Title: Stains
Author: KyonKyon and editor Kari
Feedback: Adored!
Disclaimer: Alias belongs to 'The Alphabet', a bunch of 'Naughty Little Machines', a 'Feeling Rock', and a man named JJ Abrams.
Summary: "Stains are on our hearts and minds. They poison and intoxicate our lives, both with their power and with their terrible beauty . . ." Sark introspection.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Classification: Angst/General
-----------------------
Footfalls resounding softly down the hallway, Sark stumbled wearily into his bedsitter. Outside the skies were pouring rain - a fitting end, he thought, to his equally depressing day. The news he had received from Irina was definitely not as good as he had hoped. Almost exactly the opposite of what he was hoping, in fact, but he didn't want to think about that right now, that or anything else going wrong in his life. His current main, and only, concern was to relax and let himself go for a few hours. Maybe he would even sleep peacefully for once. That in mind, he shuffled over to the nearby cabinet and brought out the all too familiar sight of his favorite wine, Chateau Petreuse.'82. Uncorking the bottle, without preamble, he poured himself a generous glass.
His hands shook as he gently eased his battered body onto the ebony leather sofa, causing the dark red liquid to slosh over onto his brand new designer white shirt. He stared, transfixed, as the fluid, so much like blood from a fresh wound, was absorbed into the heavily starched material.
"Stains are everywhere," he murmured unconsciously as the wine proceeded to seep through the fabric. "Everywhere, blotching the pureness of life." His head tilted slightly in contemplation, he continued softly, "Stains are on our hearts and minds. They poison and intoxicate our lives, both with their power and with their terrible beauty . . . This stain will never come off . . . for it is the stain of evilness, the stain that is on my own life. How it got there I suppose I shall never know. Yet another mystery to me, yet another unknown variable. Much like this entire Rambaldi prophecy. The two of them are but daft children, lost in their own childish game of fantasy. That game of pretend is eating away at our souls and bodies. This machine of immortality, this power of fate . . . it will engulf this impure world, sparing only those who believe. The rest shall be forsaken and the stain of evilness will grow. Life as we now know it shall cease to exist.
"And I? I will do nothing to stop it, so that my soul may rest in peace. I cannot do anything to stop it. When something extraordinary is discovered, you cannot hide it. Word will spread and the entire world shall be upon you, like a fly on a horse, a flea on a dog, a lion on a gazelle. All of us are silently dying, and yet we are oblivious to it, because we are not inflicted with the pain."
He was silent for a few moments before his raspy voice floated lightly on the air, hardly a whisper. "Only time will tell who hell will spare and who will be damned for eternity. I myself have no doubt of my destiny. I chose to watch the evil grow in this world, chose to watch it swallow the naïve and doubtful. Their joyous lives were just waiting to be shattered by the truth . . . Death is not the most terrible thing a body can experience. After all, it is a relief from the stain . . ."
Almost in a trance, Sark took off his suit jacket, and slowly, so as not to ingrain the liquid further, he unbuttoned his shirt. Walking over to the sink, he filled it up to the brim with cold water and submerged the stiff white material. Ignoring the rivulets trickling over the edge and splashing onto his bare feet, he stood there, watching as the stain began to fade away, the emerging tendrils of red starkly visible against the crystal purity of the water.
Almost as if someone else was listening, he murmured, "But what if the stain disappeared? Maybe life could be just a bit more peaceful. . . "
--------------------------A/N----------------------------
/'^_^'\: First of all happy birthday to my buddy Michael who helped me write this . . . .without really knowing! Second of all thanks to Kari my wonderful editor/re-writer/add in descriptive words-er!
~*^_^*~: Of course, reviews are welcomed!
/'^_^'\: She's very talented for never having even seen more than 10 minutes of the combined two seasons! Heehee!
~*^_^*~: I'm beginning to get who this Sark guy is! And I can tell you everyone's basic stereo-type!
/'^_^'\: You learn quickly, young Jedi.
~*^_^*~: Ja Ne!
/'^_^'\: Only 138 days till the season one DVD comes out! Yay! Ja!
