Scroll Six:
A short narrative
And so it was that several strands of fate began to intertwine; one of those threads crossed over upon itself in a great looping arc that traversed time, this thread was silver and had a strange gap in it just before it crossed over itself. This gap was very similar to the gap in the brown thread that accompanied it, a thread that shimmered in its newness but was strangely disturbing for the infinitesimal gap in it. There was another strand, a green one; that one might remark upon in its sheer unimportance, this one accompanied the silver strand for a long stretch of the pattern, but this thread did not follow the other two in their strange jump to another time in the pattern. There were other threads that were affected by these two; some cut short, some skewed at strange angles, others twisted around into strange corkscrews that were all but un-interpretable. Still others influenced these two, most notably a brash red thread, and a noxious purple one.
There was nothing particularly special about the silver and brown threads in comparison with the rest of the vast pattern; just two more lives, living, fighting, and struggling. These were but two threads in a vast and incomprehensible web, but were of notice for what accompanied them. Of all the threads in this vast weave; these two were accompanied by a piece of the vast black net that surrounded the entire thing. The black net that looms over us all; stalking us, frightening us, and eventually taking us, yet not normally walking with us. Just a piece of that black web, yet still enough to draw the Fates attention.
"What is Death doing?" one of the three peered closely at the weave.
"It looks like its conscience has gone on a holiday." Another harrumphed loudly, if a cosmic being could be said to harrumph.
"Well, somebody should go get it; Hell is having enough problems as it is without it sending little bits of itself to every corner of the globe." Said the first. Then the third, shrouded in shadows, the wisest of the three, spoke out:
"No," she said quietly, but with an air of command "let Persephone have her time in the world. Look here," she pointed to a piece further on in the weave: "This will turn out for the better I think."
The others gazed at the pattern but could see nothing but chaos
"As you say sister, but let us pray Persephone returns soon, before Hades unravels completely.
And somewhere down upon the vast scope of time and space, Nirakumi sneezed three times. She rubbed at her nose thoughtfully;
"Hmm, someone must be thinking about me."
And still elsewhere, a man who called himself Resh stood in an expensively decorated penthouse, silhouetted in the great window that looked over quite a bit of Tokyo bay.
He smiled softly to himself, looking out over the pristine waters of Tokyo bay; at least, they seemed pristine from here, but in reality, the industrialized harbor was filthy. Still, he enjoyed the illusion all the same, and admired the ships in the harbor. Of particular note were the long boats; small vessels that once accompanied the great wooden tall ships on there voyages across seas and into legend, there were quite a few down there. He supposed it must be one of the tournaments that were still held to celebrate traditional sailing and seamanship. There was even one of the few tall ships left in the world down there; a magnificent replica of one of Cheng I Sao's pirate junks, most probably the vessel the judges would be on.
Resh shook his head and stroked the Abyssinian cat that lay on the chair behind him, remembering a day very much like this one, a day long ago, when he died for the first time.
So concludes this ridiculously small chapter of golden eyes
Is Nirakumi really Persephone?
Who is this Resh?
And why the hell do I persist in writing this story?
We might actually cover this someday, but not in the next overdone chapter of golden eyes.
A/N wow, and I thought chapter four was short. This take the cake, but to make up for it I am posting two chapters at once, so read on to see what Sesshomaru does in the future.