Utena, Revolutionary Girl Fan Fiction ❯ Elle M'A Donné de Faux Miracles ❯ Dark Contemplation ( Prologue )

I do not own Revolutionary Girl Utena, or any of the characters that are involved in it. Shoujo Kakumei Utena - la fillette revolutionnaire -" is a copyrighted work. (C) Be-PaPas, Chiho Saito / Shogakukan, Shokaku Iinkai, TV Tokyo. All references and poetry that I did not create belong to their respective owners. All original characters, poetry, and song lyrics that belong to me should not be used without express permission and notification. Thank you.

 

 

Prologue: Dark Contemplation

 

 

The hot, nearly scalding spray of water pounded on her back, causing her to shiver slightly at the touch of the thin individual strands of warmth. Yet she felt no warmer inside. Inside she was as frozen and barren as a winter wasteland, her heart a gnarled tree, whose bare twisted branches reached upwards for the sky in a windswept, ragged plea for a miracle. A miracle that doesn't exist.

 

 

Thick strands of sopping wet golden orange hair snaked along her bare shoulders and screen the sides of her face, as if trying to hide the pain and angst showing there. Her form was hunched slightly, leaning her weight against the shower tiled wall in front of her with the palms of her hands. Her right hand curled into a fist, slamming into the tile next to her face, cracking it in a hair-thin line. She stood up resolutely and tilted her chin up in cold arrogance, picking up a bath sponge and continuing to scrub her body and skin free from impurities. A hazy mist leaked over the top of the stall door, cloaking the bathroom and fogging up the mirror.

 

 

She turned the water off, ringing her hair out, and stepped out onto the soft linen bath rug placed there. Grabbing a towel, she wound it around her lithe figure, and used another to dry her hair. Leaning determinedly on either side of the sink, she used a hand to wipe a smear of visibility across the glass of the mirror, and gazed at her own eyes staring back at her. Her face was perfect, like porcelain, betraying no emotion or hint of her thoughts. It was cool and calm, just like she was taught to do while at a photo shoot. But inside…inside her mind was a seething mass of hatred, anger, and desolation.

 

 

Damn you Shiori…damn you for coming back…She turned on her heel, and stalked out into her bedroom, changing into her silk night gown, and turning out the light. Tomorrow would prove to be most trying. Especially after nightmares of a grinning angelic face, and shrieking swords being ripped from her soul.