****************************************************************************
**********
Author's Note: Thanks (again) for the R&R's!!! WooHoo!!!! Um, yeah, anyway. . . . I was going to offer something to those who have become faithful readers *big, happy grin* I was just going to say that I'll be sending out e-mails now when I update (it'll save the people who check for regular updates time to check out some of the more-brilliant work online--speaking of which, for anyone who's a Harry Potter fan there's a great fic I passed over called "Not the Girl You Thought You Knew;" it's worthwhile for any fans *smiles*). Back to my previous topic, where was I? Oh yes! So if you'd like to be sent an e-mail every time "A Soldier's Fate" is updated, just leave it in the review area, or e-mail me personally. The reason I offer this is simple: I'm afraid that it may be awhile (translation: if anyone out there likes this story, you're going to want to kill me) before I get to the next chapter because of EVIL-EVIL exams. *grimaces* I will be back as soon as I can, though!! Wish me luck? Thanks!!!
I don't own Sailor Moon or anything of the like, but I am masterminding a plan to change all of that! I'm thinking time-travel. . .what do you think? No? *sigh* Such pessimism. . . . ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!
**************************************************************************** **********
Cold.
Bleak.
Dead.
Lonely. . .
. . .so lonely. . . .
Serenity's eyes were dashed with unshed tears and she knelt before the giant flame; they stared--unseeing--at the funeral pyre where Shingo's body lay. The day was cold and dark, just as it was on the day Shingo died. Flocks of mourners stood around the pyre; the rotting stench of burning flesh and melting organs suffocated the once-dominate scents of lavender incense--Shingo's favorite smell ever since he met Ami and came to know the blue-haired woman's own scent. Black ghosts made of smoke rose from the burning body and dove into nearby noses, encouraging even more tears to form and fall. So many people had came to the funeral. So many people had cried with heart-felt loss. So many people. . .
. . .but Serenity was still alone. . .so alone.
The crowds of darkly dressed people departed gradually. Some people came late to pay their respects; they cast sympathetic glances towards the fallen silver-haired woman who knelt close to the flame, but offered her no comfort. Serenity would have been unable to accept their empathetic words or compassion-filled physical comfort. She would not have been able to handle it. She had not yet accepted Shingo's passing.
Ami had fallen ill over the course of the evening. The doctor had sworn that her condition was nothing to be worried over. Serenity's eyes narrowed venomously as she recalled the doctor's 'delicate' explanation he delivered to Lord Tsuniko:
"She's just suffering over a broken heart. She'll get over it. It's just something that girls do. They're like that, you know? So silly. . .completely illogical. I should speak with Lord-Commander Gizbourne about her. I believe that it's about time she settled in. That would do her all the good in the world. She shouldn't have time to make herself sick over such trivial fantasies."
Serenity's bare hands clamped down on the snow in anger. Ami deserved more sympathy than what was being given to her. She deserved to be happy. Serenity relaxed her grip; Ami's father--Lord-Commander Gizbourne--would see that she was cared for properly. He had always maintained a respect for his daughter. He was proud of her. Not many women could say the same about their fathers.
"And I don't even have one," Serenity muttered.
Snow crunched and squeaked behind her as a group of new mourners came to pay their respects to Shingo. She pulled the hood that had fallen from her head hours ago back over her silver-blond hair. The group stopped behind her, and she felt one stoop low to the ground to her left.
"Lady Serenity, you will catch a sickness if you remain on the ground. May I assist you to your feet?"
Serenity continued to stare forward as though she had not registered Jedeite's voice. The general remained beside her, patiently waiting for her to respond or acknowledge him. She finally dipped her head in agreement, long strands of her hair falling out from beneath the hood. "Yes, thank you."
His touch was soft and gentle against her hands despite the force his own grip could easily exert. Serenity felt like a glass doll when he helped her up--something so fragile that even the slightest jarring would upset her composure. Jedeite released her, and she stood on her own in front of the silent group, her head tilted towards the ground. The stillness was awkward, but what was there to say? Serenity took note of their boots. . . there were four sets. She exhaled a soft relief; Endymion was not there. She was not sure if she could handle his. . .well. . .his whatever-it-was- that-annoyed-her-to-no-end. Maybe it was his--presence?
