Ulteriour Motives - Chapter 1
(Disclaimer: I own these characters and this story, except the name Ansatsu, which comes from a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card, designed by Kazuki Takahashi.)
"One day, it will all be alright," she told me, whispering into my ear and stroking my hair softly," if you stay with me it will be okay." Her purple eyes looked tenderly into my blue ones, shining through my soul intently, concentrating with his heart.
The fire warmed our close bodies, comfortably still whilst the logs crackled and embers of glowing red-orange shot above and floated down somewhere on the stone hearth. I'm sure that the happiness through pain in my eyes shows as does the contentment and loving in his.
Waking, the pain is all that I, Asata, can feel as the bitter truth sinks in, its coppery taste like that of the rich, red blood that flows through my veins. Well, no more. I can't stand it. Loving someone without mutual feelings was always a downfall of mine, which I think I must most certainly be notorious for.
My medium-brown hair and sapphire eyes are all but extraordinary and exceptionally notable, and a downfall of somewhat anti-social behaviour might never help, but I figure that to "get" anyone, I shall be better off portraying myself. Asakuri Yurimoto is the woman that is my delectable weakness, somehow smashing through the hard covering of my heart, but seemingly only to toy for a while. God knows, much of the time, looking back, the woman you were pining over never knew anything of the likes - why should she? Love is an empty, never fulfilled feeling - at least in my experience. The other can never even have the slightest premonition of what you may be feeling, and even if they did, why should the human race care? They were created to be concerned only for themselves.
It is the pain of the ansatsu, so great that they must cover it with obsession of sorts. Whichever they choose is dependent on their character traits, and unfortunately mine is the infatuation with a member of the opposite sex. It keeps my mind off of the memories. Maybe not all the time - the present is clear but my past is submerged, the pain inside me will continue. Sometimes it feels withering, remembering small bits of my life but not having anyone to reminisce with or to console me, nothing of the sort. It is the curse of the ansatsu to revolve their lives around their suffering and procrastinate deeply, or not to do anything about it at all.
Maybe one thing will be clearer - as much as it can be at this point - if I try to explain myself here. Asakuri is a very dear yet, in my standards new, friend. Everything she says opens up gateways to my eyes, branching out into new possibilities, yet my own mind sets it down and doesn't accept them, sifting my hopes down again like disturbed sand settles in the bottom of a lake. Yurimoto's appearance is nothing short of spectacular, her amethyst eyes sparkle in the jealous sun and swallowing moon, her dark russet, changing-length hair glinting in spots, beautifully and healthily. Her light peach skin is soft and warm, and she conceals it usually with anything bright and noticeable, often sporting her silver eyeglasses either in her purse or on her face.
Time had never disgraced what relationship we had - she always made me feel smart and cared for, and I tried to do the same for her, as much as I feel like I horribly fail time after time. I would never really know if I did or not - she never seemed like much of a talker. I know it's my ansatsu that gives me trouble and discord in every relationship I have, like two magnets facing same poles. I'm not even completely sure of what my ansatsu is yet - not the fine-tuning, anyway. There is an "agent" of sorts that apparently tracks these things for an agency, and educates those with it, and he chooses to use the terminology of a "gift" for the ansatsu. Supposedly you can do great and awesome things if you can control it, but I'm not sure I would know, for I've never heard anything of the sort before. I suppose it would not be widely accepted, anyway. This agent has vowed to discreetly come to my apartment to tell me more in the morning.
Ah, morning. It is two o'clock presently, so if I wish to be prepared by eight o'clock, I should try to think less and sleep more. Not to think of these things at such an hour.
(Disclaimer: I own these characters and this story, except the name Ansatsu, which comes from a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card, designed by Kazuki Takahashi.)
"One day, it will all be alright," she told me, whispering into my ear and stroking my hair softly," if you stay with me it will be okay." Her purple eyes looked tenderly into my blue ones, shining through my soul intently, concentrating with his heart.
The fire warmed our close bodies, comfortably still whilst the logs crackled and embers of glowing red-orange shot above and floated down somewhere on the stone hearth. I'm sure that the happiness through pain in my eyes shows as does the contentment and loving in his.
Waking, the pain is all that I, Asata, can feel as the bitter truth sinks in, its coppery taste like that of the rich, red blood that flows through my veins. Well, no more. I can't stand it. Loving someone without mutual feelings was always a downfall of mine, which I think I must most certainly be notorious for.
My medium-brown hair and sapphire eyes are all but extraordinary and exceptionally notable, and a downfall of somewhat anti-social behaviour might never help, but I figure that to "get" anyone, I shall be better off portraying myself. Asakuri Yurimoto is the woman that is my delectable weakness, somehow smashing through the hard covering of my heart, but seemingly only to toy for a while. God knows, much of the time, looking back, the woman you were pining over never knew anything of the likes - why should she? Love is an empty, never fulfilled feeling - at least in my experience. The other can never even have the slightest premonition of what you may be feeling, and even if they did, why should the human race care? They were created to be concerned only for themselves.
It is the pain of the ansatsu, so great that they must cover it with obsession of sorts. Whichever they choose is dependent on their character traits, and unfortunately mine is the infatuation with a member of the opposite sex. It keeps my mind off of the memories. Maybe not all the time - the present is clear but my past is submerged, the pain inside me will continue. Sometimes it feels withering, remembering small bits of my life but not having anyone to reminisce with or to console me, nothing of the sort. It is the curse of the ansatsu to revolve their lives around their suffering and procrastinate deeply, or not to do anything about it at all.
Maybe one thing will be clearer - as much as it can be at this point - if I try to explain myself here. Asakuri is a very dear yet, in my standards new, friend. Everything she says opens up gateways to my eyes, branching out into new possibilities, yet my own mind sets it down and doesn't accept them, sifting my hopes down again like disturbed sand settles in the bottom of a lake. Yurimoto's appearance is nothing short of spectacular, her amethyst eyes sparkle in the jealous sun and swallowing moon, her dark russet, changing-length hair glinting in spots, beautifully and healthily. Her light peach skin is soft and warm, and she conceals it usually with anything bright and noticeable, often sporting her silver eyeglasses either in her purse or on her face.
Time had never disgraced what relationship we had - she always made me feel smart and cared for, and I tried to do the same for her, as much as I feel like I horribly fail time after time. I would never really know if I did or not - she never seemed like much of a talker. I know it's my ansatsu that gives me trouble and discord in every relationship I have, like two magnets facing same poles. I'm not even completely sure of what my ansatsu is yet - not the fine-tuning, anyway. There is an "agent" of sorts that apparently tracks these things for an agency, and educates those with it, and he chooses to use the terminology of a "gift" for the ansatsu. Supposedly you can do great and awesome things if you can control it, but I'm not sure I would know, for I've never heard anything of the sort before. I suppose it would not be widely accepted, anyway. This agent has vowed to discreetly come to my apartment to tell me more in the morning.
Ah, morning. It is two o'clock presently, so if I wish to be prepared by eight o'clock, I should try to think less and sleep more. Not to think of these things at such an hour.