I'm still alive, believe it or not. I haven't been on the website in a while. Inspiration hit for this a while back, and this is the longest chapter I've yet to post on here. For those of you that know Chained Dove's Gravitation fan fiction, well… I really admire it, and I hope that maybe this will be as enjoyable for you all to read as it was for me to read Shooting Stars. I'm trying to utilize thesaurus more in my roleplays and stories. Maybe it will show. Please, feel free to comment, critique and criticize. Not flame, but something to help better me as a writer. I would appreciate it greatly.
I own none of these characters, except maybe those I may invent for this story in the future. But, I think I'm going to stick with canon characters for this. And, I don't like the spelling of Mytho's name, so I went with the spelling I originally though it was spelled with, and that sounds more phonetically correct.
And I'll fix the bold problem. I don't know why all my text is automatically bolded when I put up a story.
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I look outside the dormitory windows to see it's snowing outside. There's already quite a pile up. Maybe classes will be cancelled today. I'm sure there's at least three feet. The snow drift is pretty quiet, and there's nobody outside. Why not? The snow is so beautiful. My dorm mate was kind enough to leave Ave Maria playing on the gramophone. He's very nice to me, or at least compared to how he treats others, like Miss Duck and Miss Rue. I wonder why… it seems like he doesn't like or trust people at all. Perhaps he was hurt by someone he cared for? I don't really know. I probably never will. Beethoven comes to a sketchy stop, and the only sound I hear for a few long minutes is the wind, which finds its way into these old dormitory buildings through the ever-increasing cracks in the walls. Are the girls' dormitories the same way? I'll ask Miss Duck or Miss Rue when I next see them. It comes to my mind that records have music on both sides, so I stand from my place by the window. A blanket falls from my shoulders. Had my roommate Fakir placed it upon me? I can't remember. He might have, though. I imagine it going thusly:
I'm sitting at the window while Fakir is showering down the hall. I was probably watching the snow then as well. When Fakir walks in, he's just pulling on his undershirt (my mind pauses a moment to think about how attractive Fakir's body is) and he sees me only in the pajamas I wore the night before. He presumably says something such as "Damn it, you're weak enough as it is. Get away from the window, idiot." But since I'm so empty-headed, I don't normally understand why he's swearing at me. Eventually Fakir angrily leaves, grumbling about how he has to do this, that and the other, but he doesn't leave me alone without this blanket around me.
That's how I imagine it, anyways. My legs carry my weight to the record player, where I lifted the needle, flip the record, put the needle back down and wind it up. I've come to the conclusion that this entire record must be Beethoven, because now the Moonlight Sonata is playing. Here at my school, we are all well rehearsed in classical music and dance. Each room has a long barre in it, and ours is no exception. I walk towards it, taking a hold of the wood and going through the exercises which we are to go through every single day. It strengthens and tones our ankles, legs and a little of our stomachs as well. My own stomach is perfectly flat. Naturally, we have to work on our other muscles as well, so we don't drop a ballerina mid fish dive during a performance. I can't see such a situation reflecting well upon the school. The faculty here is very proud of its reputation.
After all, we are supposed to be the greatest dancers this entire country has to offer. Our country is a relatively peaceful one; the scars of war mar neither our land nor our people, save for those who came from the outside. Here is a sanctuary for the artists, the poets, dancers and
creators of the world. The beauty which surrounds our land is seemingly infinite. With our slow shift between seasons, each has time to see and know what each may provide: many beautiful flowers in our cool, sprightly spring; trees that whisper and blanket the skies with myrtle green in the summer; in the autumn, that shade becomes so many different kinds of reds, oranges and sometimes yellow, and it covers the cobblestone pathways of our town; and now, winter, where all the Earth rests beneath the most beautiful glittering frozen quilt.
I'm fond of winter, myself. I enjoy the quietude, and because most aren't at school, away on vacation and seeing their families, I have plenty of time alone. I have the dance rooms to myself, along with the automated piano player, and the gramophone that I've come to love. To think, humankind has become so erudite that it's possible to put music on a round disc of plastic. It's truly remarkable.