Author: KyonKyon and editor Kari
Feedback: Adored!
Disclaimer: Alias belongs to 'The Alphabet', a bunch of 'Naughty Little Machines', a 'Feeling Rock', and a man named JJ Abrams.
Summary: "Stains are on our hearts and minds. They poison and intoxicate our lives, both with their power and with their terrible beauty . . ." Sark introspection.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Classification: Angst/General
-----------------------
Footfalls resounding softly down the hallway, Sark stumbled wearily into his bedsitter. Outside the skies were pouring rain - a fitting end, he thought, to his equally depressing day. The news he had received from Irina was definitely not as good as he had hoped. Almost exactly the opposite of what he was hoping, in fact, but he didn't want to think about that right now, that or anything else going wrong in his life. His current main, and only, concern was to relax and let himself go for a few hours. Maybe he would even sleep peacefully for once. That in mind, he shuffled over to the nearby cabinet and brought out the all too familiar sight of his favorite wine, Chateau Petreuse.'82. Uncorking the bottle, without preamble, he poured himself a generous glass.
His hands shook as he gently eased his battered body onto the ebony leather sofa, causing the dark red liquid to slosh over onto his brand new designer white shirt. He stared, transfixed, as the fluid, so much like blood from a fresh wound, was absorbed into the heavily starched material.
"Stains are everywhere," he murmured unconsciously as the wine proceeded to seep through the fabric. "Everywhere, blotching the pureness of life." His head tilted slightly in contemplation, he continued softly, "Stains are on our hearts and minds. They poison and intoxicate our lives, both with their power and with their terrible beauty . . . This stain will never come off . . . for it is the stain of evilness, the stain that is on my own life. How it got there I suppose I shall never know. Yet another mystery to me, yet another unknown variable. Much like this entire Rambaldi prophecy. The two of them are but daft children, lost in their own childish game of fantasy. That game of pretend is eating away at our souls and bodies. This machine of immortality, this power of fate . . . it will engulf this impure world, sparing only those who believe. The rest shall be forsaken and the stain of evilness will grow. Life as we now know it shall cease to exist.
"And I? I will do nothing to stop it, so that my soul may rest in peace. I cannot do anything to stop it. When something extraordinary is discovered, you cannot hide it. Word will spread and the entire world shall be upon you, like a fly on a horse, a flea on a dog, a lion on a gazelle. All of us are silently dying, and yet we are oblivious to it, because we are not inflicted with the pain."
He was silent for a few moments before his raspy voice floated lightly on the air, hardly a whisper. "Only time will tell who hell will spare and who will be damned for eternity. I myself have no doubt of my destiny. I chose to watch the evil grow in this world, chose to watch it swallow the naïve and doubtful. Their joyous lives were just waiting to be shattered by the truth . . . Death is not the most terrible thing a body can experience. After all, it is a relief from the stain . . ."
Almost in a trance, Sark took off his suit jacket, and slowly, so as not to ingrain the liquid further, he unbuttoned his shirt. Walking over to the sink, he filled it up to the brim with cold water and submerged the stiff white material. Ignoring the rivulets trickling over the edge and splashing onto his bare feet, he stood there, watching as the stain began to fade away, the emerging tendrils of red starkly visible against the crystal purity of the water.
Almost as if someone else was listening, he murmured, "But what if the stain disappeared? Maybe life could be just a bit more peaceful. . . "
--------------------------A/N----------------------------
/'^_^'\: First of all happy birthday to my buddy Michael who helped me write this . . . .without really knowing! Second of all thanks to Kari my wonderful editor/re-writer/add in descriptive words-er!
~*^_^*~: Of course, reviews are welcomed!
/'^_^'\: She's very talented for never having even seen more than 10 minutes of the combined two seasons! Heehee!
~*^_^*~: I'm beginning to get who this Sark guy is! And I can tell you everyone's basic stereo-type!
/'^_^'\: You learn quickly, young Jedi.
~*^_^*~: Ja Ne!
/'^_^'\: Only 138 days till the season one DVD comes out! Yay! Ja!