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Thanks
Feathers1 - I feel really flattered !!!! But I honestly don't think that I deserve the title of "mentor" :' ) as I only started writing fanfiction less than a week ago...whereas you did almost a whole year ago !!!! I think we all have plenty of things to learn from others, for example, I just can't set a whole plot in my mind before starting to write, out of impatience or plain laziness, but you have "everything planned out in your head" as you put in your bio... A tip I use to "put my thoughts down on 'paper'" : stop thinking, let your mind wander while you type or write, relax and you can write down everything almost exactly like you want it to be... I don't think concentrating exclusively when you write is a good method, I tried it when I just started to write, and instead of helping, it restrained my imagination, because I only thought of writing, taking it as something I had to do, almost forgetting to enjoy the floaty feeling it always gives me. Sorry, my egocentrism showed again '-'; Anyway, isn't a mentor supposed to be old, stable, wise and scholarly ? Okay, I admit that I always give to others the impression of being older than my natural age, but I am fifteen !!!! And here, as I am anonymous, I let the other part of me free so I can do whatever I want !!! Stable, wise and scholarly... In real life, some would tease me with those, as I am a hopeless old-fashioned bookworm, but I am really a happy-go-lucky, mindless and whimsical daydreamer labelled as a "weird misanthropy who always gets the best grades" just because I'm not interested in fashion, modern music, make up and boys... Wow, I have to find a cure to my "babbling illness" soon !!!!!! :' )
Ah, almost forgot, just noticed a few minutes ago : thanks for adding me in you author alert list !
sakura-star2 - Thanks for adding me to your favourites list !!! Just noticed a few minutes ago :' )
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The comment I made in the first two chapters also applies to this one : If you didn't like the previous one, I seriously doubt you will prefer this ! Focus on Eriol, inner point of view !
Disclaimer : Card Captor Sakura belongs to Clamp, Kodansha. I don't have any right over the original creation.
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Symbols used in order of appearance
Plants
- rosemary ( flowers : blue ) - memory
- snowdrop ( flowers : white, pale green in centre ) - hope
- forsythia ( flowers : bright yellow ) - anticipation
Note. March's ( Eriol's ) birthstone is the bloodstone or the aquamarine, meaning bravery. I think I'll opt for the second choice, at least it is blue... Maybe not, because it is a really, really pale shade of sky blue... Perhaps I'll use lapis lazuli, also called ultramarine...
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Winter... When even time seems to stop, frozen by crystal ice, covered by a thin layer of falling snowflakes... Pure, white, unstained, majestic yet soothing, a sacred beauty almost painful by its perfection.
Life's flow seems dulled by the intense cold : migratory birds have long ago flown to a distant land, under more clement skies, fleeing from death's freezing grasp that would cause their heartbeat to cease, their wings to go numb, their flight to be cut by a sudden fall ; plants let the immaculate snow settle on them, completely powerless, some wilting at its chilly touch, others sealing their life deep in their roots, waiting for springtime to sprout new buds while only evergreens stay unaffected by the arrival of the cold season ; beasts survive as they can, or hide to sleep until the melting of icy rime ; men prefer the warmth of their houses, not wanting to confront the hostile weather...
Yet, it is my favourite season, for the world falls asleep, murmuring slightly in a deep slumber, resting until spring's return is announced by timid snowdrops and confirmed by golden forsythias, to awake then filled with new strength and happiness...
The shade of loneliness - Chapter III : Regretful rosemaries
My heart, when I found out that I was adopted, felt like the snow swept depths of winter, storming snowflakes running into my veins, pain rushing as raging mistral through my soul, stabbing it with sharp ice shards, leaving wounds that would take a lifetime to heal... It wasn't that I disliked my adoptive parents, it was that I loved them too much, that I felt guilty for not being able to tell them, to show them how much I wanted to thank them for raising me as their own child, for loving me as real parents would have done...
I, Eriol Hiiragizawa, known as Clow Reed in my former life, was born this time with magical powers again. My real parents, scared by this fact, asked an old couple to watch over me for a week because they had to go on a "business trip". They had no intention of coming back. These people were at first surprised that my parents didn't even call them to ask about my well being, and further that they didn't come back a whole month later. However, when they saw me making a flowerpot hover around in the house, they started to understand that I was officially orphaned. They tried to at least contact my parents, but failed. As their only son died at a young age, they decided to keep me, going through all the needed formalities to finally adopt me.
They treated me as they would have treated their son, with patience, gentleness and sometimes, severity that never lasted for more than a few hours. I was always spoilt rotten, but I didn't have a reason to act insolent or capricious ; they gave me more affection that I would have ever received from my real parents. I eventually forgot that I've not always been with them, that I wouldn't always be with them...