"Lady Serenity?" Jedeite asked softly, breaking the stilled air of the cold hills. "Would you allow me to escort you back to your estate? You must be cold. I would not forgive myself if you were to seize any illness."
Serenity pulled her hood closer to her cheeks and shook her head. "I am not cold. I am fine. Thank you for your offer, general, but I wish to stay longer."
Her voice was disconnected and seemed to float lightly in the air, as though the slightest wind would erase all memories of her soft-spoken yet commanding words. Zoicite nodded her understanding, unlike the three true- male generals. She tugged on Kunzite's arm and threw her head away from Serenity, motioning for them to leave. "Try not to stay outside for too long, Serenity," Zoicite advised mildly. "Jedeite will truly hold himself responsible for any sickness you might contract, and you don't want him as your bed-nurse--he's horrible."
Serenity offered Zoicite a weak smile, the corners of her lips barely raising, and dipped her head. The group departed after murmuring their prayers to Shingo and wishing Serenity well. Once again, Serenity was virtually alone. The only person remaining by the flame was the monk who administered to the fire and ensured that the pyre did not spread from its designated location.
Endymion watched from a safe distance as Serenity sunk to her knees again. Her sitting position did not appear to offer comfort; she sat on the ground, her knees resting on the ground out in front of her and her legs spread back towards her on either side of her body. His friends had not seen him when they departed the pyre site, and somewhere inside, Endymion was grateful that he could observe the spirited woman without the mocking disturbance of his comrades. He had left a fair distance from the funeral pyre--the smell of burning flesh would have upset the animal. A cold wind brushed past his solid form and rushed down his neck. He pulled his cloak's collar higher, and warmth returned to him after long moments of chilled silence.
Endymion took the initiative to approach Serenity; perhaps she would allow him to pay his respects to Shingo without a quarrel. He chuckled to himself as the thought surfaced into his consciousness: Serenity without a fight? That would be the day. Even in the short span he had known her, he had come to correlate the woman with unpleasant situations and unbridled, limitless, endless frustration.
"I am sorry for you loss."
Serenity turned, her eyes already narrowed into angry slits filled with venom. She knew that voice well and had come to associate it displeasure and unstoppable, eternal annoyance. "I don't want to speak to you."
Endymion could not help but rise to the bait. "I don't recall a time where I ever wished to speak to you. Yet, it seems as though we are destined to speak and fill each other's ears with inequitable, satiric teasing," he stood behind her, his eyes locked on the burning corpse; to someone passing by, it would appear as though Endymion was watching over Serenity, protecting her from harm, and guarding her as she bid her brother a restful eternity. "I am sorry, ordango-atama. I am sorry for your loss."
Serenity stood up abruptly. Endymion jumped back in surprise as she turned on him. "You're sorry? You feel sorry for stupid little 'ordango-atama?' I wish that I could be half as heartless as you! At least then I wouldn't hurt as much!!!"
Serenity turned away from him and began to run. He watched, too stunned to move. When his senses finally resurfaced, Endymion charged after her. He had not intended to call her 'ordango-atama;' even he knew that such a statement was entirely inappropriate considering the situation. Serenity was a fast runner--she had been so all of her life--but next to the fit and trained soldier, Serenity fell short of her escape, and Endymion caught up to her before she could disappear.
"Leave me alone!"
"No! Look, I didn't mean to call you that. I'm sorry. I know that you're hurting right now, and it was entirely improper of me to say that."
"You don't understand hurt," Serenity scowled as she fought off another onslaught of tears.
Endymion shook his head. "I don't understand your hurt, you're right. But I do understand pain, ordan--Serenity."
"Please, just leave me alone," Serenity spun on her toe again and made to dart away but Endymion caught her wrist. Serenity spun around and hit his chest, unaware of the breastplate beneath his clothing. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o' as she withdrew her hand and clutched it close to her own chest. Endymion had released her hand when he first caught onto her intention to strike him. He made no move to comfort her pain, but watched her with patient blue eyes. Serenity sunk into the snow again and let frustration wash over her in torrents.
