Castlevania Fic: "My Favorite Nightmare"
Series: Castlevania
Title: My Favorite Nightmare
Author: theladypenelope (aka Kai)
Spoilers: Yes, indeed there are. As a matter of fact.
Warnings: Possible suggestions of Cornell/Ortega, nothing hardcore. Some philosophical musings.
Genre: ANGST, liekwhoa.
Disclaimer: Konami pwns all.
Comments: I really wanted to write something for the "Obscure Characters/Pairings" challenge theme over at cv_fanfic, because it just had so much to offer. I chose Castlevania: Legacy of Darkness because, obviously, it's a very overlooked game. And, I like Cornell and wondered what he thought about things post-game, especially pertaining to Ortega. Be warned that this contains some philosophical musings. Hey, angst works well with philosophy. And I was in a very philosophical mood while writing it. So sue me.
...
"It's okay, Cornell! You're having a dream again!" Though I can hear her voice, it's muffled and my body feels sluggish, as if I am struggling underwater. My eyes flutter open slowly, and my pulse is quickening. A damp cloth is hurriedly placed upon my forehead, and I finally realize that the horrors of the castle are long gone. I am again home in my village, safe in my bed. I try to catch my breath, which had been stolen from me in my sleep. But my lungs are still burning, even as I lay here now, the rising and falling of my chest the only indication that I had not died amid my nightmare. The blue-haired girl at my side is pushing the cloth higher up on my forehead, and placing a warm hand on my shoulder.
"Was it the same one again?"
"It was...the same one again. Yes." I lower my head, eyes closed. I am certain that the heavy sigh escaping my lips speaks boldly of my guilt. The same guilt I have felt for years, for this or that, for one person or the next. That was the problem with me, the elders always said: I have a way of seeing injustice everywhere I look, but worst of all I could always find a share in the responsibility for it. I suppose part of my guilt is blood-born and blood-bought. Belonging to a man-beast clan, one that killed humans, and yet even so long ago, erodes one's sense of innocence and inherent good. While I have spent many years atoning for the sins of others like me, I wonder if it will ever be enough. Indeed, I rescued Ada and a young boy from the darkness of the Evil Lord. But I also killed my dearest friend. Images of his death will never wash from my memory, no matter how many times I plunge my head into a clear forest pool.
"Cornell..." Ada just cocks her head to the side and grins meekly, in that motherly way of hers. Her gentle smiles always could ease my spirit. But I know what she's going to say next. So I stop her.
"I can't help but feel like things could have ended up differently. That there was another path that I failed to see."
"Who knows for certain? Cornell, from what you told me, he helped you save me. With his last breath..."
"I know."
"You did what you could. And I know that he knows this. Besides, the last thing he would do, if he were really your friend, is blame you for any of this."
"...I know. But that does not change what happened on top of that tower. It does not change the fact that I could not catch him when he fell. It does not change the fact that I still mourn him."
At this moment, I stand and leave the hut, figuring the night air would do my lungs some good. Ada is not following me, but I can hear her rustle about the hut behind me. She knows where I am going. She knows she will not wait long.
Since returning home, I have done much musing on the nature of forgiveness, of guilt and of dignity. I often wonder whether or not he forgives me now, after all is done. I recall his eyes that night, ones that burned with a simultaneous rage and despair. When you can see the battle behind a man's eyes, how can you not pity him? Pity, some say, is to allow him his deliverance, through defeat and death. They might say, then, that my conscience should be clear. Ortega wanted to prove himself to me. But I still wish that I could hear that from him. Forgiveness, guilt and dignity. Where does it all end? Where does it all begin?
As I look above me, I notice that this night is starless. Starless, windless and noiseless. I cannot find the signs anymore - I have lost sight of them. My eyes are stinging now, but I fight them back. He wouldn't want to see me give in, to let the tears fall. So I smile instead and look back at my village. This is my one true home. I will never forget that. But while it may always keep me warm, it will never be complete.
