Title: Sonata in my Hands
Series: X
Author: Tiamat's Child
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/Angst
Characters: Kanoe
Disclaimer: Kanoe is not mine. *sniff* Oh, and neither is Hinoto *sniffsniff* The *Kamui* isn't mine either (thankfully).
Warnings: Some f/f content, brief mentions of drug use (not Kanoe), and um...That's it.
Summary: Kanoe contemplates her sister, her self, and her wish.
Sonata in my Hands
Tiamat's Child
When I was little I would spend hours playing with my sister's hair. It was long and smooth as rain clouds against the skin of my hands. It was one of the prettiest things I had ever seen. I would comb it out and braid it, or put it up in buns. Sometimes I just ran my fingers through it so I could feel the silver strands sliding through them.
Hinoto liked it when I touched her. Our parents were not people given to open displays of affection and we both felt the lack. So we turned to each other for the sort of family love that we had trouble finding. We were very close because of that, she and I. Where one of us was the other was sure to be nearby.
We often fell asleep together, cuddled close to keep each other safe from the sad ghosts that were all that was left of the lonely people. We played hopscotch games in a world bleached pale and strange by the sun. She would make me hot chocolate the way they make it in Mexico, so rich and thick it might well stand up without the aid of the mug. I made her messy riceballs for her lunches. She helped me with my homework. Our lives were twined together.
I miss that. It hurts to see my sister bound the way she is. I know that this is not good for her, and I know that she knows that. I know that she wishes for freedom above all else. The difference between us is that I'm willing to do something about it.
Hinoto is bound by what she considers to be her duty. She believes that she cannot abandon it or she will cease to be herself. I know better. There is no duty, save that which you freely and consciously choose. How then can my sister possibly be bound? How can she have a duty? She has never been allowed to make her own choices, or follow her own wishes.
I will set my sister free, no matter what I have to do, or who I have to help. Even if it means bringing the end of the world. Even if it means binding myself to the Dragons of Earth. Hinoto's freedom is worth it.
These people I support and care for are dangerous to me. Especially the Kamui, he is too unpredictable to be trusted. I fully expect that he will be the death of me. But he won't kill me yet. At the moment I am still far too useful to him for him to get rid of me.
What I am doing is dangerous, I know that. I choose this freely, unlike my sister. I do this for her, even if she doesn't understand. There is a sort of beauty in that, is there not?
I have always loved beauty, in whatever form I can find it. There are so very many kinds and shapes of beauty you could no more find them all then you could find all of the stars. And yet I try.
There is the beauty of sunrises watched on cold mornings all wrapped in blankets till only your nose can be seen. There is the beauty of your sister's hair spread across your palms. There is the hard, fierce beauty of nightclubs where names mean nothing and all that is asked is a dance. There is the slow, sweet beauty of flesh sliding against flesh in dusky silence. There is the beauty of fire blossoming against the neon night. There is the beauty of the strength needed to stay at the side of a loved one dying in pain, as well. And of course there is the beauty of loving someone so much that you are willing to do what is right for them, no matter how much it much it hurts you both.
I often wish to find someone who will see beauty in me. That is not my Wish, but it is a wish of mine. My dreams are often full of the fulfillment of that wish, of gentle hands in my hair and a soft mouth on my neck, sweet, sincere whispers tickling the outer shell of my ear. *love you, you're so very beautiful, stay with me, i'll stay with you* In the dream I cannot tell whether it is a man or a woman who speaks, but it doesn't matter. It never has.
I have the misfortune of being drawn to anyone who will give me love, or even the semblance of love. I crave affection, love, touch, as surely as a heroin addict craves the next hit. It doesn't matter whose offering it to me. I don't care if they're male or female, young or old, all that matters is that they offer me love.
There was a girl once, with wild dark brown hair and eyes that always seemed to hide a piece of her. I used to see her in clubs, whirling and writhing under the dim blue lights, losing herself completely in the music. And perhaps drugs too, I think now, looking back on it. But I didn't know that then, and never mind it anyway it doesn't matter, what matters is that she was so beautiful it hurt.
She danced with me once, her hair tossing as she moved with and against me. Her eyes were fever bright and far away, as if she was looking at something I couldn't see. Her hands moved like captured doves, restless, desperate, trapped. She was looking for a way out of her delirium, looking for someone to lift her up that ladder she couldn't seem to climb. She was lost in her own darkness.
And of course all that only made her beautiful. There's something deeply compelling about that kind of desperation and pain. Something that steps beyond the ugly tawdriness that's usually associated with the underside of the city's world.
When she kissed me a wall deep inside me broke and the shreds of thought that said that I shouldn't do this, that we were too much alike, she and I, all went spinning off somewhere far away where they couldn't bother me. So I kissed back, letting her cling to my shoulders and mold into me. Just two flames, that's all we were, and she was hotter then I, burning ice hot against my skin. It seemed as if she was trying to melt into my flesh, become a part of me so she didn't have to be a part of her anymore.
We clung to each other like that for the longest time, drunk on pleasure and the rush of the dance. I don't know how long that lasted, time meant nothing while we stood there. But at last she pulled away and smiled, sadness and a faint trace of love glimmering in those depthless eyes.
"Best stay away from me," She said, "I am a dangerous angel." She rose up on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips across my brow. And then she was gone, disappeared into the crowd as if she had never been standing within my arms.
Dangerous angel, she said, I am a dangerous angel. I didn't care. I wanted to see more of that glimmer in her eyes. Besides, I am a dangerous angel as well. I am no different from her really, except that I have a purpose to keep guiding me out of the darkness. I have to free my sister.
Hinoto loves me enough to do anything for me. She would die to save me, or live to keep my heart alive, or even, if she had to make the choice, kill another to preserve my life. I return that love, and because of it I am able to do whatever I have to. Even if, ultimately, I have to kill my sister, or bring about her death to set her free I will be able to do it, because I love her.
Do not misunderstand me, I do not relish the thought of killing Hinoto. Quite the opposite in fact. The very idea that I might be the reason for those beloved eyes going dark and empty makes me feel cold and hollowed out. I *hate* that things might come to that. But if I had to choose between a world where Hinoto was alive and chained to her visions, and a world where she was dead, but free, I would choose the second.
You see, death would only end my sister's life, not destroy who she is. If this sort of endless seeing continues then she will no longer be the person who is my sister, she will be someone else, a battered and empty someone else. I could not bear to watch that happen. I love her too much to be able to let her be destroyed that way.
This then is my wish, that you, Hinoto, might be free. Please forgive me for what I do, my sister. I love you.