A Raindance Narrative
A Cowboy Bebop/Faye Valentine bonanza
By Dommi-chan
This is a rather short character study of everyone's favourite Shrew Woman. I'm putting this somewhere in between "Wild Horses" and "Pierrot Le Fou." Shortly after the moment when Faye-Faye-chan finally said to herself "hey moron you love Spike."
It's PG rated for use of the word 'bitch,' and because it's not really easily understood. I don't know if I get it myself. Cowboy Bebop and it's characters are so the property of Sunrise, Bandai, etc. Not me or I'd be laughing on my way to the bank.
If any of you figure this out, well drop me a line. I'm curious to see what people think of this, as it's my first attempt at stream-of-consciousness and all.
----------------------------------------------------------
You woke up this morning.
You woke up this morning and it was raining.
You don't normally mind the rain because you find it soothing. It makes you feel relaxed. Like you have no choice but to curl up with some hot chocolate and a good book on a comfortable sofa and snooze the day away.
Today you mind the rain.
Today you mind the rain because there's no time for relaxing. Hot cocoa and books are not an option. Rest is completely out of the question. And the only sofa you have is occupied at the moment.
Today you mind the rain because it is making you think of him, of he who is occupying said sofa.
In the past, you've been told that you know a lot of things. Insightful for someone who's young is what they said. That you gave a lot of yourself and that you had a lot of love for people around you. And it is true that you love a lot of things. You love the sunrise and stars and chocolate and the beach and money and fancy dresses and smoking. And of course, you love him.
Lately, you're beginning to think your love for him dwarves these other things combined. You love him like you love breathing. Like you love living. Like you love your soul. Natural, unconditional, impossible to distract or sever or even to notice normally. It's just there, like your eyes or your arms or your mouth.
Part of you understands that this is not really beneficial by any means.
For starters, when love is purely one-sided, it has a tendency to fester and bleed the owner dry. It's like a form of emotional gangrene; if it goes on too long, it needs to be amputated before the bearer dies from the infection. One-sided violent passion like this is slightly more than self-destructive. Or so the older, wiser part of you claims.
The younger, needier, less meddlesome part of you thinks that it's fine. Unrequited love is the only true love, or so you read somewhere so long ago. Love is pain. Love is suffering for a timely reward to be delivered by angels to only those most deserving. And by God, do you suffer for love of him.
You suffer because he seems hell bent on being rude to you. Because he does stupid things and makes you feel the kind of worry that causes your breath to stop and your fingers to get all chewed up and wrecked. Because he's not really there with you, he's on borrowed time. Because he is an arrogant, stupid jerk.
Because he won't love you back. Won't, not can't.
He could if he tried. If he left the past where it belonged and lived in the now. If he let you make him happy. If he let you want him overtly.
If, buts, candy, nuts. So sad, too bad.
So in place of your love, you give him insults. In place of a warm embrace, defensive cold. In place of worry, indifference. Sure, you chase him when he runs off on his stupid suicide runs. When you invariably save him, you snap and you argue and you claim it's not because you care but because you didn't want to lose money or time.
In reality, you want to hurt him. Throw things. Scream. Shoot. Kick. Bite. Anything to get him to stand up and notice that you're here. You're here and you're not leaving. You're here and you're real and you're not just a vapor from his memory.
But you give him insults. Defensive cold. Indifference. Save his life and then turn into Frosty the Snow Bitch to save face. It works for you two, it's your quirky dynamic. Whatever you gets you through your life, right?
So you'll keep being cold. You'll continue to keep him at arm's length. You'll insult. You'll scream. You'll take advantage. You'll pester. You'll twist your personality to forget how you feel and to keep anyone else from seeing it, too. You'll yell so you won't have to cry like you are right now.
You'll pay for it though. You'll pay dearly, because all of the pretending and charades will just wear you out. You'll be so tired, so tired of playing to not care. You'll get tired of trying to save him, only to reward him with more borrowed time. You'll be tired of not being able to love him. And then he'll leave, his time will run out, and you won't have to hide anymore.
It isn't raining anymore.
*~* Game Over *~*
That was weird, wasn't it? Feedback please, I'm honestly not sure how I did here….
