Seisen no Keifu fanfiction OMG
Title: Scorned
Author: ice_chalis
Pairing: Arthur and...
Rating: T
Summary: N/A (Seriously, even I don't know where I'm going with this).
Scorned
By: Ice-Chalis
From the day I came back home, after climbing snow apple trees all day, I've have felt a void in me. One that no matter what emotion I tried to fill it with, it would always come back as the same thing.
It happened when I was four.
I vaguely remember the smell of jam. A warmth when it was snowing, wrapped around my shoulders, slowly falling to the white powder covered ground. A few apples softly landing bullseye. I was careful with them, as they bruised easily...
I had that weird dream again...
The boy picked another fruit, looking down to see where to drop it without hurting the others already at the bottom. It landed precisely where he wanted it.
The stars were falling, and I think mom was crying.
He was satisfied with the amount he had gotten. And it wasn't right to take all the apples for himself. He tried jumping down but hurt the side of his leg. Wincing, he got up. It didn't hurt too bad, in fact he was still able to stand up right.
I hate that dream.
Forgetting his way home, again, he looked around for a 'short-cut'. The sky was creamy peach, clouds just barely there fading in the color. White doves flying away at the snap of a twig, swaying the light blue leaves back and forth. It was breath taking, exactly why he came here. To get lost.
To lose all train in thought.
Yes, he was far too young to understand the pain and strife of the world, but to a pure hearted child as he, this was as good as the imagination, the one most adults lose, could take in and appreciate instead of just looking past it all and think of nothing but the tomorrow they rather not see.
At the very least, he didn't think of any suffering. Not even his leg, the dream, or even...
'Azel.'
The boy's nearly clear violet iris narrowed. His lips did not part, just trembled.
'Azel, what's wrong?'
Standing across him were two persons. Both men, one with red hair, under a beautifully designed cloak, the other, a taller blue haired one, under a leather coat. Their eyes could not be seen, but their voices, perfectly clear. His heartbeat picked up speed.
'I'm fine, Lex...'
'I know. The kid's fine, and Tilt's gonna make it, now you know.'
'Comforting words, indeed. . . Lis... n . . I . . .'
The figures went away, blurry and impossible to understand. A blue jay flew in the boy's direction, taking him back to reality.
He lay on the ground, leg healed without so much as a bruise. His apples however were scattered on the snow covered ground. Not one of them harmed as well. If it wasn't for the foul odor of smoke, he wouldn't have moved or even twitched.
It was indeed a putrid smell, it was impossible to take in a breath without taking in some of the smoke as well. Covering his nose with his shirt, not effective but better then head on, he only picked the blanket off the ground, leaving the fruits from his little climbing adventure where they were.
He ran through the patterns of light blue forest, no longer aimlessly getting lost, and though he wasn't looking in any other direction--his eyes looking right through the path, his eyes with the same scared emotion as with the spirits of the forest--not a single root or branch dared to come his way.
The blanket fell. The odor as strong as wind blowing against the smog. His eyes watered, not of tears but of the stinging heat attacking his eyes.
The small cottage he's lived all his life, with his mother and younger sister, waiting for something, whether it was a beloved or something so simple as death, it was still called home--it was burning.
He rushed inside, not knowing exactly what he was looking for. He tripped over an old book lying around. A fire tome. Had it been this that started all of this? He carefully placed his hand on it, just as he did he heard a crack above him. As the pillars of the small cottage gave out, the boy felt compelled to protect that which might have even caused this atrocity.
He held his breath, and for the life of him could not move a muscle. As he closed his eyes, a light flew by.
When he woke, a small blue bird flew away from his head. He was surrounded by nothing but snow, as for his clothes tattered with burn marks and holes. He still held the fire tome--his sight had not failed him after all.
His emotions faded into snow behind him.
Author: ice_chalis
Pairing: Arthur and...
Rating: T
Summary: N/A (Seriously, even I don't know where I'm going with this).
Scorned
By: Ice-Chalis
From the day I came back home, after climbing snow apple trees all day, I've have felt a void in me. One that no matter what emotion I tried to fill it with, it would always come back as the same thing.
It happened when I was four.
I vaguely remember the smell of jam. A warmth when it was snowing, wrapped around my shoulders, slowly falling to the white powder covered ground. A few apples softly landing bullseye. I was careful with them, as they bruised easily...
I had that weird dream again...
The boy picked another fruit, looking down to see where to drop it without hurting the others already at the bottom. It landed precisely where he wanted it.
The stars were falling, and I think mom was crying.
He was satisfied with the amount he had gotten. And it wasn't right to take all the apples for himself. He tried jumping down but hurt the side of his leg. Wincing, he got up. It didn't hurt too bad, in fact he was still able to stand up right.
I hate that dream.
Forgetting his way home, again, he looked around for a 'short-cut'. The sky was creamy peach, clouds just barely there fading in the color. White doves flying away at the snap of a twig, swaying the light blue leaves back and forth. It was breath taking, exactly why he came here. To get lost.
To lose all train in thought.
Yes, he was far too young to understand the pain and strife of the world, but to a pure hearted child as he, this was as good as the imagination, the one most adults lose, could take in and appreciate instead of just looking past it all and think of nothing but the tomorrow they rather not see.
At the very least, he didn't think of any suffering. Not even his leg, the dream, or even...
'Azel.'
The boy's nearly clear violet iris narrowed. His lips did not part, just trembled.
'Azel, what's wrong?'
Standing across him were two persons. Both men, one with red hair, under a beautifully designed cloak, the other, a taller blue haired one, under a leather coat. Their eyes could not be seen, but their voices, perfectly clear. His heartbeat picked up speed.
'I'm fine, Lex...'
'I know. The kid's fine, and Tilt's gonna make it, now you know.'
'Comforting words, indeed. . . Lis... n . . I . . .'
The figures went away, blurry and impossible to understand. A blue jay flew in the boy's direction, taking him back to reality.
He lay on the ground, leg healed without so much as a bruise. His apples however were scattered on the snow covered ground. Not one of them harmed as well. If it wasn't for the foul odor of smoke, he wouldn't have moved or even twitched.
It was indeed a putrid smell, it was impossible to take in a breath without taking in some of the smoke as well. Covering his nose with his shirt, not effective but better then head on, he only picked the blanket off the ground, leaving the fruits from his little climbing adventure where they were.
He ran through the patterns of light blue forest, no longer aimlessly getting lost, and though he wasn't looking in any other direction--his eyes looking right through the path, his eyes with the same scared emotion as with the spirits of the forest--not a single root or branch dared to come his way.
The blanket fell. The odor as strong as wind blowing against the smog. His eyes watered, not of tears but of the stinging heat attacking his eyes.
The small cottage he's lived all his life, with his mother and younger sister, waiting for something, whether it was a beloved or something so simple as death, it was still called home--it was burning.
He rushed inside, not knowing exactly what he was looking for. He tripped over an old book lying around. A fire tome. Had it been this that started all of this? He carefully placed his hand on it, just as he did he heard a crack above him. As the pillars of the small cottage gave out, the boy felt compelled to protect that which might have even caused this atrocity.
He held his breath, and for the life of him could not move a muscle. As he closed his eyes, a light flew by.
When he woke, a small blue bird flew away from his head. He was surrounded by nothing but snow, as for his clothes tattered with burn marks and holes. He still held the fire tome--his sight had not failed him after all.
His emotions faded into snow behind him.