viiii. ishiki
***
if I was smarter, to say it bluntly, I could get things done easier.
if they call me a child, it'll be over and done with, and I won't have to dirty
myself
***
It was dark, and the walls were made of a thick stone that trapped the coldness inside of that strange cave. The doctor shivered, and absent-mindedly ran her left hand through her hair, clicking her heels and taking her glasses off.
Around her, in the midst of sitting down, were a few other scientists, and sitting at the head of the square slab of stone they used at the table was a weathered man. His skin hung limply from his brittle bones (he was very old) and a long, surgical white bandage was wrapped tightly around the top of his head, covering his left eye. His brown corduroy pants were very worn, but still crisp, and the lab coat hung stiff from starch.
When he stood up, the room fell silent, and a gauzy spell drifted over them like a lady's veil.
"Good afternoon," the man said curtly, his voice gravelly and hoarse. The others chorused the greeting back to him, like schoolchildren.
"I hope you can assure me that the project is going well, hmm...Dr. Cain?"
The doctor straightened in her chair with a start. "O-oh, of course, Sir Marduk. Of course!"
"Has the end of the world been apprehended?"
"You mean Akizuki-san?" Dr. Cain (for that was her name-Edith Cain) looked down in her lap, her hands fearfully shredding her handkerchief into thin strips of cotton.
The room was silent as everyone turned to watch her.
Sir Marduk sighed. "Yes, of course. Akizuki-san, as you call it."
More silence.
Then-
"No, sir," Dr. Cain whispered. "No, she has not been stopped."
"Imbecile," Sir Marduk seethed. "Idiot! How could you have let her go?!"
"I-I don't know sir."
The meeting went on, but Dr. Cain tuned most of it out.
***
"Eh, Ibuki-san?"
"Yes, doctor?" the young woman asked, her face earnest.
"Burn the manuscript of that meeting, will you?"
"Of course, Dr. Cain."
***
I guess people like helpless situations
"Don't lie to me"
***
"Dreamworlds and mind-screws are your domain of expertise, aren't they?!" She slammed the notebook onto the wooden desk.
"Of course," the Superego responded from the chair where she was hanging.
"Then why won't you do it?!"
"This sort of situation calls for something a little more...terrifying," the Superego murmured, twirling an empty wine glass in her pale fingers. Thin, delicate little cracks besmirched its surface, so faint that only the remains of its flirtation with shattering were visible.
Dr. Cain slumped into her chair, glasses in her hands as she stared at the ceiling, frustrated. "What do you have in mind?"
"Oh, nothing much," the Superego said. "Just lend me the Id and I think I'll manage..."
***
Nakuru's eyes cracked open to the gloomy gray-blue air. Smog drifted over the sooty city, and horses stumbled over slick, cracked cobblestones.
"Oh god," she moaned, lifting herself up slowly until she was sitting down on the misty ground. "Where am I now?"
It looked just like nineteenth century England, to tell the truth.
Nakuru walked gingerly down the street she inexplicably was on, and peeked around the corner. Her head hurt. Tiredly, she brushed her fingers onto where it pounded the most.
They were met with hair sticky and matted down into tangles from red-black blood.
Nakuru gasped, bringing her fingers closer to her face, peering down at them. What the hell had just happened? She felt sick, and, ran back down the alleyway, stopping when the vomit came.
She wiped the speckles of barf away from her face, wishing a stream was near her-anything to clean herself up with.
***
I can't sleep at night, and fail in my double suicide
in my memories an oxidized mouthwash, camouflage
***
Somehow (she wasn't quite sure), she had wandered into this strange, cramped little flower shop sitting on the edge of a busy street, hidden away from view. Her feet had told her to go, and so she did, her head heavy with the pounding down hallucinations of hope that had haunted her since she had woken up.
Hope for what?
Nakuru stepped in, the bell that hung from the door clanging noisily.
No one except an old woman behind the counter and her customer (a young woman in her twenties with ash-blonde hair and a dress all of black), and they ignored her as they argued over the price of orchids. She glanced around the white-washed room full to bursting with flowers just past their prime, wilting a little, until something caught her eye:
Sitting in the back of the room, hunched over a wreath-in-progress, skinny and in a white peasant blouse and knee-length blue skirt, was Sakura.
She was humming something to herself as she threaded berries and evergreen branches together, even though it was months till Christmas. Nakuru ran up to her, to say something, anything...
The pull of a gun. Then a bang. And, then, finally, Sakura slumped over onto her pretty half-done wreath, blood oozing from her as the Id began to dine on her heart, tendons hanging from the id's mouth, and Nakuru screaming.
Behind the counter, the Superego pulled the gun away.
"Gotcha," she said, smiling sadistically.
***
the answer is pure. we're attracted to each other.
this is how I love you, I think.
***
My English/Social Studies teacher has foisted a big research paper on Silent Spring by Rachel Carson onto me, and in two weeks the jazz choir I am a part of will be gone all weekend at a jazz festival in Mt. Hood. Goodie. So, this week I will work like mad to update and then...try to write if i have the time and am not failing.
Infamous Monk--Well, I guess there will be OC's...especially now that Dr. Cain has come into play! About her name--Edith means "war" and Cain was the first man in the Bible to kill anyone. Plus, I was reading Count Cain the night before I wrote this. ^_^ And there will be sort of an undercurrent of Tomoyo/Sakura, but the story really is Nakuru's...Tomoyo and Sakura just happen to be a part of it. Sorry for not answering your questions before! Review, everyone!