A Cowboy Bebop/Faye Valentine bonanza
By Dommi-chan
This is a rather short character study of everyone's favourite Shrew Woman. I'm putting this somewhere in between "Wild Horses" and "Pierrot Le Fou." Shortly after the moment when Faye-Faye-chan finally said to herself "hey moron you love Spike."
It's PG rated for use of the word 'bitch,' and because it's not really easily understood. I don't know if I get it myself. Cowboy Bebop and it's characters are so the property of Sunrise, Bandai, etc. Not me or I'd be laughing on my way to the bank.
If any of you figure this out, well drop me a line. I'm curious to see what people think of this, as it's my first attempt at stream-of-consciousness and all.
----------------------------------------------------------
You woke up this morning.
You woke up this morning and it was raining.
You don't normally mind the rain because you find it soothing. It makes you feel relaxed. Like you have no choice but to curl up with some hot chocolate and a good book on a comfortable sofa and snooze the day away.
Today you mind the rain.
Today you mind the rain because there's no time for relaxing. Hot cocoa and books are not an option. Rest is completely out of the question. And the only sofa you have is occupied at the moment.
Today you mind the rain because it is making you think of him, of he who is occupying said sofa.
In the past, you've been told that you know a lot of things. Insightful for someone who's young is what they said. That you gave a lot of yourself and that you had a lot of love for people around you. And it is true that you love a lot of things. You love the sunrise and stars and chocolate and the beach and money and fancy dresses and smoking. And of course, you love him.
Lately, you're beginning to think your love for him dwarves these other things combined. You love him like you love breathing. Like you love living. Like you love your soul. Natural, unconditional, impossible to distract or sever or even to notice normally. It's just there, like your eyes or your arms or your mouth.
Part of you understands that this is not really beneficial by any means.
For starters, when love is purely one-sided, it has a tendency to fester and bleed the owner dry. It's like a form of emotional gangrene; if it goes on too long, it needs to be amputated before the bearer dies from the infection. One-sided violent passion like this is slightly more than self-destructive. Or so the older, wiser part of you claims.
The younger, needier, less meddlesome part of you thinks that it's fine. Unrequited love is the only true love, or so you read somewhere so long ago. Love is pain. Love is suffering for a timely reward to be delivered by angels to only those most deserving. And by God, do you suffer for love of him.
You suffer because he seems hell bent on being rude to you. Because he does stupid things and makes you feel the kind of worry that causes your breath to stop and your fingers to get all chewed up and wrecked. Because he's not really there with you, he's on borrowed time. Because he is an arrogant, stupid jerk.
Because he won't love you back. Won't, not can't.
He could if he tried. If he left the past where it belonged and lived in the now. If he let you make him happy. If he let you want him overtly.
If, buts, candy, nuts. So sad, too bad.
So in place of your love, you give him insults. In place of a warm embrace, defensive cold. In place of worry, indifference. Sure, you chase him when he runs off on his stupid suicide runs. When you invariably save him, you snap and you argue and you claim it's not because you care but because you didn't want to lose money or time.
In reality, you want to hurt him. Throw things. Scream. Shoot. Kick. Bite. Anything to get him to stand up and notice that you're here. You're here and you're not leaving. You're here and you're real and you're not just a vapor from his memory.
But you give him insults. Defensive cold. Indifference. Save his life and then turn into Frosty the Snow Bitch to save face. It works for you two, it's your quirky dynamic. Whatever you gets you through your life, right?
So you'll keep being cold. You'll continue to keep him at arm's length. You'll insult. You'll scream. You'll take advantage. You'll pester. You'll twist your personality to forget how you feel and to keep anyone else from seeing it, too. You'll yell so you won't have to cry like you are right now.
You'll pay for it though. You'll pay dearly, because all of the pretending and charades will just wear you out. You'll be so tired, so tired of playing to not care. You'll get tired of trying to save him, only to reward him with more borrowed time. You'll be tired of not being able to love him. And then he'll leave, his time will run out, and you won't have to hide anymore.
It isn't raining anymore.
*~* Game Over *~*
That was weird, wasn't it? Feedback please, I'm honestly not sure how I did here….