Disclaimer: {I'm only stating this once, because I don't want to do it over
and over in the chapters to come.} I do not own the series Escaflowne or
any of its characters. I also don't own any products or places mentioned
within any part of this fanfiction.
Author Notes: I'm going to try and put all the author's notes at the end of each chapter, so they're easier to skip and don't clutter up this area. Just the prologue gets special treatment. Anyway, this is my favorite story format, but I've never written an Escaflowne fanfiction before. I think that you readers out there will like this one, but I would be very grateful if you would state your opinions in the form of reviews. I know the prologue is really short and choppy, but it's supposed to be read like you are an outsider and cannot grasp what's going on. Chapter one actually goes back, before the prologue, {if that makes any sense} so you can view the. incident first hand. Don't read this if you dislike unhappy scenes, even though I promise I happy ending. IF I get enough reviews. ^ ^ Enjoy the fic and review!!
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Shattered
Prologue - Blood
The rain was thick with the blood of innocents. There was nowhere to turn, for the rain was everywhere, and the blood was everything. Nothing was safe from the scarlet water. It could touch all; wash away what was thought to be sacred. Eyes could only observe as the sea of red rushed up to meet and engulf them. To alter their destinies and change their lives forevermore.
It was raining that fated day. The downpour had started early in the morning, never pausing in its surprising onslaught. The sky had been so dark, so gray. Clouds were interwoven thickly through the atmosphere, blocking out any sun. A few looked to the sky, wondering if it would ever end, this rain.
There was no blood in the rain then. She couldn't see it. No one could see it. Perhaps it was hidden beyond the sight of a normal human. Only those who witnessed the wrongful deaths of those who bore no sins could see the dark stains splashing across the ground, leaving a permanent whisper of things that were, and what was to come. There was really nothing to see in the rain until it colored the clean flesh of living people, washing her life away in so much red.
When she looked at her own hands, it was there, dripping slowly to the floor. It wrapped itself around her fingers, thick and warm. Her tears mingled with the scarlet, diluting it, changing it. Everywhere she looked, there was blood. She could feel it seeping through her clothing, drenching her own skin. The neatly pressed skirt she had worn that day was no longer a soft green, but a dark, heavy black. Her white shirt was decorated with her own blood and that of those she cherished. Her fingers trembled as looked down. Everywhere. It was everywhere on her.
The smell of new dead washed over her in endless waves. Her vision blurred in and out. The stench wrapped itself around her, squeezing the breath from her starved throat. It was so thick she would momentarily forget the blood soaking her from head to toe and notice only the smell. It caressed her skin, calling her to give in to the looming blackness waiting at the edge of her sight. She could see it creeping slowly over her, dragging out the release from the world of pain, of horror to which she had just entered. Her throat tightened again as the wind carried the tainted rain into her eyes. It toyed with her hair; as if it could enjoy the pain she was suddenly given and would bear on. The rain, which usually smelled so fresh, was old and broken with decay. It refused to wash away the blood on her, but only added to it.
The rusted metallic taste was sharp in her mouth. Dimly, the girl wondered when it had ever slipped past her lips. When she swallowed, it vanished down her throat, coating it, being replaced. She spit, trying to get it away, away from her mouth, her throat, but there was only more, coming in a river that sprung from a never-ending source she could not find. When she tried shaking her head to remove it, the blackness would leap over her eyes, reminding her of its presence and the fact that it would not leave until she gave herself over to it.
It felt so warm, yet, even as it trickled off her body and towards the floor, she could feel it cooling. The hot life it had represented was fading. She could feel it making paths towards the floor from her face, mixing with the tears that had suddenly sprung up there. It felt slick against her hands, forcing her to look again at her fingers. Though the blood was creating a growing puddle on the floor below her, the flesh of her hands was still blanketed in it. She reached a hand to her face, touching it lightly, noticing the fingers slipped as she did so on her already bloody face.
