(no subject)
SO. I'm cleaning my harddrive of the fics I started writing and then I never kept on with them, right? The file of this one says that the last time I touched it is February 2007.
And.
... called it?
And.
- "Get out," she says, her voice quiet. The blood of her kimono is still there, and Clow itches to make it disappear.
"Don't you get it? We did--"
"We did nothing," she says again, and she's not looking at him "You did it."
Eternal life, he thinks. This is what everyone has wanted since the beginning of time. Time. Life. Not having to fear death. Her blood is still on his hands, in her eyes. He cannot remember what color her eyes were before the spell, but now they're like blood.
"I'm not alive," she tells him, and Clow doesn't get why she's mad. She's alive, or she will be, once he gets the last of the spell right. He wasn't powerful enough at the first try but he stopped her from dying. He'll manage to bring her back.
He will, and he doesn't understand why she seems so upset, why she won't touch his hand.
... called it?