Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Rumiko Takashi. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Short Shrift
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Chapter Four: He Lies
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The years are certainly showing. The fight is no longer the challenge it was when he first started out. No longer is he able to fully immerse himself in the moment; the adrenaline rush is not worth it. He longed for more—for more heart stopping experiences, for a greater thrill—the thrill of the hunt!
She was his new addiction, his new past time. Perhaps when he trivializes her effect on him to something easily explained, like a strong interest, he will be able to disguise the true nature of his preoccupation, his obsession.
In the past few months it became undeniable, even inevitable. He would pick up the scent of sandalwood and sorrow at every turn. There she would be, giggling with his brother's bitch, in plain sight, appearing out of nowhere like a cherub sent by the gods. Then she would capture him; and he would immerse himself totally with her presence, her scent, her voice. He would be lost. A child within the vast depth of the forest, completely alone yet entirely comforted, held against the bosom of the earth—he was home.
Never did he mind, now, that he lurked in the shadows for those thoughts would be pushed far beyond his immediate consciousness by the clear chime of her laugh. The sing-song melody of her voice made ever richer by her masquerade. He was enthralled. Sesshomaru could feel her unshed tears. At times, he could hear her unheard sobs, her desperate silent cries—he wanted to reach out to her.
"Do not fear me," his heart begged but he would crush the thought as soon as it arose. He is the Demon Lord of the Western Lands; there is nothing more important to his person than to be feared! This woman—this human woman—should certainly fear him above all else.
He lies.
He lies often nowadays for what else does one do when they are no longer sure of what they know to be true?
He is a lie.
Every part of him now rings with uncertainty, with deceits. Is he truly as frigid as he taught himself to be?
Certainly! He needs no one.
He lies.
He lays beneath the stars on a high tree branch within his private realm which has now been opened up to her. She forced her way through. The last few months was a struggle for control and she won.
He hated her effect on him.
He lies.
Now are the times in which he was euphoric—when he permits for himself a moment of peace and joy. These times are very rare for he lies. To the world, to himself, for the sake of his throne, his people, and his person he must lie.
A broken heart needs to be protected from more hurt.
A broken person needs time to heal.
Again, visions of her plague him. Her scent clings tightly to his memory—he is insane with contentment.
He wants to speak to her. No, to show himself. He wants to let her know. But he must never allow himself to stoop to such levels! He will not present himself to the female, practically begging for her touch, willing to give anything to share her burden. Never would an obscene notion come into fruition.
He lies.
And smiles.
And hopes for the next moment upon which they would meet.
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A/N: This one is definitely more abstract but I like it. (:
I hope you did too!
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