Between my time spent alone with my thoughts, the sounds of Beethoven and my solemn, graceful movements, I failed to realize that Fakir had reentered the room. Quietly he joined me at the barre, after a soft mumble of 'idiot' once again. Finally, I heard my voice speak up. It was quiet, but it was there. "Please don't be angry, Fakir." My ears picked up the realization that he had switched the record; Chopin now played another composer whom we both admired. Fakir and I went through our daily exercises together, and again we went through the topic of Miss Rue. He didn't like that she and I were dating. While he often brought Miss Rue up as a person he wouldn't like me to be with, saying things like she was the employee of a brothel, or that she was only interested in me because she could flaunt me to the other girls, I wasn't so sure…
Then again, I wasn't exactly aware of why I had agreed to take her out, either. Quite simply, she had made the first move. She had insisted that I should be with her, and quite adamantly so. So, I'd told Miss Rue yes. It wasn't that Miss Rue was the first girl to ever ask me out; I had found that many girls at the academy (and I think, a few boys as well) quite often gave me those amorous looks that said they fancied me. When my lady caller saw 'the eyes' as she called them, she would most often take my arm or hand, or place a kiss upon my cheek before giving them notice that she and I were together. If Fakir were about, he would take me from her before
they began to verbally clash. Neither would lose their outward visage, but they could become quite nasty with each other. Their language was quite colorful.
"Heeey!" The voice was quite familiar. The voice of a young girl, I think. Both Fakir and I had our calisthenics interrupted. Tiny pebbles that had broken from the pavement of the road were being tossed at our window. "Senior Muto! Senior Muto!" I recall the voice now. It was Miss Duck. My
body left its position, my hand left the barre, and I left Fakir. She stood below, wearing a puffed pink overcoat. Her brightly colored auburn hair was in its proper braid, hanging out over the coat. Khaki pants covered her legs. She was probably cold…
I turned to walk downstairs and invite her in, but Fakir took my arm. "No,Muto."
"But Fakir," I protested "Miss Duck is probably cold outside."
"Then let her be cold. Let her freeze. She needs to understand that she shouldn't be coming anywhere near you." Fakir didn't care much for Miss Duck, either. I couldn't understand why. Neither Miss Duck nor Miss Rue appeared to have any sort of ulterior motives. They didn't want to harm me. At least, I couldn't imagine they did… I had never asked. Maybe it would be best if I did… Fakir often told me that I shouldn't be so trusting of others.
But Miss Duck continued to call for me. Fakir became irritated and let go of my arm. He went towards the window and opened it, letting cold air into the dormitory. It felt nice though; exercising for so long made my body warm. The air filled my lungs and it was easier to breath then.
He spoke in an angry tone to her. He told her to stay away from me. Then, I did something that I likely would regret later on. As Fakir scolded Miss Duck, I left our dorm room. I went down the hallway, quietly crept down the stairs and went outside.
As soon as Fakir came to notice that I was outside in the snow talking to her, and that Miss Duck was no longer fighting with him over me, he got mad.
"Muto, get back up here! You'll catch a cold, idiot!" After all, I was wearing just a plain white tee and loose pants. I wasn't properly dressed for the outside weather. He cursed, upset that I might come down with another illness. I came up bedridden quite often, where Fakir would tend
to me.
I looked up at his angered form up in the window, and I quietly refused. Naturally, it only served to anger him more than he already was. He threatened to not let me back in if I stayed out any longer. I told Fakir that I was going to talk with Miss Duck. My ill-tempered roommate swore once at me and then he closed the window, locked it and closed the curtains.
"Fakir is such a jerk!" Miss Duck exclaimed. "Kicking you out like that. Why do you still bunk up with him?"
I looked to her, and spoke. "Fakir isn't so bad." I had never once thought a negative thing about him (Or anyone else for that matter, but all the same…) It was Fakir that began to take care of me and gave me a place to live when I woke up in this town without any memories of who or where or what I was. I looked a mess then, and it was now that I began considering how uncomely I appeared at this moment, I apologized to Miss Duck. I didn't even have shoes on, so my toes were visible beneath the loose pant legs. "I'm sorry; I didn't think to put anything on my feet before I left…"
Miss Duck looked surprised. "Senior Muto! Aren't you cold?"
