Disclaimer: Witch Hunter Robin is not mine.but I have a DVD copy.isn't that
special?
From Life and of Fire
A/N: I felt a bit more inspired on this installment. I want to get things in motion, and bring out the actual PG 13 rating on this fan fiction. That is always enjoyable. Please continue to review my work, and naturally I will read yours too if you would like.
~ ~ ~
Robin stirred in her sleep, and the shadowy figure that had moved to the entrance to watch her stood and strode away calmly to survey any advancements from a more anonymous area. She rose like a flower in the wilderness, bright and renewed and beautiful. Buttoning up her black dress after sleeping on it through the night, she ran her fingers through her long auburn her and let it flow down her back.
She sat upright now, and in this new morning the heroine Robin held a more rationale state of mind. Carefully replacing her spectacles, she rose from her position and walked out in the morning. The site of the wreckage lay empty and still and all she could do was sit hopelessly.
The shadowy figure watched these actions emotionlessly. It was Amon, who had watched over her in the night, though she did not know. He felt oddly ashamed at not having revealed his identity to her. Tossing off the feeling, he shut his eyes and leaned onto the thick trunk of a tree. There was no denying that she was his partner, and after this entire ordeal, one of his best friends. He had in fact believed her dead, and had left sadly in hope of another lonely tomorrow. She would know, he reasoned, that he had near betrayed her the day before. For now he sat and watched her go about her daily doings. He would return again that night, he decided, as her sentinel.
She cleaned her wounds, unaware of the brooding audience. It was a difficult and painful process, but necessary, because she saw the marks of infected scratches that could not be borne away by the power of her witchcraft. She took herbs from the woods and made mixtures and bandages, and a meal as well. By the afternoon she was healed and resting, and by evening she went to bed once again in her special concrete slab.
Amon had watched all this, somehow only now keenly aware of the wounds marking his body. He had ignored them for two days past, merely wiping them off with a lightly soiled cloth if they bothered him. Now their soreness came back full throttle, and it was all he could do to stay awake and protect Robin. However, the area seemed so peaceful, barely echoing the sounds of bustling Japan. He would rest for an hour, perhaps, and resume his duties. He had lost track of time.
Then the morning came, and both sentinel and girl lay still in sleep. She would wake later, rested from a long sleep and no longer exhausted. Amon would not see the early morning light, or the afternoon. It was Robin's choice now, and nature's, to whether the wounded sentinel would see the day again.
From Life and of Fire
A/N: I felt a bit more inspired on this installment. I want to get things in motion, and bring out the actual PG 13 rating on this fan fiction. That is always enjoyable. Please continue to review my work, and naturally I will read yours too if you would like.
~ ~ ~
Robin stirred in her sleep, and the shadowy figure that had moved to the entrance to watch her stood and strode away calmly to survey any advancements from a more anonymous area. She rose like a flower in the wilderness, bright and renewed and beautiful. Buttoning up her black dress after sleeping on it through the night, she ran her fingers through her long auburn her and let it flow down her back.
She sat upright now, and in this new morning the heroine Robin held a more rationale state of mind. Carefully replacing her spectacles, she rose from her position and walked out in the morning. The site of the wreckage lay empty and still and all she could do was sit hopelessly.
The shadowy figure watched these actions emotionlessly. It was Amon, who had watched over her in the night, though she did not know. He felt oddly ashamed at not having revealed his identity to her. Tossing off the feeling, he shut his eyes and leaned onto the thick trunk of a tree. There was no denying that she was his partner, and after this entire ordeal, one of his best friends. He had in fact believed her dead, and had left sadly in hope of another lonely tomorrow. She would know, he reasoned, that he had near betrayed her the day before. For now he sat and watched her go about her daily doings. He would return again that night, he decided, as her sentinel.
She cleaned her wounds, unaware of the brooding audience. It was a difficult and painful process, but necessary, because she saw the marks of infected scratches that could not be borne away by the power of her witchcraft. She took herbs from the woods and made mixtures and bandages, and a meal as well. By the afternoon she was healed and resting, and by evening she went to bed once again in her special concrete slab.
Amon had watched all this, somehow only now keenly aware of the wounds marking his body. He had ignored them for two days past, merely wiping them off with a lightly soiled cloth if they bothered him. Now their soreness came back full throttle, and it was all he could do to stay awake and protect Robin. However, the area seemed so peaceful, barely echoing the sounds of bustling Japan. He would rest for an hour, perhaps, and resume his duties. He had lost track of time.
Then the morning came, and both sentinel and girl lay still in sleep. She would wake later, rested from a long sleep and no longer exhausted. Amon would not see the early morning light, or the afternoon. It was Robin's choice now, and nature's, to whether the wounded sentinel would see the day again.
