Leviathan's Daughter
By GoldenEagle
Author's Note: I'm new at Escaflowne Fanfiction, in fact, this is my first. Plus, I haven't seen all the episodes, just the first few, but I've read about the following episodes. Please ignore any discrepancies on my part. This story (after the Prologue) takes place right when Folken leaves to slay the dragon, actually probably about a couple of years before. I don't know how much older he is than Van, but I would guess seven to ten years? Oh well, here goes nothing.
Prologue
Carrie O'Brian heard the quiet moaning and whimpering of the small child in the room next to hers. She sat up quietly, still half asleep. The man in his mid-thirties stirred next to her. "What's wrong, Care?" He grumbled out, his words slurring together in the midst of wakefulness.
"Nothing, honey. Persephone's just having a bad dream. Go back to sleep." She said calmly. Jonathan willingly obliged, his head hitting the pillow. Carrie slid off the bed quietly, her feet padding softly on the carpeted floor as her short, raven black hair tickled the corners of her face. Carrie opened the door out to the hall and immediately stiffened. That smell... It was-
A loud, shrill sound broke through the darkness, the smoke alarm screaming its warning. A scream of indescribable pain emitted from Persephone's room and terror lept into her mother's heart. She ran down to the door of her child's room, which was only a few yards away. A faint, flickering light pushed through the crack of the closed door. "No! Oh, God, no!" Carrie gripped the door handle without thought and instinctively pulled back her hands and cried out in pain and fear as the metal of the doorknob she had just grabbed clinged do her skin, its melted matter fusing with her hand.
"Jonathan!" She screamed, but he was already behind her, his eyes wide with panic, his veins almost bursting with adrenaline. Also without thinking, Jonathan picked his leg up and kicked down the door to his daughter's room.
The couple was immediately engulfed with an unquenchable fire. By the time the fire department got there, nothing was left of the two, or of the door. The child's metal cage bed was only a pool of metal, the paint on the walls had melted, and the small container of white sand Persephone's parents had brought back to her from their second honey moon was nothing more than a mound of glass.
The large flame had died out quickly in this house, all its supply of energy wasted up in only a few minutes before passing on to another house. Sirens wailed as a fire truck pulled up, its passengers' mouths falling open at the devastation of the house. Grim orders were shouted out and two men went in to look for the unlikely survivors. The floor still smoked as they set foot in, and the men split up silently to scout the place out. A few seconds later, one man gave out a shout of hope and astonishment. The other man ran to him, praying that nothing had gone wrong.
"We have a survivor, Jim!" The first man yells through his mask as his partner approaches him. Jim scowled as he took in the two ash piles which had an unnerving resemblance to the outlines of a couple which died quickly.
"I'm not up for jokes, Carlton." Jim hissed out. "I don't see how you could even smile in a place like-"
Jim stopped mid sentence as he saw the child in Carlton's arms. Carlton held the young girl with her back up, and Jim was about to ask why when he saw the deep, bloodied burns on the girl's back. "Oh, God." He muttered, his eyes wide with horror.
"We have to get her to a hospital." Carlton barked out before running out into the darkness of early morning.
Shouts of astonishment emitted from a small crowd as they saw the living girl, lightly breathing, and then the backdrop of the demolished house. One older Hispanic woman in the crowd crossed herself before she spoke to no one and everyone. "It was a miracle of God. Only a demon or an angel could have survived that fire."
Another form in the darkness merely sneered at the comment before replacing that look of discomfort with a sly smirk. The form was only known as Queto, the general label used for his kind. It meant, "Earth Jumper". Queto's grin grew larger. The new boy would be please. And when Dilandau became great, as Queto knew the young boy would, there would be an unspeakably large reward for the girl. Yes, a great reward for the fire girl.
********
Persephone's head was lowered, but her shoulders were stiff as she tried to keep from stretching the healing and scarring burns on her back. There were other minimal burns across the surface of her skin, but they didn't bother her as much. Persephone listened to the fakely nice woman speak to the reluctant woman.
