Welcome everyone to the 5th installment of And to Know Twas You that Said It.
Hmmm, I was thinking about changing the title, but I think the title has grown on the story. O.k., this part is written from Sesshoumaru's point of view, this is how he sees everything. Please don't mind the dream sequence, It fits in. P.S. Sesshoumaru's father is Inu no Taishou, but a different name.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Inuyasha.
Last we left off; Naraku's Father had just agreed to let him go away with Sesshoumaru.
February 21, 1650. Thursday.
Ohayo.
I slept a dreamless sleep last night. But I know when I awoke I had a horrible feeling—kind of like when you eat bad sushi.
As I lay in my bed, thoughts and images flood my head, and soon my vision.
I see myself, in a room like my own only my gold and elaborate curtains were replaced with antique lace ones. This is the only thing I found out of place.
The curtains matter not. Find out where the hell you are.
I saw myself turn around and a pain shot up through my spine. I felt as if I was vomiting and soon felt blood rise in my throat.
The illusion of myself standing at the old curtains was fully facing me, though his face was still in the shadows. I felt like my insides were on fire, they burned and ached like something inside me was being torn out. Like something was eating away at my stomach. Like there was something I wasn't supposed to see.
I walked to this other me. It seemed as I walked towards him, he backed away, like a creature damned to eternal darkness. He shied away, as though to hide himself from me. He acted as if he honed some forbidden image.
I continued walking despite my conscious or semi-conscious self telling me, 'STOP!'. The other me was cornered in front of a mirror. I kept walking forward, and though everything seemed as clear as daylight, the other me's face was still hidden. It finally donned upon me that the other me had no face, that he was just sitting there, acting on impulse, hiding his freakish deformality, if you would call it that. The image frightened me. It looked like something had carved out my beautiful visage.
I suddenly felt a wave of heat wash over me, and a pair of hands grabbing at me, gently holding my face, and out of nowhere I felt a surge of guilt.
Slowly I opened my eyes, and was greeted by the sight of my father, looking just as worried and disheveled as ever.
"Darling," his voice sounded faraway, "you must rise, you awoke in a cold sweat. It's only a dream, honey, only a dream." Though faraway, his voice was soft as rose petals, and his bergamot-tinged breath tickled my cheek. He spoke as if he knew I was a bit on edge and didn't want to frighten me any further.
I felt heavy, then weightless, then someone else's warmth all over me; where I realized my father was carrying me.
It would be another hour before I woke up, and when I did, I would see my father's rooms.
Still a bit on edge, I took it upon myself to try to stand. The window, not as ornate as my own, which I might add, had been opened. Sunlight beamed through the panes and illuminated the room. Making everything sparkle and gleam.
Damn it all, to much light.
I resumed my spot on the bed; sitting up this time. It wasn't until then did I realize my father was in the corner.
I started to scream and frolic about. Afraid that my dear father might turn into that grotesque creature from the darkest depths of my haunted slumber. He rose. My mind told my body to stop jerking about, that which it did violently, but my body did not listen. A sheet of fear lie over me, I was soon afraid of everything—mostly because everything reminded me of that sinister face. I closed my eyes and screamed as if I was on fire, the embers burning away at my flesh gruesomely. Though in a way I was, locked up in my own world, now, detached from everything around me, separated by the circle of flames that were my fears--crying and banging on the doors to open. At this point I was still yelling bloody-murder and crying desperately for my father.
Soon I stopped thrashing. I ceased all movements, and I gather I was quite delirious. I felt a frosted glaze over my eyes, like my world was a painting and all was smeared about. I jerked around one last time, finding smooth skin and giving a good bite to wherever was in front of my mouth (one last attempt at defense against the creature). Still these strong arms were encircling my body, one wrapped around my waist and the other holding my head close to the crook of what I later found was a neck. Not long after I realized my father was holding me. The frost like film over my eyes was gone and I saw clearly. Not only the blood, streaming down in two neat river-like lines, but I saw my fathers hair. I soon began to feel nostalgic.
I remembered as a child how much I would play in my father's hair. Being as it was well past his knees, I also remember getting tangled up in the ivory tresses. He would always let make up his hair; braid it, and even cut it. (once.) Soon I found a finger in his hair, entangling itself like a butterfly in a platinum cocoon. I realized it was my own finger. At this point I knew my father realized I had come back—I also realized it was him who I had bitten, and him whom I had kicked and scratched trying to escape.
I was overcome with pain. It itched and scratched at my sanity. I hurt all over. Sore and bruised. I reached up, and interlaced my fingers in my father's achromatic mane, brought his face to mine and gave him an innocent little kiss on the corner of his lips. He looked deep in my eyes, and I know he wanted to ask me if it had passed. I smiled and slothfully nodded. My father saw I was sleepy, so he fixed me in my bed and kissed me quickly before leaving, making sure to leave the lamp on.
That night I had a rather incestuous dream. Which I wont tell you of, seeing as it is none of your business.
Like I was saying, I dreamt a rather incestuous dream. It wasn't quick as a minute, but I dreamt my father a I were having an affair. (no more kissy Daddy before bed for me, even if I have a bout of madness only seconds before). Anyway, I had kissed my father, a bit less innocent and a bit more lustful, which I might add. My dream was in third person, so I got to see the plump Maraschino cherry I passed from my mouth to his.
---Hajime no Sesshoumar-dono, which is too much to write, so you can call me Sesshou-kun.
nyah, that was yummEEH.
Next chapter is also from Sesshoumaru's point of view as well.
YUSH! kya. insert spaz Im a responsible authoress. .
Thank you to my reviewers, what few of you there are.
Im not going to say I live for reviews, but yush they are nummy. And I do like to get them, so drop me a line, yo?
Seriously, review and tell me how you think the story is going, you opinions, I like stuffs like that, what I could do to make it better—after all you're reading this, not me!1
Domo Aishiteru!! Aabalany-chan OUTOU desu!!
