Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ Tarot ❯ Fool ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Moonsister 
Anime/Manga: Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Supernatural | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 12.13.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 446 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Supernatural | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 12.13.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 446 | Status: Work In Progress
Tarot
The Fool
Every new beginning comes from another beginning's end. Thus marks the first step along the path. The Fool does not no where to start, and shall never see the end. Ever on the endless journey, he walks toward the distant sun. The light in his heart gives wings to his feet as the terrain becomes unstable. Oblivious to the spirits of discovery that keep his path clear, he stumbles, but never falls.
And so Keirnanos, the Lord of the Dance of Life is reborn, brought to death, and is reborn anew. Forever moving in the undulating rythm of light and darkness.
With a defining grind and crack, the world seemed to come to an end for Amon. He watched helplessly as a support beam came baring down on Robin, nearly cutting her in half, killing her on contact. Only her upper body remained visible to him as he stared on in horror. As the light in her eyes died and turned milky, another beam shook itself loose, pinning him to the floor. His legs caught and shattered, he lay unmoving as he continued to stare at the peaceful visage of the young witch.
The whole building was crumbling upon itself, he was helpless to move, or escape. Though thoughts of escape had been cut from his mind as soon as the young woman was splattered across the floor in front of him. He couldn't take his eyes off her, she had such a frail beauty in life, that had not been lost in her death. Though the lights had gone out in her eyes, the now milky jade irises stared off in his direction, as if pleading with him to survive somehow.
She was no longer a witch in his pain racked mind. She was a young woman of delicate, frail beauty. The poster child of 'Gothic waif'. Possessed of a calm certain manner, and was ridiculously nice about everything. She was perfect, from head to toe, and mind to voice. She was perfect for him, and now she was dead. All the secret wants, dreams and desires he'd locked away now seemed tragically rekindled. Now he could want her in perfect comfort.
He groaned, turned his gaze away, and slammed the back of his head into the floor a few times. It would be just like him, to want what he'd never have. To need a woman who could never be truly his. To find the missing part of himself, only to loose everything in one final crack. He returned his gaze to the woman just feet from him, and sighed heavily. His end would not come fast enough, he admitted. Even if he too had not been pinned, without Robin as a companion, his life would be torture. Her memory would always walk to his left, a shadow and torment to be carried and never forgotten.
As the rest of eternity began to pass as it always does, Amon's conciouness began to slip. He chucked it up to internal bleeding and pain, and willed for the end to come along all the faster. His right hand reached of its own accord and brushed shimmering golden hair from an unblinking eye. Said eye shivered a moment. The movement caught his attention his hand lingered, then stoked the bridge of her nose. The concept of goodbye forming in his mind.
The milky jade iris seemed to focus on his fingers, shaking his head, he tried to pull his hand back and let the dead sleep, but his body would not respond. Instead, the fingers found their way to her hair line. He sucked in air, amused with himself as his body decided he would die touching her. Fragments of dreams that had her in his arms in a most carnal manner returned to the surface of his mind. His thumb stroked her forehead, the eyes shivered again.
He shook his head, he must be almost dead by now, he was seeing things. A horrid rasping sound came from the dead woman's direction. He turned his face away, he was hallucinating. She was gone, and he would follow soon enough. There was no point in fantasy, or hope now. He was crushed from mid thigh down, and she from waist down. There was no point in these tricks of the mind. But the rasping sound happened again, and it certainly wasn't coming from him.
The skin under his fingers moved which called him to turn and look. Delicate golden brows where knotting over closed eyes. His breath jerked suddenly into his body as the eyes flung back open. Pure emerald irises focused on him, then turned to look at the stone and metal that pinned the small frame to the where it lay. A wave of heat washed over him for a moment, which made him realize how cold he'd become. The stone and metal melted away from the small woman, forming a crystalline arch over her body. As there was nothing further pinning her to where she lay, she rolled into the palm of his hand, dragging her body back into movable fashion.