"I don't know. This may sound a bit illogical, since she is only five years old and all, but... I don't want the other foster children being hurt. Plus, I know the children will tease her about the scar on her face." The woman who was to be her not so potential foster parent blubbered out. Persephone subconsciously brought a dry finger to the large burn across her face. They said she was lucky it hadn't burnt through her eyelid. Lucky that she could still see with the scar which flashed over her left eye. Persephone could only slightly remember what caused the burn, but told no one. Afterall, who would believe that a feather of liquid flame had lighted on her? Sure, it would explain the feather shape of the pale skin, but it was too unlikely. The thoughts were overly intelligent for the five year old, but you must consider what makes a person mature. Pain. And the girl had experienced more pain over the last few months than most people ten times her age. Just then, the lady who had been trying to get Persephone into any foster home in the area came into the room and sank into her chair, sighing. Persephone knew the tone and body language she emitted. She had failed again. No one wanted the "cursed" child.
The woman glanced at the girl as if she were merely a statue, not a creature of blood, then stood up without a word. The lady's heals tapped on the wood floors as she headed towards a phone. Persephone could hear her from where she sat. "No... No... I can't find a placed for the God damn kid! I don't care what wishes of the diseased parents, she's just going to have to be sent to an orphanage... Everyone's too damn scared of her! No one wants her!"
A tear slithered out of Persephone's left eye, making the feather shaped scar tingle and slightly sting. She let her long and slightly burnt hair hide her face from the outside world as those green-blue eyes still let out tears. ...too damn scared... No one wants her...
"You want some cookies, honey?" The woman asked in a grotesquely overly sweet voice.
Rage flashed through the child and she glared up at the woman through her hair. The woman stumbled back, surprised. The girl's anger faded into grief, but she hid her tears. The woman sighed out in astonishment and relief as the girl's eyes shifted from the flickering, flaming color to the usual blue-green. She bit her lip, thinking of the fire in the girl's eyes. Persephone looked up and saw the wide and panic swept look in the woman's eyes.
No one would ever love her. They were all too damn scared of her.
By GoldenEagle
Author's Note: I'm new at Escaflowne Fanfiction, in fact, this is my first. Plus, I haven't seen all the episodes, just the first few, but I've read about the following episodes. Please ignore any discrepancies on my part. This story (after the Prologue) takes place right when Folken leaves to slay the dragon, actually probably about a couple of years before. I don't know how much older he is than Van, but I would guess seven to ten years? Oh well, here goes nothing.
Prologue
Carrie O'Brian heard the quiet moaning and whimpering of the small child in the room next to hers. She sat up quietly, still half asleep. The man in his mid-thirties stirred next to her. "What's wrong, Care?" He grumbled out, his words slurring together in the midst of wakefulness.
"Nothing, honey. Persephone's just having a bad dream. Go back to sleep." She said calmly. Jonathan willingly obliged, his head hitting the pillow. Carrie slid off the bed quietly, her feet padding softly on the carpeted floor as her short, raven black hair tickled the corners of her face. Carrie opened the door out to the hall and immediately stiffened. That smell... It was-
A loud, shrill sound broke through the darkness, the smoke alarm screaming its warning. A scream of indescribable pain emitted from Persephone's room and terror lept into her mother's heart. She ran down to the door of her child's room, which was only a few yards away. A faint, flickering light pushed through the crack of the closed door. "No! Oh, God, no!" Carrie gripped the door handle without thought and instinctively pulled back her hands and cried out in pain and fear as the metal of the doorknob she had just grabbed clinged do her skin, its melted matter fusing with her hand.
"Jonathan!" She screamed, but he was already behind her, his eyes wide with panic, his veins almost bursting with adrenaline. Also without thinking, Jonathan picked his leg up and kicked down the door to his daughter's room.
The couple was immediately engulfed with an unquenchable fire. By the time the fire department got there, nothing was left of the two, or of the door. The child's metal cage bed was only a pool of metal, the paint on the walls had melted, and the small container of white sand Persephone's parents had brought back to her from their second honey moon was nothing more than a mound of glass.
