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runicloreWeek: 5
Title: Of the Living and the Dead
Author: Amber Michelle
Genre: gen
Universe: canon
Rating: G
Characters: Kikyou
Warnings: n/a
Words: 786
Concrit: sure.
Notes: edited.
..........................................
As a priestess, Kikyou knew the thin line between the passions of the living and the dead. The impure heart, her mentor told her, was nothing more than than surrender to one's raw emotion, to desire, without restraint. It was not piety or virtue - such was her pragmatic point of view. Control, child. Your purity depends on your ability to control yourself.
Once, long ago, Kikyou contemplated lying with a half-breed. She was taught the body was born impure and died impure. Blood pulsed in her veins. Blood stained her body during her cycle. Women were impure - there was no use fighting it. Her heart raced when he clasped her hand to help her with a difficult climb, her body burned feverishly when he gathered her in his arms to run and leap among the tree branches, giving her a taste of what it was like to fly. It became difficult to treat his wounds. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, the contours of his muscles begging to be traced and admired.
It went without saying that she resisted. There was the jewel to think about; her physical condition may not change if she slipped, but love, for all its wonderful and fleeting moments, was the root of all resentment.
The jewel would thrive on resentment. She knew with certainty this guardianship would be the first and last of her responsibilities, however long it may last.
But even hoarding her purity, Kikyou lost. She wondered if the betrayal would sting more or less had she had given in to the impulse. Inu Yasha still found someone else, still left her. Should she have seized the moment when it was within reach, instead of telling herself to be strong and make the sacrifice like a good priestess should?
For hours after she parted with her other half at the den of the miko-eater, Kikyou lay in the field of flowers, leaning against a boulder, and thought about her half-breed. Would Inu Yasha smell her when his living, breathing priestess returned to him? Would he notice the dry, moist scent of soil and ashes? Would he see the new shard they prayed into existence?
Would he ask about her?
Her chest constricted, though her mockery of a heart was sluggish, her blood nothing more than mud and magic. Of course he would. Kikyou had asked about him, and Kagome, sweet, naive Kagome, would never think to lie. He would be sad if you disappeared, she said.
If Kikyou left this plane, she wouldn't keep looking over her shoulder, expecting to see him marching behind her with his hands shoved into his big red sleeves. She would stop expecting to see his long white hair flying behind him as he hopped from branch to branch above her head. She wouldn't look at the night sky and wonder if he still did the same thing, tracing constellations with his eyes, or asking her - Kagome - why it was called so-and-so, and who said that was a samurai instead of an ugly boar youkai? Why was it a bamboo pole instead of a naginata?
It had been a long time since she scolded him for his vulgarity, or awakened to the ungentle nudging of his toe in her ribs. Ages, since she entered a battle and knew someone was at her back, ready to defend her with his claws. She had gotten along just fine without him. It was rare any youkai got close enough to touch her, much less cause injury, and her wounds healed quickly. She didn't need Inu Yasha or his uncultured, undisciplined manner. Until Kagome, Kikyou was the strongest of her kind to walk the land.
But when the moon waned and the gulf between Kikyou and her half-breed, created by his heritage, thinned and healed for one short night, her soul tugged her toward his party. She had to remind herself every day of her mentor's stress on the matter of control. The dead were governed by passion as well as the living.
When she looked at Inu Yasha, her hands twitched to her arrows of their own accord. When she was far away, she missed the sound of his voice. It would never end. Knowing he was out there somewhere fighting the same battle warmed Kikyou and tainted her dreams with a sliver of hope. Maybe she would see him tomorrow. Maybe in a month she would clasp him to her heart and take him from this world.
Maybe the jewel would be completed and Kikyou would drift back to sleep, never to awaken again as herself.
Maybe, she thought once - only once - maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to be Kagome.
Title: Of the Living and the Dead
Author: Amber Michelle
Genre: gen
Universe: canon
Rating: G
Characters: Kikyou
Warnings: n/a
Words: 786
Concrit: sure.
