CCS Fanfic
Oct. 30th, 2004 11:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflydreamingTsukimine Shrine Challenge Topic: What's this?
Canon: pre-canon (Clow, Yue, Cerberus)
Genre: not humor
Rating: PG
Length: 989
Task: One (or more) character discovers 'something' that another character was hiding. A tangible object sort of something, that is, not just an abstract secret.
The Written Word
The immense size of the Reed property provided most of its seclusion, more so than the network of spells that he used to protect the company of his creations and himself. So while looking for his strangely missing companions, he made use of the connection of his magic to them to find them, instead of spending the several hours that it would take to search the grounds. He strolled through the gently spaced ash and willow trees toward an area where a tranquil stream broke through the woods; he could hear an exchange of voices as he approached. Cerberus’ full-chested voice reached the sorcerer’s ears first.
“But my paws aren’t right for this kind of thing,” Cerberus complained.
Clow’s newer creation answered in a voice of cool distain. “If you would rather be an illiterate animal,” said Yue, “then you need not continue.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Cerberus grumped, then sighed. “But why can’t we just ask Clow to give us the ability to write?”
There was no reply from Yue. Clow stepped beneath the long, swishing branches of a willow tree and back out again onto the stream bank, and when his long shadow blocked the freckled sunlight, he startled both Cerberus and Yue. Yue, who had been crouched on the soft sand and focused on some marks in front of him, spun to his feet quickly. He stepped backward as he faced Clow so that his robes swept over the marks in the sand, his feet shuffling lightly.
Clow volleyed a look between each of his creations, curiosity tickling him. “What is this?” he asked with unhidden amusement and stepped closer. He began to peer over Cerberus’ leonine form to what was in the sand beyond, but Yue quickly caught his attention by retrieving a book from the ground and holding it out in from of him.
“Forgive me,” said Yue, holding the massive tome in his spread hands. “I have taken a book from your library. Master, I should have beseeched your permission first.”
“I am sure that you have given it the necessary care,” said Clow, his smile twitching wider, “but what is it that you are concealing under your feet?” Both companions remained silent, though Clow was aware of the questioning look that Cerberus cast toward his counterpart. At the lack of answer, the sorcerer beckoned Yue. “Step forward, please,” he said, mildly but with the hue of command.
Yue immediately obeyed, and his long robes and wings no longer concealed the rows of letters and words etched into the sand. Clow eased between his two creations; he studied the lettering before continuing to speak. Two sets of writing had been marked out with sticks. Clow could easily distinguish the difference of hand, since Cerberus, not having human hands as Yue did, could form only the simpler letter shapes, while Yue had completed rows of long, slim, connected letters. They must have been copying from the book that Yue still held, which was an innocuous book of songs that had no spellcrafting intent.
“Well done,” said Clow. “But you should have asked for pen and parchment.” He paused before asking, “Why have you kept this a secret from me?”
Yue submissively lowered his eyes, as he often did, but his chin rose slightly. Since his recent creation, he had always deferred to his maker, but still with a barely perceptible obstinacy. Clow found it perplexing. Cerberus had never had such a manner; he had been always respectful, but not servile, and there had never been any challenge in the winged lion’s personality. The sorcerer had no experience as a disciplinarian, and Yue’s manner was not at all child-like. Interacting with Yue was sometimes like trying to hunt with a hawk that had been a full adult at its capture, something bound and blindfolded into a life that it had not fully accepted.
Clow waited with certain expectation, and was proved right by the way that Yue exhaled a long sigh and began to explain. “Both Cerberus and I can read,” he started, “though we could not write.” He raised his eyes to almost meet Clow’s own. “I reasoned that we were not intended to have that ability. However,” he continued, and his jaw line again had a defiant lift, briefly, before he bent his head so that his face was covered in a veil of hair, “it was something that I wanted. I took it upon myself to learn, even though it would invoke your disapproval.”
While he turned to Cerberus, Clow maintained a calm face. “Did you think the same way?” he asked carefully.
Cerberus shrugged. “I don’t try to guess,” he said. “Master,” he added, with an afterthought and a grin.
The sorcerer crossed his arms and contemplated. “I don’t disapprove,” he said, and saw Yue’s rigid posture relax. “I don’t disapprove of learning to write, or of any learning. It was not my intention to keep this ability from either of you. I overlooked it,” he admitted with chagrin. His smile moved back into place. “If such a thing should again arise, you will bring it to my attention.” He spoke lightly, but there was no question in his tone of his authority. He turned to walk away from the stream, motioning for his creations to follow. “Come, and I will correct this immediately.”
“Forgive me, Master,” said Yue. His words stopped Clow, and Cerberus, who was already at his maker’s side. Yue had not moved a step. “I wish to learn my letters on my own.” His pale hands gripped the large book that he was still holding against his chest.
“Why?” asked Clow. He wasn’t able to keep his wounded feelings out of the inquiring word.
Yue’s answer was so soft that it was almost drowned in the quiet noises of water flowing over stones. “Because I can,” he said.
. . .
