It's all a blur to me now. I don't know what went wrong and I don't
want to
think about it. The girls, the battle, the onslaught of snow and ice...
and then, suddenly,
something went terribly wrong. I underestimated them, once again.
Mostly I
underestimated the determination of the tall one to defend her friends.
Who could have
known her sword would morph? I was stupid and I'll pay my price.
Before I could so much as blink I was before him, afraid and ashamed,
but mostly
in admiration. Then he sent me here, banished behind a wall of water
for I don't know
how long.
Is this my fate then? To be banished, forgotten? How long will he
leave me here
before he summons me again, or will he ever summon me again? I don't
know. I don't
know. I only know that I want to do my best for him, for he to whom my
heart cries out.
Maybe I can persuade him to love me, maybe I can somehow earn some
small shred of
affection from him, maybe it is possible. All I know right now is that
when he looks at
me with such disgust, such disappointment in his eyes as he did just a
short time ago, I
can feel my heart palpably shrinking. Is this what love is then? To
feel your heart shrink
and then expand and then shrink again? It's a painful sensation and a
very enlightening
one.
I'm going to go crazy here with my job half-finished and nothing but
water in
front of me and damp stone behind me. The water crashes down so
violently I can't hear
my own thoughts. And somehow I'm still able to catch fragments of
conversation from
the others. I cannot see them and I do not know where they are, so it
is cruel that I can
stand here and make out bits of whispered conversation, hushed
sentences, muffled
laughter. It's the laughter that gets to me most, though I don't in
actuality know who they
are laughing about.
I shift my weight. My clothes are heavy enough when dry and now they
are
dripping and wet from my violent entrance through the waterfall. The
weight presses
down on me, not just on my shoulders and spine, but throughout my
entire body. My feet
are tired and my legs and my ribs. My lungs are weary and my heart is
heavy and my soul
has stretched to the ground. My mind has been ravaged from my head. I
slide down the
wall and allow my head to rest in my hands with my knees on either
side. I'm crying. I'm
confused.
My watery prison cannot be opened but from the outside. He does not
mean to
return to me; he does not care if I rot here. I am useless to him now.
I've been given my
chance and then a second and then a third. Three chances I've been
given and three times
I've failed. He has no intentions of ever coming back. The realization
hits me like a sock
to the stomach and I gasp, subsequently choking on my damp hair.
Just that easy just that quick, huh? This must be it. I've been given
my trial run
and have been found to be no good. The judgment has been passed. It's
over. But that's
impossible! I've barely even begun! So many plans, so many ideas, but
not enough time.
I knew, from the first moment I looked into his eyes and found nothing
there, I knew that
I would live for him, or die for him-whichever would suit him best. I
would make
myself useful to him and I would not fail, no matter what. I hoped that
I could put
something of some substance into those eyes and maybe, just maybe, one
day he might
look at me with them, really look at me, and everything would settle
into place. I looked
for that something from time to time, though he would not allow me to
look into his eyes
very often. He did today and what I found there was utter
disappointment. And then I felt
useless and it was the most horrible feeling in the world.
"You have failed me," his soul said to me without saying a word.
"I am sorry," said mine in return. And then I was banished and now it
is over.
It has become dark and quiet, aside from the roar of the water. How
long have I
been here? (How much longer will I stay?) This must be what insanity
feels like, these
perpetual questions of how and why. Except I always envisioned insanity
being happier,
almost, more ignorantly blissful.
A spurt of movement catches my eye and I stand quickly, not wanting
anyone to
catch me as I am. I still have my pride, at least, among the few
possessions I still
maintain. Someone is there, standing a little ways off. A blurred
figure, a dark silhouette,
warped and indistinguishable behind the wall of running water. It comes
closer. I am able
to make out a few details through the dark, translucent water that runs
before me. Of all
the people it could have been, it is Inouva. Great. My *favorite*
rival.
He lingers a moment in front of me, looking in. We stand two feet
apart but with
the water between us makes it seems farther. Miles farther. We're
standing worlds apart.
I know he cannot see me, but I still feel watched.
"It's rude to stare," I murmur. My voice is higher pitched and more
nasal than
usual, losing itself somewhere in the shadowy chasm above my head. I
surprise myself.
"You have failed Lord Zagato for the last time," says Inouva in his
usual
methodic and monotonous pitch. His manner of speaking constantly
reminds me of a
thing that is perpetually tired. I cringe.
"Spare me. My punishment lies in these walls and this water and I
think it unfair
to endure your preaching as well." I bite it out, before I even think.
