Cessation
Izzy Girl interlude it was akward; all the talk we made was small Setting: empty street, night, raining Two shadowy figures meet, one of these is cleary Eriol Hiiragizawa, as usual, dressed in the leas conservative garb he could manage. The other is hidden too deeply in shadows to see clearly. Eriol chuckles. E: Well, fancy meeting you here. The other replies, but the voice is obscrued and muffled. E: It was rather uncalled for, I agree. (Reply) E: Considering the current conditions, would you expect me to appear otherwise? It would be simply irresponsable. (Pause, then reply) Eriol chuckles again, this time abashedly. E: I always was a vain one, but enough about me. What about you? You must have seen some things in your travel to give you pause if you've shown up here. Or was it simply that...? (Eriol is cut off. The reply is sharp this time) E: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... (Interrupted again. The other figure turns) E: ... well then, I understand. Your secrets safe with me. But I can't garuntee silence on 'his' part. _____________________ Eriol gazed out at the empty city thinking about the various times he had done this in the recent past. The streets were always busy and dotted with cars and lights. Now, all the windows were dark and one could see the faintest traces of stars when they turned their gaze towards the heavens. He ran his finger along the edge of the knife, absorbing the knowledge of it's dark and rich history in the movements of his digit. He would lose those memories and that knowledge soon, but it was inconsequential. Everything was inconsequential now, 'she' had proved that. There was no difference between being dead and alive other than one's state of mind. Right now Eriol considered himself dead, but if he carried through with what he had to do, he would be alive. It was simple and concrete, like mathematics but only in nature. He turned the knife inwards and did not wince as it glinted sharply, the moon catching it's edge and illuminating the tip as a warning. The moon was his garudian, more loyal than even the sun had been, but he cared no longer. There was no better way to communicate this than to close his eyes, breathe in deeply and let the blade find his skin. It wasn't as painful as he'd imagined. In fact, the knife felt cool as it sliced into his stomach, prying open organs and spilling blood. It was a fascinating feeling. He drove the knife in harder. Inside his mind a scream broke. He wasn't sure if it was his own, or the voice of the master. He closed his eyes and swayed, catching his grip against the railing on the edge of the roof's lookout point. Around him a whirlwind whipped. It wasn't wind or magic, but of aura and emotion. He wasn't sure what was happening except that it was working. Not until the wind died down and the scream faded did Eriol allow his hand to fall free of the knife. It clattered against the roof's surface noiselessly and the dark haired boy collapsed. The night was deadly silent and for once, his mind was to. Down deep in the center of his being he could feel a space. It was hollowed and wrong feeling and when he focused on it too intently, it made him shiver from a far-off, indefinable dread. He was empty, but free. He rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes. When he watched the moon, he felt no kinship with it. He could see the stars, but their power didn't affect him. He was empty. But he was free. Slowly, he laughed. Stiff, disjointed sounds that gained speed, conviction and power. His throat brought up blood and his wound ached, but he couldn't stow the mad, broken sound. He sobbed through the glee and held himself tightly where the blood stained his robes and listened to his own madness echoed in and out among the rows of silent houses, the only sound that penetrared the night. 'So this is what it feels like...'
Izzy Girl interlude it was akward; all the talk we made was small Setting: empty street, night, raining Two shadowy figures meet, one of these is cleary Eriol Hiiragizawa, as usual, dressed in the leas conservative garb he could manage. The other is hidden too deeply in shadows to see clearly. Eriol chuckles. E: Well, fancy meeting you here. The other replies, but the voice is obscrued and muffled. E: It was rather uncalled for, I agree. (Reply) E: Considering the current conditions, would you expect me to appear otherwise? It would be simply irresponsable. (Pause, then reply) Eriol chuckles again, this time abashedly. E: I always was a vain one, but enough about me. What about you? You must have seen some things in your travel to give you pause if you've shown up here. Or was it simply that...? (Eriol is cut off. The reply is sharp this time) E: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... (Interrupted again. The other figure turns) E: ... well then, I understand. Your secrets safe with me. But I can't garuntee silence on 'his' part. _____________________ Eriol gazed out at the empty city thinking about the various times he had done this in the recent past. The streets were always busy and dotted with cars and lights. Now, all the windows were dark and one could see the faintest traces of stars when they turned their gaze towards the heavens. He ran his finger along the edge of the knife, absorbing the knowledge of it's dark and rich history in the movements of his digit. He would lose those memories and that knowledge soon, but it was inconsequential. Everything was inconsequential now, 'she' had proved that. There was no difference between being dead and alive other than one's state of mind. Right now Eriol considered himself dead, but if he carried through with what he had to do, he would be alive. It was simple and concrete, like mathematics but only in nature. He turned the knife inwards and did not wince as it glinted sharply, the moon catching it's edge and illuminating the tip as a warning. The moon was his garudian, more loyal than even the sun had been, but he cared no longer. There was no better way to communicate this than to close his eyes, breathe in deeply and let the blade find his skin. It wasn't as painful as he'd imagined. In fact, the knife felt cool as it sliced into his stomach, prying open organs and spilling blood. It was a fascinating feeling. He drove the knife in harder. Inside his mind a scream broke. He wasn't sure if it was his own, or the voice of the master. He closed his eyes and swayed, catching his grip against the railing on the edge of the roof's lookout point. Around him a whirlwind whipped. It wasn't wind or magic, but of aura and emotion. He wasn't sure what was happening except that it was working. Not until the wind died down and the scream faded did Eriol allow his hand to fall free of the knife. It clattered against the roof's surface noiselessly and the dark haired boy collapsed. The night was deadly silent and for once, his mind was to. Down deep in the center of his being he could feel a space. It was hollowed and wrong feeling and when he focused on it too intently, it made him shiver from a far-off, indefinable dread. He was empty, but free. He rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes. When he watched the moon, he felt no kinship with it. He could see the stars, but their power didn't affect him. He was empty. But he was free. Slowly, he laughed. Stiff, disjointed sounds that gained speed, conviction and power. His throat brought up blood and his wound ached, but he couldn't stow the mad, broken sound. He sobbed through the glee and held himself tightly where the blood stained his robes and listened to his own madness echoed in and out among the rows of silent houses, the only sound that penetrared the night. 'So this is what it feels like...'