[Disclaimer: My, these get bothersome. Can't we all just put up a general page saying something to the effect of "we own nothing"? Memory is a song from Cats. I own neither of these titles. Nor do I own Yugioh. Or Pegasus. Haha.]
It is something novel, walking down these silent streets, devoid of the life that normally floods the sidewalks and shops of Domino City. It is something he should do more often; the emptiness and weariness is like a salve to his cluttered mind, a shelter in the midst of a storm. Here, amidst the dark shells of buildings, all life asleep and withdrawn inside, here amidst the odd careless newspaper and candy-wrapper, where the moon from afar sings a soft lullaby that mingles in harmony with the dirge of the shadows and only the stealthy silhouettes of felines, hardly able to be tallied as a member of those of the living, were the only company; here he can allow himself to be vulnerable, here he can let his guard down and mourn that which is no more.
He shivers in the chill air as a breeze tousls his silver hair and dances along the silence. Of course he can let no weakness show in the daylight, before the others, but here, Pegasus can remember…
Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her mem'ry?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan
No, he cannot remember all. He can remember the year, month, day, the time, how the shadows fell in the room, how his heart had been torn from him, the ever-present pain... but that is all. No deeper can he let himself remember, no deeper could he probe his emotions. When he thinks of her, he can see her face, hear her voice, feel her touch, but he cannot bring himself, allow himself, to feel the echoes of her love, of his love; the purity, the simplicity, the beauty, the devotion...
Only vaguely is he aware of the wall he had built around his emotional memory, of the keyless locks and chains that have blocked this ravaged section of himself, but it is better that way. This allows him to keep his calm always, this allows him to think, to live on. All that he needs are the memories he has of the depths of compassion in her eyes, the sunlight on her hair, the soothing melody of her voice, and the times they spent together singing, laughing, walking, painting, dreaming. A brief escape from this nightmare in which he was barely living, this hellish period of placing one weary step before another, blocking out all else but the memories which he paints in the pale colors of hope and longing in his mind, waiting until fate gives him the breath that will revive them...
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the mem'ry live again
He is getting closer, he can feel the accursed power, the power from the Eye (a gift or a curse?), the ancient Item given him by Shadi (an angel or a demon?), growing within him. Soon it will be enough, and he could breathe life into his memories.
On nights like these, under the pure light of the moon, however...
Sometimes he wonders... If he is still the same man he used to be. If perhaps he has, in his desperate struggle to reach the light, become transformed by the darkness...
These thoughts are fleeting; quickly he turns his attention to another path. It is a skill he has become deft at, or he would not have survived so long with what sanity he still has.
Sanity. The thought often causes him to chuckle. How overrated. Sanity, sanity, sanity... Perhaps he indeed has less sanity than the average person, but he knows his abilities, he knows his successes (and what successes they are, I am indeed a man of caliber!), and he sees that he can think clearly.
Tonight, however, he is in the grasp of depression, and it allows him no wry laughter, no escape with humor, and he must find a deeper truth.
He can think clearly about anything but her.
Does that mean I am mad?
Perhaps I simply act as the mad do, in order to keep my sanity for her return.
Perhaps it is not a patient as I.
The air is cold, and it's getting colder. He shiveres, but from a lack of more than heat.
Every streetlamp seems to beat
A fatalistic warning
Someone mutters and a streetlamp sputters
And soon it will be morning
He emerges into one of the larger streets; Kaibacorp looms in the distance, silhouetted in the moon, a final barrier to be overcome. He is so close to his goal. Failure is not an option; he must get the company or all is lost. But how can he convince a man such as Seto Kaiba, a man who is so much like himself, so stubborn and strong and working devotedly for a desperate goal. Unlike himself, however, Kaiba had already reached his goal, obtained his prize. He had begun as nothing and became great, became powerful, and Pegasus knows in his anguished heart that the young CEO will never relinquish that power to a rival. Never.
Overwhelmed, entrapped, spinning, drowning in a sudden, choking wash of hopeless grief, the silver-haired gentleman falls to his knees on the unforgiving concrete, gasping, heart racing, and buries his face in his hands, wishing he could scream, wishing he could release this pain in hot tears. It has been so long since he has felt tears on his face...
He must find a way to convice Kaiba. At all cost, with any means he will do it, he must do it. He cannot live like this much longer, he knows, but if he can just convince his icy rival it will all be over soon... To the concrete under his knees he vehemently whispers: I can do anything, I am brilliant. I will see her again. Again and again he whispers the phrase until he himself believes it, until his breathing calms and his pulse steadies. His lips are dry with the cold but it matters little because now he has just enough courage, willpower, to live one more day, and one more day after that, until he reaches the day were he can forget this nightmare...
