~~~ I hate these goddamn routines. No I do not own Slayers. ::sweatdrop::
~~~
~~~P.O.V.~~~
Weeks have gone by. So many weeks. I've sat in my room, my castle, my hometown, hardly even privileged to set foot in our radiant courtyard. Or so I've heard from passersby. I've been regaled with stories about the outside world. Tragic tales, folk tales, stories about love and loathe. But the greatest of all stories are the ones Lina Inverse has told me.
I only get to hear so much of her great and treacherous adventures before my half-sister, golden, pain-in-the-ass dragon, Filia, cuts her off when she believes I've heard enough. It's so ironic. She tells Lina to stop, then will tell me the rest of it (from her point of view) to me. It's never the same. Lina tells it like I was there the entire time. Even though I was there for a quarter of the time, ranting about justice, giving them annoyed company, even playing my part in the fights against Rezo and Hellmaster. Well, sort of. I guess I exaggerated when I said a quarter of the time. It was more like an eighth, but I was still there until I was dragged back to my hell hole of a home. I'm old enough, I should be able to make my own decisions, go my own way. If only someone would let me.
Filia. My only greatest obstacle. The one that seems impossible to cross. At least successfully. She's convinced everyone that her way of thinking is always correct when it comes to me and my future. Either that or they just wont speak their minds about it. I try to talk to them, get my point across. The results are always the same. Lina will supposedly listen while eyeing the fruit bowl on the newly cleaned table, then when I'm through she'll only say "Well." and shrug towards Filia who had been standing there listening for who knows how long. Strike one. Gourry while eyeing the fruit bowl and entire boutique, will give me sympathy and nothing else. Tch, like he would listen to my preaching, he barley listens to Lina. Strike two. And Zelgadis? He's my sister's boyfriend! Needless to say, strike three. Guess I'm out. Whenever those three come by, I'll try my hand at starting a conversation only to be ignored and eventually work my way into the dusty, cold den of the far corner of the room. There, I'll pretend to peacefully read a book that I've already read five times, dampening the pages as tears filled the empty spaces of its photos. Photos that were already smearing and vague due to previous occasions.
If only someone else had seen that letter. The one mother wrote before she died. From what I heard, Filia was the only one to have seen it and from which has caged me ever since. She claims it wrote:
"My Dearests,
Please do not mourn my passing too greatly. Having a strong heart is everything. My loves take care.
Mother
P.S. Please Filia my dear, teach young Amelia to be the perfect lady and princess. Make certain she marries a man of high respect and honor. They will be the future of Seyruun."
Why would Mother do that to me? Why would she give Filia the duty to pick and choose who I love? But why do I care? I know no one, thus, I love no one.
~~~P.O.V.~~~
Weeks have gone by. So many weeks. I've sat in my room, my castle, my hometown, hardly even privileged to set foot in our radiant courtyard. Or so I've heard from passersby. I've been regaled with stories about the outside world. Tragic tales, folk tales, stories about love and loathe. But the greatest of all stories are the ones Lina Inverse has told me.
I only get to hear so much of her great and treacherous adventures before my half-sister, golden, pain-in-the-ass dragon, Filia, cuts her off when she believes I've heard enough. It's so ironic. She tells Lina to stop, then will tell me the rest of it (from her point of view) to me. It's never the same. Lina tells it like I was there the entire time. Even though I was there for a quarter of the time, ranting about justice, giving them annoyed company, even playing my part in the fights against Rezo and Hellmaster. Well, sort of. I guess I exaggerated when I said a quarter of the time. It was more like an eighth, but I was still there until I was dragged back to my hell hole of a home. I'm old enough, I should be able to make my own decisions, go my own way. If only someone would let me.
Filia. My only greatest obstacle. The one that seems impossible to cross. At least successfully. She's convinced everyone that her way of thinking is always correct when it comes to me and my future. Either that or they just wont speak their minds about it. I try to talk to them, get my point across. The results are always the same. Lina will supposedly listen while eyeing the fruit bowl on the newly cleaned table, then when I'm through she'll only say "Well." and shrug towards Filia who had been standing there listening for who knows how long. Strike one. Gourry while eyeing the fruit bowl and entire boutique, will give me sympathy and nothing else. Tch, like he would listen to my preaching, he barley listens to Lina. Strike two. And Zelgadis? He's my sister's boyfriend! Needless to say, strike three. Guess I'm out. Whenever those three come by, I'll try my hand at starting a conversation only to be ignored and eventually work my way into the dusty, cold den of the far corner of the room. There, I'll pretend to peacefully read a book that I've already read five times, dampening the pages as tears filled the empty spaces of its photos. Photos that were already smearing and vague due to previous occasions.
If only someone else had seen that letter. The one mother wrote before she died. From what I heard, Filia was the only one to have seen it and from which has caged me ever since. She claims it wrote:
"My Dearests,
Please do not mourn my passing too greatly. Having a strong heart is everything. My loves take care.
Mother
P.S. Please Filia my dear, teach young Amelia to be the perfect lady and princess. Make certain she marries a man of high respect and honor. They will be the future of Seyruun."
Why would Mother do that to me? Why would she give Filia the duty to pick and choose who I love? But why do I care? I know no one, thus, I love no one.