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quixotism2009-04-03 08:58 pm
bromantic.livejournal.com) wrote in quixotism2009-04-03 08:58 pm
Entry tags:
[fanfic] [mushishi] Potential
This is a story in her head. It had started as a "once upon a time" but that didn't fit in her story, so she switched it to something different. Or so she would, once she figured out how the words would spill out of her, like they did when she narrated other people's stories back into back, vomit and ink.
So her brush hovers above her page, unwritten white staring blankly at her, and she sets it down.
The one thing she finds so hard, so painful to write.
...Is the story of her own life.
-XX-
Ginko steps out of winter, greys and whites and one deep green eye that seems to observe more than people with two eyes at their disposal. He sits down next to Tanyuu and his fingers twirl his smokes, a characteristic move, one that Tanyuu has spent hours just watching Ginko do, but with nuances not so easily spotted. He stretches his legs (how nice that is. Stretching. It's been something Tanyuu could never fully enjoy) and glances at her, with that observing look that sinks in deep.
"How's it going?" Small-talk. Ice-breakers. Tanyuu knows them, knows people. Too many people who enter in and out of her house, with stories and sometimes, a hint or two dropped for company and a warm bed. She doesn't entertain them, but she does listen to them. That is her job. Listening.
"It's fine," she replies. Appropriate answer to such a question.
He nods. She's quiet.
And winter descends.
-XX-
It's a year later when she picks up the scroll again. She purses her lips at it, hoping that some form of action would spur her into writing what she wanted to have written on paper. It's white, like the winters she spends in Ginko's company, full of unknowns and emptiness. She hates winter suddenly, feeling a bitter sense of rage. And her leg shakes.
-XX-
Sometimes, her dreams are not her dreams, but rather the dreams that everyone else, hidden, embedded in their words and stories and she forgets that she is Tanyuu, but some random Mushishi trekking the woods, the lonely traveler. Sometimes she sees Ginko, standing in the distance, a matt of white hair, indistinguishable and solitary, a figure on the cliff.
Then the dreams just end and she wonders if there's a conclusion to her life.
So her brush hovers above her page, unwritten white staring blankly at her, and she sets it down.
The one thing she finds so hard, so painful to write.
...Is the story of her own life.
-XX-
Ginko steps out of winter, greys and whites and one deep green eye that seems to observe more than people with two eyes at their disposal. He sits down next to Tanyuu and his fingers twirl his smokes, a characteristic move, one that Tanyuu has spent hours just watching Ginko do, but with nuances not so easily spotted. He stretches his legs (how nice that is. Stretching. It's been something Tanyuu could never fully enjoy) and glances at her, with that observing look that sinks in deep.
"How's it going?" Small-talk. Ice-breakers. Tanyuu knows them, knows people. Too many people who enter in and out of her house, with stories and sometimes, a hint or two dropped for company and a warm bed. She doesn't entertain them, but she does listen to them. That is her job. Listening.
"It's fine," she replies. Appropriate answer to such a question.
He nods. She's quiet.
And winter descends.
-XX-
It's a year later when she picks up the scroll again. She purses her lips at it, hoping that some form of action would spur her into writing what she wanted to have written on paper. It's white, like the winters she spends in Ginko's company, full of unknowns and emptiness. She hates winter suddenly, feeling a bitter sense of rage. And her leg shakes.
-XX-
Sometimes, her dreams are not her dreams, but rather the dreams that everyone else, hidden, embedded in their words and stories and she forgets that she is Tanyuu, but some random Mushishi trekking the woods, the lonely traveler. Sometimes she sees Ginko, standing in the distance, a matt of white hair, indistinguishable and solitary, a figure on the cliff.
Then the dreams just end and she wonders if there's a conclusion to her life.