Disclaimer: I do not own escaflowne, or any of the characters thereof.
The Dream
Hitomi dreamt in rustling velvet, colors of satin and lace swirling around in a colorful masquerade of feelings and thoughts. In the great stone room, hung with tapestries depicting slain dragons and long forgotten heroes, each a dark reminder in hand-picked thread of Fanelia's brutal past. Four couples danced to the string quartet, yet there was no grace in their fear-stiffened movements. The swirl of the skirt dulled without it's usual vigor. Each lovingly embroidered slipper found its mark, yet there was no spring in the steps of the young dancers.
The fear was almost tangible in the room, a dark shadow quickly crossing the faces of ill-trained courtiers, to be covered in the light of a fake smile. What, Hitomi wondered, a silent spectator hidden in the cover of invisibility, Fanelia has never been a place of fear?
She examined the face of a young woman next to her, staring deep into her eyes. The woman had an exquisite gown of deep blue velvet embroidered with climbing gold leaves and trimmed with the finest, most intricate lace worked in a pattern of climbing roses, a perfect complement to her cold midnight hair. And yet her gown was nothing compared to her face. Her lips pursed in a strange combination of knowing and innocence, the shape belying their bright red color. Her skin was pale like freshly poured cream, the kind of skin that felt as soft as it looked and invited the touch of a man. Her nose was as strait as her ramrod back. And her eyes. Her eyes were a symphony of blue seas and sky's, emotions found in a lover's bed and a lover's grave swirling about in their depths, beneath those perfectly arched eyebrows.
Yet they were not focused on Hitomi, but someone past her. The young woman stretched out a hand to meet another, and Hitomi followed the movement with her gaze. She took in the tall black boots, rigorously shined metal clasps and laced. The perfectly tan and supple leather, sliding like a second skin up this man's legs, and the satin blood-red coat, lined with a surprisingly soft cream. She took this all in, and trembled as she rose to meet the man's gaze.
Hitomi screamed, and the room collapsed in on itself.
She woke screaming, or trying to with as much power as her abused body could muster.
"I can't remember his face" she cried in a voice that whispered like a spider's dream, from a throat unused to speech. Tears rolled down her thin thin cheeks, from her dark dark eyes. Her hands looked like twigs, and in the sharp outline of the moon, like bone.
She struggled to the mirror, catching her overlarge nightshirt on chairs and drawers, finally coming to rest at her vanity. And as she did look, she found the face of a skull staring back. It shocked her, until she realized it was only a trick of the light.
"I can't live like this," she cried and sank her head down unto her skeletal arms.
And Why should you, whispered that insidious little voice residing in the midst of her gray depression. You could end it all now, no one the wiser, not Yukari whom you'vepushed away, or your mother or your brother, both who can not bear to see you, nor Van…
"God, I can't even think his name anymore, it just hurts too much." It was three in the morning, and she wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. Thoughts of the time she spent on Gaia, and longing for that simpler time in her life led her wandering mind to her tarot cards. Ensconced in their own box, she hadn't touched them in years, and a fine coating of dust had sifted even into the confines of the glass box. The temptation overroad her resolve not to meddle with the future, and she flipped opened the lid.
"Just one card" she promised herself, and with a nonchalance she didn't feel, looked at the image. La Torre, of course, the separation card. She was separated from her previous life, and about to separate from life itself.
Her resolve hardened. She would go through with it. Besides, she wanted to see an angel, one last time.