Though, really, I had a hard time feeling much of anything. "No, not really…" It was probably for this reason that may of the students at my academy thought me strange. When I slipped and twisted my ankle in an awkward way, or practiced until my feet were calloused, I felt nothing that
Fakir told me was called 'pain'. I didn't understand the concept.
"Qua-" Miss Duck sounded as if she were about to go 'quack' much like the bird her name came from, but then stopped herself. "Uh, um, cabbage!"
"Cabbage?" I didn't understand… Miss Duck nodded, "Yeah, cabbage! Heehee…hee." I still didn't understand. "I need to buy cabbage," She said.
"Oh…" That was all I could muster at that moment. I wonder what could have possibly reminded her that she needed to purchase cabbage. Miss Duck could be quite an oddity. She asked if I would like to come with her, and I agreed to go. Even still, I thought cabbage was an odd thing to mention. We both walked towards the town's open market. Miss Duck stated that they had
the best prices on just about everything we could want. More importantly, the cabbage there was the best.
We followed the cobblestone path there, she in her jacket and I in my weather-inappropriate clothes. The market was quite bare compared to the sun-filled days of summer. There were still vendors sprinkled across the large lot, but they lacked the summer market aura. Now there weren't people so freely seasoning the land; no scents of fish from the local lake, or incenses coming from distant lands. Instead, they all looked as if they just wanted to make enough money to get by for the day, and then head home to fire sand warm stews their wives had carefully prepared with love. I was told by others when they brought me snacks that it had that best ingredient ever. I failed to taste the difference.
Somehow, cabbage could be found. Considering the current weather, I concluded that it was either imported from a country in another hemisphere, or that it was grown in a greenhouse. The merchant's eyes fell upon me while Miss Duck looked at the merchant's wares. I likely looked quite odd. Between hair as white as the surrounding snow, my clothing and my bare feet, I myself was an oddity. He asked me with thick accent why I wasn't wearing my coat, and where my shoes were. I didn't speak. The merchant eyed me as if I were some street urchin without any money to buy myself shoes and a jacket and he somehow came to the conclusion that she and I were a modern day Romeo and Juliet. He gave Miss Duck two heads of cabbage and a few apples before we left the stall.
As we walked back towards the school's property, I heard the crunch of her teeth sinking into the apple. She looked quite pleased. It was here I thought to ask. "Miss Duck, what did you need cabbage for?" She looked down, and her hair fell over her suddenly burning face. "Oh, um, nothing in particular…" Seeing her face red now, I thought she was maybe ill. "Miss Duck?" Fakir told me that there were those like me who got pale when ill, and others who got red when they weren't feeling well. I placed my hand upon her cheek. "Are you not feeling well?" She never failed to surprise me. Miss Duck quickly stepped back, then she tripped over her own feet, and took a tumble backwards. The produce spilled over onto the pathway, and she appeared even more red. I figured perhaps she had a fever. Without a single word, I held out my hand to her, and pulled her up. Then I kneeled down to pick up the items as she brushed snow off of her pants. "I'll walk you to your dormitory." I think I would have felt bad just leaving her there when she might not be in the best of health.
"Oh, Senior Muto… you don't have to do that." Her face was still pink. It was my hope that she would feel better soon.
I understood well enough what she had said. "I know. I want to." As far back as I can remember, that was the first time I had ever said that I wanted anything. Granted, my memories only went back to the day I first met Fakir in this town near two years ago…
Miss Duck smiled happily then, as she often did. Her two arms wrapped around my free right arm, and we walked as Miss Rue and I might towards the more familiar school grounds and surrounding properties. I walked Miss Duck to her dorm, where I was offered leafy cabbage as a thanks. She placed it in my palms and hugged me, then ran inside with her face still red, her voice raised and excited. There was some kind of screaming inside… Quietly I hoped she was going to pull through, turned away and began walking in the opposite direction, across the street to the dormitory for boys. A head of cabbage in my hand.
