Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ A Sylphe's Journey ❯ Of Reflections and Remembrances ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer: If I owned Escaflowne, why would I be writing a disclaimer?

The airship glided swiftly among the clouds, using their nebulous camouflage to slip unnoticed accross the sky. The craft's scanty crew were all occupied with tasks of navigation and maintenance, so none paid attention to the small cat girl walking down the corridor, a bowl of steaming water and strips of linen bandages held precariously in her furry, clawed hands.

Reaching the intended destination, she poked her rosy-haired head in the door, and her lively blue eyes scanned the room, lighting up when they spotted the figure crouched on the top bunk.

"Come down, Lord Van! It's time to change your bandages."

The young man made no move to leave his perch nor gave any indication that he had even heard her. In his hands, he held a small, delicate knife. Slowly, gently tracing the weapon's carved bone handle with careful fingertips, the beast child's beloved companion seemed committed to memorizing each detail of the ornate design.

"LORD VAAAN!!", she belted out, impatient to tend his wounds.

Her reluctant patient slowly glanced up; thick black bangs fell into dark, troubled eyes. Their expression tugged sharply at her heart. Ever since he'd returned injured from the failed mission, Lord Van had been distant, even with her, his oldest, and often only, friend. Five days had passed since then, they were now enroute back to Ezgardia, and the pensive youth was still wrapped in an almost tangible cloak of disappointment and regret. His devoted little nurse was beginning to get very worried.

"Please, Lord Van," she beseeched, "please come down."

Please come back to me...

The urgence and sorrow in her voice apparently reached him, for she was favoured with an expression that almost qualified as a smile as he dropped down to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Merle," Van apologized, letting her tend to his injury, "I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

"I do," Merle asserted, her fur bristling angrily at the sight of the deep red gash in his hand, "And if I ever get my hands on that witch, I'll claw her eyes out!"

"No, Merle," he quietly insisted, "She had to...I was about to...to hurt someone, and he could have been her friend or her brother or even her husband for all I know."

Van didn't know, however, and that fact was bothering him very much. The thought of this woman's having outside attachments had never occurred to him. He'd been told that she could help him, guide him somehow, and so his mind had classified her as something of a tool to be used for long as she was necessary and to be let go again when she was not. The realization that this was not the case had come to him in a sharp jolt of pain as her delicate blade had pierced his flesh, leaving him confused enough to do what he had promised he never would: turn his back and run.

Nevertheless, Van still believed that this woman could help him; her eyes had told him so.

Dilandau lay stretched out and perfectly still upon the soft, low mattress in one of the many guest suites in the Caliph's palace at Ifrana. A casual observer would have taken his slack limbs to mean that the soldier was sleeping, fatigued by the baking heat of the Cesarian afternoon. His eyes, however, told a different story.

The glazed red orbs staring vacantly up at the ceiling showed the truth; Lord Albatou had been tranquillized, heavily tranquillized. His sedation had become a necessary arrangement ever since his disastrous duel five days earlier. As soon as he'd been helped down from Hitomi's horse, Dilandau had gone into a rage, attacking those around him when they tried to calm him as well as worsening his own fresh injury.

An injection of the soporific drug from the syringe-like claw of the Strategos' metal arm had finally stopped his thrashing, and for his own and others' safety, the treatments had continued, allowing the Ryuugekitai captain's wound to heal and his caretakers to escape unharmed as their patient drifted in limbo between the world of the living and the world within his mind.

The latter contained mostly darkness. Not the soft, velvety, inviting darkness which calls children to bed and lovers to each other, but the sort in which abominations are committed and nightmares are spawned. This void was what waited for Dilandau behind his eyelids, and he understood that hell was not a lake of fire as the wise men said. No, ultimate damnation was to be lost in the empty, all consuming darkness, hearing nothing but one's own heart beat and ragged breath.

Yet, the youth knew that it had not always been thus.

Once, long ago, the now black world of his psyche had been home to a creature so beautiful, she had made his soul ache. Her presence had danced through his dreams as he slept, bringing light to banish the darkness. Though this being never spoke, Dilandau knew that she had loved him, she alone. Her blue, crystalline eyes had spoken of a bond deeper than words, something precious that could never be lost, or so he had thought.

