595 words of fanfic
Oct. 20th, 2004 06:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflydreaming You’ve been left to your own devices
again. You’re free to entertain yourself
in whatever manner you choose, and this time there will be no one reviewing,
afterward, how you have spent your time;
no one will be checking your lessons, or making you answer for a less
edifying pursuit. You have been left
alone, for the final time, by the calm sorceress and the brilliant mage who
were your teachers… your mentors…
… your
parents.
Their few
friends, you know, expect you to grieve, but you are a grown man, and they will
not move to comfort you. And those who
call you “friend” are not friend to this part of you. To see you without your usual knowing smile
makes them leery; the loss in your ever-youthful face bitters their cups of mead
and keeps the wenches at a distance. It
has been better, these past weeks, to keep to yourself. To your own devices. To your own thoughts.
Thoughts
where you speak to yourself as if to the most intimate of companions. Where you say “you”, because “I” is too close
to the open wound. “You,” because it
implies a companion on this lonely road before you.
Do not think
of being alone.
As long as
you do not speak aloud, you will not be mistaken for a mad raver, such as that
poor fellow the other day whose wits had left him. This is a small madness, brought on by
grief. Court this whim without concern;
you have seen many scenes of your own future; you know that you will keep your
sanity, even unto your own death. And in those visions, you have also seen that
you will not be alone all your
days. True companions will find you.
You leave
your chair at last. Good. Too much staring out through that window
cannot be good for your eyes. You must
go down to that room again. You must
open your books; you must practice your Art.
You must go forward, on this road or another, and let your past remain
behind you. It is not gone; there is no
need to look back to see it.
And now you’ve
become aware of something, haven’t you?
A vision of sun-bright laughter?
It’s there, in the periphery of your mind. Don’t look at it directly; it must be coaxed! What you need are the simplest of tools, to
catch it: paper… ink. The reed pen in
your hand is brushing something else forward as you draw your lines. This pen.
A quill would serve better, but you didn’t have a feather at hand to
cut. A feather… .
Wings. Snowy white, like your mother’s doves. You set them free and watched them speed out
the window, rising up into the freedom and sunshine. You know that golden feeling – you think of
your father, but only lightly. The image
is forming before you, not merely on paper, but clearly in your mind, now. He is magnificent: eyes like fine amber,
power in every muscle, claws like death and teeth to match. His wingspan would cast a shadow to terrify
deer. You have seen him, but never in this detail:
growl and guffaw, speed… intellect… vivacity.
He bellows fire!
You must
make him real. There is no reason to
waste time, you tell yourself, and you have enough ability for this spell. It is nearly midday; his voice is sounding a
challenge to you, and you must answer it.
Insistent, it drives you out of your shadow.
“Come
find me.”
. . .
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Date: 2004-10-21 05:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-21 08:50 am (UTC)[hugs her Kero plushie]
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Date: 2004-10-23 05:02 pm (UTC)I really loved it! :) Bittersweet, and the Kero-love is always nice to see. I've often wondered if that was part of the reason Clow created his Guardians... not only to protect the Cards, but also because in truth he was lonely.