Yet another series of plot-less dabbles, that may or may not ever happen in the story. I just cannot seem to be able to write the starting, for whatever reason...
I was messing around with some of the more..romantic moments of the story here, so...
Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Any kind of feedback is appreciated.
A gentle chime is carried to the ears, and resonates within the soul. Only a fragment of a greater melody, it has a power all its own. The music box soft chimes along, doling out its blissful melody to any who will truly listen.
He thumbed through the picture album as he listened to the rain drone on, beating endlessly in a monotonous tone against the stone walls he called home. The hearth crackled and popped, as the logs adjusted as bits and pieces fell away into the embers. He averted his eyes for a moment, and found himself transfixed by the dancing flames.
Tongues of orange and red licked at the air, as the occasional arm of yellow reached upwards, grasping at what, it only knew. The wooden pieces were black, charred on the outside, but glowed warmly from within, the orange light fading and growing stronger as the air moved over it.
Closing his eyes, he could still see it clearly in his mind, could still feel the heat radiating from it, warming these otherwise cold walls. He could feel the heat seeping into him, as well, tension being released from tired and trained muscles, fatigue giving way to relief, a feeling that seemed as if it came from within his bones – no, even farther than that. This…relief, came from the soul, and encompassed his entire being.
Within his mind, he heard a series of delicate chimes, playing that oh-so-familiar melody; it was her music box, of course. He could see it plainly in his mind; a quaint little thing, that he had for her himself. An unassuming dark-wood box, adorned with slightly polished brass, and with a simple little mirror inside, and a space to hold whatever she put in. She had treasured it more than anything else he’d ever given her…
And then, he realized that the music came not only from his mind. He pulled the ring from beneath his shirt; fingering the silver band, on the silver chain, as it gave off the soft melody he had just been entertaining himself with in his head. He didn’t know how the ring did it…but he didn’t much care, either.
Thin arms suddenly draped across him from behind, as the young woman rested on the knight; she placed her head next to his, and he could hear her breathing, and smell the scent of her perfume.
She looked at the photo album that was still open in Keotsu’s lap, revealing a weather-worn photo of Keotsu and another young woman.
“Beautiful,” she said, simply. Keotsu nodded; she was referring to both the melody coming from the ring and the woman in the picture.
“She was,” he replied somberly. He could still hear her last words in his mind. Pleading with him, not to live in sorrow; that seeing his smile was all that she needed from Heaven, even if it wasn’t her holding his hand.
He would never get over her. He would always love her – always miss her. But he would honor her wishes. She was his lady, and he her knight.
She kissed him softly on his cheek, drawing him out of his thoughts. “She’s watching you from Heaven, you know? I can’t wait to meet her someday. Anyone that you could love so purely…I’d want to meet her. I’m here for you now, though, Keotsu.
“You’re home now. I’ve been through much pain in the past as well, and I’ll never ask you to forget her. I just –“
She was cut off mid-sentence as he lightly pecked her on the lips. “It’s as you say. I love you both, with all my heart….and you’re right. I…I’m home now.”
The aurorial flame cast a dim light in the cavern, but it was certainly better than total darkness. He could feel the energy surmounting in the air; he was close to his objective.
But then it happened; he felt the whole ground sway, as if it was going to give way – he leapt backwards, brandishing his blade, and sending a streak of red aurora across the way, illuminating the cavern as it splashed about, and scattered a heat-less flame about the place.
He observed the cave dragon, yet another trail on his journey. His hand slipped reflexively to the silver ring hanging around his neck, as he said a small prayer unto it, as he always did.
The dragon let out a low growl that sounded like thunder, the deep tone only reverberating in the depths of the cavern.
The beast, too, was ready to defend its treasure.
Keotsu leaned against the tree, and sighed contently as the ocean breeze came and blew, offering its refreshing breath. The smell of the salt and surf washed over him, and mixed with the slightly fruity aroma of the apple tree they sat under, and the perfume of the girl who sat next to him, peeling an apple as she leaned against his side.
A book lay closed on his left; a book of highly-advanced mathematics. In her lap, laid a sketch pad and a few well-worn pencils.
It had only just dawned to him that, despite the dangers of their work, and the importance of their goal, they still had time to pursue their interests and passions.
Looking back, it was so hard to settle anything peacefully in this war torn world – he had, regrettably, fallen back on the reliance of his sword, when words could not deliver justice.
It was a sad world when such must occur.
He glanced over sideways at the young woman, her light blond hair fluttering in the wind, a single braid tucked away gently behind her ear; he could see her sea-foam green eyes just barely, and they brought a smile to their face.
This was a paradise, he though. Perhaps, if everyone could find a way to love – and if not love, to forgive – then, perhaps, this world would be a better place.
An inquisitive sound came from the young maiden’s lips as she questioned the sudden declaration of the word.
“I believe…there is hope,” he said, affirmatively, as he grasped her hand, and ran his thumb over her palm.
To anyone else, the statement would seem random – scatterbrained, even – but she understood perfectly. She cast her gaze out to the sea. “I believe there is hope, as well.”
It was a simple statement, and seemed just as odd as his own. But, between the two, nothing could have been more plain.