When I reached the age to go to school, they made sure that I went to the best establishments, where I was sure to find classes adapted to my interests. They let me take private piano lessons because I loved music. Maybe because of the calm and somewhat old-fashioned atmosphere I grew in, it seemed that I was never able to mingle with other children, forever standing out of the group, as a complete stranger. I was a child prodigy, admired from a distance by the others, but too intimidating to be accepted as an average playmate. The place I lived in didn't help my social life either, a smart area where only wealthy retired people resided : no children playing soccer on the lush green lawn or hide-and-seek among the elegant rose bushes. Everybody knew me in this district and they were all very fond of me, often giving me sweets or pats on the head that I didn't appreciate to be honest, but my adoptive parents also ensured that I had perfect manners, so I just let them ruffle my dark hair and kept smiling, skipping away when they were finished, promising to behave and greet Mr or Mrs Leselthen for them. But those were only superficial, and these people couldn't understand what I longed for, couldn't figure out that I needed friends of my age and games other than chess, golf or bridge... I didn't want to bother my parents with such requests, so I kept my wishes to myself, locking them away in my mind and acting as everyone would expect me to act : sweet and respectful to my elders, calm, mature and well brought up. I never used my magic, fearing that they would be scared by it.
My parents were the only people I trusted and loved with all my heart. Yet they never suspected my sorrow, the deep loneliness I sank in. They were proud of my grades, worrying that I might study too hard and ruin my health, already feeling guilty that I have to wear glasses, as if it was them who forced me to read all those books. It wasn't their fault, but no matter how many times I repeated that, they would still feel remorseful for letting me stay in their library for as long as I wanted, thinking I read that much because I was afraid to get low grades and deceive them. I couldn't find a way to contradict them ; I couldn't tell them I read to forget the hollow feeling of solitude...
They were planning to tell me the truth on my eighteenth birthday, but they left this world too soon, bequeathing me a letter in their will, as well as all their possessions. Gas poisoning : there was a leak in the pipes. In those sheets covered by their handwriting, they told me my real name was Hiiragizawa, and not Leselthen as I believed it to be. They wrote that they had already done the necessary to allow me to live alone with a distant cousin, Nakuru Akizuki, who gladly accepted to welcome me in her house. Now I see why they wanted me to learn Japanese. I never realised that I was half-Japanese, but how could I have ? I don't exactly look Japanese, or even Asian... That's why it wasn't difficult to make me believe I was their own blood and flesh. I felt emptied after reading that letter, that letter telling me not to grieve, to not miss them, because they would still be with me, watching over me from a place I hopefully wouldn't see before a long time. I didn't want to let go, didn't want to live without the ones who gave me warmth and love when I was abandoned by my own family ; I didn't want them to leave without knowing how grateful I am to them, now more than ever, aware that I wasn't their child, that they knew of my "special abilities" and still fully accepted me with them...
Before leaving the house we shared during all those years, I went to the garden and took seeds from the flowering rosemaries. Weren't they your favourite plants, mother ? And fathers' too, since he married you and found out the reason of your liking for them. He said it was because of their meaning and their flowers' shade, a deep ultramarine, identical to my eyes'. I didn't know then what they symbolized, and was just embarrassed as I knew he was making fun of me.
I learnt that a few years ago, while studying French literature with one of my tutors. I didn't gave full attention to it. I don't know why I suddenly remember all this now.
Rosemaries mean : memories...
They will be memories of my childhood, for winter has come in my heart as spring left it to never return again...
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I've been living with Akizuki-san for two years now. Though I already am fifteen, she still treats me like a young child who permanently needs to be pampered and taken care of. I know she does it to try to cheer me up, but it is useless, therefore I always put on a fake smile to reassure her. She isn't as gullible as my deceased parents, but leaves me to be because she understands. She didn't have any special use for her small garden, so I asked her if I could grow things in it. She agreed. I planted the rosemary seeds in a corner.
I just had a dream that woke me up, a strange one, as if connected to all those little signs I noticed recently, all about something that is going to happen soon. But something about it kept nagging me, a weird feeling, a feeling that this dream was a confirmation to my guesses... It wasn't special in any way, there was just a voice speaking to me, calling me... A voice I never heard before, neither masculine nor feminine, holding the wisdom of the ancient ones, but also the innocence of a newborn child. It asked me :
"Do you believe in the existence of hope ?"
What was so strange about that simple question ? The fact that I didn't know how to answer...
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Sorry, sorry, sorry !!!!!!! I could have updated yesterday... But we had guests all evening... Same line again : please tell me what you thought of it !
Ja ne !
Lazuline Violet
