[Okay. You all, I'm SO sorry for taking so long to finish up the next chapters to ALL of my stories. I've just been really busy over the summer. But just to let you all know, I've uploaded my images of Tori to my webpage: http://www.hometown.aol.com/d12chick4sho/index.html. There, you'll be able to find images of Tori if you don't have the slightest Idea to how she looks and such. But I'll dedicate something to this page to make up for loss time. Please r/r it. It's nothing that has to do wtih X-Men but may be a prologue to one of my next fics that actually doesn't have anything to do with the X-Men fanfics I've been creating. Once again, I'm so sorry. *cries* don't hate me! I'm really busy! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! *runs off crying. Minutes later, a door slams behind her*]
...What should have been. -Kuroi Tori
[It's not thoroughly thought up, so you may not understand it. I'll help you out a bit at the end though. If you've read my fanfic dealing with Metal Gear called "A Kunoichi's last dance" which was dedicated to my good friend Shinobi of Darkness (SoD), It kind of, in a way, is supposed to fall somewhere into that story. Maybe I'll add it later depending on reviews. Viewers discretion is advised for forced language. "Forced Language", is that even a word of phrasing? o.O]
...
...
...
In Ayane's Eyes, Taki's rage burned.
Hearing his words being spoken with such truth, I shudder to realize the pain I've caused him. He was right like the other two I've encountered. I was "cruel". The loneliest, most cruel, young woman a man can meet. Thinking back, I realize at times, I couldn't help it. The Ayane inside, begged for mercy from the Taki that would torment, but being overpowered led to Taki ruling the life Ayane wanted to claim. Although I, Ayane, watched his angular face stare back, cold with anger, Taki's hands tightened as her heart burned, trying very hard to suppress the urge to smack him for his insensitive remark. The Taki I knew wanted to step forward and slap the taste from his mouth. My mind became blank as the words singed my lips to speak. I remember my thoughts clearly but my lips would curse itself to form any form of an apology or show any sign of weakness. I knew just the words to accompany his stinging slap just as I knew it then.
"How dare you!" I would say. The first words that would come out of any woman's mouth who would be downsized and called the most "rotten woman to walk the earth." Or perhaps a "cruel and blackhearted wretch". I would then stare into his eyes with my own. blinded by hate, I would hold back the tears that would lead to him showing some sign of comfort for his words.
"You have NO right to say such things. Unless you know the pain I'm in, You can NEVER speak the shit you just spoke." Those words alone would have to set in his mind. And even if his lips made a slight curl to even form a single word, I would angrily cut him off.
"You know absolutely nothing of me! The REAL me! You only see Taki, not Ayane! Wanna know why you only see Taki?! And why you're forced to watch Taki act the way she does?! It's because Ayane is dead! I wanted that bitch dead!" Still, I wouldn't dare let him talk. I would let him see tears but he would remain silent while I finished.
"You don't know how often I've lived my life in the hands of others. And every time I would be used, I'd go home and cry! Sometimes, standing on my balcony, I would just sit there in a corner and cry! But until you know what my life fuckin' feels like, you can't say shit to me! Ever!"
I would expect him to stand there in awe, wondering with all his heart how much pain I was in. But of course, like a man, he stood before me with his arms crossed. Maybe this was his way of not showing any pity because he knew I'd blow up the minute he tried to "talk." Inside, I was crying. Outside I was dying. Rotting away in my shameful world of isolation. Waiting for some brief moment of escape or something relatively close to it. While internally crying, I guess you could say I was yearning. If not for him, then his arms. Support, at that moment, was something I needed. Not another man getting miffed because an accident happened at the expense of me. Stepping back and away from him, as I brought a hand to my head, I found myself leaning against a wall, crying my eyes out. Crying because the person I wanted to be, wasn't alive anymore. The person I wanted to be would have been perfect for him. But I couldn't. I was stripped of all emotions until HE brought me to my breaking point.
Then I opened my eyes, gasping against his chest as my tears made darkened spots against his shirt. I didn't expect this at all. For him to stand with me so close to him. For me to accept being this close to him. I couldn't stop the crying. It...just overflowed and kept going. Endlessly. I heard him whisper between each "Shh". I heard him saying he was 'sorry' and that "he didn't mean it" and how "he didn't know that I was hurting." Typical, right? Maybe. Beneath all that anger, I was growing warm and didn't know why. All I can say is that I was afraid, but he held me close. Breathlessly sobbing against his chest, I cried out, repeatedly whispering how sorry I was for screaming at him the way I did. I could tell he understood. He held me even closer to him, patting my back softly. It was true. He really was a SOFTY beneath that hard-ass attitude. If only this weren't a dream; only a fantasy from beneath my mind of enchanted, yet, sorrowful imaginative ideas. I would only want this to be what it is not. This is what should have been...
