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VIII.
She was dressed in lavender and red. Necklaces weighed her neck down in chains of gold gossamer-fine metals. Her hair, looped and twisted into a painful yet elegant looking style, gleamed like an obsidian ocean, long and fine.
Rin was no longer the young girl, the insufferable child with a knack for grating on his last nerve, that he had known. She had grown into a woman, with curves and a sense of style and an attitude to boot. The one thing that had not changed, however, was her naivety and love of all things pink and flowery. She still had her obsession with his hair, and the annoyingly cute laugh that drove him crazy when he was trying to study.
She was decked out in the finest of silks, the most precious of gems, and had a line of suitors almost as long as the length and width of his home twice combined.
He watched as she smoothed out the folds of her kimono from her spot in front of the vanity – western-styled furniture that he had thought to bring home with him from one of his many business trips.
He stood a silent spectator from her doorway as she applied powder and rouge to her face, once more becoming someone he didn't know – couldn't recognize.
Rin was growing up, and soon he wouldn't be a part of her life anymore, regardless of the promises she had made to him, the vows she had taken and the oaths she had sworn. The Rin he knew was no more than perhaps a distant memory of his. How he hated his life.
How he hated humanity.
The fragility of skin, feeble and warm under his touch, the blood racing; faster, faster, faster. How eloquently placed, strategically and inconveniently righted – to pervert the very nature of life and lives and everything related to it. A mere stain on the dolour entity that was life. How pathetic. How depressing.
"Are we ready to leave?" She asked, her dark brown eyes fastening to his through the reflection of the mirror, unknowingly breaking him out of his stupor.
He nodded and she sighed in relief, her eyes sliding back to her face to watch her movements.
"You have changed." He intoned, pushing off from the wooden frame, eying the leather bag set next to the carefully folded kimonos and jewellery. Presents from her suitors: their "undying" loyalty laid down at her feet like submissive servants to her every beck and call.
"We all change." Rin replied distractedly, drawing his attention back to her slim figure.
As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Everyone changed, if given the time and opertunity. Sesshoumaru decided then that he didn't like change.
"We leave within the hour." He stated, the undertone of sadness falling through as he turned his back to her, prepared to leave.
"You ought to thank me, Lord Sesshoumaru," she declared dryly, stopping him in his leave. Her tone was teasing, mocking. Sesshoumaru hated being mocked. "After all, it is only because of me that you'll get to see Kagome again. Don't even try to deny it – I know you like her."
Yes, Rin had definitely changed. And with that he walked out of the room, only one thing on his mind.
Once upon a time.
(More of a sloth-y, depressing undertone meant to describe change, its importance in life, and so on. At this point, the story has taken on more of a plot in regards to where this is headed. The next few chapters should explain it somewhat, though the humour might be cut back a little. – Incomprehensible)