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Thread: Sailor Moon Fanfiction: Dry Tears

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    Just Some Color Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala has a reputation beyond repute Fabala's Avatar
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    Default Sailor Moon Fanfiction: Dry Tears

    I realized today that I haven't posted anything in here in a LONG time. I'm correcting that now... This is a short story from a few years ago. It's a favorite of mine, moreso because I basically sat down and wrote it. Heck, it practically wrote itself.

    Anyway, enjoy and, if you're interested, keep an eye out for more of my old work to be posted ^^ (Note: Most/All will be Sailor Moon stories, as I have the most inspiration there)

    I don't own Sailor Moon or any of its contained characters.
    Credit goes to their rightful owners.

    ::Dry Tears::

    "The warmth of another's eyes, the fresh scent of rain on
    a hot summer's eve -- moments like these renew in us a
    heartfelt appreciation for life."
    ~ Gwen Weising

    Upon entering I notice her at once, as if I could
    ever really miss her, sitting in her nook, her
    solitary perch in the corner of the windowsill.
    An eagle, the one I love, held a captive by her mind.
    One leg is bent gracefully before her, her bare toes
    resting comfortably on the warm sill, the other free,
    dangling off the side, and just barely brushing the
    floor below. Her large soulful eyes, a beautiful
    emerald green, touched with the softest rays from
    the rising sun. She is staring out the window, not
    really seeing what lies beyond, but watching
    nonetheless. The world I once knew and loved is
    reflected in her steady gaze, a world of peace,
    laughter and love. A place where death is unheard
    of, and the urge to spread goodness lies relative.
    A world reflected in green.

    An aura of power, a shield of defense, surrounds her,
    carries her and her flightless wings outside of
    reality, outside of what our destiny is, rather was,
    to that gentle world of green. I always believed that
    it was the source of her strength, but now, as I see
    her walls crumble and fall rejected to the ground
    below, I realize that I was wrong. I had never seen
    her like this, not before it happened, not ever. At
    times she would remind me that with me at her side,
    she could handle any obstacle, lay to rest any kind
    of opposition. I suppose that perhaps, in a way, I
    was her support. Imagine, all this time I thought it
    was the other way around. But it's too late now...


    I'm standing here at her side now, but perhaps this
    is only what I want to see in my mind. I'm so close,
    I could reach out and touch her- at least I could have.
    It breaks my heart that she can't acknowledge my
    presence. I remember times in the past when she would
    do this, recede into her own mind, barely realizing
    I existed with her, for what do I know about flying?

    A gentle sigh escapes her lips, shifting the golden
    strands of hair over her forehead ever so slightly, a
    moth's wing caress. She lifts an arm absently, places
    it against the cool glass of the window, seeming
    suddenly like a caged animal searching for an exit.

    I can see her eyes, reflected in the transparent glass.
    It seems that everything has become a reflection,
    nothing solid to depend on any more, in my world.
    Why is that? I ask myself this constantly, why me?
    Why did it happen to us? I often wondered where Haruka
    would go at times like these. Does she remain of this
    world, in her natural form? I wonder who she chooses
    to accompany her, who her true support is. I can only
    pray that she'll never forget me, that in her mind
    this never happened, and I too, have wings. Let her
    live such a lie in the distant heavens.


    I know it wasn't her fault. I know that if she had
    had the power, she would take everything away with a
    simple wish. But we receive no such power, had no
    forewarning, for God works in strange ways, unfair in
    our eyes. At first I tried to tell her so, tried to
    get her to understand, but then I realized just what
    had happened. The truth is always hard to handle,
    death being nearly impossible to accept, for those
    who have lost, as well as the deceased themselves.
    I should know. That fateful day replays in my mind,
    over and over, every minute of every hour, teasing
    me in a sick, twisted way. Never will it allow me
    some peace of mind, and never will I rest.


    We were chasing a stray youma, Haruka and I, our
    minds careless, our spirits feeling little pity
    for the fate of the ill-famed creature. After all,
    with the end of the Sailor Wars, and chaos sealed
    once more, what had we to fear from a single rebel?
    I see her, the only one I can truly depend on, the
    only one I ever really loved, become the wind, a
    sly knowing smile on her face. She challenges the
    youma to a race to the death. I can see the fear
    in its eyes, even from here, as it realizes the
    warrior it stupidly attacked holds more strength
    than itself. I slow, allowing them to race ahead.
    After all, this is her fight, not mine.

    I watch, a strange sense of pride taking room in
    my heart, seeing my dear partner in action. The
    youma spins, hoping to surprise her, but in vain.
    I think I can see her eyes, sparkling with a
    perverse kind of pleasure, from my solitary place.
    The youma throws back its head, lets out a long
    low howl, and leaps toward Haruka, claws bared,
    their sharpness apparent even from here. My
    partner leaps back, with all the grace in the
    world, and lands at a safe distance.