It painted the walls in strange, grotesque patterns, marking a life that had been, that never will be. It was even covering the floor with a surprising flourish. And the bodies. They were made of the blood, cascading, falling, dripping. It was all blood, all red. Glancing up, she could see it on the ceiling, slipping off and falling towards her upturned face. Even when she turned her eyes to peer outside the window, the clouds, which had so recently been heavy and gray, were now a dark maroon, pouring forth the blood from which she could not escape. The tree's had it on their leaves, slowly allowing it to drip to the ground, where it would remain. It was everywhere.
It could speak, for she could hear it whispering to her. All her fault. She should have prevented this from occurring. She could have. Everyone would know that it was her fault. There was no emotion from the mangled things twisted there on the floor. No pain, anger, or surprise. Just death. What did death feel like? She did not know, but she could sense it there, palpable and heavy. They were gone, and the blood murmured that it was her fault. Everything. She could hear it laughing. Laughing. A life that was beating within the shells of those humans had been destroyed so easily. The pain that was searing through her back was taking over her senses so quickly. She had been spared for the pain and the suffering to kill her later. Why? She had not been allowed the freedom of being broken. She was given over to the pain that would never leave, the one that would remain embedded on the heart forever and could not recede, could not fade.
Somewhere, dimly in her mind, she registered a screaming. It took her a long time, as she stared blankly at the blood, to realize that the loud noise was she own voice, calling for escape and redemption. Crying out for help, vengeance, a way to be free of the pain. It lifted and frightened the bloody birds watching from the window. No one answered her desperate cries. Soon her broken shouts turned into a rough sobbing, pierced only by her voice rising in anguish, as she would see the blood again. The darkness was inching closer and the smell was getting thicker.
Moving bodies suddenly burst through the front door. She tried to warn them not to come in, there was too much blood, but all she could do was stare at the red around her and scream. They ran back and forth with guns, those things that had killed. One looked at her, lying on the floor, and she could swear he started crying with her. In her mind's eye, even as they moved, the blood dripped down from the ceiling and they, too, became covered in it. They were soon beyond recognition of her or anyone, darkly painted in the dead's color.
Three ran over to her. One was afraid of the screaming woman and rushed from the house, clutching his arms. Another chased after him, angrily. The last one remaining near her figure took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. The black leapt over her eyes and swirled around her vision. Behind her, somewhere, someone was shouting. A cool bit of cloth was pressed onto her back, where the wound was. The wound that would not fade, would not leave. The scar on her life to remember this day and all the blood that had been shed. How long ago had she run from a world filled with blood? Why had it followed her? Why? Her hair was red, her hands were dripping, and her eyes were full of the darkness that constantly threatened her. She wasn't been shaken anymore, and there was a gentle sound of the crackle of radios and voices behind her. Someone was probing her back. With a scream of utter agony, the girl spun around and hit the person with all her remaining strength. No one would cause her more pain, not with the old so new in her mind. She could still see it all.
Gasping, her hands flew to her throat. The blood that had filled her mouth and coated her throat was suddenly burning painfully inside her. She smeared the red over what skin remained visible under her chin, fearful of her own death. The blackness receded for a moment, and she could see, with amazing clarity, the three bodies that lay atop each other, dead. Then it sprung back to hide her eyes from the scene, the men that rushed around, wading through the blood, the poor human that had rushed from the room, frightened.
'The world. is. shattered.'
The girl's mind broke, halting the thoughts that had danced within it. There was nothing left. All she could see was the blood, and the broken bodies that lay twisted just beyond her blackened vision. She could feel her own body giving up, falling towards the floor. There were no arms there to catch her this time. No ready assistance for the torn and lost child. Somewhere midway through her fall, she saw a sparkle of bright light and a large, glowing feather floated down to rest in her hand. Before she let the darkness remove her, she clutched at the white feather and held it tightly. No one knew where the feather had drifted from, but they saw the way she held it. One man ventured closer and was surprised to note that none of the blood would touch the pureness of the object. None.