Ortega, where are you?
...
Title: My Favorite Nightmare
Author: theladypenelope (aka Kai)
Spoilers: Yes, indeed there are. As a matter of fact.
Warnings: Possible suggestions of Cornell/Ortega, nothing hardcore. Some philosophical musings.
Genre: ANGST, liekwhoa.
Disclaimer: Konami pwns all.
Comments: I really wanted to write something for the "Obscure Characters/Pairings" challenge theme over at cv_fanfic, because it just had so much to offer. I chose Castlevania: Legacy of Darkness because, obviously, it's a very overlooked game. And, I like Cornell and wondered what he thought about things post-game, especially pertaining to Ortega. Be warned that this contains some philosophical musings. Hey, angst works well with philosophy. And I was in a very philosophical mood while writing it. So sue me.
...
"It's okay, Cornell! You're having a dream again!" Though I can hear her voice, it's muffled and my body feels sluggish, as if I am struggling underwater. My eyes flutter open slowly, and my pulse is quickening. A damp cloth is hurriedly placed upon my forehead, and I finally realize that the horrors of the castle are long gone. I am again home in my village, safe in my bed. I try to catch my breath, which had been stolen from me in my sleep. But my lungs are still burning, even as I lay here now, the rising and falling of my chest the only indication that I had not died amid my nightmare. The blue-haired girl at my side is pushing the cloth higher up on my forehead, and placing a warm hand on my shoulder.
"Was it the same one again?"
"It was...the same one again. Yes." I lower my head, eyes closed. I am certain that the heavy sigh escaping my lips speaks boldly of my guilt. The same guilt I have felt for years, for this or that, for one person or the next. That was the problem with me, the elders always said: I have a way of seeing injustice everywhere I look, but worst of all I could always find a share in the responsibility for it. I suppose part of my guilt is blood-born and blood-bought. Belonging to a man-beast clan, one that killed humans, and yet even so long ago, erodes one's sense of innocence and inherent good. While I have spent many years atoning for the sins of others like me, I wonder if it will ever be enough. Indeed, I rescued Ada and a young boy from the darkness of the Evil Lord. But I also killed my dearest friend. Images of his death will never wash from my memory, no matter how many times I plunge my head into a clear forest pool.
"Cornell..." Ada just cocks her head to the side and grins meekly, in that motherly way of hers. Her gentle smiles always could ease my spirit. But I know what she's going to say next. So I stop her.
"I can't help but feel like things could have ended up differently. That there was another path that I failed to see."
"Who knows for certain? Cornell, from what you told me, he helped you save me. With his last breath..."
"I know."
"You did what you could. And I know that he knows this. Besides, the last thing he would do, if he were really your friend, is blame you for any of this."
"...I know. But that does not change what happened on top of that tower. It does not change the fact that I could not catch him when he fell. It does not change the fact that I still mourn him."
At this moment, I stand and leave the hut, figuring the night air would do my lungs some good. Ada is not following me, but I can hear her rustle about the hut behind me. She knows where I am going. She knows she will not wait long.
Since returning home, I have done much musing on the nature of forgiveness, of guilt and of dignity. I often wonder whether or not he forgives me now, after all is done. I recall his eyes that night, ones that burned with a simultaneous rage and despair. When you can see the battle behind a man's eyes, how can you not pity him? Pity, some say, is to allow him his deliverance, through defeat and death. They might say, then, that my conscience should be clear. Ortega wanted to prove himself to me. But I still wish that I could hear that from him. Forgiveness, guilt and dignity. Where does it all end? Where does it all begin?
As I look above me, I notice that this night is starless. Starless, windless and noiseless. I cannot find the signs anymore - I have lost sight of them. My eyes are stinging now, but I fight them back. He wouldn't want to see me give in, to let the tears fall. So I smile instead and look back at my village. This is my one true home. I will never forget that. But while it may always keep me warm, it will never be complete.
Ortega, where are you?
...