Written: 11 April 2005, 11:08 PM
Posted: 14 April 2005, 9:33 PM
Word Count: 488

Disclaimer: Sorry, still a no-go there.

Discours aux morts

…de deux noms don't j'espère que la résonance ne vous atteint jamais, la chaleur et le ciel.
-Hector, La guerre de Troie n'aura pas lieu de Giraudoux

Kikyou pauses at the top of the hill and watches the little village bathed in the last vestiges of sunlight. Dusk approaches steadily, the warm fingers of the sun curling slowly back into themselves. Already, wisps of smoke issue from within the cluster of small huts surrounded by fields of rice.

: Whomever you may be, you who are not here, you who no longer exist, you who are forgotten… :

One hut in particular catches her eye, nestled snugly against the upward curve of the earth next to the towering gate of the village shrine. She knows who is inside at this very moment, gathered around the fire sharing food, drink, and talk. Sharing their companionship—their togetherness—and resting content in it. She had done so too, long ago, and reveled in that sensation. Now, she tries to recreate it occasionally, to recapture that feeling. Fire is colder than she remembers, colder than the flames that were to carry her to eternal sleep.

: ...you who are without work, without rest, without being… :

Her only constant companions now are other departed souls whom she allows to support her, to give her strength, to cling just a moment longer to the world of the living. She releases them and feels more alone; she finds them and holds on to her sham life.

: …I understand that it is necessary in closing these doors to excuse those close to you who have deserted, who are the survivors… :

The two who had once been her companions, her dearest ones, are inside now around the same fire, and where she once sat are others who have taken her place in the circle. Their lives are cracked and scarred just as hers is now, but their imperfections are filled with something precious—gold, perhaps. They are mended. When she looks inside herself, she sees only ashes and cinder.

: …and to experience like a privilege and a theft these two possessions, two entities whose meanings I hope no longer touch you, warmth and sky. :

She turns away just before the sun dips under the horizon and steals the light from the village, from the hut that has the ability to illuminate itself from the inside out. It is the only way to forget this moment; if this scene remains as it is while it still reaches her eyes, then it will be as she is. Unchangeable. Frozen. Easily forgotten.

: May you never know the bitterness of desiring the life that is no longer yours to have. May you be at peace. :

Someone no more real than she is informed her brashly that the wish of the dead is always to live again. She wonders why for a moment, but knows it does not matter.

A/N: The lines in italics are either taken directly from or translated from a French play entitled La guerre de Troie n'aura pas lieu (which means The Trojan War Will Not Take Place) by Giraudoux. No, that last line enclosed by colon marks is not intended to be italicized, in case anyone is wondering. :D That was not actually a line in the play, but more like the meaning of what was said by the character. As soon as I read those lines, I immediately thought of Kikyou, and hence was born this drabble. As always comments and criticism is appreciated. Take care of yourselves!