The woman could still hear the laughter of the scarlet sea just before her face hit the floor, splashing blood onto those standing closest, drenching her in it further. She could feel something lifting her, moving her. Then the bloody rain spilled over her, vainly trying to remove some of the evidence of the afflictions she had suffered through, but only managing to soak her shivering body in it more completely. She herself was made of the blood. Her thoughts turned back to the home, which had, so recently, been her own. The red that painted it was stealing her very life away with it. The men shouted and she could only see the one who had run, trembling by the muddy white car she was being born towards. His body shook in fear, and he, too, had blood on his hands. But it was only her blood, and the rain was removing it off for him. The last thing the girl saw was the blood racing away in little rivulets down the street, towards the drain, to disappear as if it had never been. Then the blackness descended down on her mind, quashing any further thought or sight. She gave into it easily, thanking it for the release from the horrible agony of this world.
It was all shattered. The men continued rushing around, pulling up a bright yellow tape around the girl's home as she was lifted into the ambulance and spirited away. Nothing was left for her here, and she was dying. She had seen the fragments of what was, what could have been falling away from her. Everything was broken, and there was no one to repair it. It was over, everything was over. The men around the house straightened their clothing and bowed their heads. It had been a long time since they had seen something this gruesome and twisted. The blood was whispering away in the rain, down the hill, sprinkling the sidewalk as it was washed away. Each person watched it; frightened of the implications it gave. That girl was destroyed; her very world had been wrenched from trembling, blood soaked hands. Nothing could save such a hopeless victim, and nothing would soften the thirst for death and revenge. A few exchanged looks as bystanders began to gather. No one should have to witness such a frightening cacophony of blood and fear. They blocked the street and faced down the curious people, forcing them to turn and leave, saving them from the horrors that they would have to continue to view, until the day was completed and the end was in sight.
The girl was what stood out in there minds most prominently. Her drenched body had been dripping with blood and tears when they had arrived. The men who had brought her outside to the ambulance attested to a strange way the rain all fell on her, but not onto any of them. And, instead of washing the blood away, more had come; more had covered her shaking figure. The sky had been raining the bloody teardrops of the innocents that had died within that house for no reason that came to mind.
Two of the men were still within the house as the others left for the hospital to question the victim as soon as she arose and found whatever voice she could muster. No matter how hard they looked, none of them could discover the soft noise that sounded remarkably like laughter. Finally, they looked down to the blood. Neither of the two wished to admit it, but they both guessed it was the redness that was murmuring the laughter, and no one else was here. Just the three broken humans, piled up in the same area the girl had been in. There was a remarkable amount of blood still flowing from the cold bodies, and the three men were grateful when their relief appeared, prepared to remove whatever was left. They fled the area, shivering madly, wishing their comrades better luck.
The blood had been laughing, ever so softly, and they could hear it whispering it was all her fault. She should have never returned, for this was all that was waiting for her. It may have taken time to appear, but it was all ordained. It was fate, destiny. Nothing could change it. Any human that ever stepped in that household would immediately feel the presence of the same blood. Some would even be able to see it. It would never again be the loving home it had been, for everything was covered in the living blood of the dead, and the world was broken.
Everything was changed, never to be the same again. The white feather glowed in the girl's hand as it cooled, trying to lend it warmth to keep her breathing, keep her living. The men surrounding her could not wipe the blood from her face, could not remove it. The feather suddenly brightened, and it was gone from her, to fall over another. But this would mean nothing to the woman when she awoke.
Her world was shattered.
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Well, that's it for the prologue. I know it was short, but this was simply the introduction to my new fic. Please review it! I'm working on completing the rest of the plot, and the more reviews I see, the faster the chapters appear. ^ ^ Anyway, this will be a very dark fic, but I hate sad endings so there WILL be a happy ending, with enough reviews. Trust me. This fic could take either path.
