Spindle
Smelling something strange in the air, Sesshoumaru turned toward it, lifting his nose higher in inspection. He remembered this scent, but he wasn't sure from where. It was old, something from far back in his memory, but somehow vaguely familiar, as if he had never stopped smelling it.
What he found at the end of the trail was not what he expected, but once he thought about it, it made sense that it be.
It was the Shikon Miko. Looking exactly as she had the last moment he saw her, almost a hundred years prior. She was sitting in the tall grass of the hill, looking up at the stars. Fireflies blinking around her as if she were just part of the scenery.
He said nothing as he approached, merely coming to stand beside her. Her presence felt both ancient and young. As if she was just as out of place in this time as he.
She did not look at him, but she knew he was there.
"Our world is a spinning wheel." He turned to her when she spoke, looking down at her upturned face. "We are the threads. Being spun thinner and thinner to weave into the fabric. A grander, predetermined end. The spindle was the jewel."
He sat down beside her, feeling as if it was what he was supposed to do.
"How are you alive Miko? Mortals do not live more than a century at most, yet you have outlived the Hanyou."
"I defied the spindle." She turned to him then, smiling faintly. And when she spoke again, he felt the power ripple down his spine. He became acutely aware of the otherness in her voice. "This is what happens when you play with fate."
Note: Yah, I'm alive, believe it or not. I'll start posting more, at I Agree's insistence.