Author's Note -- This would come just shortly after "And Then He Opened His Eyes".
Canon: pre-canon (Clow, Yue, Cerberus)
Genre: not humor
Rating: PG
Length: 989
Task: One (or more) character discovers 'something' that another character was hiding. A tangible object sort of something, that is, not just an abstract secret.
The Written Word
The immense size of the Reed property provided most of its seclusion, more so than the network of spells that he used to protect the company of his creations and himself. So while looking for his strangely missing companions, he made use of the connection of his magic to them to find them, instead of spending the several hours that it would take to search the grounds. He strolled through the gently spaced ash and willow trees toward an area where a tranquil stream broke through the woods; he could hear an exchange of voices as he approached. Cerberus’ full-chested voice reached the sorcerer’s ears first.
“But my paws aren’t right for this kind of thing,” Cerberus complained.
Clow’s newer creation answered in a voice of cool distain. “If you would rather be an illiterate animal,” said Yue, “then you need not continue.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Cerberus grumped, then sighed. “But why can’t we just ask Clow to give us the ability to write?”
There was no reply from Yue. Clow stepped beneath the long, swishing branches of a willow tree and back out again onto the stream bank, and when his long shadow blocked the freckled sunlight, he startled both Cerberus and Yue. Yue, who had been crouched on the soft sand and focused on some marks in front of him, spun to his feet quickly. He stepped backward as he faced Clow so that his robes swept over the marks in the sand, his feet shuffling lightly.
Clow volleyed a look between each of his creations, curiosity tickling him. “What is this?” he asked with unhidden amusement and stepped closer. He began to peer over Cerberus’ leonine form to what was in the sand beyond, but Yue quickly caught his attention by retrieving a book from the ground and holding it out in from of him.
“Forgive me,” said Yue, holding the massive tome in his spread hands. “I have taken a book from your library. Master, I should have beseeched your permission first.”
“I am sure that you have given it the necessary care,” said Clow, his smile twitching wider, “but what is it that you are concealing under your feet?” Both companions remained silent, though Clow was aware of the questioning look that Cerberus cast toward his counterpart. At the lack of answer, the sorcerer beckoned Yue. “Step forward, please,” he said, mildly but with the hue of command.
Yue immediately obeyed, and his long robes and wings no longer concealed the rows of letters and words etched into the sand. Clow eased between his two creations; he studied the lettering before continuing to speak. Two sets of writing had been marked out with sticks. Clow could easily distinguish the difference of hand, since Cerberus, not having human hands as Yue did, could form only the simpler letter shapes, while Yue had completed rows of long, slim, connected letters. They must have been copying from the book that Yue still held, which was an innocuous book of songs that had no spellcrafting intent.
“Well done,” said Clow. “But you should have asked for pen and parchment.” He paused before asking, “Why have you kept this a secret from me?”
Yue submissively lowered his eyes, as he often did, but his chin rose slightly. Since his recent creation, he had always deferred to his maker, but still with a barely perceptible obstinacy. Clow found it perplexing. Cerberus had never had such a manner; he had been always respectful, but not servile, and there had never been any challenge in the winged lion’s personality. The sorcerer had no experience as a disciplinarian, and Yue’s manner was not at all child-like. Interacting with Yue was sometimes like trying to hunt with a hawk that had been a full adult at its capture, something bound and blindfolded into a life that it had not fully accepted.
Clow waited with certain expectation, and was proved right by the way that Yue exhaled a long sigh and began to explain. “Both Cerberus and I can read,” he started, “though we could not write.” He raised his eyes to almost meet Clow’s own. “I reasoned that we were not intended to have that ability. However,” he continued, and his jaw line again had a defiant lift, briefly, before he bent his head so that his face was covered in a veil of hair, “it was something that I wanted. I took it upon myself to learn, even though it would invoke your disapproval.”
While he turned to Cerberus, Clow maintained a calm face. “Did you think the same way?” he asked carefully.
Cerberus shrugged. “I don’t try to guess,” he said. “Master,” he added, with an afterthought and a grin.
The sorcerer crossed his arms and contemplated. “I don’t disapprove,” he said, and saw Yue’s rigid posture relax. “I don’t disapprove of learning to write, or of any learning. It was not my intention to keep this ability from either of you. I overlooked it,” he admitted with chagrin. His smile moved back into place. “If such a thing should again arise, you will bring it to my attention.” He spoke lightly, but there was no question in his tone of his authority. He turned to walk away from the stream, motioning for his creations to follow. “Come, and I will correct this immediately.”
“Forgive me, Master,” said Yue. His words stopped Clow, and Cerberus, who was already at his maker’s side. Yue had not moved a step. “I wish to learn my letters on my own.” His pale hands gripped the large book that he was still holding against his chest.
“Why?” asked Clow. He wasn’t able to keep his wounded feelings out of the inquiring word.
Yue’s answer was so soft that it was almost drowned in the quiet noises of water flowing over stones. “Because I can,” he said.
. . .
Author's Note -- This would come just shortly after "And Then He Opened His Eyes".
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