As for some background information, I wanted to do something with Escaflowne, but I wasn't quite sure what. A lot of people have done the normal "Hitomi misses Van so she returns to Gaea and lives happily ever after", but. I didn't want to do anything like that. I also didn't want to do another "Gaea/Fanelia is in danger yet again" fic. I'm so tired of those. So this is a new take, in which both have realized their love, but hidden it away in their hearts and minds, never thinking it could be reawakened, and it takes a tragedy to discover where they both really belong. {Yes, I suck at summaries, bear with me here, okay?} Everything will be explained in the later chapters. I hope you enjoy reading my humble prodding at dark angst and. dark fluff. {Just don't ask.} Please review!! ^ ^ I love getting reviews! {It makes me want to write more. Hint.}
Author Notes: I'm going to try and put all the author's notes at the end of each chapter, so they're easier to skip and don't clutter up this area. Just the prologue gets special treatment. Anyway, this is my favorite story format, but I've never written an Escaflowne fanfiction before. I think that you readers out there will like this one, but I would be very grateful if you would state your opinions in the form of reviews. I know the prologue is really short and choppy, but it's supposed to be read like you are an outsider and cannot grasp what's going on. Chapter one actually goes back, before the prologue, {if that makes any sense} so you can view the. incident first hand. Don't read this if you dislike unhappy scenes, even though I promise I happy ending. IF I get enough reviews. ^ ^ Enjoy the fic and review!!
@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@
Shattered
Prologue - Blood
The rain was thick with the blood of innocents. There was nowhere to turn, for the rain was everywhere, and the blood was everything. Nothing was safe from the scarlet water. It could touch all; wash away what was thought to be sacred. Eyes could only observe as the sea of red rushed up to meet and engulf them. To alter their destinies and change their lives forevermore.
It was raining that fated day. The downpour had started early in the morning, never pausing in its surprising onslaught. The sky had been so dark, so gray. Clouds were interwoven thickly through the atmosphere, blocking out any sun. A few looked to the sky, wondering if it would ever end, this rain.
There was no blood in the rain then. She couldn't see it. No one could see it. Perhaps it was hidden beyond the sight of a normal human. Only those who witnessed the wrongful deaths of those who bore no sins could see the dark stains splashing across the ground, leaving a permanent whisper of things that were, and what was to come. There was really nothing to see in the rain until it colored the clean flesh of living people, washing her life away in so much red.
When she looked at her own hands, it was there, dripping slowly to the floor. It wrapped itself around her fingers, thick and warm. Her tears mingled with the scarlet, diluting it, changing it. Everywhere she looked, there was blood. She could feel it seeping through her clothing, drenching her own skin. The neatly pressed skirt she had worn that day was no longer a soft green, but a dark, heavy black. Her white shirt was decorated with her own blood and that of those she cherished. Her fingers trembled as looked down. Everywhere. It was everywhere on her.
The smell of new dead washed over her in endless waves. Her vision blurred in and out. The stench wrapped itself around her, squeezing the breath from her starved throat. It was so thick she would momentarily forget the blood soaking her from head to toe and notice only the smell. It caressed her skin, calling her to give in to the looming blackness waiting at the edge of her sight. She could see it creeping slowly over her, dragging out the release from the world of pain, of horror to which she had just entered. Her throat tightened again as the wind carried the tainted rain into her eyes. It toyed with her hair; as if it could enjoy the pain she was suddenly given and would bear on. The rain, which usually smelled so fresh, was old and broken with decay. It refused to wash away the blood on her, but only added to it.
The rusted metallic taste was sharp in her mouth. Dimly, the girl wondered when it had ever slipped past her lips. When she swallowed, it vanished down her throat, coating it, being replaced. She spit, trying to get it away, away from her mouth, her throat, but there was only more, coming in a river that sprung from a never-ending source she could not find. When she tried shaking her head to remove it, the blackness would leap over her eyes, reminding her of its presence and the fact that it would not leave until she gave herself over to it.
It felt so warm, yet, even as it trickled off her body and towards the floor, she could feel it cooling. The hot life it had represented was fading. She could feel it making paths towards the floor from her face, mixing with the tears that had suddenly sprung up there. It felt slick against her hands, forcing her to look again at her fingers. Though the blood was creating a growing puddle on the floor below her, the flesh of her hands was still blanketed in it. She reached a hand to her face, touching it lightly, noticing the fingers slipped as she did so on her already bloody face.
It painted the walls in strange, grotesque patterns, marking a life that had been, that never will be. It was even covering the floor with a surprising flourish. And the bodies. They were made of the blood, cascading, falling, dripping. It was all blood, all red. Glancing up, she could see it on the ceiling, slipping off and falling towards her upturned face. Even when she turned her eyes to peer outside the window, the clouds, which had so recently been heavy and gray, were now a dark maroon, pouring forth the blood from which she could not escape. The tree's had it on their leaves, slowly allowing it to drip to the ground, where it would remain. It was everywhere.
