VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, [2] ]
[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 21:07:21 12/01/03 Mon
Author: Edo Ikari
Subject: What dreams may come...

The blackness closed around the bushi like a tsunami, and the swordsman knew peace in that colorless void. For him, there was only the hope that death would finally release him to join the spirit of his beloved in the afterlife. The bright white, so starkly contrasting the blackness, shocked his eyes open and he marveled; here there was no pain from the wounds he had incurred, there was only calm and white peace. Ikari smiled, knowing that this was the end of the path, the final outcome of the Way; he had died in honor, living and dieing as a Samurai should, and would be granted his rewards.

The smell of rosepetals in the air caught his nose and he turned, the stark whiteness shifting into the manicured garden that he had known in his youth. And then there was her... Aiki. His beloved. She smiled, and bowed respectfully to him as her faint laughter flew like silver notes through the air.

"Welcome, my lord."

She was exactly as he remembered her, from the faint stubs of her horns to the way she wore her kimono. The satyr's mind reeled, as he rushed forwards to gather her in his arms, her gentle laughter merging with his deep basso rumble. It had been that combination that was the formation of their tragos, the music they made together the stuff of legend. Something nudged at the back of his mind, trying to tell himself there was more to be known there, but in this moment, the samurai did not care. All thoughts of the past had flown out of his mind as he felt her nestle into his arms once again, as if the years had not seperated them an instant.

"Is... is this Nirvana?" he asked, gazing into the deep ameythist of her eyes.

The fingers of her hand traced over his chin, and she spoke softly. "Nay, my lord... simply a place between... it is not your time to join me in the next cycle... you yet remain."

~No!~

In some other place, the Satyr's heart beat once, and then again. The magics that had held him alive for so long continued to work, the wounds on him slowly reknitting and willing his body to life once again.

~No! Not again!~

The bushi watched as the paper house and tranquil garden burst into flames, Aiki slipping from his grasp as if a watery stone; and even as he tried to charge forwards and grasp her hand, he was pulled backwards. Once again away from the place of his beloved death; where once the issues of the mystical sword he now carried had kept him from saving her, now his very life pulled him from her once again.

And yet, as he felt the blackness swirl around him once again, some part of his mind slid into place, recalling the sidhe knight, their battle, and the strange techniques that had felt so familiar. Images floated past his face, names and places that he had not revisted for some time, for to open the doors to his memory was to invite her face before him, and it only brought with it the sadness of knowing his loss.

~Sensai? Sensai Takai?~

With a groan, the blackness parted to reveal the office of the fallen Knight, his shimmering armored form but a few feet away. The samurai's eyes drifted to his blade, still piercing the knight; Dertik's hands still wrapped around the blade near his neck. The wound across Ikari's chest still ached deeply, as well as the one in his side and his leg. And yet he understood his postion well; within an arcane haven, surrounded by Detrik's men, and it would still be an age before his regenerative powers had brought him back to his normal fighting standard.

Groaning loudly, the satyr reached over and yanked the blade from the dead Sidhe's hands and chest, wiping the blood from it on part of the black cloak that lay shorn in two on his shoulders. It had been drilled into him, in life, and in death, that his weapon was his spirit and his survival, and he would make sure his blade was clean before returning it to it's home, regardless of the wounds to himself.

After some minutes he was satisfied that the last of the sidhe's blood had been wiped from the blade that Ikari returned it to it's scabbard, using the sheathed weapon to lever himself unsteadily to his feet. His hooves nearly slipped in the gore that lay on the office floor, but the butt of the scabbard steadied him as he leaned heavily on it's weight.

The pain in his body was only second to the pain in his spirit as he glanced downwards at the fallen knight.

"You were not resolved to die, Gaijin..."

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:



[ Contact Forum Admin ]



Forum timezone: GMT-8
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.