    A soft movement behind me, hardly noticeable,
    yet vaguely insistently important, somehow.
    I turn, just as I hear the youma's doomsday
    curse, "World Shaking!" Its last pitiful cry
    echoes only a moment before the end. I turn,
    full of innocence, yet how innocent can a
    heartless murderer really be? The youma, now
    lying as a smoldering heap of dead flesh on the
    ground, brought with it an ally. Perhaps because
    it would be fair this way, two for two, or maybe
    just a stroke of ill-fated luck. Whatever the
    reason, I was unprepared for the looming creature.

    My eyes widen in shock, as I feel that childlike
    locking of muscles. This youma has no trouble
    advancing on me, attacking with bared talons.
    I feel them rip into my side, slicing through
    my fuku as though it didn't exist, and into my
    tender flesh. It feels strange, this pain,
    mainly because it doesn't really hurt. It's more
    like a separated feeling, as one already being
    pulled from all they have grown to know,
    something that hurts just as much. My arms
    unlock, and glide down as if in slow motion to
    my wound. They return to my view, completely
    stained with my crimson blood. Somehow the shock
    hasn't registered yet, I don't believe that such
    a thing is really happening to me.

    "Michiru?!" she cries, though whether it's meant
    as a question, or just a word born out of
    surprise I'm unsure. The youma glances up,
    sees the approaching warrior, and quickly makes
    a decision. It pulls its arm from my side- Was
    it still holding me? -and throws me to the ground
    like a piece of rejected meat. I glance up, as my
    strength flows out along with my blood, barely
    able to see Haruka reach my side. She looks
    confused, unsure as to whether she should follow
    the escaping youma, or remain here.

    Without another word, though in her heart I
    know she is screaming, she drops to her knees
    beside my fallen form. I struggle to say
    something, even if only her name, but can't.
    My warrior wraps her arms around me, pulls my
    still body close to her heart. My blood flows
    freely onto her, stains her as well. I see
    myself, reflected in her beautiful emerald eyes,
    force myself to smile, and allow darkness to
    overcome. My lover shakes, trembles with
    untold pain.

    My eagle has fallen.


    I wish to speak her name, as I had in the past,
    and have her turn to me with a cocky smile on
    her face, her golden hair falling over her eyes
    in a tangled heap, saying "Nani?" in that way
    that had always warmed my heart. But she won't
    and hasn't heard my calls, therefore she can't
    answer. Her voice, my ears long for it. Her
    touch, I long for it. But there is no chance,
    no voice. Not anymore.

    She balls her hand into a fist, and slams it
    against the window with all the force she can
    muster. There is a sharp crack, as a thin line
    spreads quickly over the glass, but it doesn't
    shatter. Her fist trembles, out of rage, out of
    heartbreak. I know...I feel the same. Her eyes
    close and another sigh escapes into the world from
    her lips. Her mind remains hidden, kept safe
    from my clutches. I have gained the wings she
    lost. Such cruel ironic fate it is.

    I draw her image, every aspect I know of, into
    my mind and seal them there. My time here is
    short, and grows shorter every moment and whether
    I can return is, and remains, uncertain. If only
    she will speak, utter a single word. But she
    doesn't, so I must remember her voice only from
    her pitiful last words to me. I lean in close,
    allow my lips to brush her soft cheek with care,
    though I know she can't feel it. In her mind,
    she is still screaming. I can see it in the
    green fire of her eyes. She blames herself, I
    know, and yet passing breezes brushing over her
    face, I can't change that.

    I see tears well in the corners of her eyes, and
    a single sparkling drop slide down her cheek and
    travel down to the floor below. My heart weeps
    as well, shattering into countless pieces, but my
    lifeless cheeks remain dry, as they will forever.
    I cry dry tears for her.
    Last edited by Fabala; 10-31-2004 at 11:58 PM.

  2. #2
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    It seems very professional, lots of description and very poem-like~

    But, somewhat hard to follow:?

    The person that cries, is crying because someone she loved died?
    And the person that she loved is the narrator?

  3. #3
    Users Awaiting Email Confirmation CHEZA WOLF SHINOBI is a name known to all CHEZA WOLF SHINOBI is a name known to all CHEZA WOLF SHINOBI is a name known to all CHEZA WOLF SHINOBI is a name known to all CHEZA WOLF SHINOBI is a name known to all CHEZA WOLF SHINOBI is a name known to all CHEZA WOLF SHINOBI's Avatar
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    Love your attention to detail very suspenceful i like it!
    wolf:shinobi:rules MyFamily
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