It could speak, for she could hear it whispering to her. All her fault. She should have prevented this from occurring. She could have. Everyone would know that it was her fault. There was no emotion from the mangled things twisted there on the floor. No pain, anger, or surprise. Just death. What did death feel like? She did not know, but she could sense it there, palpable and heavy. They were gone, and the blood murmured that it was her fault. Everything. She could hear it laughing. Laughing. A life that was beating within the shells of those humans had been destroyed so easily. The pain that was searing through her back was taking over her senses so quickly. She had been spared for the pain and the suffering to kill her later. Why? She had not been allowed the freedom of being broken. She was given over to the pain that would never leave, the one that would remain embedded on the heart forever and could not recede, could not fade.
Somewhere, dimly in her mind, she registered a screaming. It took her a long time, as she stared blankly at the blood, to realize that the loud noise was she own voice, calling for escape and redemption. Crying out for help, vengeance, a way to be free of the pain. It lifted and frightened the bloody birds watching from the window. No one answered her desperate cries. Soon her broken shouts turned into a rough sobbing, pierced only by her voice rising in anguish, as she would see the blood again. The darkness was inching closer and the smell was getting thicker.
Moving bodies suddenly burst through the front door. She tried to warn them not to come in, there was too much blood, but all she could do was stare at the red around her and scream. They ran back and forth with guns, those things that had killed. One looked at her, lying on the floor, and she could swear he started crying with her. In her mind's eye, even as they moved, the blood dripped down from the ceiling and they, too, became covered in it. They were soon beyond recognition of her or anyone, darkly painted in the dead's color.
Three ran over to her. One was afraid of the screaming woman and rushed from the house, clutching his arms. Another chased after him, angrily. The last one remaining near her figure took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. The black leapt over her eyes and swirled around her vision. Behind her, somewhere, someone was shouting. A cool bit of cloth was pressed onto her back, where the wound was. The wound that would not fade, would not leave. The scar on her life to remember this day and all the blood that had been shed. How long ago had she run from a world filled with blood? Why had it followed her? Why? Her hair was red, her hands were dripping, and her eyes were full of the darkness that constantly threatened her. She wasn't been shaken anymore, and there was a gentle sound of the crackle of radios and voices behind her. Someone was probing her back. With a scream of utter agony, the girl spun around and hit the person with all her remaining strength. No one would cause her more pain, not with the old so new in her mind. She could still see it all.
Gasping, her hands flew to her throat. The blood that had filled her mouth and coated her throat was suddenly burning painfully inside her. She smeared the red over what skin remained visible under her chin, fearful of her own death. The blackness receded for a moment, and she could see, with amazing clarity, the three bodies that lay atop each other, dead. Then it sprung back to hide her eyes from the scene, the men that rushed around, wading through the blood, the poor human that had rushed from the room, frightened.
'The world. is. shattered.'
The girl's mind broke, halting the thoughts that had danced within it. There was nothing left. All she could see was the blood, and the broken bodies that lay twisted just beyond her blackened vision. She could feel her own body giving up, falling towards the floor. There were no arms there to catch her this time. No ready assistance for the torn and lost child. Somewhere midway through her fall, she saw a sparkle of bright light and a large, glowing feather floated down to rest in her hand. Before she let the darkness remove her, she clutched at the white feather and held it tightly. No one knew where the feather had drifted from, but they saw the way she held it. One man ventured closer and was surprised to note that none of the blood would touch the pureness of the object. None.
The woman could still hear the laughter of the scarlet sea just before her face hit the floor, splashing blood onto those standing closest, drenching her in it further. She could feel something lifting her, moving her. Then the bloody rain spilled over her, vainly trying to remove some of the evidence of the afflictions she had suffered through, but only managing to soak her shivering body in it more completely. She herself was made of the blood. Her thoughts turned back to the home, which had, so recently, been her own. The red that painted it was stealing her very life away with it. The men shouted and she could only see the one who had run, trembling by the muddy white car she was being born towards. His body shook in fear, and he, too, had blood on his hands. But it was only her blood, and the rain was removing it off for him. The last thing the girl saw was the blood racing away in little rivulets down the street, towards the drain, to disappear as if it had never been. Then the blackness descended down on her mind, quashing any further thought or sight. She gave into it easily, thanking it for the release from the horrible agony of this world.
