Disclaimer: I wish I did own the characters, but I do not. :)
Author's note: This is my first Rurouni Kenshin fic, so if it's bad just leave a flame and tell me so I will not continue to torture the poor readers. :) Ummm, it's going to be KenshinX Kaoru later on (I think) so please bear with me! I apologise for the really bad language and content, I'm just trying things out. _
Please review! ^.^
*~*Chill*~*
The chilling wind whispers past, its cold arms caressing, its lithe body arching past. The night is ebony, its darkness melding into nothingness as it disappears in the black void. The moon rises starkly, stained crimson and dripping from the nights it has witnessed, nights like this, nights that neither time not the dreams long past can obscure.
Nights that resurface and linger, nights that ride upon the aura of a person, nights that can never be buried under an illusion of reality. Nights that are forever drenched in death, nights in which sanity questions time and mortality.
So it hangs, a mocking crescent reclining against the velvet night, shimmering in an unholy light. It bathes the grove with its eerie glow, illuminating the glistening emerald of the bamboo leaves.
The wind does not subside, whipping up a fury until the whirlwind peaks at a shrill crescendo. Leaves are tossed mercilessly, powerless against the crushing wind.
My left hand rests lightly on the sturdy stem of the bamboo, running my fingers against its ridges. The night, the battle, the struggle for supremacy has yet to begin.
Men pour in from every side, their mouths twisted savagely in a battle cry. The lunge forward, into the clearing, arms raised with their swords drawn in the battle stance. They converge in the centre, shock, surprise written plainly at not finding their quarry.
They have made their move, now it is time for mine. I rush in, legs barely skirting the ground. My hand griping the handle of my sword, feeling the warm trickle of blood drip down to my hands.
I raise the sword, slashing it horizontally across, seeing the cold steel of the blade catch the glint of the moonlight to flash a brilliant scarlet in that instant. Flesh connects with steel as I feel the sharp blade of my sword slice cleanly through.
I am a whirlwind now, spinning the lashing out, body moving so fast that only the tumbling of dead bodies signals my advance. My eyebrows drawn, amethyst eyes flashing as the red haze of death clouds my vision. It makes my nostrils flare out, my hands twitch until I feel the familiar feel of the sword handle against my skin.
I watch detached, as bodies fall around me, lining my path as more fall. They tumble ungraciously, piling atop one another. A crimson stream runs, flowing and pooling in the ground. Blood spurts out , hitting my face and tainting the air with its copper stench.
Boys, men, they all fall like flies. Shock, despair, surprise, etched permanently upon their faces before meeting the cold, merciless blade of the sword. Their hands still grasping the hilt of the blade, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather. Those faces now ghastly ashen, pallid and wan as the colour drains out. I face the other way, eyes averted, focused beyond. A crimson rivulet streams down the side of my face, descending as shattered droplets. The silence descends again, the eerie nothingness pervading everything.
I finger the scar n my cheek, gently stroking its surface, hearing the agonized screams of a young girl far behind. Her crying is isolated, lonely, ringing out in my consciousness like the resounding peal of a knoll.
The girl is hysterical, shrieking, wailing, the pain and hurt apparent in her voice. I hear it now, that pitiful pleading, that desperate crying out as I idly finger the hilt of my sword. I try to block it out, my mind dizzy and whirling.
The world starts to spin crazily on its axis, the sharp detail reduced to a mere blur as the vivid colours run and smudge into each other. I cannot register anything, my senses dulled and slow, pain welling from an invisible wound.
My knees buckle, sending my crashing to the floor, eyes glazed with pain, beads of perspiration dripping, mingling with the blood. I lie in a stupor, unknowing and un conscious, as the last vestiges of reality give way to the shifting illusions of shadows.
Pattering feet, glittering sapphire eyes, gentle hands running through my hair, hot tears falling on my face, the wail of the young girl close to my ear... memories running past, wavering dreams flashing before dissolving into blackness.
The moon hangs magnificent, tinged a deeper scarlet, as its resplendent glow illuminates but the grove of bamboos, catching the glitter of the early morning dew upon the translucent emerald leaves.
"Kaoru." The whisper hangs in the air, riding the passing wind as it lingers, a haunting syllable in the cool night.
