It was nighttime-again. She knew that it meant nothing more than
nighttime ever did, which was generally a chance to mourn old sorrows and
indulge in grief. The entire concept sickened and irritated her-the thought
that she was beholden to something, even if that something was the cool
relief of night-she didn't much like to think about it. Let alone what it
was that bothered her. But seeming as it was inescapable, and as already
halcyon images of her past that had been oh-so-wrong even then, she slipped
on a nightgown and left her dorm.
She felt lost, mainly, and strangely self-conscious as her darkened wet locks of hair began to soak the light nightdress. She shivered as a breeze passed and as she realized that already the thin material was sticking to her moist skin, yet did not disregard the refreshing relief that she felt by being so free, so alone, so...at peace? Almost as a reflex, she brought back images of Shiori to quell her happiness and create that dull reassuring ache in her heart that reminded her that she was alive and had no right, in fact, to be happy. At first the reflex had sickened her, she had found it atrociously grotesque, but now she had accepted it. She would never be free of that which haunted her, even if her capture by these thoughts that she so longed to lay to rest were brought back up by the side of her that would not grant her peace, and not in fact by her fickle subconscious.
And so, lost and lonely, she began to walk to the fountain where long ago (as it seemed now-time had a curious way of bending the laws at Ohtori) she had tried to take Tenjou's ring...even now she shuddered thinking of how the girl still wore it as a gaudy token of a false love. Utena disgusted her with her happy-go-luckiness and optimism, and also her innocence and naïveté. She stood for joy, something that Juri had once tried to comprehend and pursue for herself but was kicked down brutally for, and she had never been able to pick up the pieces since. And now...now was nothing. Nothing was everything. Perhaps it was her fatalistic views that had corrupted her so and made her almost masochistic in her yearning for Shiori, but she wasn't seeking to explain it. She wasn't seeking to even acknowledge it-all that she desired was separation from everything that she was beholden to...even the body that held her. If only, for once, she could fly on the ethereal wings of dream, and never have to touch back to the filth that clung to her in this earthly realm. As she felt the cold cobblestone curve beneath her bare feet, she felt a mad urge to scream, to kill herself and what she stood for, and to take the opportunity to be absolved for eternity. Everything called for her attention, nothing was her desire. Her wings of dream would be shot down, she would fall, her bloodied wings now only hampering her existence, and she would fall face first into the filth that she had so sought to escape. This was life-had anyone told her that there was anything else, she wouldn't have listened; would have laughed in their optimistic faces or lash out, letting them touch her cold existence as it was. Like she did with Tenjou. Like she did with Himemiya. Like she did with anyone who held such a blind love of everything, without any comprehension of reality! When once she would have found the cup half full, and later half empty, she only saw it as containing 50% of its potential capacity. She was a realist-she had already resigned herself to the no-frills, no-pleasure existence that the birth-life-death sequence of things had brought. There was no hope, let alone miracles. There were no miracles, and there never would be. There was no Divine Influence. Ends of the World was an illusion; so was the Student Council's pursuits-there was nothing to live for for her or anyone else. But strangely, something tied her to the Student Council; something bound her to this disgusting existence. Something that she could not put a finger on. There was something that held her to her twisted fate.
She realized that she was already at the fountain, sprawled back against the side of it, her arms behind her head, the rest of her practically bare body flat against the cold, smooth concrete. She laughed dryly; imagine if someone saw her now? Imagine...if they could feel the cold stone beneath her, the cold air from the water besides her, the cool refresher that had suddenly began to lift from her all of her cares? For once in her actuality she felt free, beholden to nothing, for once she felt divine. Not wanting to lose the curiously phenomenal feeling to her fatalistic comprehension, she rolled over on her side, and shuddered with pleasure as her body dropped into the shallow, icy water. She felt true joy tingle up her back as she felt herself numb, leapt up, dancing in the water; the thin fabric of her dress hugging her nubile curves, revealing her darkened nipples. A queer joy and freedom like she had never experienced, even as a child, crept through her veins, rushing through her heart. Although she had just showered, she stood underneath the icy water that gushed down from the fountain, feeling every care that she had ever had fly away, if only temporarily. She spun underneath the deluge of water, shivered as the cold winds hit her saturated dress which held so tightly to her. When had these fears that she had held for so long accumulated...why? Somehow everything on this world that had cursed her was gone; she felt the wings of dream carrying her through her blood red walls that contained her mind to the pale blue of eternal life. Finally, she was above it all. Suddenly, to her immense and obscene surprise, a bud of hope had begun to break from the surface of her fears and liabilities, glowing orange with new hope; she looking admiringly at her curls which glistened in the moonlight.
