Disclaimer: As much as I wish I owned Tasuki, I do not, nor do I own FY in general. Poop.
Warning: My sweet tooth is aching already. Excessive sugariness. Not sickeningly so, but very…well… you'll see. ^-^
Little blog: I can't believe I'm finally writing this. *^-^* I'm so happy!
The wind has grown indefinitely colder, I can't seem to get warm. Even within my inner chamber, covered up to the tip of my nose, I still feel the chill. Tree branches are barren, crooked hands grasping at the steel blue sky, begging for release. I watched all the leaves fall, turn to dust as they were swept away by autumn rains. He watched with me.
He is here with me now. Comes and goes, like the eternal pass of time; here one moment, having disintegrated the next. Yet, in my heart, I know he will not abandon me here, in the bitter stillness. I glance up from my research books, see him gazing absently out the window, his long legs stretched out before him on the earthen floor.
We still… cannot seem to understand each other. He is fascinated by my existence, as I am with his; he roams about my dwelling, never touching anything, but taking it all in, deep contemplation. He will look out my window, then go out of the abode, and peer in from it, his face full of interest and confusion. Sometimes he lays on my bed, tosses and turns, tugs the pillows and dishevels the coverings. I would not dare to reprimand him; in fact, I enjoy his inquisitiveness, his insatiable curiosity. Sticks his head in the cauldron hanging in the hearth, runs outside into my garden, now withered, to see what I have attempted to grow.
I have also taken note that he is severely jealous, and does not permit any of the air spirits around me while he is present. He will chase them away, waving his smooth hands about in sheer anger, murmuring soft, unintelligible sounds. Any 'gifts' they try to bestow upon me he finds and seemingly pouts, as a spoiled child would.
But in the night… he always departs. While the candle flickers abstract images along the uneven walls, I am left quite alone. Darkness, I believe, is his realm. In it, he has nothing to do with me; it is his time. I have come to the conclusion that he may be what is called a 'dark aelf'.
Aelves-- higher than faeries and humans, beautiful in countenance, magical and mysterious. Carriers of the magic swords and invisibility, the dark ones are, at least according to legend. Born from the maggots devouring the flesh of the mythical giant Ymir, the dark aelves were explained as ugly, malicious beings, especially towards humans. Living in the fiery depths of the earth, they forge their magical weapons and come out only to practice malignant devices upon the weaker ones.
Yet I cannot see such things in him. I feel nothing bad…when he is around me. All I perceive…is elation…a type of happiness I cannot put into physical words…
Since I now have this perspective on him, however, I try to be careful with him, not flippant, although I know…he could never hurt anyone, could never do anything bad…
Badness is defined by humans. Not going by these standards, I know…I know he is truly something…extraordinary.
I have managed to dry enough berries and herbs for the long winter months ahead. It will be difficult to retain any weight during this time period, yet being a monk previously has enlightened me to these experiences. I begin feeling hollow as I sort through the various plants, separating them by name and purpose. Hopefully I will have enough to make a few elixirs lest a person in turmoil should stumble across my path.
As I sit, frustrated at such tedium, at my low table, he arranges himself athwart from me, putting both lovely hands on it, eyes focused on my own. He appears quizzical.
"I have to do this," I say lightly, "Do you…would you…like to help?" I supply a watery smile, praying that he comprehends what I'm saying. If only we knew each other's languages…
He must sense my despair, for in the next moment, he is beside me, not to close, yet not far out of reach. He stares at the heap of roots and herbs; then broadly swipes them all over the table, disorganizing them further. I am not irritated, just upset that we can't…we can't…
I attempt to bring up a new subject. "Do you know what these are for?" I hold a small sprig of something or other in my palm, glancing at him for a response. He doesn't move or show any interest in what I'm saying. I crush the tiny root in my hand-- it's an edible one, to my knowledge-- and place some of it between my lips, chewing politely. After I swallow the tasteless thing, I continue: "You see? I eat this."
He points at me mechanically, eyes wide. A sonorous sound is emitted from his throat as he picks up some of the root in his own hand and stares at it blankly. He raises his eyebrow at my hunched shoulders, my undernourished body.
Then, suddenly, something snaps. He takes the root and, bouncing slightly, puts it in his own mouth, chews it for a short period before spitting it back out. He makes a rather disgusted face.
