Angel Sanctuary Fan Fiction ❯ The Twelve Days of Christmas ❯ Pipers Piping ( Chapter 11 )

AN: (snivel) A sad one this time, I'm afraid. Quite possibly the saddest one in this series (or maybe I just think that because I care for Katan so much?). I probably shouldn't have let this one wait until so close to Christmas, heh... But in any case, this is Katan on the subject of Rosiel, which I thought would be nice and appropriate for `pipers piping', as this symbolizes the eleven faithful apostles. I came up with this idea as I was walking through a snowstorm pretty much identical to the one pictured here; actually, I finished most of these drabbles during that storm, because I find snow and other generally icky weather oddly inspiring, heh. This is set during the time that Rosiel is sealed in the earth - and it has something that could possibly be a reference to chapter one, see if you can figure out what ;)

 

Eleven x Pipers Piping

 

The night before Christmas, Katan found himself trudging through an endless world of snow.

 

The snow on the ground only appeared to be a couple inches thick at first glance, but with each step the ice underneath it cracked deeply. There were tall trees all around him, and the tip of every twig was hung with a tiny icicle; the branches were coated with the stuff. When he chanced a glance up, it was impossible to tell where the falling snow ended and the clouds began. The wind whipped the snow into tiny tornados and tossed the trees - they bent stiffly, because they were so coated with ice - and it blew loose snow across the surface of the ground to create odd patterns something like ocean waves. Mostly, though, he did not look up, because it would expose too much of his neck to the wicked cold; he merely hunched his shoulders and focused on moving one foot in front of the other.

 

It was too much effort even to focus on his destination; the cold consumed all his thoughts. First his ears and nose went numb; then his knees; and then, even though they were in gloves and shoved in his pockets, he even began to lose feeling in his fingertips. The driving wind swirled his hair about his face, but even that was cold, and scratchy with icy snow; it made his eyes blur. He could feel it all so vividly - at first the paper-cut on his finger ached especially much, though eventually he could no longer tell it apart from his other achingly numb fingers.

 

Finally, as the chill was even beginning to sink into his boots, he looked forward. He shielded his eyes from the snow, but it was no good; it was coming too heavily now, he could not even see a hundred feet ahead. Where was he going, again?

 

xXx

 

When Katan came to, the first thing he was conscious of was how very much his back ached. He soon discovered why; he was curled up in a tight, tense ball, arms wrapped around himself, and he was so very cold. He sat up, grappled with disorientation for a moment, and discovered that he was in his bedchamber. It seemed he had kicked his covers off in the night.

 

He slipped on a robe, and went to the window to twitch aside the curtains. With wry amusement he discovered it was snowing. He observed how it fell with perfect smoothness on the carefully sculpted hedgerows between the decorative paths, how the whole landscape was fresh and undisturbed in the unmoving morning air.

 

His fingers danced idly across the curtain's hem. In his dream he had been deep in a forest; strange, he didn't think he'd ever actually seen a place like that. And the weather was never anywhere near so vicious here in Heaven.

 

A miniscule smile came unbidden to his lips. But it all made sense, really... when you considered that today was Christmas day...

 

He padded silently back across the room and opened a drawer. He turned the object he took out over and over in his hands and stared deeply into it; it was a snow globe that housed a tiny wood, and when he shook it a hundred artificial snowflakes spun wildly 'round...

 

It was, he recalled, a Christmas present from so very long ago. When as a young boy he had exclaimed that he had never seen anything like it, the one who had given it to him had smiled one of those smiles that he could never seem to forget, and had told him that it was a miniature world for times when the real one seemed too big.

 

As he sank weakly into a chair and covered his face with a hand, Katan remembered the evil cold of his dream, and he thought that that person had made a mistake, putting it that way. Now that he was gone, his world was only growing smaller.

 

TBC