Please review! ^.^ Thanks a lot!
Author's note: This is my first Rurouni Kenshin fic, so if it's bad just leave a flame and tell me so I will not continue to torture the poor readers. :) Ummm, it's going to be KenshinX Kaoru later on (I think) so please bear with me! I apologise for the really bad language and content, I'm just trying things out. _
Please review! ^.^
*~*Chill*~*
The chilling wind whispers past, its cold arms caressing, its lithe body arching past. The night is ebony, its darkness melding into nothingness as it disappears in the black void. The moon rises starkly, stained crimson and dripping from the nights it has witnessed, nights like this, nights that neither time not the dreams long past can obscure.
Nights that resurface and linger, nights that ride upon the aura of a person, nights that can never be buried under an illusion of reality. Nights that are forever drenched in death, nights in which sanity questions time and mortality.
So it hangs, a mocking crescent reclining against the velvet night, shimmering in an unholy light. It bathes the grove with its eerie glow, illuminating the glistening emerald of the bamboo leaves.
The wind does not subside, whipping up a fury until the whirlwind peaks at a shrill crescendo. Leaves are tossed mercilessly, powerless against the crushing wind.
My left hand rests lightly on the sturdy stem of the bamboo, running my fingers against its ridges. The night, the battle, the struggle for supremacy has yet to begin.
Men pour in from every side, their mouths twisted savagely in a battle cry. The lunge forward, into the clearing, arms raised with their swords drawn in the battle stance. They converge in the centre, shock, surprise written plainly at not finding their quarry.
They have made their move, now it is time for mine. I rush in, legs barely skirting the ground. My hand griping the handle of my sword, feeling the warm trickle of blood drip down to my hands.
I raise the sword, slashing it horizontally across, seeing the cold steel of the blade catch the glint of the moonlight to flash a brilliant scarlet in that instant. Flesh connects with steel as I feel the sharp blade of my sword slice cleanly through.
I am a whirlwind now, spinning the lashing out, body moving so fast that only the tumbling of dead bodies signals my advance. My eyebrows drawn, amethyst eyes flashing as the red haze of death clouds my vision. It makes my nostrils flare out, my hands twitch until I feel the familiar feel of the sword handle against my skin.
I watch detached, as bodies fall around me, lining my path as more fall. They tumble ungraciously, piling atop one another. A crimson stream runs, flowing and pooling in the ground. Blood spurts out , hitting my face and tainting the air with its copper stench.
Boys, men, they all fall like flies. Shock, despair, surprise, etched permanently upon their faces before meeting the cold, merciless blade of the sword. Their hands still grasping the hilt of the blade, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather. Those faces now ghastly ashen, pallid and wan as the colour drains out. I face the other way, eyes averted, focused beyond. A crimson rivulet streams down the side of my face, descending as shattered droplets. The silence descends again, the eerie nothingness pervading everything.
I finger the scar n my cheek, gently stroking its surface, hearing the agonized screams of a young girl far behind. Her crying is isolated, lonely, ringing out in my consciousness like the resounding peal of a knoll.
The girl is hysterical, shrieking, wailing, the pain and hurt apparent in her voice. I hear it now, that pitiful pleading, that desperate crying out as I idly finger the hilt of my sword. I try to block it out, my mind dizzy and whirling.
The world starts to spin crazily on its axis, the sharp detail reduced to a mere blur as the vivid colours run and smudge into each other. I cannot register anything, my senses dulled and slow, pain welling from an invisible wound.
My knees buckle, sending my crashing to the floor, eyes glazed with pain, beads of perspiration dripping, mingling with the blood. I lie in a stupor, unknowing and un conscious, as the last vestiges of reality give way to the shifting illusions of shadows.
Pattering feet, glittering sapphire eyes, gentle hands running through my hair, hot tears falling on my face, the wail of the young girl close to my ear... memories running past, wavering dreams flashing before dissolving into blackness.
The moon hangs magnificent, tinged a deeper scarlet, as its resplendent glow illuminates but the grove of bamboos, catching the glitter of the early morning dew upon the translucent emerald leaves.
"Kaoru." The whisper hangs in the air, riding the passing wind as it lingers, a haunting syllable in the cool night.
Please review! ^.^ Thanks a lot!