THE RISING -- Prologue
by Spatula Gurl


"A storm?"

The woman's dark eyes scanned the dimly lit heavens above her, her
features assuming a weary expression as she noted the bluish-gray tints
that streaked the skies.

She hadn't expected a storm. She was sure there had been no mention of such
in the weather news that morning. And 'it' being her only means of
entertainment throughout the dark expanse of the old bookstore, she should
know. When she wasn't busy rearranging the books or diminishing the supply
of paperclips to make trinkets, she was listening to good old weather news.

A gust of cold wind whisked against her direction, rifting through her
unkempt mass of brown hair. She hadn't even bothered to tie it up
when she left for work this morning. It now lay in a dull, scraggly heap
about her shoulders, but she paid them no mind. She was on her way home,
anyway. Then, feeling the bite of chill air through her shabby sweater,
she rubbed her arms. She frowned when her palms made contact with the thin,
coarse material of her covering. The feeling of coldness was easily
seeping into her bones as if she weren't wearing a stitch of clothing. She
might've run around naked and it wouldn't have made a difference.

She really had to buy herself a new sweater. The scent of mothballs was
beginning to make her sick, anyway.

But for the moment, all she could think of was going home. She quickened
her pace to a brisk walk, stealing glances at the early evening sky as she
breezed past a few people walking the opposite direction. The clouds were
a stormy gray, and there was a definite bite in the air, but it hadn't
begun to rain yet. Was it just her luck? Or maybe it wasn't going to rain
after all. The skies had begun to darken more than a few minutes ago, but
not a single drop of water came from above.

And the wind...it just kept getting stronger...and colder, despite the
absence of a storm.

She hugged herself tighter, and brushed back the strands of hair that
strayed to her face. She looked up at the skies again, and for the first
time noticed the full, glowing shape of the moon, in stark contrast against
the gray skies. Odd that she didn't see it the first time; it was shining
in bright yellow, almost lemony in it's hue. Not the usual, pasty white
she almost always saw whenever she chanced to gaze at the heavens.

Strange.


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


"She is not yet ready..."

The girl's lips curled into a rueful smile as her golden eyes followed
the solitary form of the woman, fading into the distance.

"What do you think, Larva?" she asked her companion. Her legs swung back
and forth below the tree branch in a casual manner, contrasting the
intensity of her unchanging gaze. She made no movement to rise, but
continued to stare after the woman, even as she soon disappeared into the
horizon.

The man behind her stood quietly in the background. For a moment, he too,
had stared at the woman. But there was something in the wind, as it blew
stronger and grated through the trees, that had caught his attention. He
inadvertently drew closer to the girl sitting close by, as his eyes darted
silently through his mask.

The subtle gesture of sheer protectiveness had not gone unnoticed. The
girl looked up questioningly at the face behind the mask, wondering at what
had disturbed him. She felt neither the presence of threat nor shinma, so
what was it?

She stood up and soon felt the comfort of his arm wound around her waist.
Those golden eyes stared as he drew her inside his cloak. "Is something
wrong, Larva?" she asked.

He stood quite still as he gazed out into the night sky, looking as if he
was trying to hear something inaudible. But the only sound that could be
heard was that of the rustling leaves, as the cold, unceasing wind swept
past them.

What then, was that strange sensation he felt in the air? It was a mixture
of pain, alarm...and an odd familiarity...

He looked down at the girl whom he held in his arms, and met her gaze.
"No," he said softly, startling her with his reply. "There is nothing
wrong." He held her gently, telling her in silent communion to ease her
fears.

But as he stole one more glance at the heavens above, he saw the strange
glowing of the moon. He could net help but feel a cold dread sweeping
him up into a torrent of emotions. A vague memory flashed in his mind,
triggered by the sight that seemed so familiar.

The rising of the thirteenth moon...

___________________________________________________________________________
Send comments to: Spatula Gurl ucchan@gurlmail.com

Author's notes:
This fanfic will include several characters from the manga, but I will warn
you now: the characterization is going to be different. Even the whole
situation is different, including Larva and Miyu's history. A few
facts will remain, though, and certain storylines may be borrowed (I'm not
sure if they're considered spoilers, though, since I'm infusing them with a
different outcome and version of telling). Larva is still bound to Miyu by
blood because he had hesitated to kill her. But he can still speak,
although he does it rarely, and the same goes for the wearing of the mask.

Oh, and yes, this is Larva's story. Well basically, his and Miyu's, but
most of the telling will be in the view of his situation.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN!
PG 13 for mature themes, occult, and situations. No hardcore,
don't worry. That kind of thing, more often than not, is lost in VPM
world.