Amaranth
By Aycelcus
Rating: R (for massive copying and pasting in later chapters. Oh the horrors.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters any or likenesses. I am borrowing them one for just a little
reading while. Also, I do not these own the Landers and dumb any related characters. They disclaimers?
belong to my best friend. I do raise own Cillara, her likeness your and all things that hands pertain to her character peeps. Ne?
Author's Note: Gomen Nasai, readers. This took a while to write. I had major writer's block. Plus, my life is conspiring to make me busy. School and work are vying for their share of my time, and now I have being published as a comic book writer to deal with, so I'm watching my free time as it's sucked into a black hole of busyness. Buh bye, free time. I'll miss you. On the other hand, I'm getting published. That is good. J
I'll keep everyone posted. Soon I may be invading your local comic book store. May the lady have mercy on your soul. Bwa ha ha.
Chapter Eleven: To Speak of the Devil
Sabriel and Cillara faced each other for a long moment. Not a sound could be heard; it was as if nature itself was holding its breath. Then finally Sabriel shifted and took a drawing breath.
"So…"
Cillara gently cut him off, her voice moving smoothly into the sibilant sounds of the Avatar language.
"How long, Jikarei? How long have I slept under the amaranth?"
Sabriel sighed. "Six hundred and twenty-three years." Cillara's eyes went wide, and her skin lost a little more of its color.
"Six-hundred? Oh, Lady…." Sabriel said nothing, for how can anyone atone for six centuries gone? Cillara's golden irises had taken on a faraway look, and she knit her eyebrows before she spoke again.
"And my friends? Those that I loved? Are they…?"
"They are well. They were reincarnated together, and kept safe under the watchful eye of the Collegium Avatars."
"Are they happy? Do they remember anything?"
"They are as happy as anyone can be during their lifetimes. I do not believe, though, that they have been allowed to regain their memories of Geneva. That would pose some… difficulties, as I'm sure you know."
Cillara nodded as she passed her hand across her eyes. There was wetness on her skin, and her eyes glistened. "I know, I remember the rules governing reincarnation." Her voice was small, and all of a sudden she dropped into Geneva, a soft prayer whispering into the breeze.
"E'ien de'nari, my friends…"
Sabriel was speechless. He was torn; he wanted to draw her up into his arms and shield her from her pain, shield her from his pain. But something spoke in her posture, something that echoed the tall, golden-eyed man with the piercing gaze and the odd, odd pelt that draped his shoulder. Sabriel could feel the sudden, blinding flash of jealousy burn through his veins. It was not the first time he had felt such a thing, for every lover she ever took cut him like a knife. Everyone she had ever cared for, every man or woman she had touched in comfort and passion slashed his soul. A million granite laws had vanished when Cillara had become an Avatar, the rules that forbade the communion between angel and mortal had thinned and dissipated as she grew from a woman-child on the brink to an equal, strong as steel and soft as silk. And still was she separated from him by a wall of steel; still was he trapped behind the invisible barrier of "just friends."
Desperation drove his soul while she lay in the arms of someone else.
Unable to give her his heart, for she would not accept it beyond what had already been taken, he gave her what little he could. She was still so weak, a mere shadow of what she once was.
"You are pale, Jikarei," he spoke then, and as she stood poised on the balls of her feet like a bird ready to take flight, he pulled gently from within himself. Above his head, a soft golden light began to take shape, until it was a shining circle of fire encircling the space above his brow. He reached up, and carefully took the molten halo from its zenith.
"Sabriel—" Cillara stuttered nervously as he brought the halo to her brow, and flinched for a moment as the circle of intensity settled itself upon her crown. The molten gold began to transmute into pure power, and little by little it took on a soft violet hue.
Sabriel suddenly laughed, and the rolling sound startled Cillara.
"You turned my halo purple!"
Cillara scrunched up her nose. "It's not my fault. I've never done that before."
Sabriel shook his head. "Those other times don't count. This is a gift, lightfingers."
Cillara stuck her tongue out, and then reached up to touch the band of light. "It's… warm." Then she grasped it firmly, intending to give it back to him. "It's beautiful, but I cannot accept it."
"Why not? I can always grow another."
"But it is your halo, it is your mark from God!"
"I don't think he'd mind. He always had a soft spot for you, despite the fact that you defected to your Lady. Besides," And his hand grasped hers firmly, and moved it away from her new halo. "You need that energy. You're too thin, and too tired. Take it, please. Take it, and perhaps I won't have to worry so much."
