All characters and concepts copyright Squaresoft.
Miang stood on the balcony, the hot, dry desert wind ruffling her indigo hair. She stared up at the moon, which hung full and blood-red over Aveh, the moon never seen through Solaris' shields...
The moon...
Some called it a symbol of the ultimite female, others claimed it induced insanity, even psychosis...
Yes, the moon was a good symbol for her. Ancient. Unchanging. Distant.
She felt the lonliness creep in, a famililar lonliness, an emptiness in her soul she had endured for ten thousand years.
At least Elhaym had -that man-... that man whom Miang had once called "son", that man whom she could never forget, never escape, yet never touch...
She heard a small sound from inside, a small whimper torn from a masculine throat. Kahr was dreaming again.. He was always plagued by nightmares, these days.
Kahr. What did she feel for that man, that puppet? There was something about him that was different from the other men she had been with in the past, the other high-ranking human tools who had before called her love. She turned and walked inside, walking to the edge of the bed they shared and looking down at his sleeping face. He was so childlike, so innocent and fragile in his sleep, for all the strength he prized. She reached down to brush a strand of soft silver hair from his face and found herself smiling. She stopped, trying to understand these emotions inside. This body had before found itself longing for Kahr, the woman whose body she now inhabited had loved him... Perhaps that was all she felt, echoes of that woman's wishes, her personality. She tried to remember more about the girl. She'd had black hair and dark grey eyes, born an upper-class citizen of Solaris. She'd been no more than a simple executive aide before Miang had awakened within her... It was sometimes hard to remember the details of the lives she had taken over, though sometimes in the depths of the night, she was haunted by the souls of all those women whom she had so easily destroyed.
Then again, perhaps her feelings towards Kahr stemmed from the fact that he was the Gazel's precious Anti-type, though the implications of that possibility were almost as disturbing.
Her thoughts once again drifted to Fei, the Contact, then back, into the past.
How many thousand years had it been? How long had she existed and how much longer would she continue to endure? But through all her memories, like a thread binding them, ran -him-. Abel, Kim, others, bearing countless names but always with that face, those eyes... Lacan.
Oh yes, Lacan. Had it truly been 500 years since Lacan had sought Zohar and joined her in immortality? Since he had learned from her to transfer himself from body to body, maintaining his soul... Yet he was not the same as he once had been.
Grahf, he called himself now, the Seeker of Power.
What was he to her? Or she to him? Why was it that he was at times so tender, yet at other times turned his hate against her?
Perhaps they were alike in more ways than their immortality.
Miang looked up at the moon, now high above the horizon.
Beauty. Insanity.
She closed the window to the balcony and began to undress.
She was Miang. All of this would pass, as it always did.
But she would remain.
Miang stood on the balcony, the hot, dry desert wind ruffling her indigo hair. She stared up at the moon, which hung full and blood-red over Aveh, the moon never seen through Solaris' shields...
The moon...
Some called it a symbol of the ultimite female, others claimed it induced insanity, even psychosis...
Yes, the moon was a good symbol for her. Ancient. Unchanging. Distant.
She felt the lonliness creep in, a famililar lonliness, an emptiness in her soul she had endured for ten thousand years.
At least Elhaym had -that man-... that man whom Miang had once called "son", that man whom she could never forget, never escape, yet never touch...
She heard a small sound from inside, a small whimper torn from a masculine throat. Kahr was dreaming again.. He was always plagued by nightmares, these days.
Kahr. What did she feel for that man, that puppet? There was something about him that was different from the other men she had been with in the past, the other high-ranking human tools who had before called her love. She turned and walked inside, walking to the edge of the bed they shared and looking down at his sleeping face. He was so childlike, so innocent and fragile in his sleep, for all the strength he prized. She reached down to brush a strand of soft silver hair from his face and found herself smiling. She stopped, trying to understand these emotions inside. This body had before found itself longing for Kahr, the woman whose body she now inhabited had loved him... Perhaps that was all she felt, echoes of that woman's wishes, her personality. She tried to remember more about the girl. She'd had black hair and dark grey eyes, born an upper-class citizen of Solaris. She'd been no more than a simple executive aide before Miang had awakened within her... It was sometimes hard to remember the details of the lives she had taken over, though sometimes in the depths of the night, she was haunted by the souls of all those women whom she had so easily destroyed.
Then again, perhaps her feelings towards Kahr stemmed from the fact that he was the Gazel's precious Anti-type, though the implications of that possibility were almost as disturbing.
Her thoughts once again drifted to Fei, the Contact, then back, into the past.
How many thousand years had it been? How long had she existed and how much longer would she continue to endure? But through all her memories, like a thread binding them, ran -him-. Abel, Kim, others, bearing countless names but always with that face, those eyes... Lacan.
Oh yes, Lacan. Had it truly been 500 years since Lacan had sought Zohar and joined her in immortality? Since he had learned from her to transfer himself from body to body, maintaining his soul... Yet he was not the same as he once had been.
Grahf, he called himself now, the Seeker of Power.
What was he to her? Or she to him? Why was it that he was at times so tender, yet at other times turned his hate against her?
Perhaps they were alike in more ways than their immortality.
Miang looked up at the moon, now high above the horizon.
Beauty. Insanity.
She closed the window to the balcony and began to undress.
She was Miang. All of this would pass, as it always did.
But she would remain.