"A-amon..." A gentle whisper was his name. She clawed at the ground for a moment while she struggled with the broken half of her body. Slowly though, she raised herself to her knees, half crawling, half dragging herself over to him. "You are so cold..." She nearly collapsed on his chest as she reached the place where he lay. Regaining her ballance, she brought herself up right on her knees, and placed his head in her lap. "Please...please don't leave me...." She brushed the hair from his face, her hands were warm against his face. The weight on his legs lessened, and disappeared altogether. Looking down he realized the difference, it was the same crystalline arch that she left behind her.
She began pulling on his body, dragging him backwards, causing unbelievable pain to wrench threw him. She kept whispering something that sounded more like a keen crooning than any sort of language, so he hissed and bit back the screams of agony that where threatening to escape his throat. The stabbing pain was replaced with a tingling burning sensation, like both his legs had been asleep for quite sometime.
The burning, itching pain stopped, and so did her struggles against his weight. She collapsed over his shoulder, her face planted in his chest. To his surprise, he had a fistful of her hair, holding her head to him. His knee bent, and a leg worked it's way under him, as though no trauma had touched it. With the leverage he had on her head, he pulled her off him, and turned on his knee to look her in the face.
Her eyes where wide and frightened, sad, and waiting. Her breathe coming in soft pants threw parted lips. Even in his fear of what just transpired, he wanted to kiss her. Again, she'd saved the day. Again, she had turned his life on it's head, and gave it a good shake. He felt like a snow globe as he pulled her into his arms and petted her head. Ran a hand down her back, deciding that seeing a chiropractor in short order would be a good idea, he dragged them both to their feet. She had done her job, now it was time to him to do his.
Freedom was but a few feet way, in the form of a van that once belonged to the Factory workers. Now though, it would work as a get-away vehicle for his precious cargo and himself. He had her slumped in the back, wrapped in his coat, and still shivering. Food and a bath, and a long, true sleep would be well in order for them both. But for now, slipping from under Juliano's nose is top priority.
The Fool
Every new beginning comes from another beginning's end. Thus marks the first step along the path. The Fool does not no where to start, and shall never see the end. Ever on the endless journey, he walks toward the distant sun. The light in his heart gives wings to his feet as the terrain becomes unstable. Oblivious to the spirits of discovery that keep his path clear, he stumbles, but never falls.
And so Keirnanos, the Lord of the Dance of Life is reborn, brought to death, and is reborn anew. Forever moving in the undulating rythm of light and darkness.
With a defining grind and crack, the world seemed to come to an end for Amon. He watched helplessly as a support beam came baring down on Robin, nearly cutting her in half, killing her on contact. Only her upper body remained visible to him as he stared on in horror. As the light in her eyes died and turned milky, another beam shook itself loose, pinning him to the floor. His legs caught and shattered, he lay unmoving as he continued to stare at the peaceful visage of the young witch.
The whole building was crumbling upon itself, he was helpless to move, or escape. Though thoughts of escape had been cut from his mind as soon as the young woman was splattered across the floor in front of him. He couldn't take his eyes off her, she had such a frail beauty in life, that had not been lost in her death. Though the lights had gone out in her eyes, the now milky jade irises stared off in his direction, as if pleading with him to survive somehow.
She was no longer a witch in his pain racked mind. She was a young woman of delicate, frail beauty. The poster child of 'Gothic waif'. Possessed of a calm certain manner, and was ridiculously nice about everything. She was perfect, from head to toe, and mind to voice. She was perfect for him, and now she was dead. All the secret wants, dreams and desires he'd locked away now seemed tragically rekindled. Now he could want her in perfect comfort.