Nothing worked out.
Nothing ever turned out right.
And now she was stuck in the snow with the world's biggest jerk who had just mauled her hand--and it WAS his fault, even if SHE was the one who had struck.
Endymion's heart tugged gently, and he found himself in the kneeling in the snow in front of her. She did not fight him as he took her hand and stared at her palm. Blood marred the surface of her palm, and Endymion looked up in surprise--his breastplate could not have made such a deep gash in her palm. "I am sorry. I. . . . Had I even suspected that you could injure yourself like this on--"
"It's old. It's just reopened," she murmured. "I'm fine."
Endymion balled up some snow that appeared to be clean and rested in her hand. "I am still sorry."
Serenity did not acknowledge his words, and Endymion wondered if she had heard him, but he did not push the matter. She sat with patience as he oversaw her wound's cleaning. His callused hands felt strange against her silky skin. Strange, but. . . . Serenity angrily pushed the word 'good' from her mind. How could she even think of betraying herself like that?! To think that she had even considered the man who embodied arrogance to be remotely human--much less sincere and sweet!!--was a thought that disgusted her. Yet, with his head down and his cold blue eyes intently governing his practiced ministrations, Endymion did seem sweet and sincerely concerned about Serenity's well-being.
"There. You will have to tend to it again at home. If you don't know how, swallow your pride and ask someone for help--it looked like you already had a small infection before, and infections can easily get worse."
"I'm not stupid. I know how to tend to cuts," Serenity muttered, angry that she had to acknowledge him.
"Why are you so hostile?! What's your problem?!"
Serenity stared at him with wide blue-crystal eyes, disbelief staining her features. "What's--MY--PROBLEM?!?! My brother's dead!! Is that not reason enough for you?! My brother's dead--he was supposed to protect me!! My father's now planning to marry me off!!"
"Marry you off? I don't think that you have to worry about that--no one would take you!! Who would marry someone as ridiculous as you, ordango- atama!?!?!" Endymion vented. His heart was racing--pounding, throbbing against his ribcage. He could feel his face flush to deeper colours as the short angelic woman before him rose to challenge him. When Serenity had mentioned marriage, something inside of him tore away his self-control and revealed an incensed demon filled with misdirected protective rage.
Serenity looked as though she had been slapped and could not recover her composure. "Please go. . . ," she whispered through trembling salt-kissed lips. "Just go. . . ."
Endymion's stomach rocked and churned with combers of guilt-ridden nausea. Shame sliced through his mind as he gazed down on the delicate innocent form below his towering body. His hands quivered, and he slumped on the ground beside Serenity. "I'm not leaving."
"Haven't you hurt me enough!?!?" she moved to stand, but Endymion grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back down. She did not have to strength to fight him, too much had happened, too much was happening. "Please go. Just let me be alone."
"I'll be alone with you."
Serenity felt hot tears stream down her cold cheeks. "I can't. . .take this."
Endymion was not sure why he insisted on staying with her. She obviously loathed his company--and deservedly so. "You don't deserve my spite or harsh words."
"And someone else does?" she snapped. "You don't care what you do around people."
"You've seen me around others?"
"No," Serenity confessed quietly. Her hand swiped at the tears on her cheek.
Endymion reached inside of his cloak to remove his thick cotton handkerchief that had often been wound around his sword's hilt during battles to assist with the grip. It would be clean and washed. Endymion took great care of it; the handkerchief was his last and only possession from his forgotten childhood. The least he could do for Serenity was offer her something to dry her tears on.
His fingers grazed the cloak's interior pocket and stopped when his fingertips brushed up against a texture so tender and supple that it sent desirably unfamiliar shivers through his body. Serenity's eyes widened when Endymion removed the foreign object from his pocket.
"Endymion. . . . I don't. . .I don't understand. It-it should be dead."
Endymion spun the blood-red rose by the stem between his fingertips slowly, watching the red reflect its colour against the stark white snow. "I-I didn't have a rose a few, a few moments ago."
"A rose? I didn't know it's name," her wide crystalline eyes danced. "I-I saw a picture of one. . .before you nearly killed me on your horse."