Notes: edited.
..........................................
As a priestess, Kikyou knew the thin line between the passions of the living and the dead. The impure heart, her mentor told her, was nothing more than than surrender to one's raw emotion, to desire, without restraint. It was not piety or virtue - such was her pragmatic point of view. Control, child. Your purity depends on your ability to control yourself.
Once, long ago, Kikyou contemplated lying with a half-breed. She was taught the body was born impure and died impure. Blood pulsed in her veins. Blood stained her body during her cycle. Women were impure - there was no use fighting it. Her heart raced when he clasped her hand to help her with a difficult climb, her body burned feverishly when he gathered her in his arms to run and leap among the tree branches, giving her a taste of what it was like to fly. It became difficult to treat his wounds. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, the contours of his muscles begging to be traced and admired.
It went without saying that she resisted. There was the jewel to think about; her physical condition may not change if she slipped, but love, for all its wonderful and fleeting moments, was the root of all resentment.
The jewel would thrive on resentment. She knew with certainty this guardianship would be the first and last of her responsibilities, however long it may last.
But even hoarding her purity, Kikyou lost. She wondered if the betrayal would sting more or less had she had given in to the impulse. Inu Yasha still found someone else, still left her. Should she have seized the moment when it was within reach, instead of telling herself to be strong and make the sacrifice like a good priestess should?
For hours after she parted with her other half at the den of the miko-eater, Kikyou lay in the field of flowers, leaning against a boulder, and thought about her half-breed. Would Inu Yasha smell her when his living, breathing priestess returned to him? Would he notice the dry, moist scent of soil and ashes? Would he see the new shard they prayed into existence?
Would he ask about her?
Her chest constricted, though her mockery of a heart was sluggish, her blood nothing more than mud and magic. Of course he would. Kikyou had asked about him, and Kagome, sweet, naive Kagome, would never think to lie. He would be sad if you disappeared, she said.
If Kikyou left this plane, she wouldn't keep looking over her shoulder, expecting to see him marching behind her with his hands shoved into his big red sleeves. She would stop expecting to see his long white hair flying behind him as he hopped from branch to branch above her head. She wouldn't look at the night sky and wonder if he still did the same thing, tracing constellations with his eyes, or asking her - Kagome - why it was called so-and-so, and who said that was a samurai instead of an ugly boar youkai? Why was it a bamboo pole instead of a naginata?
It had been a long time since she scolded him for his vulgarity, or awakened to the ungentle nudging of his toe in her ribs. Ages, since she entered a battle and knew someone was at her back, ready to defend her with his claws. She had gotten along just fine without him. It was rare any youkai got close enough to touch her, much less cause injury, and her wounds healed quickly. She didn't need Inu Yasha or his uncultured, undisciplined manner. Until Kagome, Kikyou was the strongest of her kind to walk the land.
But when the moon waned and the gulf between Kikyou and her half-breed, created by his heritage, thinned and healed for one short night, her soul tugged her toward his party. She had to remind herself every day of her mentor's stress on the matter of control. The dead were governed by passion as well as the living.
When she looked at Inu Yasha, her hands twitched to her arrows of their own accord. When she was far away, she missed the sound of his voice. It would never end. Knowing he was out there somewhere fighting the same battle warmed Kikyou and tainted her dreams with a sliver of hope. Maybe she would see him tomorrow. Maybe in a month she would clasp him to her heart and take him from this world.
Maybe the jewel would be completed and Kikyou would drift back to sleep, never to awaken again as herself.
Maybe, she thought once - only once - maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to be Kagome.
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no subject
Date: 2008-04-11 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-11 07:51 am (UTC)A Single Spark (http://www.a-single-spark.com/fanficstories.php?aid=6431) (as Myaru)
FanFiction.net (http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1534196/) (as Myaru)
I'm not a huge fan of archives, but everything I write ends up here, even if it's terrible.
Glad you liked the story. It was my first time writing for Kikyou.