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Eloquent Conversationalist
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 Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 7:01 pm
This is an impromptu dabble I wrote about two hours ago, when the mood suddenly hit me.
All you need to know is that the guy in this story is Ialo, a major character from the same roleplay (so yes, he's a fantasy character) as Mitsuki's character Danni Rinaldi (posted over in the Character subforum), that a lot of lousy things happened to him, some of which is fault and some of which isn't, Luna is a woman he was seriously in love with, and that this is the first draft. There was no revision, only proofreading for spelling in Word. There was a scientific error in the last line, fixed.
EDIT (lol): A couple of grammatical errors pointed out have been fixed.
Summary: On a quiet day, Ialo reflects on the woman he loves the most, and the future that might have been, had he been responsible.
A Rainy Day:
Outside, it was raining – a quiet gray gloom, the gloom of an afternoon rainstorm. The drumming of fat drops bombarding the shingles was muted by thick brick walls, tall double-pane windows, and a plush carpet. He could feel it though, the rain. It called to him, in a quiet, gloomy sort of way. It announced its presence, however subtly, and however subtly, he acknowledged the rain.
He leaned back, supported by the strong arms of the overstuffed recliner. In his lap was a leather bound notebook, half filled and half blank. In his left hand, a mug of steaming tea, and in his right, a fine-tipped pen of deep blue ink. Briefly, he was filled with a pining, no, a sudden wave of insatiable desire, borderline lust. He wished, he really wished, that the recliner he was seated in was not furniture, but a woman with her arms around his chest, her cheek against his, his long fingers in her moonlight hair, and her fine legs against his.
Something between a sigh and a whimper escaped from his lips and he closed his eyes. His eyes, he remembered her saying, were warm and friendly, were the eyes of a good man. They were a murky green, a muted gray-green like Spanish moss, flecked with gold. The eyes of his father – his father, a human – he saw the world through his father’s eyes, through a human’s perspective. And he, in looks, he so resembled his mother, with a narrow face, pale skin, and deceptively fine and delicate hands – for his mother was not human, but a dragon from the northern reaches of the Ural Mountains.
A strand of snow white hair fell loose and drifted down to the seam of his sleeve. The young man, momentarily shaken from his dreamy reverie of crimson satin eyes and lacy lingerie, dropped his pen into the center of the notebook, and stared broodingly out the window. No matter how hard he thought of her, she would never be. She was gone, gone from this world, and never to move to the next. And with her…
He leaned forward and set his tea down on the small mahogany table next to him, so that his hands were free to clutch at the ends of his hair, so that his palms could wipe away the tears springing to his eyes. And this time, unlike all the times during his tenure as Headmaster, Ialo let the tears come. Because he was alone, only himself to know, he cried. He cried because he missed Luna, he cried because through his negligence and absence, he had allowed her to come to mortal harm. Her soul was sucked away, in exchange for Setsuka’s, a witch who sacrificed over a hundred lives for the Fountain, for the sake of power.
He lost the one woman who loved him, who knew him, who knew what he had been through and how he felt – Luna had been there with him, and she knew too what it was like, because it had happened to her as well. The feeling of losing all control of your own body, of knowing your future is no longer yours, that any dreams you had for yourself belonged to someone else, that – that – that there was something inside of you, something boiling up, a something that you couldn’t control. A monster, a monster that chilled you to your core and made you doubt your own identity.
Ialo may have had the eyes of a human, but he sure felt as though he had the soul of a monster. It was awful enough that he failed to save Luna’s life, and infinitely worse that she had not gone alone. It was months after her death, that Setsuka had trapped him in battle and whispered in his ear, digging a knife in his heart: “She was pregnant, did you know that? And not just one child, but three - and they were yours. Think about that, you useless, stupid coward. You stood back and let me kill your mentor, your friends, your lover, and your children. Great job, hero. Thanks for helping me take over the world.”
He had screamed then, an ear-piercing roar back then, and a muffled wail now, his hands clasped over his mouth, his cheeks wet with tears. If he had – if things – if he had just been a better partner, if he had been there for Luna – she would be here today, with his ring on her finger, and children running around this large, empty house. They could have been smiling and laughing, a single happy ending in all that had happened to them.
And Ialo choked, and almost vomited with guilt and disgust. He was barely there for Luna, gone for most of her life. He was just like his parents, who were gone so often that they almost always forgot birthdays, and were only a few times ever home for Christmas, much less dinner. Ialo had promised he would never be like that – empty words, the lies of the monster. Now Luna was dead, and it was through no fault of his that he was still alive.
On a gray day a year later, a brooding rain was falling. The house was empty, saving for the quiet murmurings of a team of appraisers. Packed away in a box was a notebook and a pen, and up for sale was a recliner and a small mahogany table.
Hundreds of thousands of miles above the Earth, ashes were scattered to the moon.
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Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 7:10 pm
Extremely well written and very sad. Great emotion.
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Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 7:39 pm
Intense babeh. Perty good for 1st draft wink .
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Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 9:46 pm
I really really love this. It's very raw and fantastic. I can totally empathize with losing a loved one due to my own mistakes (not them dying necessarily, but still leaving my life). Reflection on these kinds of things is really gut-wrenching and you did it very well.
There were a couple minor spelling things:
"The drumming of fat drops bombarded the shingles"
I think that should be bombarding.
"a witch who sacrificed over a hundred lived for the Fountain"
Should be lives.
"A monster, a monster that made chilled you to your core"
Not sure about this one, maybe just take out 'made'? Second person is tricky ><
I think those are the only glaring ones to me. Like I said, the emotion in this is fantastic. Great job.
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Posted: Tue Sep 21, 2010 9:42 am
I honestly loved it. I don't really have any form of criticism regarding this particular part, it's extremely well written as has been said.
My favorite part are the last few lines, absolutely loved those, even though it was a saddening story.
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Posted: Tue Sep 21, 2010 12:56 pm
Shadyness I really really love this. It's very raw and fantastic. I can totally empathize with losing a loved one due to my own mistakes (not them dying necessarily, but still leaving my life). Reflection on these kinds of things is really gut-wrenching and you did it very well. There were a couple minor spelling things: "The drumming of fat drops bombarded the shingles" I think that should be bombarding. "a witch who sacrificed over a hundred lived for the Fountain" Should be lives. "A monster, a monster that made chilled you to your core" Not sure about this one, maybe just take out 'made'? Second person is tricky >< I think those are the only glaring ones to me. Like I said, the emotion in this is fantastic. Great job.
Thanks, I fixed everything you mentioned!
And thank you everyone else for your kind words!
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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