#saint ffic fest

[regina-del-cielo]

Saint FFic Fest Slice of Life - A Girls’ Date

@saint-ffic-fest-blog

HERE I AM, BEING A GHASTLY AND OUTRAGEOUSLY LATE WRITER, BEGGING FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS.

I know, it’s been two abundant weeks since Show Day, but I basically wrote it during dead times between bouts of lab work, so yeah. It took me longer than expected to complete it. But I finally got a wrap around it, so here you have it!

UNIVERSE: ‘normal lives’ AU CHARACTER(S): Maeve O’ Fearghail (OC), Violate, Agatha (from The Lost Canvas)(Minos, Aiacos, Shaka, Rhadamanthys and Kanon are mentioned as conversation topics) MOMENT OF THE DAY AND/OR WEATHER: Afternoon, rainy TOPIC: girls talking. Just that. LENGTH: 2238 words  *CATEGORY: slice of life, friendship *PLOT SUMMARY: Maeve, Agatha and Violate bonded over being the girlfriends of very peculiar people. They love their boys, but sometimes they need ‘girl times’ just for themselves. This is one of those cases. Tea and small talk ensues. *OPTIONAL: Since this AU is set in Paris, the girls speak to each other in French - although for obvious reasons the story is in English. I put translations for non-English words at the end of the story, but since I don’t speak neither French nor Gaeilge, feel free to point out any grammar mistake I may have done by relying on online sources. Also, any information I got about tea flavours comes from Wikipedia.

Enjoy!

The roofs of Paris glistened from the spring rain, falling with a barely audible clicking and ticking over lamp posts, roads, bridges and trees. People walking on the pavements were half-hidden under their umbrellas, giving the impression of a complicated dance of palettes running in both directions, if seen from above.  People who’d been so unfortunate as to be caught by surprise by the light but insistent drizzle moved as fast as they could, taking refuge under the occasional archway or the passerby’s umbrella.

Maeve looked down with amusement at the antics of people on the roads from the wet windows of Violate’s flat, her arms folded over her chest, her hands gently resting over the soft wool of her cardigan. Her hair fell like a sunset coloured cape over her back, some locks twisted in a simple braid around the crown of her head to keep them out of the way. Noises from the outside arrived muffled at her ears, unlike the sound of water running in the shower and the slight clink of mugs touching each other from the kitchen. Despite the dreary colour of the sky, a massive blanket of whitish grey, she felt relaxed and at ease, as if no worry could ever touch her perfect good humour.

Her peridot green eyes moved towards the living room library, whose contents easily revealed the greatest interests of her host. Most of them were travelling guides or novels dedicated to exotic, far-away places – the guides, especially, were laden with notes and colourful post-its, signalling the particular relevance of a passage – a place or monument Violate had been particularly eager to visit, most probably. Maeve passed a finger on the sides of the volumes, reading the names written on them with mild curiosity: Thailand, Brazil, China...

The sound of a door opening made the redhead turn around, just in time to catch the eye of Violate, dressed in a comfy sweatshirt and yoga pants. Her hair, still a bit damp from the after-training shower she’d just taken, fell silkily over her back, as black as crow wings. The girl smiled, reaching up with a hand to pick up the straight locks in a high ponytail.

“I’m afraid my library is a bit lacking in material in comparison to the ones you’re used to...” She said, seeing what had attracted Maeve’s attention. Her guest was, after all, a self-proclaimed bookworm.

Maeve smiled back, shaking her head a bit. “Libraries speak for their owners, you know. And I’d rather see sparsely filled shelves where each book was clearly cherished than one full to the ceiling whose volumes have been left untouched for years. You obviously have some memories attached to these ones, otherwise they wouldn’t be so near at hand.”

Violate let a sighing laugh escape from her lips. Maeve’s capability of finding the right words to appease everyone was still surprising even after knowing her for two full years.

The shrill whistle of the water boiler reached them from the kitchen, alerting both girls that tea would soon be ready. They turned towards the door just in time to see Agatha’s heart-shaped face appear from behind it.

“I saw you’ve got Assam, Violate. I thought it would be fine for all of us.” The youngest girl said, showing Violate a tea box in her hand.

Maeve’s eyes widened with surprise. “You have Assam tea? Where did you buy it?! I’ve been looking for it for ages when I first moved here in Paris!” She marvelled, turning towards Violate.

“I have no idea, Shaka brought it the other day; I’ll ask him where he got it, if you want! I still have to try it myself; he told me, and I’m quoting, ‘that its strong flavour would certainly suit me quite well’, in his usual ‘Guru tone’, you know the one...” Violate said, shrugging her shoulders and putting imaginary inverted commas around Shaka’s words.

“When it feels like he’s professing a revealed truth?” Agatha chuckled, her emerald green eyes sparkling with amusement. All of them knew that the Indian young man had a tendency of making his sentences spoken with such finality that it seemed almost melodramatic, especially if he was talking about mundane things... like a tea flavour.

