Sesshomaru's eyes fluttered open to lazily survey the first strands of dawn's light winding around the bedposts. Past the window's ancient glass the sun's crest blazed over the treetops like wildfire. Black flocks of birds swirled across red-stained clouds--blood-red, and then he heard his heart beat beneath their twills and his chest tightened with hope as the girl stirred beside him.
"The bluebirds are crying," she mumbled, then yawned and stretched, her mouth closing to curl into a concerned frown. "Dreams..." she said, then opened her eyes and (with great effort) pushed herself up. Her gaze was drawn to the window; she looked out forlornly while Sesshomaru distanced himself from her on the mattress. He felt like he was exiting a drugged haze, and the borders of his thoughts were still foggy with contentment.
"Good morning," she said. "Do you feel any better?"
"Yeah. I do."
She nodded then crawled out of bed. "So..." she hesitated, wringing her hands together, eyes on the ground. He could smell fresh sweat over the stale smell of sleep--nervous. He was somewhat surprised that she was still frightened of him.
Not that he disliked it.
"What's on the agenda for today?"
He drew himself up--tall, bare-chested and languid--his stance was always so calm: a false relaxation. It did little to make her secure. He wound around to her side, eerily graceful. Everything about him was eerie. Alien. She bit down the urge to edge away when he stood too near to her and spoke. "I've already checked the library, any papers I could find. Anything close was too cryptic to help." He drew in a breath and locked eyes with her. She felt distant from the situation, and years later would remember thinking at that moment that his eyes were pretty. The shades of gold seemed to meld together, swirl wth his expressions, and it was alien in a very beautiful way. "Last night," he continued, "What did you do?"
"I... Well, I touched you, and then what we do is difficult to explain. It's inside of you. Like a pulse, but you can stretch it like a muscle--the magic--because it's a part of you, your soul, and I pushed it into you and tried to find your heart." She paused to gather her words. "And it was black, all I felt and touched and ached... do you feel that? In you?"
Pleased but unprepared for her honesty, he replied with an earnestness rarely seen. "Empty, and dark. Yes." In his next breaths he eyed halos of dust floating below the window, lit up by the sun. It was beauty, like a painting: distant, and he an observer, always.
"I can do more to heal your spirit, but your heart... I don't know."
"You can try," he said in such a sad tone that she forgot her anger at him and her circumstances and just wanted to help.
"I will."
He smiled. "Breakfast?"
"Would be nice..."
He turned to leave the room with the expectation that she'd follow, but paused, head tilting to the side. "Thank you Kagome. For helping me."
She warmed at his respect. "You're welcome."
They left to eat, walking side by side through the halls. In the empty bedroom the square of sunlight wove up the wall and the dust danced in daylight.