Daylight!
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I musn't give in
When the dawn comes tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin
There is no reason to rise. Everyone is asleep; nobody will see him here, and it is nice to kneel here and stare at the night sky, twinkling with stars, an infinite realm of possibility...
Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale, cold smell of morning
The street lamp dies another night is over
Another days is dawning
Footsteps.
With the recession of panic, depression has set in once again. He forces himself to look up against the overwhelming feeling of pointlessness.
The pale, teary face of a little child stares, frightened, out of the shadows, and gives a pitiful wimper. The boy is obviously lost.
Pegasus simply stares, something in the back of his mind suggesting that he may look just as pitiful at the moment, but he is overcome with a kind of emphatic compassion on this fey night of grief.
Slowly, he holds out his hand, scratched from the concrete, towards the sniffling child, less an offer of comfort from a secure adult to a lost boy and more an offer of mutual comfort from one lost soul to another. Perhaps remembering all he had once been, he suddenly needs the boy's presence, needed the boy's innocent and pure soul, needs someone to trust him and love him, needs to see kindness, kindness coming from himself once more and his hand trembles as he reaches out and silently begs the child to trust him. Please, please, he wordlessly pleads, please come to me, do not leave me here... I have nobody, and I can no longer bear to be alone... here... now...
Touch me!
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with the mem'ry
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me you'll understand what happiness is...
Fear of the dark overcame fear of the man kneeling and offering his hand, so the child took it, sobbing. Pegsus pulled him in close, embraced the boy, comforting him, savoring the moment, faint echoes of a remembered, blissfully wonderful feeling ringing in his spirit, a feeling that he had for so long been without...
Again, footsteps; a mother's worried voice.
He stood, the familiar mask back on, prepared once again to interact with those around him. The child's sobbing has eased.
No more that night would he contemplate any of these things, no more would he let himself lose control. After all, he was close, so close to the end of the tightrope wire; if he fell, he knew he would not have the spirit to get back on.
He will bring his proposition to his kindred soul, Seto Kaiba, and if that failed, well, he could think of another plan. This cursed Eye would help, of course; Shadi had said that he was the one destined to use it, after all.
...Look, a new day has begun!
So for now, he continues on, working towards a goal whose portrait hangs in his Sanctuary, deep inside praying that he will see her soon...
...So as not to be lonely...
...Forever...
It is something novel, walking down these silent streets, devoid of the life that normally floods the sidewalks and shops of Domino City. It is something he should do more often; the emptiness and weariness is like a salve to his cluttered mind, a shelter in the midst of a storm. Here, amidst the dark shells of buildings, all life asleep and withdrawn inside, here amidst the odd careless newspaper and candy-wrapper, where the moon from afar sings a soft lullaby that mingles in harmony with the dirge of the shadows and only the stealthy silhouettes of felines, hardly able to be tallied as a member of those of the living, were the only company; here he can allow himself to be vulnerable, here he can let his guard down and mourn that which is no more.
He shivers in the chill air as a breeze tousls his silver hair and dances along the silence. Of course he can let no weakness show in the daylight, before the others, but here, Pegasus can remember…
Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her mem'ry?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan
No, he cannot remember all. He can remember the year, month, day, the time, how the shadows fell in the room, how his heart had been torn from him, the ever-present pain... but that is all. No deeper can he let himself remember, no deeper could he probe his emotions. When he thinks of her, he can see her face, hear her voice, feel her touch, but he cannot bring himself, allow himself, to feel the echoes of her love, of his love; the purity, the simplicity, the beauty, the devotion...
Only vaguely is he aware of the wall he had built around his emotional memory, of the keyless locks and chains that have blocked this ravaged section of himself, but it is better that way. This allows him to keep his calm always, this allows him to think, to live on. All that he needs are the memories he has of the depths of compassion in her eyes, the sunlight on her hair, the soothing melody of her voice, and the times they spent together singing, laughing, walking, painting, dreaming. A brief escape from this nightmare in which he was barely living, this hellish period of placing one weary step before another, blocking out all else but the memories which he paints in the pale colors of hope and longing in his mind, waiting until fate gives him the breath that will revive them...
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the mem'ry live again
He is getting closer, he can feel the accursed power, the power from the Eye (a gift or a curse?), the ancient Item given him by Shadi (an angel or a demon?), growing within him. Soon it will be enough, and he could breathe life into his memories.
On nights like these, under the pure light of the moon, however...
Sometimes he wonders... If he is still the same man he used to be. If perhaps he has, in his desperate struggle to reach the light, become transformed by the darkness...
