Disclaimer: I do not own The Vision of Escaflowne, its characters, settings, etc. Please do not sue me, for I am young and poor and
know not of the wrong I do. Thank you *^_^*
AN/ Hey Everybody! This is my second Escafic, well technically, it's my first, though its my second posted. I started this months
before Open Road *cough*go read*cough* but I left this at three parts, and ever since its been collecting dust on my floppy. For
those of you reading Open Road, fear not, I have not abandoned it! I know I promised a new chapter today, but my stupid beeping
floppy disk ate the next three or four chapters yesterday and I really don't feel like re-typing them just yet, since I have to do it from
memory. Soon, though. I hate beeping floppies, beep beepy beep beep. Anyway, hope you all enjoy this new old story, but be
warned, my writing style has evolved greatly in the last few months, so the first few chapters are short, and nothing special. Humor
me. Review please. Thanks bunches,
~Gabe~
Prologue - A Summer Breeze
The breeze was cool and light. It brought with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the slight chill of an upcoming rain. Newly
grown fields became churning seas of green and gold and the trees seemed to dance to a silent melody wherever this wind traveled.
This wind, bringing smiles to the faces and joy to the spirits of all it touched, made its way over rolling hills, and through lush
valleys, until finally gusting over a white stone wall, and into a small, peaceful garden. It blew past a tall man in a dark blue
uniform, standing under the canopy of a large willow tree. His long golden hair rustled in the breeze, his eyes scanning every
shadow, a gloved hand resting lightly on the pommel of the sword at his hip. The wind then shifted slightly, as the man's attention
turned back to the young girl a few paces ahead of him. Her pale green sun dress rippled in the soft gusts, which also blew her short
ashen hair into her sad blue eyes, but the girl did not seem to notice. She knelt and placed the bouquet she had been carrying next
to the small, unmarked stone by her feet, the same white stone as the garden walls. The wind seemed to caress the young girl's face
as she fell to her knees in front of the stone; eyes locked on the flowers she had placed there, the roses, fifteen with petals of the
deepest red , and one other, a bud of light gold. The tall man approached the girl, a gentle hand reaching out to rest protectively on
her shoulder, only to be pushed away. The young girl, her sad eyes never leaving the roses, was oblivious to the hurt in the tall
man's face, or the look of sorrow and worry in his deep blue eyes. A single tear rolled down the young girls pale cheek, only to be
blow onto the delicate petals of the yellow rose by the increasing breeze. That was when the rain began.
AN II/ I know, I know. . . scandalously short, but gimme a break, it's just the prologue. More soon, maybe. . .