"Well, I know it doesn't taste good, but it's what I have to live on." But…is he…understanding? Or perhaps just mimicking me?
In the next instant, he has risen up, glaring at me to do the same. He continues to look intently upon me until I slowly am forced to obey his silent command. My legs ache…I fear I may be a slight bit dehydrated. He walks gracefully over to where I store my cooking utensils, and glances back for permission.
"What do you intend to do?"
He answers me by unsheathing the knife I use for cutting thick magic roots I apply in my remedies. I feel intense trepidation overcome me; quaking, I begin to make my way back to my previous occupation. Perhaps if I pretend not to notice, he'll discard it…
Taking me abruptly by the arm, he gazes into my eyes, and I sense that he sees the fear, for he loosens his strong grip into something less frightening, silently pushing me down into a sitting position. He turns the knife over and over, examining it fastidiously, before he plunges it deep into his own perfect flesh.
"No, don't!" I cry, wrenching it away from him. The deep gash on his arm is bleeding profusely; how could he do such a terrible thing? What is he thinking? What? What?
Appearing emotionally hurt, he lowers his head to his chest, closing his eyes. I tear off a large strip of my robe and press it against the self-inflicted wound, attempting to stint the bleeding. "Why would you do such a thing?" I inquire, tears building up behind my eye. He pushes my skeletal hand away, along with the cloth, and opens the wound larger, forcing the skin to stretch abnormally. I begin to feel nauseated; I feel the drops sliding down my chin as I watch this horrific act. There's nothing I can do, lest he disappear…
Gently putting his hand on the back of my neck, he raises his injured arm to my mouth. "What?!" I splutter, pulling away violently. "I-- I can't do that!"
Annoyed, he attempts to repeat this action, and yet again I pull away, sobbing uncontrollably. Why can't I understand you? Why?
Then he shrugs audibly, and lays down on the floor. Dusk is approaching swiftly. A hand over my mouth to keep from retching, I weep silently in the corner of my abode. It is so painful, not able to grasp him fully, even partially. It is all a mystery to me, an agonizing mystery that I cannot solve. I cannot…
He is rapidly before me, forehead against my own, eyes closed. I notice that the wound has evaporated into nothing. It is true, then; he is indeed a divine aelf, for only they have the ability to heal themselves. He is mouthing foreign words, a bare whisper in the still air. Drawing my hands away from my face, he turns his eyes on me, sympathy and…something…I don't know what it could be…radiating within them.
But…I do know…
I can't believe this…but…
He nuzzles my neck affectionately, soft, muffled, flowing language sprouting from his lips like liquid fire. I reach up and touch his face; this is the first time I have put my hand on him. Trembling, I ask, "What… do you feel…?" He purrs against it, eyes look sedated and heavy with bliss, as he mumbles something into my hand.
"You make me…so happy…" voice shaking, "I…can't explain to you…how wonderful you are…I don't even know…if you care, but…" I sigh, falling into his arms lightly, frail human being that I am. "Why did you…do that…it hurts me…to see you do that…" He grips my shoulders tight, resting his cheek next to my neck. I feel myself flushing intolerably; he is breathing me in, running his slender fingers over my thin chest, along my prominent ribcage. He opens his eyes, batting the lashes against my collarbone, stroking the sharp ribs jutting out from my sides.
It hits me so hard, I begin to weep into his shirtfront.
He…was trying to preserve me…with his own flesh…he is concerned about me…he cares for me…
There were long hours where he had just gazed at my sleeping form, unclothed, seeing my gaunt, feeble body, the very bones visible through nearly transparent skin; I had thought, then, that he was simply mesmerized by the human body, in all it's weakness…but now… now I understand…for the first time, I understand!
In his own way, he is attempting to show love.
We hold onto one another for what seems forever, his muscular arms wrapped around me, encasing me in a kind of cold warmth. I slide my hands up and down his back, bury my head in his shoulder, so grateful for him, for this wondrous, beautiful creature, this essence of night personified; yet he is light to me, glimmering hope.
I never thought I would be able to experience this.
Night has taken on it's full color, yet he stays with me, comforting me without understanding me.
Neither of us can comprehend one another, but somehow…somehow…
In the depths of my heart, I know what is in his mind.
Chichiri: o.- Oh Tasuki no da, hold me baby!
Tasuki: .' Chiri-chan…not in public facilities!
*^-^* More to come!