These are some drabbles i wrote, planning to make a crossover last samurai / inception. let´s see if anyone likes to read... :) greetings from south germany.
My eyes drifted close the moment my head hit the soft, silken pillow and the thought crazed my mind that I had never experienced anything as luxury as the cool fabric against my heated, still damp cheek. One last time my eyes opened and found the dark brown, nearly black orbs of his. His lazy, halfway-grin was still vivid on my mind, when I fell into a peaceful slumber, his arms wrapped around my smaller frame, reassuring and safe.
Reality faded and the dream enfolded itself in front of my inner eye. Slowly, piece by piece a complex, vivid picture arose.
I felt the moist, cool forest floor under my bare feet, fallen leaves and cedar needles were tickling my between my toes. I looked down, closely reckoning my feet, wiggling my toes. The dark-crimson nail polish seemed oddly out of space. I wrinkled my nose. Why were the polish and my knee length roman style summer dress I was wearing so unbearable misplaced? More so, why did my whole presence felt so wrong?
Totally lost in thought I stood there, amidst a foreign clearing, surrounded by thick scrub and lofty trees. The chill air made me shiver and the rich, dark scent of the forest soil lingers in it.
The peaceful tranquility evaded and a constantly growing louder voice was to hear. At first, I did not even take notice of it; my mind was way too occupied by the strange surroundings. But the voice grew louder and louder and no coherent thought was able no more.
I dropped to my knees involuntary, irregardless the damp forest floor. I pressed my hands flat against my ears, trying to avoid the terrifying sound. The world around me began to spin faster and faster until I felt nausea upwelling.
A warm, metallic scent lingers in the air, and one don´t has to be a rocket scientist to recognize the smell of blood. For a short moment my eyes shut close and when they opened again, the setting had changed dramatically.
An archaic fight was ravaging around me, roaring yells of fighting men were to hear. Solders in bloodstained uniforms and with deathly pale faces were fighting grimly against a smaller, but obviously superior group of men. These were not wearing uniforms. Instead, they wore some kind of armor, each of them different in endearment and color; but similar menacing and overpowering.
A shriek escaped my mouth when I saw two uniformed soldiers went down to my left. Their faces pale, lips drawn from blood and the eyes dead and empty. It was no merciful death they had met. I recognized that all the uniformed men on the battlefield were from Japanese lineage, only the ones with the horrifying armors were impossible to identify, the mighty helmets and visors only showed the eyes.
More and more men went down to my left and right, I closed my eyes to avoid the gruesome sight. I needed to think clear for at least a single moment. A quiet voice in my mind told me, that this was mere a dream, not more. Nothing could harm me in my dream.
But this felt real. Terribly real. It even smelled real.
Finally I opened my eyes again, no longer able to shut out the sounds of war and death around me. I remembered something I once had red: the most gruesome thing about war was the sound. It was true.
My eyes fluttered open just in time to watch a tall figure approaching me through the mist. The man moved slowly, without haste and not paying attention to the bodies at his feet. My body denied any service and for the first time in my life I was not able to move at all. Incapable of drawing back I knelt there on the damp, dark soil. The warrior towered over me and considering my crouching position I was unable to estimate how tall he was, but he had to be at least 6 feet or taller. He, too, was wearing one of that archaic looking armors, his was deep black with skillful, golden endearments.
The warrior took the last to steps between us and i was able to catch a glimpse of his breastplate, zje pauldrons and the braces on his forearms, which shows golden, fighting tigers. His helmet was even more awe-inspiring compared to his companions´. An old, Japanese demon of some sorts was cresting it, made of a deep black metal. A broad, massive visor concealed his face and only his eyes were to see, their color was a dark brown, almost similar to the black, rich soil of the forest ground under my naked knees.
Unconsciously I had shifted my weight back onto my heels, so i was know in a very upright, kneeling position, like a traditional Japanese women would kneel. My hands were luckily resting on my thighs, so he could not detect the trembling of my numb fingers.
I held his gaze, not batting an eye, and the world around me was lost in reverie
„Osoreru koto wa arimasen " his voice was rich, deep and melodic, but the words did not sink in for several seconds. The sound was soothing and familiar, like a long lost memory.
„Anata dare?" i could sense mor then hear that his words were a question, and I desperately wished to understand. Tears streamed down my pale cheeks but I did not understand why I was so devastated.
„Watashitoisshoni taizai!" His urging, almost begging words were still repeating over and over again in my mind, when I had woken up seconds later in my bed, covered in cold sweat and drowned in tears.
(I have to apologize for any miss-spellings or grammar-errors, for i am from germany and english is not my ntive tongue)
Please, for the gods sake, reviews delight a writers heart! :)
Osoreru koto wa arimasen don´t be afraid
Anata dare who are you?
Watashitoisshoni taizai stay with me