Hey again- I have thought about this for a long time and I have decided beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was a cat in a previous life. High places, sleeping, stretching laziness, night lover, antisocial, fascinated with falling more (not instead of, but more) than flying, sitting up in trees, some say that I have the same aura as a cat, heck I even have, and love, cat eye contacts.
Anyway, you came to read about Kagome.
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Have you ever felt like the things you write in here are out of character? Not the actual story. That seems to be more of who I am than how I speak out loud. But the prelude to the chapters, doesn't it feel like the way you write when you are actually talking to the readers is plastic somehow. I feel very rude and sarcastic. I guess that it's just the fact that I'm not comfortable with my audience yet. . . . . . sorry, I know what you're thinking " Oh boo hoo, deal with it." I don't blame you. But then again you are probably made at me for rambling on when I promised a story. Well sucks for you don't it! Ha ha ha ha ha, just kidding.
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Kagome allowed her mind to go blank. All that was infront of her faded from one version of understanding to the next. Her eyes took on glazed look. She let short visions that she only half saw and even less than half understood in the way humans say that they understand something. She saw flashes of life threatening scenes from her past lives. One was a place with a menacing blue light in a forest with giant gnarled and undulating roots coming from an enormous tree. The entwining roots and hanging moss gave the place a forgotten feeling; and the greenish mist created by the deterioration of still enduring, majestic tree. Kagome remembered faintly the sensation of being wounded. (although her contousness was sleeping at the moment in the back of her head, so she subsequently felt these memories as if every part of her body had its own eyes working in unison with the rest of her to experience or re-experience the scene laid before it as a dream or a state of being.) the entity the Kagome assumed was herself had an amazing sense of self and sense of sense. In this dream, Kagome felt a sense of panick in her "self", who was standing, or "being" as it were as the real Kagome couldn't tell how she was existing in this new and different would. This world was nothing like hers now, but it seemed vaguely to her and the other her like home. A home, if not entirely hers. Then, Kagome felt herself fade slightly deeper into the conscience of this strange woman and see through her eyes that she was in fact standing, however bent slightly from the enourmous pain in her bleeding left shoulder. She saw the rich black-red liquid had trailed behind her on the rounded, bluish-grayish, moss covered rocks and saw where it had spattered slightly on silvery-gray eruption of roots in front of her. Seeing though the eyes of a scurrying animal as if it were an extremity of the girls own flesh, the thought arose in the animal's mind that unimportant, dieing figure had taken on the essence of a stone statue, and had trailed and spattered – "Red water" - . Kagome saw the groud from where she stood with its rounded stones and its shadows that made their homes and belonged there, but she could also see in the spaces around her "first person" mind, visions of herself in the third person as if from hidden, microscopic cameras which sent short-lived images from various hiding places in the trees from in front and behind and from the ground. She saw her bow and sling of arrows by her side and her battered armor over her red and white clothing. Then she saw herself from the air, rotating around from behind a tree to come and stare strait into her intense, dieing, beautiful brown eyes.
She saw a gorgeous, self-confident man turn and smile at her.
She saw a horrible, disgusting demon stand above her as she lay in the dark green grass. She knew the tremendous power that was in her body, and she vowed inside herself to use every ounce of it against this weak and foolish demon. She saw him stand there and crush her hand benieth his foot and mock her. He would die. And she would be the one to kill him. He had now proven that the love he said he felt for her was a lie, and even if she still loved him, he had betrayed her, and she couldn't let others suffer for her becoming weak and trusting. No matter how much she loved him, even now that he had murdered her with his own hands, he had to die, or at least sleep for all time. She would die for him; take his place.
She felt silk and lace all around her and a warmth in the air. She saw her loose and long black hair fanned out around her on the rich pink silk covered bedding. She opened her eyes slowly, waking from a warm and talented dream she had created for herself and the person who lay next to her. She caressed her own soft and pampered skin. She closed her eyes and tried to role over onto her side and wiggle back into her many heavy layered robes, but felt something very sharp in her shoulder, and she felt something wet trickle down her side. She felt her eyes role back in her head and all of the warmth in her skin fade away. What little breath was allowed her then as she faded away was stolen from her mouth, and all the pain that chased her from her body came from her shoulder and the horrible splitting and bruising of skin. Oh well, she wouldn't be bruised for long.
Despite the hundreds of years that I took to create these memories, they only appeared now as a short glimmer in a pair of cool sedated eyes. Only half experienced images from the past seen by a sleeping girl in the back of her own mined. A dream.