These thoughts are fleeting; quickly he turns his attention to another path. It is a skill he has become deft at, or he would not have survived so long with what sanity he still has.
Sanity. The thought often causes him to chuckle. How overrated. Sanity, sanity, sanity... Perhaps he indeed has less sanity than the average person, but he knows his abilities, he knows his successes (and what successes they are, I am indeed a man of caliber!), and he sees that he can think clearly.
Tonight, however, he is in the grasp of depression, and it allows him no wry laughter, no escape with humor, and he must find a deeper truth.
He can think clearly about anything but her.
Does that mean I am mad?
Perhaps I simply act as the mad do, in order to keep my sanity for her return.
Perhaps it is not a patient as I.
The air is cold, and it's getting colder. He shiveres, but from a lack of more than heat.
Every streetlamp seems to beat
A fatalistic warning
Someone mutters and a streetlamp sputters
And soon it will be morning
He emerges into one of the larger streets; Kaibacorp looms in the distance, silhouetted in the moon, a final barrier to be overcome. He is so close to his goal. Failure is not an option; he must get the company or all is lost. But how can he convince a man such as Seto Kaiba, a man who is so much like himself, so stubborn and strong and working devotedly for a desperate goal. Unlike himself, however, Kaiba had already reached his goal, obtained his prize. He had begun as nothing and became great, became powerful, and Pegasus knows in his anguished heart that the young CEO will never relinquish that power to a rival. Never.
Overwhelmed, entrapped, spinning, drowning in a sudden, choking wash of hopeless grief, the silver-haired gentleman falls to his knees on the unforgiving concrete, gasping, heart racing, and buries his face in his hands, wishing he could scream, wishing he could release this pain in hot tears. It has been so long since he has felt tears on his face...
He must find a way to convice Kaiba. At all cost, with any means he will do it, he must do it. He cannot live like this much longer, he knows, but if he can just convince his icy rival it will all be over soon... To the concrete under his knees he vehemently whispers: I can do anything, I am brilliant. I will see her again. Again and again he whispers the phrase until he himself believes it, until his breathing calms and his pulse steadies. His lips are dry with the cold but it matters little because now he has just enough courage, willpower, to live one more day, and one more day after that, until he reaches the day were he can forget this nightmare...
Daylight!
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I musn't give in
When the dawn comes tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin
There is no reason to rise. Everyone is asleep; nobody will see him here, and it is nice to kneel here and stare at the night sky, twinkling with stars, an infinite realm of possibility...
Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale, cold smell of morning
The street lamp dies another night is over
Another days is dawning
Footsteps.
With the recession of panic, depression has set in once again. He forces himself to look up against the overwhelming feeling of pointlessness.
The pale, teary face of a little child stares, frightened, out of the shadows, and gives a pitiful wimper. The boy is obviously lost.
Pegasus simply stares, something in the back of his mind suggesting that he may look just as pitiful at the moment, but he is overcome with a kind of emphatic compassion on this fey night of grief.
Slowly, he holds out his hand, scratched from the concrete, towards the sniffling child, less an offer of comfort from a secure adult to a lost boy and more an offer of mutual comfort from one lost soul to another. Perhaps remembering all he had once been, he suddenly needs the boy's presence, needed the boy's innocent and pure soul, needs someone to trust him and love him, needs to see kindness, kindness coming from himself once more and his hand trembles as he reaches out and silently begs the child to trust him. Please, please, he wordlessly pleads, please come to me, do not leave me here... I have nobody, and I can no longer bear to be alone... here... now...
Touch me!
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with the mem'ry
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me you'll understand what happiness is...
Fear of the dark overcame fear of the man kneeling and offering his hand, so the child took it, sobbing. Pegsus pulled him in close, embraced the boy, comforting him, savoring the moment, faint echoes of a remembered, blissfully wonderful feeling ringing in his spirit, a feeling that he had for so long been without...
Again, footsteps; a mother's worried voice.
He stood, the familiar mask back on, prepared once again to interact with those around him. The child's sobbing has eased.
No more that night would he contemplate any of these things, no more would he let himself lose control. After all, he was close, so close to the end of the tightrope wire; if he fell, he knew he would not have the spirit to get back on.
He will bring his proposition to his kindred soul, Seto Kaiba, and if that failed, well, he could think of another plan. This cursed Eye would help, of course; Shadi had said that he was the one destined to use it, after all.
...Look, a new day has begun!
So for now, he continues on, working towards a goal whose portrait hangs in his Sanctuary, deep inside praying that he will see her soon...
...So as not to be lonely...
...Forever...