She saw it out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly she felt the swords being hurled at her wings and not being able to dodge them. They were pierced, her heart fell, the bud rotted away to oblivion, and she fell back to the filth that had so entrenched her before.
On the edge of the fountain that could have now poured blood lay a mauve rose entwined with a pink rose...something that she honestly could not comprehend, but brought back a deluge of pain that she thought had finally left her.
Then she heard the giggle. At first one. And then another. Both incredibly feminine, yet incredibly varied. One was naïve, bubbly; the other cruelly innocent, with a tinge of lust. Juri's face paled, she felt nausea rush through her and her eyes begin to water.
The bushes moved. Rustled again; Juri's entire body felt as though it were melting as she could only stare with horror. Another rustle.
Then her keen, distrusting eyes saw a lock of pink hair caught between the closely entwined branches of the bush, and then heard a murmur and saw a hand reach up and untangle it, drawing it back into the enclosure. Juri's eyes began to narrow. But then they were wide open, threatening to flood. From the other side, she saw the foot. Pale, delicate, ethereal. With artfully painted toenails...painted red, in fact. Juri fought the urge to vomit, melt, and burst into tears all at the same time, and backed away from the scene as best she could, feeling her feet meeting the rough concrete siding of the fountain. Wordlessly, shakily, she lifted her right foot, felt her way over the short wall, then as it touched down she lifted her right foot, backed finally out of the pool.
With one last, wild, miserable glance, she looked back at the bushes, where suddenly the foot withdrew with an accompanying moan, and then she turned and ran, fighting back tears and then finally giving into their hot regret once again as she rushed back to her dorm where she could sleep it all away.
She felt lost, mainly, and strangely self-conscious as her darkened wet locks of hair began to soak the light nightdress. She shivered as a breeze passed and as she realized that already the thin material was sticking to her moist skin, yet did not disregard the refreshing relief that she felt by being so free, so alone, so...at peace? Almost as a reflex, she brought back images of Shiori to quell her happiness and create that dull reassuring ache in her heart that reminded her that she was alive and had no right, in fact, to be happy. At first the reflex had sickened her, she had found it atrociously grotesque, but now she had accepted it. She would never be free of that which haunted her, even if her capture by these thoughts that she so longed to lay to rest were brought back up by the side of her that would not grant her peace, and not in fact by her fickle subconscious.
And so, lost and lonely, she began to walk to the fountain where long ago (as it seemed now-time had a curious way of bending the laws at Ohtori) she had tried to take Tenjou's ring...even now she shuddered thinking of how the girl still wore it as a gaudy token of a false love. Utena disgusted her with her happy-go-luckiness and optimism, and also her innocence and naïveté. She stood for joy, something that Juri had once tried to comprehend and pursue for herself but was kicked down brutally for, and she had never been able to pick up the pieces since. And now...now was nothing. Nothing was everything. Perhaps it was her fatalistic views that had corrupted her so and made her almost masochistic in her yearning for Shiori, but she wasn't seeking to explain it. She wasn't seeking to even acknowledge it-all that she desired was separation from everything that she was beholden to...even the body that held her. If only, for once, she could fly on the ethereal wings of dream, and never have to touch back to the filth that clung to her in this earthly realm. As she felt the cold cobblestone curve beneath her bare feet, she felt a mad urge to scream, to kill herself and what she stood for, and to take the opportunity to be absolved for eternity. Everything called for her attention, nothing was her desire. Her wings of dream would be shot down, she would fall, her bloodied wings now only hampering her existence, and she would fall face first into the filth that she had so sought to escape. This was life-had anyone told her that there was anything else, she wouldn't have listened; would have laughed in their optimistic faces or lash out, letting them touch her cold existence as it was. Like she did with Tenjou. Like she did with Himemiya. Like she did with anyone who held such a blind love of everything, without any comprehension of reality! When once she would have found the cup half full, and later half empty, she only saw it as containing 50% of its potential capacity. She was a realist-she had already resigned herself to the no-frills, no-pleasure existence that the birth-life-death sequence of things had brought. There was no hope, let alone miracles. There were no miracles, and there never would be. There was no Divine Influence. Ends of the World was an illusion; so was the Student Council's pursuits-there was nothing to live for for her or anyone else. But strangely, something tied her to the Student Council; something bound her to this disgusting existence. Something that she could not put a finger on. There was something that held her to her twisted fate.