"I didn't--"
Serenity smiled briefly, and although it was not directed towards him but at the rose, he silenced his objection. "Here," Endymion forced the rose into her smaller hand. "You can have it. I. . . I don't need a flower."
Serenity laughed aloud at Endymion's attempt at masculinity. She quieted her glee and dipped her head as she closed her fingers around the smooth, thorn-less stem. Her soft lips accidentally grazed the lithe petals of the flower as she brought the rose to her frozen, pink nose and tried to inhale its sweet musk. Endymion watched, mesmerized by her every movement-- accidental and intentional. She erupted into another bout of laughter. Endymion arced a single, ebony eyebrow, and she blushed. "I can't smell it. My nose is stuffed."
"You won't be able to smell it if you don't take it home soon. If you press it between two books, you can keep the rose forever--or for as long as you can care for it," he offered her a teasing smile to let her know that he had not intended his words to be cruel in any way. "Often times, the rose will keep its scent and--"
"How do you know this? Aren't you a soldier?" Serenity challenged with an equally playful tone.
Endymion stood up and lifted Serenity with him. She allowed his hand to pull her up without complaint, guarding the rose in her other hand. "Have you never been to the south?"
"My. . .Lord Tsuniko used to go to the south, but that was before my mot. . .mother died. I have never been."
"If you had, I think that you would have known about preserving flowers. It's common knowledge. I guess that I picked it up somewhere."
Serenity looked up at him, and her cloak's hood fell from her face. Her twin buns caught the dim light from the hidden sun in such a way as to reflect the silver-blond highlights in her honey hair. "I'm sure that you just 'picked it up somewhere,'" she saw Endymion open his mouth to issue a retort, but she overrode his comment. "Thank you for the rose, Endymion."
The soldier was not given time to respond before Serenity once again turned from him--this time gently--and walked in the direction of her horse. Her hair rolled down her back in angelic blond waves, and she seemed to glow with a radiance that the frigid cold could not contest. Her form was regal and noble. . .untouchable and innocent. Endymion started back towards his own horse in the opposite direction, the image of *his* angel immovably inscribed in his mind.
Author's Note: Thanks (again) for the R&R's!!! WooHoo!!!! Um, yeah, anyway. . . . I was going to offer something to those who have become faithful readers *big, happy grin* I was just going to say that I'll be sending out e-mails now when I update (it'll save the people who check for regular updates time to check out some of the more-brilliant work online--speaking of which, for anyone who's a Harry Potter fan there's a great fic I passed over called "Not the Girl You Thought You Knew;" it's worthwhile for any fans *smiles*). Back to my previous topic, where was I? Oh yes! So if you'd like to be sent an e-mail every time "A Soldier's Fate" is updated, just leave it in the review area, or e-mail me personally. The reason I offer this is simple: I'm afraid that it may be awhile (translation: if anyone out there likes this story, you're going to want to kill me) before I get to the next chapter because of EVIL-EVIL exams. *grimaces* I will be back as soon as I can, though!! Wish me luck? Thanks!!!
I don't own Sailor Moon or anything of the like, but I am masterminding a plan to change all of that! I'm thinking time-travel. . .what do you think? No? *sigh* Such pessimism. . . . ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!
**************************************************************************** **********
Cold.
Bleak.
Dead.
Lonely. . .
. . .so lonely. . . .
Serenity's eyes were dashed with unshed tears and she knelt before the giant flame; they stared--unseeing--at the funeral pyre where Shingo's body lay. The day was cold and dark, just as it was on the day Shingo died. Flocks of mourners stood around the pyre; the rotting stench of burning flesh and melting organs suffocated the once-dominate scents of lavender incense--Shingo's favorite smell ever since he met Ami and came to know the blue-haired woman's own scent. Black ghosts made of smoke rose from the burning body and dove into nearby noses, encouraging even more tears to form and fall. So many people had came to the funeral. So many people had cried with heart-felt loss. So many people. . .
. . .but Serenity was still alone. . .so alone.
The crowds of darkly dressed people departed gradually. Some people came late to pay their respects; they cast sympathetic glances towards the fallen silver-haired woman who knelt close to the flame, but offered her no comfort. Serenity would have been unable to accept their empathetic words or compassion-filled physical comfort. She would not have been able to handle it. She had not yet accepted Shingo's passing.