He groaned, turned his gaze away, and slammed the back of his head into the floor a few times. It would be just like him, to want what he'd never have. To need a woman who could never be truly his. To find the missing part of himself, only to loose everything in one final crack. He returned his gaze to the woman just feet from him, and sighed heavily. His end would not come fast enough, he admitted. Even if he too had not been pinned, without Robin as a companion, his life would be torture. Her memory would always walk to his left, a shadow and torment to be carried and never forgotten.
As the rest of eternity began to pass as it always does, Amon's conciouness began to slip. He chucked it up to internal bleeding and pain, and willed for the end to come along all the faster. His right hand reached of its own accord and brushed shimmering golden hair from an unblinking eye. Said eye shivered a moment. The movement caught his attention his hand lingered, then stoked the bridge of her nose. The concept of goodbye forming in his mind.
The milky jade iris seemed to focus on his fingers, shaking his head, he tried to pull his hand back and let the dead sleep, but his body would not respond. Instead, the fingers found their way to her hair line. He sucked in air, amused with himself as his body decided he would die touching her. Fragments of dreams that had her in his arms in a most carnal manner returned to the surface of his mind. His thumb stroked her forehead, the eyes shivered again.
He shook his head, he must be almost dead by now, he was seeing things. A horrid rasping sound came from the dead woman's direction. He turned his face away, he was hallucinating. She was gone, and he would follow soon enough. There was no point in fantasy, or hope now. He was crushed from mid thigh down, and she from waist down. There was no point in these tricks of the mind. But the rasping sound happened again, and it certainly wasn't coming from him.
The skin under his fingers moved which called him to turn and look. Delicate golden brows where knotting over closed eyes. His breath jerked suddenly into his body as the eyes flung back open. Pure emerald irises focused on him, then turned to look at the stone and metal that pinned the small frame to the where it lay. A wave of heat washed over him for a moment, which made him realize how cold he'd become. The stone and metal melted away from the small woman, forming a crystalline arch over her body. As there was nothing further pinning her to where she lay, she rolled into the palm of his hand, dragging her body back into movable fashion.
"A-amon..." A gentle whisper was his name. She clawed at the ground for a moment while she struggled with the broken half of her body. Slowly though, she raised herself to her knees, half crawling, half dragging herself over to him. "You are so cold..." She nearly collapsed on his chest as she reached the place where he lay. Regaining her ballance, she brought herself up right on her knees, and placed his head in her lap. "Please...please don't leave me...." She brushed the hair from his face, her hands were warm against his face. The weight on his legs lessened, and disappeared altogether. Looking down he realized the difference, it was the same crystalline arch that she left behind her.
She began pulling on his body, dragging him backwards, causing unbelievable pain to wrench threw him. She kept whispering something that sounded more like a keen crooning than any sort of language, so he hissed and bit back the screams of agony that where threatening to escape his throat. The stabbing pain was replaced with a tingling burning sensation, like both his legs had been asleep for quite sometime.
The burning, itching pain stopped, and so did her struggles against his weight. She collapsed over his shoulder, her face planted in his chest. To his surprise, he had a fistful of her hair, holding her head to him. His knee bent, and a leg worked it's way under him, as though no trauma had touched it. With the leverage he had on her head, he pulled her off him, and turned on his knee to look her in the face.
Her eyes where wide and frightened, sad, and waiting. Her breathe coming in soft pants threw parted lips. Even in his fear of what just transpired, he wanted to kiss her. Again, she'd saved the day. Again, she had turned his life on it's head, and gave it a good shake. He felt like a snow globe as he pulled her into his arms and petted her head. Ran a hand down her back, deciding that seeing a chiropractor in short order would be a good idea, he dragged them both to their feet. She had done her job, now it was time to him to do his.
Freedom was but a few feet way, in the form of a van that once belonged to the Factory workers. Now though, it would work as a get-away vehicle for his precious cargo and himself. He had her slumped in the back, wrapped in his coat, and still shivering. Food and a bath, and a long, true sleep would be well in order for them both. But for now, slipping from under Juliano's nose is top priority.