Author's Note: Kat, this is for you.
Disclaimer: If I owned Gundam Wing, they'd always be naked.
Chapter 4
Out of the heavens appeared a great, red dragon having seven heads and ten horns and seven golden crowns. He salivated and smirked, his hands and body covered with blood red scales. His body seemed to meld greatly with the rest of the red world. She was still stumbling to the temple, holding her belly in utter agony. Pain shot from her brain to her abdomen in lightning flashes, pulsing and radiating through her in searing, knife-like quickness. She fell again, crying out against the pain, gripping her belly, and feeling the child push its way from her body.
Sneering and snorting it heard her; in the far off distance it heard her cries of pain and agony and it smiled. It was her child the dragon wanted, the innocence that was pushing itself from her body. She could feel the blood and other fluids flow down her legs, leaving a trail behind her. The dragon sniffed the air with its seven nostrils and smirked with its seven mouths; it could smell her, almost taste her in the air, the baby was what the dragon wanted. Craning its necks, the dragon lifted its large legs and started stomping towards her scent, its mouth watering and only the newborn on its mind.
She felt warm, like a baby in the womb, like she was covered in a million blankets. Her head lolled from side to side, her body trying to shake herself awake from its dream. Her senses slowly returned to her body, sights and sounds swimming and mingling. First the sounds of muted inaudible distant whispers filled her ears, her auditory senses picked up the electronic rumble of a television- the news, it had to be. Her eyes blinked open, a distinct haze reeling behind her eyes and slowly coming into focus on a musty yellow ceiling. It wasn't her apartment, rather some place she'd never seen before and didn't know how she'd gotten there. She sat up quickly, realizing that she'd been resting on a plush green plaid sofa, a small wool blanket pulled over her body; that explained the warmth. Though she wasn't in her apartment, she didn't feel worried or uneasy; this place held no fear for her. In this place she felt the safe warmness that one feel when they're in the place of their birth or in the cradle of a church.
Looking around some more she stood from the sofa and went to gather her things from the places where they were haphazardly scattered. First her satchel that laid on the chair closest to the television, then her sweater that was sliding slightly off the small coffee table. She bent low, cracking her back, and picked up the sweater. Slowly she stood, smirking in pleasure from the tension release in her back and turned. In the still light stood a silhouetted figure. Roddy paused, not being able to see the person's face, not knowing if she wanted to.
"I see you're awake," an unfamiliar voice said as he stepped forward from the doorway. This man was a teacher at OLIC, he taught Philosophy on the first floor and she hadn't gotten to meet him. He was obviously of Chinese descent, had a rather lengthy ponytail that he fastened at the nape of his neck, and a rather angled face. Roddy only stared, hoping that the man wouldn't hurt her. He was carrying a tray that held a small teapot and two cups; he gingerly set them down on the coffee table. He then sat tranquilly on the previously occupied plaid sofa and started to poor some tea.
"Would you like one lump or two?" he asked, looking up at her with eyes so black that Roddy struggled to see the pupil.
"Why am I here?" she asked, backing away from him.
"Do you want the truthful answer to that?" he asked, adding one lump into her tea and setting it down onto the coffee table in front of him. Disdain shown on her face evident through her blazing amber eyes. She wanted to run over to that table and throw that teacup in his face and scald him, but she only nodded in agreement instead. He patted the cushion next to him and she slowly walked over and sat down.
"Now that you've calmed…"
"I haven't calmed, I just want to know why strange things are happening to me."
"Like the apparition that appeared to you tonight?" he said, smirking at her.
"How did you know?"
"Did you see an apparition?"
"Why do you care?"
"You did." He said with finality. She slammed her tea down on the table with outrage; he was toying with her.
"Why are you doing this? Just answer my questions and I'll leave happily."
"There is a storm raging out there. It is a soundless tempest that swirls happily in a teapot, waiting for someone to unleash it," he stood from the sofa and walked over to his large oak bookshelf and ran his slight fingers over the dusty, hardback books in search of a particular one.
"What are you talking about?"
"You are the catalyst for that storm. Unassuming, innocent, cherished catalyst."
"You're crazy," she said, standing from the sofa almost knocking her teacup from the table, grabbing her satchel and her sweater and starting towards the door.
"You have dreams, no nightmares!" he yelled and she paused in mid-step. She wouldn't face him. She heard the shuffle of his feet behind her and his confident steps on the hardwood floor. She turned quickly and he handed her a large book with an even larger smirk on his face.
"Take this, read it, understand it, and you will understand yourself." He cordially stepped in front of her and opened the door. She snatched the book from him and quickly scurried from the apartment, not looking back at all.