Ami had fallen ill over the course of the evening. The doctor had sworn that her condition was nothing to be worried over. Serenity's eyes narrowed venomously as she recalled the doctor's 'delicate' explanation he delivered to Lord Tsuniko:
"She's just suffering over a broken heart. She'll get over it. It's just something that girls do. They're like that, you know? So silly. . .completely illogical. I should speak with Lord-Commander Gizbourne about her. I believe that it's about time she settled in. That would do her all the good in the world. She shouldn't have time to make herself sick over such trivial fantasies."
Serenity's bare hands clamped down on the snow in anger. Ami deserved more sympathy than what was being given to her. She deserved to be happy. Serenity relaxed her grip; Ami's father--Lord-Commander Gizbourne--would see that she was cared for properly. He had always maintained a respect for his daughter. He was proud of her. Not many women could say the same about their fathers.
"And I don't even have one," Serenity muttered.
Snow crunched and squeaked behind her as a group of new mourners came to pay their respects to Shingo. She pulled the hood that had fallen from her head hours ago back over her silver-blond hair. The group stopped behind her, and she felt one stoop low to the ground to her left.
"Lady Serenity, you will catch a sickness if you remain on the ground. May I assist you to your feet?"
Serenity continued to stare forward as though she had not registered Jedeite's voice. The general remained beside her, patiently waiting for her to respond or acknowledge him. She finally dipped her head in agreement, long strands of her hair falling out from beneath the hood. "Yes, thank you."
His touch was soft and gentle against her hands despite the force his own grip could easily exert. Serenity felt like a glass doll when he helped her up--something so fragile that even the slightest jarring would upset her composure. Jedeite released her, and she stood on her own in front of the silent group, her head tilted towards the ground. The stillness was awkward, but what was there to say? Serenity took note of their boots. . . there were four sets. She exhaled a soft relief; Endymion was not there. She was not sure if she could handle his. . .well. . .his whatever-it-was- that-annoyed-her-to-no-end. Maybe it was his--presence?
"Lady Serenity?" Jedeite asked softly, breaking the stilled air of the cold hills. "Would you allow me to escort you back to your estate? You must be cold. I would not forgive myself if you were to seize any illness."
Serenity pulled her hood closer to her cheeks and shook her head. "I am not cold. I am fine. Thank you for your offer, general, but I wish to stay longer."
Her voice was disconnected and seemed to float lightly in the air, as though the slightest wind would erase all memories of her soft-spoken yet commanding words. Zoicite nodded her understanding, unlike the three true- male generals. She tugged on Kunzite's arm and threw her head away from Serenity, motioning for them to leave. "Try not to stay outside for too long, Serenity," Zoicite advised mildly. "Jedeite will truly hold himself responsible for any sickness you might contract, and you don't want him as your bed-nurse--he's horrible."
Serenity offered Zoicite a weak smile, the corners of her lips barely raising, and dipped her head. The group departed after murmuring their prayers to Shingo and wishing Serenity well. Once again, Serenity was virtually alone. The only person remaining by the flame was the monk who administered to the fire and ensured that the pyre did not spread from its designated location.
Endymion watched from a safe distance as Serenity sunk to her knees again. Her sitting position did not appear to offer comfort; she sat on the ground, her knees resting on the ground out in front of her and her legs spread back towards her on either side of her body. His friends had not seen him when they departed the pyre site, and somewhere inside, Endymion was grateful that he could observe the spirited woman without the mocking disturbance of his comrades. He had left a fair distance from the funeral pyre--the smell of burning flesh would have upset the animal. A cold wind brushed past his solid form and rushed down his neck. He pulled his cloak's collar higher, and warmth returned to him after long moments of chilled silence.
Endymion took the initiative to approach Serenity; perhaps she would allow him to pay his respects to Shingo without a quarrel. He chuckled to himself as the thought surfaced into his consciousness: Serenity without a fight? That would be the day. Even in the short span he had known her, he had come to correlate the woman with unpleasant situations and unbridled, limitless, endless frustration.
