generous::

chapter::emu~for my dear

Sing, O Muse! Sing of how love blossoms in darkness! Sing of paradises on Mount Olympus! Sing of my tale, the lost little girl ever wandering in twilight, half-kindling some hearts, then watching them die in cold mercy.

Of course, poetic-ness really does not suit me. One would think that, after thousands of years, I would grow more lyrical, but in truth I seem to be leaning more towards insanity. Quite unlike my dear brother, you see.

He has established himself. He has a complex web of friends, recluctant allies, and a bunch of people out to kill him. That merry party of assasins usually can't find him and decide that I'm the next best thing. That's partly why, nowadays, I have to die every twenty years or so and come back from the dead. The cycle is endless and tedious, but every so often I do get myself in more trouble than I should, and have no one to blame but myself.

With this kind of life, I should be an elf. Truly. I think I'm impish enough, plus it would be absolutely terrific to have pointy ears.

You could do that if you wished, you know.

There is my dear elder brother's voice inside my head. He likes to check periodically on me, making sure I make my bed and brush my teeth and the endless tedium of daily life doesn't land me into the sanatarium too often. Usually, I linger to chat with him through mind and emotion, a deeper kind of communication than that of mere humans, but today is different.

Today, the sun is bright, the sky is blue, the brimstone of the local community college is waiting, and I have overslept once again.

I vault out of the door and into the street, dodging passerby. To them I am nothing by a swift, sudden blur of black nylon and blue jeans, and I run as fast as is humanly possible.

The bell tolls as I slide into my desk, shaking stray strands of black hair out of my eyes. (Which, unlike my brother's, are brown instead of green, making for a more natural combination.) The lone vampire in the school, that former witch-girl, Sarah, does not notice me. My aura is so weak that that isn't very surprising at all.

After all, Jeshickah didn't notice me. She though I was just a human, albeit a dreamseer, and had me caught and executed in her study. (My head was cut off and much else besides; it was a rather unpleasant affair, to say the least.)

My children are many, but discreet. And now that I begin reminicing of a past life, I fear I am growing very, very bored. I begin drawing aimlessly, half listening to the professor relive Nataku's sorrow in front of Siddartha. He was bodyless, having killed himself in honor for murdering the dragon king's son. Then he was given a body a flesh, made a god, and chained to his father's control.

What a wonderful life.

The bell rings again, this time a cheerful jingle. I know I ought to leave, quiet and unseen, alone, but today the desire for information overrides necessary solitude. I catch up with Sarah leaving the room, and grab her shoulder, perhaps a little too hard. Either way, she spin on the defense and glares at me.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" I ask, feigning nonchalance. Her eyes furrow in confusion and I smile lightheartedly. "Sarah, isn't it? Sarah Green?"

"Of course."

"I'm Jibrille."

"I know," she says, cautiously. I am close to sighing out loud. So wary. So defensive. Some people really don't understand that endless cynicism will only end in illness.

"You'll get a cup of coffee with me." It's not a request, even though I say it cheerfully. Sarah blinks and hesitates, then nods curtly. It sends soft ripples through that silver blond, Pantene commercial-esque hair. She is awfully pretty, and kind of pretty I could never hope to be in another thousand years. Unfortunately, she is quite naïve.

The local coffeeshop is relaxing at this time of the day. No one is rushing off to work, no one is terribly in need to tar-black coffee to stay away. At this moment, the only business is in high schools students, giggling, playing sophistication dress-up with a carefully balanced cup of frappacino. Soft jazz plays in the background. Sarah and I order and sit down.

"What do you want?" she asks suspiciously.

"Miscellaneous information. Why?"

"Like?"

"Like if I can borrow your notes to copy, when the next exam is, and whether or not you have any news on the institution Midnight."

Boy. That got a rise out of her. Green-blue eyes flash in alarm and slender fingers clench.

"What are you?" she asks softly. "SingleEarth?" She can't read my aura, thinks its weak, and makes the obvious assumption.

"No."

"Are you a vampire?"

"Not really."

"Blood bonded?"

"Nope."

"Witch?

"Uh-uh."

"Shapeshifter?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then what the hell /are/ you?" She chokes, running out of patience.

"I'm Jibrille. It's a fairly new identity, but the old one is, like I said, rather old." She rolls her eyes, makes as if to get up and leave, but apparently decides I'm not terribly threatening, and stays.

"I'm not from the Midnight line," she answers calmly. "So what I know, you should know as well." She looks at me pointedly.

"Well, I'm afraid I've been rather discreet for a while. I'm awfully behind on news." She snorts with disbelief, and we are granted a reprise from our war of nerves when the lady brings us cups of the steaming liquid. I sip my coffee slowly, while Sarah hardly touches hers. Ten minutes or so pass before I set my cup down again.

"So! Back to business." I grin and lean forward. "Or to business, should I say. All I want to know is of the well-being of the Mistress of Midnight."

"There's been nothing of importance on her," Sarah states slowly.

"Then my business is done. Than you for your assistance, Sarah Vida." I rise and leave without another word, leaving my guest with openmouthed with questions and confusion.

^

That wasn't paricularly nice, Jibrille.

It wasn't meant to be.

You've changed quite a bit.

Not really.

Oh?

I have a personality for every day of the week, for every star in the sky.

There is a fine line between a personality and a mask, Jibrille. There are those that walk where they would not, unknowingly. And before they know it, they are alone.

Iknow. That's why I left.

Then you left him because you wanted to be alone?

I didn't want to hurt him any more than I had to.

You certainly hurt him more than you intended to.

I know.

Is there regret?

Maybe.

Jibrille, what is it that you want?

His happiness.

And for yourself?

He is met with silence, my brother. He knows I don't want to talk anymore, and recedes out of courtesy. My mood has changed like the moon, the playfullness of the morning has been ebbed away.

I stare at this crowded city from the elevated walkways crossing the busy streets. Men, women, children…they are all the same. The flicker in and out of life like mayflies, and despite whatever they may accomplish, and overall perspective of God does not change. The old beggars on the street, soot-washed, broken and blacked, dream of comfort. Yet even if all the riches of the world were poured upon them, wouldn't they only have but a brief moment of bliss before they were gone?

And would they be happy?

Philosophical questions. They bore through me, they are the core of my existence. Vampires, witches, shapeshifters…they are ugly, superstitious words. Sometimes I want to climb to the top of the tallest building on earth and just let myself fall, feeling the air pass through my lashes, cherising the weightlessness, and die. Someone…him, he once told me that all he wanted was to be by my side. And I was unwilling because I didn't want to have responsibility or ties, and I wanted to be unrestrained. Yet even after eons of wandering and solitude, I still haven't found what I've been looking for.

I have never told my brother, Siete, what I wanted for myself, although I supposed he has guessed. The fundemental wish of humans and immortals like, but none know how to attain it. What I want? Ask again, O Muse, and laugh at my romantic dreams.

All I want…is to be free.

A/N: Wow. Two chapters and not yet a sliver of plot, even. As you should have been able to guess by now (hopefully) Jibrille is Takako's new name. Gabriel is coming back soon (bah. I love him. I can't leave him out.) with more OOC-ness. Which brings to a point: oy. Sarah just came out demented, eh? Amaiko just cannot write fanfiction. Nor anything else, for that matter.

Saiyuki is blasphemy.

finished::3 Mars 2003 2.29 pm est

music::gackt.emu~for my dear/mizerable