“I still don’t know how Aiacos can bear with him sometimes. When he starts prattling about chakras and the universe’s energy and all that stuff... he actually listens!” The Frenchwoman grumbled, shaking her head and moving to help Agatha with brewing tea.

“It’s probably due to their common background... they’re both Hinduists, aren’t they?” Maeve added, looking with interest at the tea bag box.

“Aiacos is. Shaka grew up as one, but from what I’ve gathered he went into Buddhism at some point.” Violate replied.

“In any case, he probably just meant that you’re going to like it since you’re more of a coffee person... Assam tea is pretty strong and rich.” Maeve said, watching as the hot water rapidly darkened to a luxurious brown. “I’m pretty used to it myself, since it’s the variety used for Irish Breakfast tea.”

“Well, in that case I’ll trust you.” Violate chuckled, reaching for the sugar jar on the counter. “Sugar for all?”

“One for me, please.” Agatha said, sending her mug towards Violate in a slow gesture.

“I’ll just take milk, thank you” Maeve replied, reaching for the fridge.

“Vraiment très Anglais!”, Violate smirked, her lips perking up even more when Maeve froze and turned to her with her eyes reduced to slits.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked, suddenly switching from French to a strongly Irish-lilted English.

Violate burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, I just love the face you make when someone calls you ‘English’! It’s hilarious!”

Maeve harrumphed, while Agatha started laughing too, mixing the sugar in her mug.

“Viole Gwenaëlle Ailedeigle, you have no shame!” The Irish girl said, eyes rolling before tending to her tea and making an exaggerated pout.

The drizzle had become a downpour in a matter of a few minutes. The raindrops pelting on the windows brought a thrumming background rhythm to the chatting trio inside the flat.

“I may not be English, but I truly understand why they say there’s nothing better than a hot cup of tea on a rainy day!” Agatha said, bending her slender legs over the couch, her bare feet crossed at the ankle. The long, flowy, aquamarine coloured skirt she was wearing perfectly complemented her olive skin.

“If it’s this flavour, maybe. Otherwise, long live scalding hot coffee!” Violate replied, finishing the last drops of her own.

“I honestly don’t get how you can drink it when it’s still boiling hot. Is your tongue made of iron?” Agatha said, looking with mild disbelief at her friend, who had drunk her tea without even blowing on it, while it was still smoking.

“Mais non, chérie. I’m just used to it. I’ve always liked my hot drinks really hot! Mon pére still can hardly believe it either!” She laughed, the contagious sound filling the living room.

“My sister is your opposite. When we make hot chocolate at home, she lets it cool down for ten minutes before drinking it! My mother and I joke a lot about it, since once it happened that she started sipping at it when we had already finished our own!” Maeve commented, chuckling. Her hands were clasped around the still-warm cup, her long fingers crossed at the tips.

“Now, that is too much, even for letting a beverage cool down enough!” Agatha said, her pretty nose wrinkling slightly at the thought. Even at the verge of twenty-one, she could still be mistaken for a teen, or even a child, thanks to her youthful traits. “She’d go along with Minos... you have no idea how many times it irked me like mad to see him basically let the tea leaves sediment into the cup’s bottom because he gets lost in thought or is too busy teasing me!”

“It’s a good thing he’s your boyfriend, and not mine.” Violate commented, rolling her eyes at the thought of how exasperating Minos could be. And she had both Shaka and Aiacos as lovers. “I, for one, would have glued those glasses to his ears years ago... does he still insist in not wearing them?”

Agatha sighed dramatically, nodding. “Yes. Even after having to physically stop him from banging his nose against a lamp post when we go out, he still won’t get it! The funny thing is, I tell him it’ll get worse if he doesn’t wear them now, and he just grumbles it off!”

Maeve chuckled. “At least since he met you he started actually wearing them sometimes, or so I’m told... Stubborn as hell, the both of them!”

“Both?” Agatha asked, her eyes rounding slightly in confusion.

“Yes, both of them. You see, Rhadamanthys is just as iron-set as Minos is, although for different things. When Kanon sparks his competitive side, he knows no reason!” Maeve replied, a smirk passing through her lips as she told them of that one time when she’d had to basically drag Rhadamanthys home from the swimming pool because he’d spent so much energy in competing against Kanon to see who could do most laps in less time he could hardly put one foot in front of the other...

Violate had fallen into raucous laughter around the middle of the tale, slipping further into the couch as if the cushions were swallowing her. Agatha could hardly keep her own giggles in check, her imagination bringing forward the image of the courteous, shy and yet imposing Rhadamanthys reduced to a tired puppy desperately leaning on his girlfriend for physical support... and Kanon, that rascal, who’d tried to keep his smirk on and even tease his friend, while he could barely walk straight himself!

