Not sure what inspired me to write this. Generally, I don't write anything serious – but my fingers took over and nonsense ensued.
Please excuse.
Note: As much as I wish I did, I do not own Slayers.
Slipping Through My Fingers
They say that death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave. Our birth is nothing but our death begun.
I suppose that is true.
For humans, death is inevitable - it simply cannot be helped. There's just nothing to be done. Yet, one wouldn't think that a being with such a short life would leave such a great impact on another's...
Though no one ever paid much attention to it, it was always there. That deep, nagging feeling that one day - one day this great adventure would come to an end; that everything would one day be over. Yet they went on living their lives to the fullest, seemingly irrelevant that this day was drawing ever nearer.
What I wouldn't give for such a life.
Living each day in its own time, like there was no tomorrow. For them, only that day and what was in it mattered. Most of those who live beyond time seem to think humans have such a wasted existence, questioning if their lives are really long enough to accomplish any great things. Though, I really don't think it would be so bad...
It was a memorable day. Oh yes, so were the eventful victories they'd claimed together through the years, and all the bizarre escapades they'd been on. However, as much as anyone tried, this day would never be forgotten - though it was doubtful anyone would ever want to forget someone like her - or any of them, for that matter.
At long last, everything was said and done, the hands shaken, the prayers said, and the graves closed to, at long last, allow a final sleep. Though even after everyone else had gone, two figures remained beside the grave. A young woman stood with a hand placed firmly upon her son's shoulder, her head bowed. It had been a miserable day... Why did it always seem to rain on such occasions? Though it didn't really matter - the rain no longer was a factor in that. The mood was already as dismal and depressing as could be felt by human emotion - though the two who remained weren't human. However, that made no difference; they would still mourn, this day, and for years to come.
"If only I knew why she'd chosen what she did, she could've been saved, healed! She could've lived longer, she...and Gourry..." The woman broke off into silent tears as her son drew her into a gentle embrace. He'd only known Lina for sixteen years, which was nothing to his kind, but even he was deeply affected by her - and the others as well.
"It was her choice, not ours - perhaps she was ready to let go."
The blonde haired woman simply shook her head and buried her face into her son's shoulder, her thin figure shaking from the tears she shed.
Indeed it was a sad day - As such, no one had expected such a sudden end; neither of them were really that old. Lina had come down with a rather common illness, and seemed to be recovering nicely, though things began to take a sudden turn for the worse. Yes, she could've been healed, but for some reason or another she chose not to be. Some think that over the years she'd exerted so much power it began to tap into her life energy, which caused her illness to escalate into such a dire state. Of course there are other theories, but no one can be for sure. They just had to trust she knew what she was doing.
Shortly after her death, Gourry's health began to rapidly decline, resulting in his death as well. Much like Lina's death, people had their guesses about Gourry - the most common being that he'd contracted the same illness... But any of their closer friends could tell you that he died of a broken heart.
We aren't supposed to have emotion - we aren't supposed to feel, though I think those emotions have always been there, just suppressed, tucked away...
After all, we don't really need them, do we? What do they accomplish? Or, is that what makes even such a short life seem so full? Perhaps humans have it much better off, regardless of what anyone says.
As time takes its effects on them, they all pass on in their own time, knowing they'll see each other again in the life to come. But what of us?
What of her?
She still is standing there, mourning for them, and she will miss them until her final day, though that may be hundreds- even thousands of years away- and in that time she'll only suffer more pain and loss...
I suppose time has affected me as well.
I don't recall when I began thinking like this, and I don't know how much longer I can endure watching like this. I used to take pleasure in watching others suffer; however, this only makes me feel lifeless, weary – in a sense...
Yes, Lina, your death has truly affected everyone.
The rain continued to beat down relentlessly upon the young woman, who now stood alone. She'd been there for almost an hour now, still standing motionless and looking down upon the flowers placed over the graves. As such, the tears still flowed freely from her eyes, mixing with the rain as it ran down her pale cheeks.
She'd tried to leave once, but she couldn't find it within herself to move from the place she occupied. So many thoughts and memories flooded her mind, along with a feeling a guilt. Perhaps it was because, as the others aged and passed on, she'd keep her youth.
Not as though it could be helped, that's just the way things were.
How does a one console another in such a state? Should I offer a kind word to her? Of course we all miss them, but what do you say to someone who's so distressed?
Why do I feel like this?
Even I don't understand these circumstances. Was it really your time, Lina? It seems that you still had so much to live for...
Do you truly know how this has affected them?
The woman was now kneeling beside the new graves, irrelevant to the mud seeping through the fabric of her dark dress, her face resting in her gloved hands. It seemed that this occurrence affected her the most by far. Her drenched figure slumped a bit as she placed a hand on the ground to steady herself, nearly sinking to her wrist in the muddy water. She remained that way for what seemed to be ages, poised over the flower-covered mounds like a statue, the rain pouring down upon her.
Why? Why do I only watch?
How many times have I sat back to just watch - and nothing more? Yes, most times I was following orders, but so much more could've been done! Many more things could've been accomplished. Have I been content to do nothing more than merely observe?
Just watching as their lives are simply slipping through my fingers?
Two of them are gone now...two seemingly remain the same – but for how long? And one is drawing ever further away from everyone. It seems that she's even beginning to distance herself from her 'son'.
Can I honestly admit I don't want that?
What is it that causes this?
What creates such a change?
Is it this emotion they share? Is this why we aren't supposed to have such a thing?
Odd, really... I'm not even sure why I've stopped to ask myself these questions. It's not as though I'll ever truly know the reasons.
Heh, it's almost amusing! To think I was almost feeling guilty!
I cannot simply waste my existence in this thing called 'sorrow', especially when I feel it not. It's no matter to me. As I said before, it's inevitable and nothing can be done. I'll waste no more time...not like this...
Still, the woman remained, knelt there as silent tears spilled from her eyes until her son came back again, slowly lifting her to her feet and placing a dark cloak over her. Silently, he led her away from that place of sorrow, heading back toward the cheerfully-lit town in which they lived. Wiping at her pallid face as they walked away, the dragoness would remain unaware of the still figure that watched the two of them go, his head hung - for the first time in his life, a solitary tear running down his cheek.
-Fin-
Thoughts?
Anyone, anyone?