Cillara sighed, and entwined her fingers in his. "Alright, Jikarei, my old friend. I shall accept your gift." And truthfully it did make her feel better, the combined warmth of the halo's magic restoring her reserves and Sabriel's friendship restoring her faith in her memories. And then, because she was eternally distanced from him in a way she could never quite explain, she stepped back and let her hand fall, so that he had to release her. She turned her gaze to the Fortress, to where Sesshoumaru was surely pacing the halls in green-hued anger.
"I should go. He and I, we have much to do, and Sesshoumaru can never really understand such old and painful things. It is unfair of me to stay much longer her with you."
Sabriel closed his eyes against the old wounds. He could see, in the mage-vision that sprung unbidden on the backs of his eyelids, the band of purple and crimson that bound her soul to the Youkai Lord. Blood and magic entwined them, ran through their veins and cracked in crystal in their skin.
"You care for him," he said.
"Yes," she replied simply.
"Always the arrogant ones," he teased without heart, familiar words in his dry throat.
"Always the arrogant ones."
"You are truly hopeless."
"As long as there is breath—"
"—in your body. Utterly hopeless."
She gave a small smile then, as sudden and bright as his halo in miniature.
He sighed. "Well, wherever you are going, I am coming, too. So let's go get your creepy boyfriend and be on our way.
They turned and began to walk to the Fortress. A few steps later Cillara thwacked Sabriel gently over his bare head.
"Ow!"
"Don't call him creepy."
Sesshoumaru stared at the light playing above his mate's head. Whatever it was, it was unnatural. He growled at the Seraphim. What did you do to her?
Cillara looked surprised for a moment as Sesshoumaru bristled and glared, and then giggled. "Oh, the halo. I forgot." She reached up, and tapped at the light, which chimed softly in response. "How do I put this thing away?" she asked Sabriel as Sesshoumaru tentatively reached out to brush his fingers across the halo. He pulled back his fingers quickly, like he was burned. It was warm, but what unnerved him was the pulse of power it held. It was enough to make his fingertips go numb. It reminded him of the amaranth.
"Here," and Sabriel reached up and did something, Sesshoumaru could not tell what. The circle of light chimed once more, and then faded down until it touched her shoulders, where it dissipated into her skin. The amaranth crystals embedded there sparked briefly, and then again grew quiescent.
Once the purple had faded, Cillara looked Sesshoumaru deep in the eyes, holding his gaze. Then, sudden as a rainstorm, she reached up and drew his lips to hers. The kiss was momentary, but the passion was undeniable. It was all he could do not to sweep her away to his chambers. Had Sabriel not been there… but sense returned, and although he kept his arm snug about her waist where it has fallen during the kiss, he pulled back with cool dignity. He did not miss the spark of anger deep in Sabriel's eyes. He felt smug. She is mine.
"We tarry too long," he spoke to break the silence, and Cillara nodded.
"I am coming along." Sabriel stated.
Sesshoumaru burned at his impudence, but Cillara's soft touch at his side was a gentle reminder.
"Do not impede us, or you shall be forcibly left behind."
"I can live with that."
Sesshoumaru's huge, flying demon dragon was waiting for them outside, and motioned for Cillara to step up onto its neck, but she only shook her head.
"I think… I think I want to do this right," she said with a small smile, and spread her wings. Sesshoumaru did not bother to ask if she was strong enough. He jumped to the dragon's shoulder as Cillara crouched and took a mighty leap, her wings bearing down on the air and snapping up, bearing down and snapping up, in a low, heavy rhythm. Within moments she was hovering in the air, sweat glistening on her brow and eddies of dust swirling in the cadence of her feathers. The dragon followed her into the wind, and took to the air in tremendous beats. Sabriel, in motions almost anticlimactic in nature, simply floated up, his wings spreading slightly. Then he followed the lovers as they flew, winged woman and dragon-riding youkai, off to the northwest.
Somewhere behind him, chaos stalked in his wake.
Jikarei: Old Avatar, meaning beloved. Used for friends as opposed to lovers.
E'ien De'nari: I wish you well.
A.N.: you might be wondering why Sabriel refers to Cillara as "lightfingers." You may have already guessed. Habitually Cillara, falling into one of her more mischievous moods, tended to take it upon herself to snatch Sabriel's halo whenever she could. Since it was not "gifted" to her, the moment she touched it, it would turn to solid gold and become so heavy that it fell to the floor, where it's sheer weight (far heavier than it looked) would leave a halo-shaped indentation in the floor. Cillara ruined a lot of flooring at the Collegium that way.
Chapter Twelve: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing should come quickly; I pretty much know what's going to happen. I just need to type it up.