There was blood--a river of it, thick like lava but cold; she wasn't sure how she knew it was cold, but it was, and it was rising, lapping the shore's pebbles like brush-strokes of red paint: swish, swish, along with the mourning doves cooing above them, circling around and around. There was no place to land, nowhere but her small rocky spot of earth--so they flew in circles, hearts straining, before--plop--another ruffle of sad wings was sucked into the bile squelching around her toes.
Plop.
The blood was rising, frothing, clinging to her shins. The birds were all crying. "Don't cry," she said, "Or it will rise higher!" But they didn't listen. They cried and cried as the blood rose, spiked with salty tears, and swallowed their voices.
Kagome was crying.
Plop.
"Awaken, Kagome--" and her eyes shot open, damp with tears, bird's calls drowning in the back of her mind. She wiped them off off resentful before turning her eyes to Sesshomaru.
She was in her room in his castle: a large elegant structure, all slanted roofs and coiled statues, with a garden firmly in the centre and a neglected moat circling the entire estate. Her room was richly furnished; probably a guest room for visiting politicians or royalty. They'd arrived early in the morning, and the first thing she did was stumble after Sesshomaru towards her quarters, dropping onto the bed and passing into sleep.
Kagome edged herself up, oddly relieved to be sitting there--although she couldn't remember her dreams her heart pounded with lingering emotions, and the tears still welled in her eyes: sad--the dream was sad. She squinted up at the blue-tinged light streaming through the curtains, trying to focus on reality. She still wasn't sure what to do really--just accept her situation without protest? Just like that? How could she even rebel against this creature, this invincible thing circling the rim of the waterglass with his claw and eyeing her closely...
"Kagome, night's fallen. Are you rested?"
She swallowed, rustling the silken covers as she clambered out of bed. She felt sweaty and cold. "Yeah, I'm not tired," spoken through shivering lips--oh, she was cold. Sesshomaru rose up from her bed; she wondered why he felt it necessary to lie down beside her to wake her up. It seemed... intimate. Mind-games. She repressed the urge to edge away when the demon took off his robe. Beneath he was shirtless with a loose-fitting pair of white pants. They fluttering around his ankles--gently, like butterfly wings--as he draped his shirt over her affectionately before edging back, wary of her personal space. The motion in the moonlight seemed so surreal; for a moment she wondered if she were dreaming again before smiling at Sesshomaru in thanks.
"So I suppose," he said stiffly, "You'd like to know the conditions of your stay here..."
Instantly her face soured and she crossed her arms, facing him and wishing she were taller. "You kidnapped me."
He paused, elegant fingers curling in frustration, before smoothly agreeing: "Yes. I did. I kidnapped you. I apologize, Kagome, for any psychological harm this may have caused, but I assure you that you have no lasting injuries. I haven't harmed you."
She paced, flapping her arms in disgusted, grinding out: "The fact that I'm fine is irrelevant. You still kidnapped me! You have no fucking right. So bring me back to Inuyasha. Now." She ground her heel into the woolen carpet and squared her jaw.
Sesshomaru sighed slowly before shaking his head at Kagome. "I'm sorry, that won't be possible. I need you here; I'm not permitting you to leave."
She bit her lip and for a second he hoped that she would strike him so that he could restrain her, touch her, overpower her. But she simply sat on the bed, his robe pooling on the ground, and stared at the floor for a long time. Finally, she raised her head, dark eyes shimmering with sadness, and simply said: "I don't know what to do." before the first tear slid down her cheek. She curled away from Sesshomaru lounging near the corner of the bed; it was like a cat ready to pounce--unnerving. Putting her fists to her chin and curling up in his clothes, she weeped very quietly in the dark room for a few moments.
The demon crawled to her side and looked down at her: hands tucked beneath smooth cheeks--so vulnerable, like a child. Her hair looked like spilled ink against her paper-white skin and the pureness of his robe. It matched her long black lashes, still shining with tears. At that moment he decided that she was pretty, but filed the revelation away as 'irrelevant' and tried to ignore it.
He gently touched her arm, somewhat at a loss as to what to say. "I'm sorry, Kagome." And then he rubbed her limb up and down, up an down, soothing and slow.
Kagome raised her hand and settled it upon his chest--white skin stretched thinly over the muscle walls above his heart, warm and beating very slowly. She thought about how odd the scene was: her, in bed next to Inuyasha's half-brother with her palm over his flesh as he apologized sincerely for stealing her away. "Why me?" she asked.
"I heard you were the best miko." he said simply. The room became full of a drawn-out breath, an expectation of some sort of diagnosis or cure, and Kagome felt awkwardly cold when she drew her arm away from him and piled her hands into her lap, the last of her tears plopping onto her fists.
"How am I supposed to heal you?" she asked.
He paused, and in the space of empty air felt control curl up and dissipate like smoke. "I don't know. I've never needed medical help before." Another pause, and he gave up and entrusted everything to the thin human girl staring at him dew-eyed from beneath his robe. "We'll have to research it, I suppose. It started a month ago... slowing." His voice became very low as he continued. "At times, before I fall asleep, I worry that it'll cease before I wake up." The beating of his heart filled his ears again and for a moment he felt like he was going mad: it was always ringing, off, like a threat constantly clawing at his neck. "Please help me," he ended, and then looked away at the wall as if facing her was too painful.
Again her hand touched his chest, but this touch wasn't exploratory and distant; it was warm, compassionate, and he didn't care whether or not the heat was her magic or the blood coursing through their veins. "I'm sorry," she said. Their skin heated up, pressed together, and a glow emated from her palm in the dim room. A concentrated look had taken over her face.
The vulnerability of making a connection shook him; it reminded him of sleeping with a woman, how exposed and raw it was, and then the odd heat spread past his chest and filled up his limbs. It was accompanied with a pleasant sensation--not sexual, but soothing and warm--his defenses fell as he closed his eyes and parted his lips, breathing: "Heal me."
She curled her fingers and whimpered slightly, biting her lip, and pushing her energy into him before breaking the connection and lying down, her breathing harsh and her palm burning. "I couldn't see it," she murmured, so tired.
He stretched out next to her; after that transfer both felt less aware of one another's nearness--it didn't seem to matter, really. "I'm relaxed," he purred, eyes closed, his heart a very distant worry amidst the peace clouding his mind.
"It was dark inside of you," she whispered with a frown. "I couldn't see it. But I tried to light it up. I tried..." her whispers sunk into deep breaths, and a moment later she was asleep again.
He eyes the beats of sweat dotting her brow with tired eyes. 'Thank you Kagome,' He thought before joining her in sleep, content for the first time in a long while.