Post by gee on Mar 6, 2012 22:45:33 GMT -5
I cringed at the blinding flash my own instinctive and savage reaction to the frustrating and inhuman onset of more pain in my already shattered & tenderized state; WAS ENOUGH NOT ENOUGH, ALREADY! Sigh.
But the truth is that I'm not human, I'm built to be able to handle whatever I need to handle, and my mind had already started to compartmentalized the agony into a separate little corner, the way I had learned to so very long ago, leaving me deliciously and terribly free to simultaneously writhe in distress and experience the paralyzing horror of what all else was going on.
Because he still had me attached to his arm like a leech, and I was kinda sorta laying half-in and out of his lap, I felt their leader's body jerk and stiffen when the white hot flash of the connection doubled back, and I felt a kind of spark of awareness at the corner of my consciousness, and then I knew for certain that it was done, and I knew that he was seeing and feeling the same things that I was. I spared a second of sympathy for him, as I would for anyone forced into sharing my suffering, (especially me, damn it), but only a quick second, 'cause I learned more about him, then, and my problems seemed pretty damn trivial.
The first thing we saw, and they say the first is the most significant, scared the freakin' hell out of me. It was the memory of their leader's first Charge, the first time battle claimed his heart. It'd happened when he was six. He was in a small, dark, dank cave. He'd felt trapped, and the rising of the mid night moon set his heart ablaze anger flooded through him, and hunger. It ate away at our souls, and drives us mad. I realized he'd spent most of his life that way.
The second vision was of me. It was the night of my rite of passage. Every Royal has to pass a test as an adolescent to prove their skill and importance to the Wangetsu. I'd had to hold off 3 non Royal Tenshi Wangetsu's twice my age for three minutes. You think that doesn't sound like a lot of time, you wait until your hands went numb, your skin turns to a bloody bruised mess and your bones feel like crushed up crackers. I almost cried again at the memory, watching myself as a gawky child, eyes squeezed shut as blood dripped slowly to smear a crimson river across the black boots I wore on my feet.
The vision of me blurred then, shifting, and morphing in a smoky haze. It cleared, and again focused on me. I was training with my Father, his silvery-white coat glinting against the sunlight. The colors of gray, brindled, black, brown, cinnamon and russet all mixed together with every attack. We laughed and trained our sweat poured till the moon rose. We fought, we laughed, we wanted to have fun.
We were at the castle again. I sensed it was a castle. A single face showed itself over and over throughout. I sensed the identity of the powerful being oddly the same way I sensed our location. Through the skewed perception of memory he seemed warped, twisted, unspeakably evil. Always a darkness surrounded him. I watched this guy battle him; I felt the rage and fury, the vicious satisfaction of every blow landed and the determination that grew with every blow taken. His joy was mine when I felt the final punch sink into his rivals open mouth, breaking through jaw and throat and penetrating the base of his skull. It was an awful, vindictive pleasure, but I reveled in it.
I was myself again, sitting in a circle of other students on the floor of the large, brightly lit room. We were listening intently as the teacher explained to us, in her Royal and melodic voice, the power of the mating bond. As she explained she pointed occasionally to paintings hanging on the walls. We must take great care selecting a mate. The bond, once forged, could only be broken by the death of one at the hands of the other.
This went on for an interminable length of time, until a freaking dizzying amount of information was shared between us; right down to my bra size, my secret fantasy, and my ridiculous (and huge) childhood crush on a boy from years ago in which i had long forgotten. Hey, he was supposed to be a Royal, right? Why not, I ask?
Through it all I had made a valiant attempt to retain some of the more vital bits of information. I knew that the more I knew about their leader, the better prepared I'd be for the days ahead. Days, weeks, months, years. But when it came right down to it, (and I do freely blame my recent proximity to death), I hadn't the mental capacity. As a matter of fact, the whole damn thing seemed like some huge nightmare. I was weak, and borderline delirious. When it finally stopped, and I found myself back in my mind, I blinked open my eyes. I seemed to view the world through the blurry goggles of drunkenness. Oh well, my foggy mind reasoned, if it was a nightmare, might as well make the best of it. Without really thinking about it, I finally loosened my grip on this man's arm, and started to rub the wound, which had stopped bleeding some time ago, but was still raw and fresh. The feel of my hand seemed to shock him out of his reverie, and he glanced down at me. I vaguely registered the weight of his confusion and frustration lapping at my senses.
"What the hell was that?"
His voice sounded rough and strained. At least, I think it did. My mind was busily slipping away to the land of clouds, fairies, But, just in case he had really spoken, and it wasn't all a bad dream, I decided to make an attempt to explain.
"Well," I said dreamily, "I think you'd better kill me now."
"What?"
This time he sounded eerily calm, and almost polite. I blinked up through glazed eyes and smiled with what I was sure was a winning charm. He told me later that my words slurred and I looked certifiable nuts.
"Oh, yeah," I slurred, "You would if you knew what was good for you. Otherwise you're gonna go slowly, like, cuckoo. And I don't mind, 'slong as you do it know, 'cause I owe you one, and I was already ready to.."
"Oh, yeah," I slurred, "You would if you knew what was good for you. Otherwise you're gonna go slowly, like, cuckoo. And I don't mind, 'slong as you do it know, 'cause I owe you one, and I was already ready to.."