It was all shattered. The men continued rushing around, pulling up a bright yellow tape around the girl's home as she was lifted into the ambulance and spirited away. Nothing was left for her here, and she was dying. She had seen the fragments of what was, what could have been falling away from her. Everything was broken, and there was no one to repair it. It was over, everything was over. The men around the house straightened their clothing and bowed their heads. It had been a long time since they had seen something this gruesome and twisted. The blood was whispering away in the rain, down the hill, sprinkling the sidewalk as it was washed away. Each person watched it; frightened of the implications it gave. That girl was destroyed; her very world had been wrenched from trembling, blood soaked hands. Nothing could save such a hopeless victim, and nothing would soften the thirst for death and revenge. A few exchanged looks as bystanders began to gather. No one should have to witness such a frightening cacophony of blood and fear. They blocked the street and faced down the curious people, forcing them to turn and leave, saving them from the horrors that they would have to continue to view, until the day was completed and the end was in sight.
The girl was what stood out in there minds most prominently. Her drenched body had been dripping with blood and tears when they had arrived. The men who had brought her outside to the ambulance attested to a strange way the rain all fell on her, but not onto any of them. And, instead of washing the blood away, more had come; more had covered her shaking figure. The sky had been raining the bloody teardrops of the innocents that had died within that house for no reason that came to mind.
Two of the men were still within the house as the others left for the hospital to question the victim as soon as she arose and found whatever voice she could muster. No matter how hard they looked, none of them could discover the soft noise that sounded remarkably like laughter. Finally, they looked down to the blood. Neither of the two wished to admit it, but they both guessed it was the redness that was murmuring the laughter, and no one else was here. Just the three broken humans, piled up in the same area the girl had been in. There was a remarkable amount of blood still flowing from the cold bodies, and the three men were grateful when their relief appeared, prepared to remove whatever was left. They fled the area, shivering madly, wishing their comrades better luck.
The blood had been laughing, ever so softly, and they could hear it whispering it was all her fault. She should have never returned, for this was all that was waiting for her. It may have taken time to appear, but it was all ordained. It was fate, destiny. Nothing could change it. Any human that ever stepped in that household would immediately feel the presence of the same blood. Some would even be able to see it. It would never again be the loving home it had been, for everything was covered in the living blood of the dead, and the world was broken.
Everything was changed, never to be the same again. The white feather glowed in the girl's hand as it cooled, trying to lend it warmth to keep her breathing, keep her living. The men surrounding her could not wipe the blood from her face, could not remove it. The feather suddenly brightened, and it was gone from her, to fall over another. But this would mean nothing to the woman when she awoke.
Her world was shattered.
@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@*^@
Well, that's it for the prologue. I know it was short, but this was simply the introduction to my new fic. Please review it! I'm working on completing the rest of the plot, and the more reviews I see, the faster the chapters appear. ^ ^ Anyway, this will be a very dark fic, but I hate sad endings so there WILL be a happy ending, with enough reviews. Trust me. This fic could take either path.
As for some background information, I wanted to do something with Escaflowne, but I wasn't quite sure what. A lot of people have done the normal "Hitomi misses Van so she returns to Gaea and lives happily ever after", but. I didn't want to do anything like that. I also didn't want to do another "Gaea/Fanelia is in danger yet again" fic. I'm so tired of those. So this is a new take, in which both have realized their love, but hidden it away in their hearts and minds, never thinking it could be reawakened, and it takes a tragedy to discover where they both really belong. {Yes, I suck at summaries, bear with me here, okay?} Everything will be explained in the later chapters. I hope you enjoy reading my humble prodding at dark angst and. dark fluff. {Just don't ask.} Please review!! ^ ^ I love getting reviews! {It makes me want to write more. Hint.}