This is my first real one-shot. I typically dislike them, but I wrote this for class and as I started thought it referred a bit to Dilandau, so then I fashioned it after him. I rewrote it to be more specific and detailed, but the basic idea is the same. This is slightly different from my usual writing style, but I still hope you enjoy! (And yes, there is some of what could be interpreted as yaoi in this because I have been reading a bit too much Sand3 lately.)
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Escaflowne. Leave me alone already!
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Under the Willows
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The wind ruffles my hair lightly with a lover's caress.
"Mmm… Miguel… Do that again…" I would usually say, but not today. I do not say this today because today, Miguel is gone. And he won't come back. Ever. All because of me. I shouldn't have shown him how much I really care about him and the other Slayers, but now he's dead. I can't believe it. My best friend dead because of me, because of how much I cared. What irony.
I snort a bit at this, lightly, but then stop as the wind brushes something cold and wet across my face. What…? More come. What's happening?
Oh. I've heard of this. It's called crying. I've never done it before. Maybe it's because Miguel's gone? Everything's been wrong since he left. I can't handle this. Miguel, please come back. I can't do this without you. You're not just my second-in-command. I need you. No one else gets it, no one else knows, and no one else understands. They can't. Just you. Only you. Only ever you.
The wind seems to dull a bit, but I know it's because I'm hiding my face in my hands now, trying to stop crying. It's a strange feeling, the wind. It makes your skin cold and stiff while it seems to warm and make sensitive everything else within you. As long as the wind slips over your soft skin, it hurts, but it also makes a shield around you that nothing can seem to penetrate. You're in a world of your own, and not even the cutting words of others, or the pain that they inflict on your body, can do anything to touch you. You feel numb. It's a wonderful feeling.
And it's just what I need right now. Feeling the quickening wind on my bare face and fingers helps me let go. I wipe the tears from my face and let a flying willow strand slip from my fingers. Strange. I can't feel it move from me. But then again, I guess I'm just stuck in my hopeless little dream world. I couldn't feel Miguel leave me, either. Maybe it was because we were so close.
This truly is a lonely world. No matter how close two people are, in body or in spirit, they can't seem to truly connect. Because they are different. Their memories are different, and they can't possibly be the same. Even identical twins, if they stood next to one another their entire lives, are different. Why? Because their memories are different. One may have witnessed a crime and thought the convicted guilty, while the other, standing at his twin's shoulder, saw that the convicted as clearly innocent. They would fight, maybe, and would grow from that pain. Their separate experiences would make them cope differently, and as they grew a bit more each day with the agony gnawing at their hearts, they would one day wake up and find themselves entirely separate entities. They would be different, and no one can stop it. Not Lord Dornkirk, not the Sorcerers, not even the very winged people of Atlantis. By giving themselves wings they became unified in their pride, and through that pride, they tried to understand one another. But it was futile. Their machines couldn't handle so many different minds and souls, and so they broke. Poor, lonely universe.
Just like Miguel. Even though he died yesterday, and I, being a captain in the military, should be over it, I can't seem to let go. Everything reminds me of him. I couldn't even manage to drink myself into unconsciousness last night because I remembered that the last time I was drunk, I hit him. My poor, brown headed Miguel. Always so arrogant and serious, yet you cried when you were alone. For the mother and sister you couldn't protect. You couldn't even save them in death when your father burned them and scornfully spat on their ashes. Not even then. You killed your father and avenged them, but it wasn't enough, never enough. You had already failed. Just like I, in turn, failed you. Is there nothing that this world can fully succeed in?
By now, the tears have stopped, but now I realize that the wind's cold hollowness is a double-edged sword. It makes me think too much, and all thoughts lead to him. Oh, Miguel, you were consumed by your futile human desire for satisfaction. It was only natural and something that every single person and animal experiences. Even plants want that satisfaction that they can never attain. They are constantly turning their little green heads to the sun and stretching out to grab it, when they are held back by the sky and then tossed back to the ground by their supposedly selfless, unfeeling companions.
No one can be truly all-benevolent. Even if one did not have to consume the food another could have, or take up the space on the ground that another could want, they would be in the way of a bird in the sky. That bird's annoyed feelings, however slight, towards them would be subconsciously noticed and hurt that person, and their innocent wings would be ripped off and they would be sent plummeting back to the ground. People were made to be selfish, and no one, not a single person or being on this planet, can escape that sad fate.
You wanted to make me happy by getting the Dragon, Miguel, but you, on some level, were just driven by your own selfish desires. You wanted me all to yourself, to succeed, to finally have satisfaction. My poor, poor, Slayer. How you saw through my mask is a feat to praised, but your innocence is quite another matter indeed. It's a cruel world, filled with people putting on little charades each and every day, all trying to reach goals that, in truth, they realize as pointless little attempts to survive in a world of people that can be truly cruel. Few ever realize that there are only many, many masks put on to protect their wearers from a world of other masks. The masks protect them from a false world. What would happen if all the masks were suddenly taken off and people's true souls bared for all others to see?
But it is time for me to be getting back. I will soon have to hide my own bared soul beneath my own mask and return. No one can see who I really am. No one. Their masks would not like who I am.
As I stand up and brush the soft earth from my crimson armor, I let out a small, hypocritical laugh. I see these masks, and yet I wear one myself. Humans are truly frail, cowardly creatures, and for now, this mask of jaded strength suits my pointless purposes and aims. I slip on my long black gloves, shielding my soft white hands from the blood I must soon spill. Damn my survival instincts.
Quietly I slip my numb body through the waving willow strands and shoot a last, regretful glance back at the glade. Something tells me that I will not return. Pausing a moment, I put my back to the wind and allow my silver hair to cloud my vision for a moment. I like to delude myself that it is just my hair that clouds my vision.
Slipping a single, soft blue rose from the folds of my armor, I allow my mask to slip for a moment with it. I hold the rare flower near my crimson eyes and inhale deeply, then hold it up to the rippling wind and watch with a bittersweet smile as it floats away into the wispily clouded air. A rare flower, as Miguel, and floating far away, untouchable as Miguel.
"Goodbye…"
I allow myself to sigh once, a soft, melancholy sound, and salute the vanishing flower. Then, as it vanishes into the wide expanse of the sky, I turn on my heel and slip on my mask. It's time to head back to camp.
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The End
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I hoped you liked it. It's rather bittersweet, but I enjoyed writing it anyways. I'm quite proud. Farewell, and please be sure to check out my other story, Blank Slate.
Please review.
-Aurah-