"Ow!" I protested, pouting out my lower lip like a spoiled little child. "That is no way to treat your mate!"
I giggled then, and I think I hiccupped. And then I passed out. Again. Dammit.
But the truth is that I'm not human, I'm built to be able to handle whatever I need to handle, and my mind had already started to compartmentalized the agony into a separate little corner, the way I had learned to so very long ago, leaving me deliciously and terribly free to simultaneously writhe in distress and experience the paralyzing horror of what all else was going on.
Because he still had me attached to his arm like a leech, and I was kinda sorta laying half-in and out of his lap, I felt their leader's body jerk and stiffen when the white hot flash of the connection doubled back, and I felt a kind of spark of awareness at the corner of my consciousness, and then I knew for certain that it was done, and I knew that he was seeing and feeling the same things that I was. I spared a second of sympathy for him, as I would for anyone forced into sharing my suffering, (especially me, damn it), but only a quick second, 'cause I learned more about him, then, and my problems seemed pretty damn trivial.
The first thing we saw, and they say the first is the most significant, scared the freakin' hell out of me. It was the memory of their leader's first Charge, the first time battle claimed his heart. It'd happened when he was six. He was in a small, dark, dank cave. He'd felt trapped, and the rising of the mid night moon set his heart ablaze anger flooded through him, and hunger. It ate away at our souls, and drives us mad. I realized he'd spent most of his life that way.
The second vision was of me. It was the night of my rite of passage. Every Royal has to pass a test as an adolescent to prove their skill and importance to the Wangetsu. I'd had to hold off 3 non Royal Tenshi Wangetsu's twice my age for three minutes. You think that doesn't sound like a lot of time, you wait until your hands went numb, your skin turns to a bloody bruised mess and your bones feel like crushed up crackers. I almost cried again at the memory, watching myself as a gawky child, eyes squeezed shut as blood dripped slowly to smear a crimson river across the black boots I wore on my feet.
The vision of me blurred then, shifting, and morphing in a smoky haze. It cleared, and again focused on me. I was training with my Father, his silvery-white coat glinting against the sunlight. The colors of gray, brindled, black, brown, cinnamon and russet all mixed together with every attack. We laughed and trained our sweat poured till the moon rose. We fought, we laughed, we wanted to have fun.
We were at the castle again. I sensed it was a castle. A single face showed itself over and over throughout. I sensed the identity of the powerful being oddly the same way I sensed our location. Through the skewed perception of memory he seemed warped, twisted, unspeakably evil. Always a darkness surrounded him. I watched this guy battle him; I felt the rage and fury, the vicious satisfaction of every blow landed and the determination that grew with every blow taken. His joy was mine when I felt the final punch sink into his rivals open mouth, breaking through jaw and throat and penetrating the base of his skull. It was an awful, vindictive pleasure, but I reveled in it.
I was myself again, sitting in a circle of other students on the floor of the large, brightly lit room. We were listening intently as the teacher explained to us, in her Royal and melodic voice, the power of the mating bond. As she explained she pointed occasionally to paintings hanging on the walls. We must take great care selecting a mate. The bond, once forged, could only be broken by the death of one at the hands of the other.
This went on for an interminable length of time, until a freaking dizzying amount of information was shared between us; right down to my bra size, my secret fantasy, and my ridiculous (and huge) childhood crush on a boy from years ago in which i had long forgotten. Hey, he was supposed to be a Royal, right? Why not, I ask?
Through it all I had made a valiant attempt to retain some of the more vital bits of information. I knew that the more I knew about their leader, the better prepared I'd be for the days ahead. Days, weeks, months, years. But when it came right down to it, (and I do freely blame my recent proximity to death), I hadn't the mental capacity. As a matter of fact, the whole damn thing seemed like some huge nightmare. I was weak, and borderline delirious. When it finally stopped, and I found myself back in my mind, I blinked open my eyes. I seemed to view the world through the blurry goggles of drunkenness. Oh well, my foggy mind reasoned, if it was a nightmare, might as well make the best of it. Without really thinking about it, I finally loosened my grip on this man's arm, and started to rub the wound, which had stopped bleeding some time ago, but was still raw and fresh. The feel of my hand seemed to shock him out of his reverie, and he glanced down at me. I vaguely registered the weight of his confusion and frustration lapping at my senses.
"What the hell was that?"
His voice sounded rough and strained. At least, I think it did. My mind was busily slipping away to the land of clouds, fairies, But, just in case he had really spoken, and it wasn't all a bad dream, I decided to make an attempt to explain.
"Well," I said dreamily, "I think you'd better kill me now."
"What?"
This time he sounded eerily calm, and almost polite. I blinked up through glazed eyes and smiled with what I was sure was a winning charm. He told me later that my words slurred and I looked certifiable nuts.
"Oh, yeah," I slurred, "You would if you knew what was good for you. Otherwise you're gonna go slowly, like, cuckoo. And I don't mind, 'slong as you do it know, 'cause I owe you one, and I was already ready to.."
"Oh, yeah," I slurred, "You would if you knew what was good for you. Otherwise you're gonna go slowly, like, cuckoo. And I don't mind, 'slong as you do it know, 'cause I owe you one, and I was already ready to.."
"Ow!" I protested, pouting out my lower lip like a spoiled little child. "That is no way to treat your mate!"
I giggled then, and I think I hiccupped. And then I passed out. Again. Dammit.