She realized that she was already at the fountain, sprawled back against the side of it, her arms behind her head, the rest of her practically bare body flat against the cold, smooth concrete. She laughed dryly; imagine if someone saw her now? Imagine...if they could feel the cold stone beneath her, the cold air from the water besides her, the cool refresher that had suddenly began to lift from her all of her cares? For once in her actuality she felt free, beholden to nothing, for once she felt divine. Not wanting to lose the curiously phenomenal feeling to her fatalistic comprehension, she rolled over on her side, and shuddered with pleasure as her body dropped into the shallow, icy water. She felt true joy tingle up her back as she felt herself numb, leapt up, dancing in the water; the thin fabric of her dress hugging her nubile curves, revealing her darkened nipples. A queer joy and freedom like she had never experienced, even as a child, crept through her veins, rushing through her heart. Although she had just showered, she stood underneath the icy water that gushed down from the fountain, feeling every care that she had ever had fly away, if only temporarily. She spun underneath the deluge of water, shivered as the cold winds hit her saturated dress which held so tightly to her. When had these fears that she had held for so long accumulated...why? Somehow everything on this world that had cursed her was gone; she felt the wings of dream carrying her through her blood red walls that contained her mind to the pale blue of eternal life. Finally, she was above it all. Suddenly, to her immense and obscene surprise, a bud of hope had begun to break from the surface of her fears and liabilities, glowing orange with new hope; she looking admiringly at her curls which glistened in the moonlight.
She saw it out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly she felt the swords being hurled at her wings and not being able to dodge them. They were pierced, her heart fell, the bud rotted away to oblivion, and she fell back to the filth that had so entrenched her before.
On the edge of the fountain that could have now poured blood lay a mauve rose entwined with a pink rose...something that she honestly could not comprehend, but brought back a deluge of pain that she thought had finally left her.
Then she heard the giggle. At first one. And then another. Both incredibly feminine, yet incredibly varied. One was naïve, bubbly; the other cruelly innocent, with a tinge of lust. Juri's face paled, she felt nausea rush through her and her eyes begin to water.
The bushes moved. Rustled again; Juri's entire body felt as though it were melting as she could only stare with horror. Another rustle.
Then her keen, distrusting eyes saw a lock of pink hair caught between the closely entwined branches of the bush, and then heard a murmur and saw a hand reach up and untangle it, drawing it back into the enclosure. Juri's eyes began to narrow. But then they were wide open, threatening to flood. From the other side, she saw the foot. Pale, delicate, ethereal. With artfully painted toenails...painted red, in fact. Juri fought the urge to vomit, melt, and burst into tears all at the same time, and backed away from the scene as best she could, feeling her feet meeting the rough concrete siding of the fountain. Wordlessly, shakily, she lifted her right foot, felt her way over the short wall, then as it touched down she lifted her right foot, backed finally out of the pool.
With one last, wild, miserable glance, she looked back at the bushes, where suddenly the foot withdrew with an accompanying moan, and then she turned and ran, fighting back tears and then finally giving into their hot regret once again as she rushed back to her dorm where she could sleep it all away.