[REVISION]:
Hi! All of you are reading the edited, or revised section of TLD! ^^
What did I change?
First off, I change her view on how she got her job. I didn't like the fact that she was just wandering the city and bought the camera just because she wanted it---the real Kagome knows better! I completely revised the last paragraphs; because I liked the idea of her having switched to a more quiet, peaceful life—to me, red is a loud color. I also added some time between the cab and plane, and I revised when she woke up on the plane. The opening paragraphs stay intact; I loved them.
Disclaimer: INUYASHA ONWZ! SABRINA IS COOL! I DO NOT OWNZ INUYASHA! IT OWNZ ME! /sellout
The Librarian's DaughterThe plane was hot and restless. I tried to sleep; the sounds of babies screaming, women singing, and men humming drove out all thoughts of precious sleep. I tried to relax; the shrill noise of the engines only made me even tenser. I tried to get comfortable; the seat itself seemed intent on making me suffer. I didn't know what to do. I was beginning to have doubts and regrets about flying to Paris, but I thought that this was all for the best. But still the noises slammed into my mind, drilling into my head.
I spent a good fourth of my trip in that bathroom, trying to escape from all of the noise. I remember falling asleep in the bathroom ( how embarrassing!). But when I woke up, my mind was blank. I couldn't remember anything at all. When the drowsiness finally wore off, I remembered why I had left, why I was here, why I was ordered that wine. Everything pointed to a single person. Inuyasha.
I wanted to punch myself. I had given my heart to a man who cared nothing for me, but even when the signs showed he had an obvious resentment for me, I kept on chasing him. My mind reacted violently to this, throwing off curses, but my mouth refuses to open. I was too depressed to know if I was crying or not.
Slowly, my grief turned to rage. I wasn't aware that with every anguished, heart wrenching, hate filled thought, I buried my knuckles into the floor. I became aware of the situation when I felt the blood starting to pool around my knuckles, and the searing pains that shot up my arm. I let my rage slip away. ' For now', I told myself, too deeply tired and depressed to care anymore.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
My glasses hung crookedly off my nose, and my dark ebony hair was always looking frumpy. I had little to offer; my breasts were small, my body was as thin as a rail, and I was virtually hipless. This only added to my despair.
When I finally returned to my seat, I had nothing to do but give into my body's need for rest.
-_-
Many hours later, I awoke. Hovering above me was a female flight attendant, who seemed annoyed at my lack of response.
" Mlle? Mlle? L'avion a débarqué."
Whut? It sounded like she was snapping at me…in French. A moment later I looked around and found that everyone else had left but me. Turning red in embarrassment, I muttered something along the lines of an apology.
I was quick to get off the plane, from embarrassment or excitement. I'm still amazed at the number of taxicabs around there.
I could barely read the directions. As it turns out, the apartment complex very far away from the airport. For the most part, I watched the blobs and blurs of color pass by the window I had my cheek pressed up against as I almost gave in to jet lag.
I can remember the air… it was light and crisp, unlike the air at home---thick and tangible with moisture most of the summer, driving you crazy. The streets were beautiful with the elegantly tall, slender lamps that lit the wet cobblestone street.
When I finally asked to stop, it was at a very quaint, small condo complex. It was the kind with bright red bricks, flowerboxes overhanging every window, and a balcony for every apartment. I entered the complex slumping, nearly ready to pass out on the floor. I showed him the note, but then he actually had to call in(1) to see if the note was real or not before giving me the key. I took the key and dragged myself to the door, unlocking it.
The warm feeling of the outside faded on the inside. The room's walls were painted gray. A single phone was plugged into a socket, and a thin sheet wrapped around a thick, lumpy bed mattress. The only light came from the window, which was above the bed, and the sliding glass doors. It seemed to give it a kind of creepy, ethereal effect. Too tired to care, I inspected the other rooms. A kitchen, with white linoleum and lime green counter tops, a bathroom with red and cream tiles and a gray wall.