The large flame had died out quickly in this house, all its supply of energy wasted up in only a few minutes before passing on to another house. Sirens wailed as a fire truck pulled up, its passengers' mouths falling open at the devastation of the house. Grim orders were shouted out and two men went in to look for the unlikely survivors. The floor still smoked as they set foot in, and the men split up silently to scout the place out. A few seconds later, one man gave out a shout of hope and astonishment. The other man ran to him, praying that nothing had gone wrong.
"We have a survivor, Jim!" The first man yells through his mask as his partner approaches him. Jim scowled as he took in the two ash piles which had an unnerving resemblance to the outlines of a couple which died quickly.
"I'm not up for jokes, Carlton." Jim hissed out. "I don't see how you could even smile in a place like-"
Jim stopped mid sentence as he saw the child in Carlton's arms. Carlton held the young girl with her back up, and Jim was about to ask why when he saw the deep, bloodied burns on the girl's back. "Oh, God." He muttered, his eyes wide with horror.
"We have to get her to a hospital." Carlton barked out before running out into the darkness of early morning.
Shouts of astonishment emitted from a small crowd as they saw the living girl, lightly breathing, and then the backdrop of the demolished house. One older Hispanic woman in the crowd crossed herself before she spoke to no one and everyone. "It was a miracle of God. Only a demon or an angel could have survived that fire."
Another form in the darkness merely sneered at the comment before replacing that look of discomfort with a sly smirk. The form was only known as Queto, the general label used for his kind. It meant, "Earth Jumper". Queto's grin grew larger. The new boy would be please. And when Dilandau became great, as Queto knew the young boy would, there would be an unspeakably large reward for the girl. Yes, a great reward for the fire girl.
********
Persephone's head was lowered, but her shoulders were stiff as she tried to keep from stretching the healing and scarring burns on her back. There were other minimal burns across the surface of her skin, but they didn't bother her as much. Persephone listened to the fakely nice woman speak to the reluctant woman.
"I don't know. This may sound a bit illogical, since she is only five years old and all, but... I don't want the other foster children being hurt. Plus, I know the children will tease her about the scar on her face." The woman who was to be her not so potential foster parent blubbered out. Persephone subconsciously brought a dry finger to the large burn across her face. They said she was lucky it hadn't burnt through her eyelid. Lucky that she could still see with the scar which flashed over her left eye. Persephone could only slightly remember what caused the burn, but told no one. Afterall, who would believe that a feather of liquid flame had lighted on her? Sure, it would explain the feather shape of the pale skin, but it was too unlikely. The thoughts were overly intelligent for the five year old, but you must consider what makes a person mature. Pain. And the girl had experienced more pain over the last few months than most people ten times her age. Just then, the lady who had been trying to get Persephone into any foster home in the area came into the room and sank into her chair, sighing. Persephone knew the tone and body language she emitted. She had failed again. No one wanted the "cursed" child.
The woman glanced at the girl as if she were merely a statue, not a creature of blood, then stood up without a word. The lady's heals tapped on the wood floors as she headed towards a phone. Persephone could hear her from where she sat. "No... No... I can't find a placed for the God damn kid! I don't care what wishes of the diseased parents, she's just going to have to be sent to an orphanage... Everyone's too damn scared of her! No one wants her!"
A tear slithered out of Persephone's left eye, making the feather shaped scar tingle and slightly sting. She let her long and slightly burnt hair hide her face from the outside world as those green-blue eyes still let out tears. ...too damn scared... No one wants her...
"You want some cookies, honey?" The woman asked in a grotesquely overly sweet voice.
Rage flashed through the child and she glared up at the woman through her hair. The woman stumbled back, surprised. The girl's anger faded into grief, but she hid her tears. The woman sighed out in astonishment and relief as the girl's eyes shifted from the flickering, flaming color to the usual blue-green. She bit her lip, thinking of the fire in the girl's eyes. Persephone looked up and saw the wide and panic swept look in the woman's eyes.
No one would ever love her. They were all too damn scared of her.