He is silent and
I find myself in suspense, but what can he do to me? What in addition
to this?
"You know you are not a person to him, not a heart and a soul, but
something
more akin to a machine. You were assigned to a specific duty and you
failed that duty so
now he sees no more use in you at all. You were his machine and now you
are retired.
There's nothing more to it."
I find myself impatient with his words.
"How can you be so nonchalant? How? This is *not* inconsequential to
*me*."
He sighs. He is bored. "But I, too, am a machine, Alcione. My function
is to be
nonchalant so long as I perform my duty to him."
I don't like being talked down to from a senseless lackey. I didn't
exactly invite
him here, either.
I am silent for a long time. I don't know if he notices. Finally,
slowly, "Why did
you come to me? Why are you saying these things? You forget I am vapor
now. I do not
exist. I am simply a retired machine as you so eloquently put it."
"Because," and his voice cracks with emotion. He begins to sound more
human.
I have never heard it before. "Because I feel obligated to explain this
process to you. It
seems you do not understand what has happened and I find it unfair to
you-and to him."
"What do you care?" I am taken aback and I don't care enough to hide
it. "Of
what consequence has this to you?"
He sighs, audibly. He's never sighed before; I've never seen him
perplexed.
"I've seen... We've all seen-" He stops and starts again. "Do you-Do
you
think I have been blind?"
"What?"
"Do you think we've all been terribly blind?"
"What do you mean? I don't understand."
"Alcione, when you watch someone gaze at a person so often-" he
couldn't
find the words. I didn't believe it. "When you look on as somebody
pours their heart
out through their eyes toward somebody else with such horrible
admiration and such
awful devotion, you never forget it. You are never able to keep it from
affecting
something deep inside yourself."
Even with the water roaring between us, the silence is blatant and
profound.
It stretches, unbearably. I am amazed.
"You love him," he continues, without bargaining or criticizing.
"And so do you," I murmur, unable to help myself, unable to stop.
And it is his turn to be silent, though I didn't even think he heard.
We are
playing each other like cards.
"And what if I do?" He lays his out. "That is your prison, not mine."
It's a
winning hand.
(But I am wise.)
"For now."
"Listen!" He interjects sharply. He has grown weary of haggling with
me. "He
doesn't love you, now or ever. You were right. You are vapor to him-in
time he will not
even see you anymore. To think that you can earn his affection through
silly acts of
loyalty and devotion is a lie unto yourself."
"Go to a mirror," I snap, all spite. "Go to a mirror and repeat what
you've just
said."
The silence is filled with anger this time, and quiet hate.
"You'll rot," he states simply, and turns aside. He is gone before he
came.
I sit down once more, no longer hysterical but with the beginnings of
a plan in
my head. This can't be it. This can't be the end. Not completely.
Reason would not allow
it; Inouva would not have come otherwise. There has to be one last
chance somewhere.
I was just passing over it before. Somehow, sometime I will redeem
myself. I will earn
Zagato's faith back, if not his love, or I will die trying.
No one can stop me but myself.
End
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note II: This is just as much Alcione's story as Inouva's. I did try to make it
belong to her, though,
way back in the beginning. Oh well. Ideas are born. What're you going
to do.
No I didn't warn you about the homosexual undertones. I did want you to
read it, after all.
Anyway, it *is* my solid belief that Inouva's feelings toward Zagato
went deeper than
just business. Come on. You don't give your life for a person for the
hell of it. Besides,
this is CLAMP you know, the very queens of homoeroticism. Personally, I
think they did
intend some sort of innuendo in the relationship between Zagato and
Inouva, although the
latter never appeared in the manga. They had a heavy hand designing him
in the anime, however.
(This is not to say that Zagato would have returned Inouva's theoretic
feelings, of course.)
It was just an idea that intrigued me and wouldn't go away. I hope I
haven't offended anyone.
My opinions are both those things: Opinions. Mine.
-------
...Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
~ from "Alone" by Edgar Allen Poe ~
-------
Alcione: "I would have done anything for you, Lord Zagato!"
Zagato: "It was all for yourself. People fight only for themselves. You
were no exception.
You did not fight for me. In your heart, it was all for yourself."
Alcione: "No! I was fighting for you!"
Zagato: "For me?! You accomplished nothing for me and now this nonsense
comes forth
from your mouth? Go anywhere you want but leave, you worthless
fighter."
-------
Zagato: "Is it bad to wish to shake Cephiro from its roots?"
Inouva: "No. No matter who curses my actions, your wish is everything
to me."