There was a nightstand to my right. On it, a small not was taped to it.
Keanne(?),
Do what you want with the condo, I personally don't like it myself. Try to liven it up, hm? There's a bit of money in the drawer if you need it.
PS…The condo's in my name. Payments are sent to me.
~AM
The first thing that had registered in my mind was that she had spelled my name wrong. She wants me to decorate the apartment for her? I thought. But then again, she is letting me stay here for free.
But everything seemed so depressing, so empty. I decided, right before I fell asleep on my lumpy little mattress----that I would heal this room, just like my heart.
^_^
The next day I was out roaming the sprawling city that was Paris. I knew that if I didn't get a job soon, I would be a homeless in no time. I found out that during the day, Paris lost its pleasant feel.
For hours, I wandered the giant city. For hours, I walked through alleyways, up hills, rode trolleys, and even stopped at a pub on the side of the street. Being done at the pub, I began to wander the city again. I hate window-shopping—It makes me covet things I wouldn't be able to buy. I ended up near a thrift shop looking in the window. There, perched neatly one white cube was a mint condition photographer's camera---at the lowest price I've ever seen. I wanted it, I told myself, but did I need it?
The week fell into a pattern; I would walk around the town, searching blindly for leads. It was not until I picked up a discarded ad's section that I finally struck gold.
It was an ad for photographers, declaring that it need new, and young, and energetic photographers for hire. I was only about sixteen. But what about experience? Surely I had to have some experience?
The next day I was handing the cashier a check for the camera, which was still (thankfully) perched on its post. I ran 'home' and grabbed some money out of the drawer. I ran all the way back and purchased it. That day, I ran around the city taking pictures of everything.
The next morning, I called the number on the ad and set up an interview.
I put on my usual the next morning, fearing that I would look too casual. But all fears melted away when I met my boss, the very casual lecher, Miroku. He was a nice man, save for his wandering hands. I got the job and my first assignment, but only after I threatened to kill him if he asked me to bear his child on more time.
I walked home that night feeling hollow when I entered my apartment. It was cold and angry, depressive and broody---whatever. It was empty and too spacious and I didn't like it. Seeing as it was only five pm, I managed to pay for some cans of beige, orange, and light green paint to paint the place.
I took a day off from my assignment to paint the house. Being the small house that it was, it only took a couple of cans to paint it. Once the house was painted, I set to work on de-lumping the mattress (my sore back…). For now the house looked tacky with its odd clash of warm colors and little furnishings, but with a little money I was sure I could spruce the place up a bit.
*_*
The days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into a year before I even knew it.
My job---no, career was well paying. In fact, I had become one of the top photographers in the country. I was happy with my life now, life in the quiet warm condo and beautiful city of Paris.
The still lumpy mattress transformed into a plush airbed with comforters and sheets abound. The tiny phone plugged into and outlet rested in the now new window seat. I had lovingly painted the phone a handsome shade of green.
For the living room, I bought a cute TV set. People asked me why my TV wasn't as big as the ceiling. I tell them its because I don't want to feel overwhelmed in my only home.
The bathroom was done in a Mexican style now, and my thin drapes were replaces with discreet yet inviting shades.
But every morning I felt the small chunk in my heart still missing because of him. I wanted him back---badly. But all I really wanted to do was look into my eyes and tell myself I was over him---he wouldn't bring me grief anymore!
No.
I would be lying to myself.
I wasn't over him.
I would never be.
-----(^^)AUTHOR (REVISED)
Well, this is the second revision of this.
(1) This probably wouldn't happen, but WHATEVER.
(2) Oh yeah. Let's just say that her 'aunt' was a bit 'giving.'
(3) Let's also just say that kagome was a naturally born photographer. :D
(4) And yeah, I also know that you need to get a work visa to get a job….just disregard that. X_X
~Rei-chan.