"I am sorry for you loss."
Serenity turned, her eyes already narrowed into angry slits filled with venom. She knew that voice well and had come to associate it displeasure and unstoppable, eternal annoyance. "I don't want to speak to you."
Endymion could not help but rise to the bait. "I don't recall a time where I ever wished to speak to you. Yet, it seems as though we are destined to speak and fill each other's ears with inequitable, satiric teasing," he stood behind her, his eyes locked on the burning corpse; to someone passing by, it would appear as though Endymion was watching over Serenity, protecting her from harm, and guarding her as she bid her brother a restful eternity. "I am sorry, ordango-atama. I am sorry for your loss."
Serenity stood up abruptly. Endymion jumped back in surprise as she turned on him. "You're sorry? You feel sorry for stupid little 'ordango-atama?' I wish that I could be half as heartless as you! At least then I wouldn't hurt as much!!!"
Serenity turned away from him and began to run. He watched, too stunned to move. When his senses finally resurfaced, Endymion charged after her. He had not intended to call her 'ordango-atama;' even he knew that such a statement was entirely inappropriate considering the situation. Serenity was a fast runner--she had been so all of her life--but next to the fit and trained soldier, Serenity fell short of her escape, and Endymion caught up to her before she could disappear.
"Leave me alone!"
"No! Look, I didn't mean to call you that. I'm sorry. I know that you're hurting right now, and it was entirely improper of me to say that."
"You don't understand hurt," Serenity scowled as she fought off another onslaught of tears.
Endymion shook his head. "I don't understand your hurt, you're right. But I do understand pain, ordan--Serenity."
"Please, just leave me alone," Serenity spun on her toe again and made to dart away but Endymion caught her wrist. Serenity spun around and hit his chest, unaware of the breastplate beneath his clothing. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o' as she withdrew her hand and clutched it close to her own chest. Endymion had released her hand when he first caught onto her intention to strike him. He made no move to comfort her pain, but watched her with patient blue eyes. Serenity sunk into the snow again and let frustration wash over her in torrents.
Nothing worked out.
Nothing ever turned out right.
And now she was stuck in the snow with the world's biggest jerk who had just mauled her hand--and it WAS his fault, even if SHE was the one who had struck.
Endymion's heart tugged gently, and he found himself in the kneeling in the snow in front of her. She did not fight him as he took her hand and stared at her palm. Blood marred the surface of her palm, and Endymion looked up in surprise--his breastplate could not have made such a deep gash in her palm. "I am sorry. I. . . . Had I even suspected that you could injure yourself like this on--"
"It's old. It's just reopened," she murmured. "I'm fine."
Endymion balled up some snow that appeared to be clean and rested in her hand. "I am still sorry."
Serenity did not acknowledge his words, and Endymion wondered if she had heard him, but he did not push the matter. She sat with patience as he oversaw her wound's cleaning. His callused hands felt strange against her silky skin. Strange, but. . . . Serenity angrily pushed the word 'good' from her mind. How could she even think of betraying herself like that?! To think that she had even considered the man who embodied arrogance to be remotely human--much less sincere and sweet!!--was a thought that disgusted her. Yet, with his head down and his cold blue eyes intently governing his practiced ministrations, Endymion did seem sweet and sincerely concerned about Serenity's well-being.
"There. You will have to tend to it again at home. If you don't know how, swallow your pride and ask someone for help--it looked like you already had a small infection before, and infections can easily get worse."
"I'm not stupid. I know how to tend to cuts," Serenity muttered, angry that she had to acknowledge him.
"Why are you so hostile?! What's your problem?!"
Serenity stared at him with wide blue-crystal eyes, disbelief staining her features. "What's--MY--PROBLEM?!?! My brother's dead!! Is that not reason enough for you?! My brother's dead--he was supposed to protect me!! My father's now planning to marry me off!!"
"Marry you off? I don't think that you have to worry about that--no one would take you!! Who would marry someone as ridiculous as you, ordango- atama!?!?!" Endymion vented. His heart was racing--pounding, throbbing against his ribcage. He could feel his face flush to deeper colours as the short angelic woman before him rose to challenge him. When Serenity had mentioned marriage, something inside of him tore away his self-control and revealed an incensed demon filled with misdirected protective rage.