All that remained of his companion was a few hazy images that darted every so often along the tattered edges of his memory; a flash of pale gold curls or of smiling, coral pink lips. Dilandau had all but convinced himself that this vision had infact herself been merely a dream, something created by a scared, weak little boy's imagination to help him cope with the brutality that had been his military training.

Then, as a gentle hand massaged his shoulder, she had returned to him, and for once she spoke, and for once he could feel her, warm against his skin. But, Dilandau had awoken to emeralds, not azures, and for one, brief moment, he had not minded...

Chesta, Viole, and Guimel pushed through and were pushed by the hustle and bustle of Ifrana's huge outdoor bazaar. Their senses were assaulted by a myriad of foreign smells and sights and sounds as the three Ryuu tried to avoid the city's infamous fast talking vendors and skilled pickpockets. Fortunately, their uniforms had no pockets to pick.

"Where is everyone?!", exclaimed Guimel, shouting over the din, "This is our last day in Cesario. I can't believe they're missing this!"

Viole shrugged.

"Well, I know that Rouen and Refina decided to check out the stables..," answered Chesta.

"Typical aristocrats," Guimel snorted, "Can't resist the chance to gawk at horseflesh."

"...and that Ryuuon is probably still working up the nerve to go check on Lord Dilandau..."

"Remind me to thank General Adelphos for not recommending me to the medics corps," interjected Guimel.

"...and Gatti told me at breakfast that he wasn't going out at all. I think he plans to just stay in his room all day. You know," continued Chesta, "Gatti's been doing that a lot lately, holing up by himself. I'm starting to get worried about him. Do you guys know what's going on with him?"

Viole shrugged and Guimel shook his head, sending his platinum curls dancing. "I'd be more worried about what Dalet and Miguel are up to all by themselves," asserted the latter, "I saw those two slip away right after breakfast and haven't seen them since. Did they mention anything to you?"

Chesta was about to reply that they had not when he was nearly knocked over by Viole who suddenly tore off into the crowd, chasing someone neither of his comrades could see. The two sprinted after him, weaving through the throng and earning several strange looks, shouted curses, and obscene gestures for their efforts.

When they finally caught up with Viole, they found him walking away from too very disgruntled street urchins. In each hand he held a rather familiar looking sword. Guimel's and Chesta's hands flew to their sides, and each discovered that he was missing his weapon.

Viole grinned.

That night, from her window in the palace, Hitomi watched the court make its procession towards the temple for evening prayers. Cesarians worshipped Gaea's twin moons as their guardians and gazing up at the misty sentinels, Hitomi could understand why. They seemed so permanent, stoic, and wise. The longer Hitomi looked at them, the stronger became her urge to speak to the luminescent orbs, to tell of her secrets, of her pain, of her questions. Would those ancient ones have the answers she longed for?

For so long, Hitomi had looked inwards for those answers, searching her memory, her heart, asking why; why her family? The idea that they had simply been random victims was too painful to bare. Who could live in a universe that allowed such cruelty? There must have been a reason; there had to be.

The young woman's lids flickered shut, yet she could still see the moons surrounded by the ever faithful stars.

Always there...forever...part of you...

The random words flitted through her mind in a voice not her own, a voice neither masculine nor feminine, a voice without age. She listened desperately, trying to hear more, but the whispers became muddled in her head, whirling around in the empty darkness, sounding like gibberish.

Working as one would to mend a tangled tapestry, Hitomi searched for a single thread, one sentence, one word that she could understand. The silk of the voice was elusive, however, and her mind reeled with the effort. Hitomi felt herself sink to her knees as a wave of dizziness overcame her. Never before had she felt so exhausted. The sweat beading along her brow cooled in the evening breeze.

"Kanzaki!"

Her head shot up, and it took the shaken girl several instants to realize that the urgent whisper of her name had not come from the sky, but from behind her chamber door.

"Kanzaki! Are you in here?!" hissed the new, slightly more familiar voice now accompanied by a light rapping.

She cautiously opened her door and in from the hallway tumbled what appeared to be a courtesan wearing her figure concealing robe and hood.

Thinking that the royal entourage had all departed the palace, Hitomi was more that a little surprised, but not half so surprised as when the harem girl pulled off her mandatory garment.

"Miguel!!", Hitomi gasped upon seeing the Ryuugekitai emerge from the folds of fabric.

TBC...