Still Moon
a c a n t h a - c h a n
Authoress' Note & Disclaimer: The phrases at the beginning of each of these miniature segments, each set in a different angel's viewpoint (including Oruha, the original featured in two of my other Princess Ai ficlets - it's up to you to guess which ones are which), are taken from a book called Sacred Waters by Maril Crabtree. For other works she collaborated on, try the prequels to Sacred Waters - Sacred Stones and Sacred Feathers. Aforementioned phrases are from the segment/chapter in the book contributed by Sharon Upp.
This ficlet was written, again, in honor of ViscountessKiera, who so graciously read, reviewed and admired both Legerdemain and Thus Always to Tyrants, two of my other Princess Ai stories. I don't own Princess Ai. If I did, the main character of Legerdemain would have been mentioned more often in the manga.
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"Speak to me, Canyon, of what you know, her mind sang out. You sit here patiently as pieces of you fall away in the wind. Do you miss the particles that crumble or are they dust to you now...Shards long ago forgotten and carried into distances you cannot know? Will you disappear yourself one day, and does it matter to you? In the meantime, take a deep breath with me and let it all go."
(What she doesn't know, she yearns for, as proper befits a princess. Royal blood, angel's blood, courses through her veins, made of a deeper force than what the two halves she connects represent separately. She is a daughter of death, life, tears, laughter, with blood the color of angel's tears and tears the color of angel's blood. A true gemstone, ne'er to be found anywhere except in an illusion. A mirage, perhaps, or locked inside a heart-shaped box, long ago left to die but still living and wishing and believing in something that is impossible.)
Thump, thump.
Still wanting.
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"Empty yourself ricocheted in a thousand harmonic slivers from the jagged edges of the steep ravine. The burning light, shreds of music, copper edges - all exploded in a glorious patchwork symphony before her eyes."
(He no longer revels in sight of her majesty, the extravagant clothing, the beauty of those mystic jade eyes. He has someone else now, someone whose eyes may be the same color, but speak on different levels of understanding. No, she has not left her special chamber in his heart, but nor has the other angel, the true angel with wings of darkest midnight and a lithe willow figure. They dance, trying his patience (and his faith) even as they tie his heart into knots the Devil would have found astonishing. The versatility of the tapestry before him, made from his own heartstrings, is ethereal. The pain is, too, and he's still in pain to this very day.)
Thump, thump.
Still hurting.
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"Letting herself release, a deep cavern of frightening images began to well up inside her, buried since the beginning of time. Courageously, she allowed them to come. Knowing that the canyon had room for them, and knowing that the canyon would not judge her as she had judged herself, she struggled and pushed and breathed into her emptying."
(She envies the way the princess entices him; but at the same time is unaware of how she affects the angel in much the same manner. She views herself as imperfect, but to him she is sacred and holy and all that he has ever dreamed of wanting. Clipped wings, she calls them, the nasty appendages that mark her as dougen and therefore as exile. She views herself differently, harshly, and all the while he just wants to tell her that the feathery plumage is as beautiful as she is. The only problem is that she won't allow him to give his heart to her so freely; and all the while, it's the only thing she wants.)
Thump, thump.
Still judging.
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"Glancing again into the depths, she released more of her judgments and painful memories. Imagining thousands of pieces of torn paper floating in a spiral to be carried away by the river, she watched her storehouse dissolve. An immense wave of exhaustion engulfed her and she shut her eyes."
(He wishes for freedom, which lies just out of his insistent hold, but so easily attained by countless others. He marvels at the ease with which his...Dear cousin captivated the hearts and minds of others with inspirational words that reflect not any of his actions. He doesn't enjoy thinking he's a puppet, but in truth the only puppet master to be found is his own corrupt heart. Funny, that. An angel with a corrupt heart leading a rebellion that will only follow an angel with a pure one, an angel standing in another's shadow. But he's still alive and right now, in the midst of warfare, that's all that matters.)
Thump, thump.
Still standing.
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"...No one knows how long she remained there. They know only this: she awoke to a warm, buoyant ocean, which nestled her, surrounded and protected her, nourished, sang to, and loved her. Floating, suspended, she awoke drenched in a precious liquid light that had lain unrecalled, until one day in desperation she spoke to the canyon and it replied, "Empty yourself," and she allowed herself to cry."
Thump, thump.
Still beating.
Still alive.