Serenity looked as though she had been slapped and could not recover her composure. "Please go. . . ," she whispered through trembling salt-kissed lips. "Just go. . . ."
Endymion's stomach rocked and churned with combers of guilt-ridden nausea. Shame sliced through his mind as he gazed down on the delicate innocent form below his towering body. His hands quivered, and he slumped on the ground beside Serenity. "I'm not leaving."
"Haven't you hurt me enough!?!?" she moved to stand, but Endymion grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back down. She did not have to strength to fight him, too much had happened, too much was happening. "Please go. Just let me be alone."
"I'll be alone with you."
Serenity felt hot tears stream down her cold cheeks. "I can't. . .take this."
Endymion was not sure why he insisted on staying with her. She obviously loathed his company--and deservedly so. "You don't deserve my spite or harsh words."
"And someone else does?" she snapped. "You don't care what you do around people."
"You've seen me around others?"
"No," Serenity confessed quietly. Her hand swiped at the tears on her cheek.
Endymion reached inside of his cloak to remove his thick cotton handkerchief that had often been wound around his sword's hilt during battles to assist with the grip. It would be clean and washed. Endymion took great care of it; the handkerchief was his last and only possession from his forgotten childhood. The least he could do for Serenity was offer her something to dry her tears on.
His fingers grazed the cloak's interior pocket and stopped when his fingertips brushed up against a texture so tender and supple that it sent desirably unfamiliar shivers through his body. Serenity's eyes widened when Endymion removed the foreign object from his pocket.
"Endymion. . . . I don't. . .I don't understand. It-it should be dead."
Endymion spun the blood-red rose by the stem between his fingertips slowly, watching the red reflect its colour against the stark white snow. "I-I didn't have a rose a few, a few moments ago."
"A rose? I didn't know it's name," her wide crystalline eyes danced. "I-I saw a picture of one. . .before you nearly killed me on your horse."
"I didn't--"
Serenity smiled briefly, and although it was not directed towards him but at the rose, he silenced his objection. "Here," Endymion forced the rose into her smaller hand. "You can have it. I. . . I don't need a flower."
Serenity laughed aloud at Endymion's attempt at masculinity. She quieted her glee and dipped her head as she closed her fingers around the smooth, thorn-less stem. Her soft lips accidentally grazed the lithe petals of the flower as she brought the rose to her frozen, pink nose and tried to inhale its sweet musk. Endymion watched, mesmerized by her every movement-- accidental and intentional. She erupted into another bout of laughter. Endymion arced a single, ebony eyebrow, and she blushed. "I can't smell it. My nose is stuffed."
"You won't be able to smell it if you don't take it home soon. If you press it between two books, you can keep the rose forever--or for as long as you can care for it," he offered her a teasing smile to let her know that he had not intended his words to be cruel in any way. "Often times, the rose will keep its scent and--"
"How do you know this? Aren't you a soldier?" Serenity challenged with an equally playful tone.
Endymion stood up and lifted Serenity with him. She allowed his hand to pull her up without complaint, guarding the rose in her other hand. "Have you never been to the south?"
"My. . .Lord Tsuniko used to go to the south, but that was before my mot. . .mother died. I have never been."
"If you had, I think that you would have known about preserving flowers. It's common knowledge. I guess that I picked it up somewhere."
Serenity looked up at him, and her cloak's hood fell from her face. Her twin buns caught the dim light from the hidden sun in such a way as to reflect the silver-blond highlights in her honey hair. "I'm sure that you just 'picked it up somewhere,'" she saw Endymion open his mouth to issue a retort, but she overrode his comment. "Thank you for the rose, Endymion."
The soldier was not given time to respond before Serenity once again turned from him--this time gently--and walked in the direction of her horse. Her hair rolled down her back in angelic blond waves, and she seemed to glow with a radiance that the frigid cold could not contest. Her form was regal and noble. . .untouchable and innocent. Endymion started back towards his own horse in the opposite direction, the image of *his* angel immovably inscribed in his mind.