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Sinful Child

"Hate the sin but not the sinner…"

Grains of sand whipped cruelly about his face, stinging his skin. Dark clouds rumbled in blown in from the harsh wind, the sparse vegetation and frail trees were bent from the furious onslaught, sandstorms were kicking up and clumps of men moved Zoids and flimsy tents into the more protected and wind blocked city. The city was not so much a city as a small-populated town. Van closed his eyes, his thin shirt flapping in the breeze. It had been so long since he had been home. He had waited until the war was over before coming back.

His feet graced the ground in assured movements, secure in the knowledge of where he was going. The hard earth and dirt disappeared as his feet began to touch parched, dry grass. Ignoring the oncoming storm he moved slowly up a smooth curving hill, a large tree shading the top. A flint, gray gravestone was erected in the middle of the hill, thick and sturdy. A bronze hand reached down, fingers lightly brushing the smooth rock, pausing at the indentions made in the hard marble surface.

Yilch Freiheit

A warrior who died protecting those he loved.

A wonderful Father and Husband.

May he rest in peace.

Van's other hand reached down, fingers curled gently around crisp green stems. He placed the blooming flowers down lightly on the plush grass despite the storm that would surely blow them away or turn them into a soggy mess. He kneeled down, one hand supported on his knee the other resting on the ground, and his voice was barely above a whisper, drowned out by the howling wind, "I miss you father." He stood up slowly and gave one last look at the grave before turning around and walking down the hill at a leisurely pace, not looking back.

An open smile lingered on his face as he entered the village, though his eyes were slightly misty. His gait was on the bouncy side and he called out to his good friend, his voice a cheerful lilt, "Hey Fiona!" Fiona, the said person, was short, slender, with blonde hair, a soft voice, and sparkling bright violet eyes. Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, features brightening visibly, though her eyes were dewy and a sad flash of pain spoke volumes in her pretty features. Van's eyes narrowed, concerned, as he increased his pace forward.

The government had four years of semi peace after the war. That peace had consisted of the Guardian Force, a group of people who had been protecting the delicate balance of the government, which had been precautious at the time. The Guardian Force had also helped to defeat the Dark Kaiser, at a great price of many lives. So far a year had gone by since the Dark Kaiser's fall and real peace had been fulfilled. Many of those working in league with the Dark Kaiser had not been heard of since his downfall. The current government that he had helped to protect had been currently having political problems and unrest within the powers. Many younger politicians had been scheming against the current leaders because of greed and the want for power. As of yet those problems had not been affecting civilians or the outward appearance of the government. He only knew about the current problems because of connections within the "system".

Her smooth pink lips were strained, and the sadness in her eyes increased as she reached him. Her voice was quiet so that he had to lean down towards her to hear it properly, "A whole patrol squad was destroyed."

His back went rigid, his eyes widening, of all the news that was the least expected. "Do they know who-" Fiona cut him off, sensing what he was about to say, "No, nothing, no evidence or claim. Its as if whoever did was never there, invisible. Irvine went out to check it himself." Van closed his eyes, his fingers drifting up to rub his temples to stave off a headache that was forming. He groaned, great this was the last thing the government needed to add to their problems. A crack of thunder cut off the rest of the conversation, as both of them hurried to shelter.

Van smiled, as he smelled the sweet, warm aroma of food. Moonbay sure knew how to cook. Fiona was currently helping her and he had dragged out an old trunk he had left in his old home before the war.

The trunk was shambled wood, rusty metal clamps, and an old hinged lock that was broken. It was medium size, not to heavy since he had to carry it to his new home with Fiona, Moonbay, and Irvine. This new home was small, cozy and cool but kept the heat in for stormy days. It wasn't to far from where he grew up and the village itself was small and personal. Perfect for a place to just rest and enjoy peace. Unless that peace was once again taken away, he thought frowning.

Wiping the dust off the wooden boards, he opened the trunk, untouched since he had first left home. Inside were scattered photos, yellowed with age, old letters from his father to his mother and a golden necklace, a shiny, smooth, black fire seashell hanging in the middle of the delicate string. He fingered the necklace for a second, delighting in the cool feel against his hand and the smell of musty old papers wafting against his nose. He set the necklace down gently before picking up the photos. A sad smile caressed his lips as he stared at the picture of a middle aged man, dark brown hair braided to his shoulders, red paint lining his face in the old tribal pattern, and a small boy wrapping his hands around the thick muscular legs of the older man. He set the photo down picking up another like it. The picture had a smiling woman, wrinkles crinkling around her eyes, and soft brown hair streaked with the occasional gray tumbling around her shoulders. Her arms were wrapped around the man from the other picture, both beaming into the camera.

Van smiled, and reached down into the trunk once more, fingers shifting through different articles covered with dust. His hand came into contact with a smaller photo, one he hadn't seen before. He picked it up curiously. The photo was another picture of his father but instead of himself hugging the older man with small arms it was another boy. Long black hair, past the boys small shoulders and pulled back lightly in a long ponytail, fringes of bangs slipping in to cover the boy's haunted, large midnight blue eyes. He stared at the picture a moment longer; he didn't even recognize the kid as someone from his clan. The boy was smiling and his face was pale with a dark ruby red marking on his right cheek. The mark, his eyes narrowed, he recognized that mark. He growled in frustration, the answer was there in his head he just couldn't remember. The photo dropped from his hand in a fluttering motion, his mouth opened, gaping. Raven! That boy was Raven! He swiftly grabbed the photo and turned it over for any identification. On the back, written in the scrawling cursive of his mother's handwriting, black ink seared the paper. The boy found outside the site of Organoid workers. Befriended by us, has no name that he remembers. Parents died at the hand of an Organoid they were working on, mass destruction. We have begun to call him Shinto and plan to adopt him in the future if beneficial.

Van stared at the picture, not able to believe the words written there in merciless black ink. He mouthed the words in disbelief, "Raven, my father…my mother…Raven…" He closed his eyes, imagining the other's cold, emotionless handsome features, and dark brooding eyes. It just wasn't possible that the same person he knew was that little boy in the picture. "Not possible…its just not." His breath escaped in a whoosh of air, "Raven…my parents…"

He stared at the picture, dark, poignant midnight blue eyes searing into his memory.

***************

Yilch: This is the name I will be using for Van's father.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Constructive criticism is always appreciated!