Pure Salvation
By Any Unborn Child
It appeared that the mage had been turned into a vampire. How interesting. This was his first time really understanding that sentence – for some odd reason, that sentence had been whirling around in his normally very focused mind for some time now. The mage and his companions had been long gone, and even with what were left to contend with, with the feather being left by the girl to protect the scarred people of Tokyo and all that, that thought still managed to worm its way into Kamui's head, as if trying to project a virus of some kind.
How interesting.
Because of what had transpired, the mage had been subjected to the same fate that he and his vampire twin had been subjected to for some time now.
Because of something that had occurred, the sinuously built (but not entirely naïve) mage would have to live off the blood of another, that other being the strong and powerful (but not entirely trusting) warrior. They would have to depend on each other, the warrior having to supply the lifeblood for the mage to live off of.
How interesting.
But why was Kamui so fascinated by this? He had seen the process firsthand – he had experienced the process himself, the process that as a matter of fact saved his life, as well as the life of the mage's. What made the mage so special that Kamui felt that he had to wrap his mind on the process over and over again in the catacombs of his mind? It did not make that much sense to him.
Then again…it made all the sense in the world.
He had seen how the mage's lone blue eye changed colors, from a frosty blue to a demonic yellow, as if changing into a new palette, rotating his mind's eye into something much more heinous, something more monstrous and tragic, and yet so beautiful, than anything ever before realized.
He had seen how the expressions of the others swarmed around the mage changed drastically and yet not at all, at the sight of the mage's sudden transformation. It was an awful process to go through, something that literally distorted the person being saved into something larger than they ever could comprehend before.
He had seen how the appearance of the mage changed almost immediately once the blood that was supposed to save him splashed onto his tongue, satisfying an almost primal thirst, something that had not been satisfied for a long time, something that had been left ignored for a long time.
He had seen how the mage's lone eye opened wide, the synapses in his body being tormented over and over again with the sudden experiencing long-ignored feelings of pain and despair and hopelessness and loss and tragedy, crying out to the skies, the cries asking why he was being tortured like this to the gods above.
He had seen the mage clinging to the warrior near him, holding onto him for dear life, as if that very warrior, the one that had been supporting him, was the key to his deliverance, his rescue, his survival in the worlds that were beyond him.
Near the end, when everyone began to calm down, and try to move on to their own business while the mage lay unconscious in a pain-stricken stupor, Kamui had wondered these things. That was the first time that he was pondering those things.
The mage…Fai was his name…was exposed to a new awakening. A pure salvation.
How interesting.
Fin