[Well that's it. Tell me what you think! x.x]
...What should have been. -Kuroi Tori
[It's not thoroughly thought up, so you may not understand it. I'll help you out a bit at the end though. If you've read my fanfic dealing with Metal Gear called "A Kunoichi's last dance" which was dedicated to my good friend Shinobi of Darkness (SoD), It kind of, in a way, is supposed to fall somewhere into that story. Maybe I'll add it later depending on reviews. Viewers discretion is advised for forced language. "Forced Language", is that even a word of phrasing? o.O]
...
...
...
In Ayane's Eyes, Taki's rage burned.
Hearing his words being spoken with such truth, I shudder to realize the pain I've caused him. He was right like the other two I've encountered. I was "cruel". The loneliest, most cruel, young woman a man can meet. Thinking back, I realize at times, I couldn't help it. The Ayane inside, begged for mercy from the Taki that would torment, but being overpowered led to Taki ruling the life Ayane wanted to claim. Although I, Ayane, watched his angular face stare back, cold with anger, Taki's hands tightened as her heart burned, trying very hard to suppress the urge to smack him for his insensitive remark. The Taki I knew wanted to step forward and slap the taste from his mouth. My mind became blank as the words singed my lips to speak. I remember my thoughts clearly but my lips would curse itself to form any form of an apology or show any sign of weakness. I knew just the words to accompany his stinging slap just as I knew it then.
"How dare you!" I would say. The first words that would come out of any woman's mouth who would be downsized and called the most "rotten woman to walk the earth." Or perhaps a "cruel and blackhearted wretch". I would then stare into his eyes with my own. blinded by hate, I would hold back the tears that would lead to him showing some sign of comfort for his words.
"You have NO right to say such things. Unless you know the pain I'm in, You can NEVER speak the shit you just spoke." Those words alone would have to set in his mind. And even if his lips made a slight curl to even form a single word, I would angrily cut him off.
"You know absolutely nothing of me! The REAL me! You only see Taki, not Ayane! Wanna know why you only see Taki?! And why you're forced to watch Taki act the way she does?! It's because Ayane is dead! I wanted that bitch dead!" Still, I wouldn't dare let him talk. I would let him see tears but he would remain silent while I finished.
"You don't know how often I've lived my life in the hands of others. And every time I would be used, I'd go home and cry! Sometimes, standing on my balcony, I would just sit there in a corner and cry! But until you know what my life fuckin' feels like, you can't say shit to me! Ever!"
I would expect him to stand there in awe, wondering with all his heart how much pain I was in. But of course, like a man, he stood before me with his arms crossed. Maybe this was his way of not showing any pity because he knew I'd blow up the minute he tried to "talk." Inside, I was crying. Outside I was dying. Rotting away in my shameful world of isolation. Waiting for some brief moment of escape or something relatively close to it. While internally crying, I guess you could say I was yearning. If not for him, then his arms. Support, at that moment, was something I needed. Not another man getting miffed because an accident happened at the expense of me. Stepping back and away from him, as I brought a hand to my head, I found myself leaning against a wall, crying my eyes out. Crying because the person I wanted to be, wasn't alive anymore. The person I wanted to be would have been perfect for him. But I couldn't. I was stripped of all emotions until HE brought me to my breaking point.
Then I opened my eyes, gasping against his chest as my tears made darkened spots against his shirt. I didn't expect this at all. For him to stand with me so close to him. For me to accept being this close to him. I couldn't stop the crying. It...just overflowed and kept going. Endlessly. I heard him whisper between each "Shh". I heard him saying he was 'sorry' and that "he didn't mean it" and how "he didn't know that I was hurting." Typical, right? Maybe. Beneath all that anger, I was growing warm and didn't know why. All I can say is that I was afraid, but he held me close. Breathlessly sobbing against his chest, I cried out, repeatedly whispering how sorry I was for screaming at him the way I did. I could tell he understood. He held me even closer to him, patting my back softly. It was true. He really was a SOFTY beneath that hard-ass attitude. If only this weren't a dream; only a fantasy from beneath my mind of enchanted, yet, sorrowful imaginative ideas. I would only want this to be what it is not. This is what should have been...
[Well that's it. Tell me what you think! x.x]