells her lightly.
And she closes her eyes.
Afterward, on her still-warm skin, her tears taste strangely sour.
. . .
He waits.
Claimed Character: Sesshoumaru
Theme: Soul
Rating: R
Squicks: Character death. A lot of it.
Pairings: Sesshoumaru/Rin
Words: 772
Summary: You can always get it right next time.
Even heaven cannot fight time.
Sesshoumaru learns this when Heaven's blade cannot bring her back, so when she is over, she is over. And that, it would seem, is that.
He sees that she has a proper burial before he wanders away, wondering what to do now. A little bloodshed, a little fighting, maybe. Something soothing.
It takes him a while to understand that she took something of him with her. Little hands on his face, and then not-so-little hands on his body, and then wrinkled hands in his own - somewhere in there, those hands wrapped a ribbon of him around her, for her to hold for eternity.
When he realizes this, the hole inside makes sense, and there is only one thing to do.
He waits, impatiently, looking for her soul to steal.
She begins again.
When she is seven - that perfect age when first he saw her - he takes her away to live with him again.
Except something goes wrong. She does nothing but cry, sniffling and sobbing and asking for her mother. His Rin never cried, and he is still carved hollow.
Frustrated, he realizes the truth: that this is not her. Even though her soul shines out from behind her eyes, this is Rin-who-is-not. Were he patient, he would let her go back to her parents and wait to try again the next time she begins.
But, then again, he has never really been a patient man.
And now she is over.
He washes his claws in an icy creek - somehow, it wouldn't seem right to suck them clean - and, before he buries her next to herself, he licks the tears away from her face. He never could stand to see her cry.
He waits.
She begins again.
This time she is five, and she bites and scratches, kicks and screams. His Rin would never fight him.
This is not her.
And now she is over.
Her tears are salty.
He waits.
She begins again.
This time she is ten, and she runs away. His Rin would never run from him.
This is not her.
And now she is over.
Her tears are salty.
He waits.
She begins again.
This time she is fourteen and she stays with him. She is obedient enough, though quiet and withdrawn, so he forces himself to wait a little longer.
And then when he takes her the first time, he watches the feeble light fade from her eyes, and she turns her head away. She refuses to move, remains limp and still beneath him. Her cheeks shine. His Rin would never reject him.
This is not her.
And now she is over.
He doesn't even withdraw from her before letting the salt of her weeping grace his tongue.
He buries her next to herself and herself and herself and herself.
And he waits.
Even heaven cannot fight time.
The centuries roll by.
There are more and more humans every year, so it gets harder and harder to find her. Sometimes he doesn't find her until her late teens. It has been a long time since she has been older than that, and sometimes, almost wistfully, he wishes he had let her live just once. He really enjoyed her at thirty.
Still, every time, without fail, he knows he cannot wait.
This time she is sixteen, and he runs into her quite by accident in a forest.
To his shock and sudden, painful elation, she recognizes him.
"Sesshoumaru-sama," she whispers. She stands in the middle of the nature trail, rooted in place while her friends scramble away, clumsy beneath their backpacks and in their clunky hiking shoes. They are soon gone, so blinded by panic they do not notice that they have left her behind.
He pays no attention to them. She is all that matters.
"Rin," he says.
Then she begins to shiver and his hollowed heart plummets. His Rin would never fear him.
With a sigh, he raises his hand.
"Wait!" she says.
Even though he has waited long enough, he pauses and waits for her to speak.
She is already crying, her face shining and shadowed in the light of the spring morning. It takes a moment for her to find her voice.
"How long?" she finally asks, voice trembling. "How long will you keep doing this?"
He blinks, a thin thread of puzzlement slipping through him, and then it is gone.
He raises a brow and cracks his claws. "Until you get it right," he tells her lightly.
And she closes her eyes.
Afterward, on her still-warm skin, her tears taste strangely sour.
He waits.
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wow
Date: 2005-04-18 09:35 pm (UTC)Re: wow
Date: 2005-04-19 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-18 11:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-19 02:10 am (UTC)Since I keep forgetting to ask you this, I just have to know: will you ever, ever update Memory of a Soul? Please tell me so I can get some closure.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-19 07:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-19 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-19 05:15 am (UTC)You are one creepy mofo, Res. And I like you that way.
Amazing, as always.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-19 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-20 03:41 pm (UTC)The frame you used is a good one; simple and particularly effective. The phrase "He waits" never became repetitive, probably because there was always a new thought and a new tragedy tied onto it. @_@ I love the fact that the whole fic ended with that line, and I can't shake the feeling that he'll end up being disappointed forever.
This is great. Shocking, frightening - and, uh, fascinating in a morbid kind of way. ^^; So easy to read, too; your style just seems to flow, one word into the next, smooth and perfect. I'm so glad to have spared a moment to read through this.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-22 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-23 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-30 05:29 am (UTC)Kukkuku
Date: 2005-05-31 11:42 am (UTC)Anyway, it doesn't matter, because I loved this so much I actually printed it out and stuck it to my mirror. Now I read it almost everyday, while brushing my teeth.
creepy, huh?
no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 09:42 am (UTC)Going into the mems.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-08 07:11 am (UTC)