“Those two are overgrown children, that’s what they are!” Violate finally wheezed, her chest heaving from the exertion. “And you have the patience to actually act maman around them?”

Maeve brought the mug to her lips with dainty grace, taking a sip before replying. “It is worth the effort, when the prize is having my boyfriend’s undivided attention...” She said, a mischievous golden glint flashing in her irises, laughter hidden in the curve of her eyebrows.

Agatha and Violate’s eyes met, emerald green astonishment meeting obsidian black bafflement, before they both protested quite loudly – “spare us the details, please!” “You minx!”

Maeve laughed at their antics, moving her hair to make it rest on the couch’s arm and not be crushed by her back. “It was my turn for  teasing, wasn’t it?”

“Fair enough” Agatha conceded, shrugging her shoulders and moving her chestnut brown ponytail aside.

“Still, beware of who hears you – that sentence could have brought Aiacos into a fit of curiosity, you know that?” Violate replied instead, her head tilted towards the redhead, an eyebrow raised in almost warning.

Both her guests groaned quite unladylikely, remembering how Aiacos was a bit too eager to share his amorous experiences with his friends – and far too eager in wanting to know about theirs down to the smallest detail, too. If looks could kill, Violate would have buried him multiple times during the course of their relationship.

“As if my flatmates weren’t enough already!  I still have to get payback from that time when they basically threw him on my bed when we weren’t together yet... worse than a síogaí, they are!” Maeve complained, rolling her eyes quite dramatically.

“Excuse me, what was that?” Agatha asked, face blank at the mysterious word that had appeared in the middle of Maeve’s sentence, its foreign sound almost clashing with the familiar lilt of French.

“Oh, sorry; I meant a pixie.” The older girl replied, sheepishly.

“Now that’s a story I’ve never heard a word about... do share!” Violate interjected, sitting straighter, a bright smirk on her rosy-cheeked face.

“What is it with you and other couples’ embarrassing stories as of late?” Maeve asked, an eyebrow raising with suspicion.

“I regale you daily with embarrassing stories from my personal répertoire, there would be nothing wrong in an equal exchange, don’t you think?” The Frenchwoman protested, sporting a fake pout that made her guests laugh heartily.

“If the boys could hear us now... I’m pretty sure Minos would throw a hissy fit at being exposed to public mockery like this!” Agatha giggled, her head bending to rest upon the cushion as she imagined her boyfriend doing just that – a rare sight, considering he usually opted for relentless and nerve-wracking teasing when somebody bothered him... or a complete silent treatment. Despite her words, the fondness in her voice was evident whenever she talked about him.

“Ah yes, because they think we don’t know about them doing the exact same thing about us in that dirty mouchoir they call a flat that they share?” Violate snarkily replied. “Minos and Aiacos are two gossipers of the worst species, I’m telling you!”

“Much to Rhadamanthys’ dismay, I may add!” Maeve joined the laughter, her mind rushing to the image of her own partner face palming with a suffering moan at his cousin’s and best friend’s antics.

As they fell into another round of light-hearted gossip and amusement, sunrays broke the mantle of clouds above them, making Paris sparkle like a dew-covered lily at sunrise. Somewhere in between the lazy Seine and the busy boulevards, an accordion played La Vie En Rose.

Translations:

Vraiment très Anglais: how very English (this one is loose and pretty much built up by me?)

Mais non, chérie: oh no, dear

Mon pére: my father

maman: mommy

síogaí: (Gaeilge) pixie, sprite.

répertoire: list

mouchoir: handkerchief (yes, the boys’ flat is REALLY small)

I suppose you all know La Vie En Rose, right? Anyway, there’s the link, ‘cause it’s always the right time to listen to it.

[saint-ffic-fest-blog]

SAINT FFIC FEST || OCs V2

About - Ask - Masterposts -  Español - Français Welcome to the Saint FFic Fest!

How’s everyone? How’s your 2017 going? We are very glad to tell you, we had been updating the blog to make this Fest something better than the last year! It is ok to send questions if there is something you don’t understand. We hope to have everything ready around this month. But anyway! Our first Fest in 2017! Awesome, isn’t? Let’s go to the point then!

This time the topic is…

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS V2!

We decided to begin with something from old fests. We already took Original characters as a topic, and we will do it once again because IT’S AWESOME. So take your original babies and let’s do this~

Now, we decided to do something relax, you know? Just to enjoy the writing about the Saint Seiya characters and your OCs, that’s why we give you a…

SLICE OF LIFE

I want a slice of pizza now. This will be the topic! The day by day, either in an AU, in the Saint Seiya Universe, the life outside or inside the Sanctuary/Asgard/Hades/Atlantis. It is totally up to you. Remember as well that you can ask your friends if you can use one of their OCs and give proper credit in the fic.

AND NOW THE…

CHALLENGE

Everyone can participate, and if you don’t want to be part of the Challenge you can write about the topic following our rules and share your drabble as a “free writer”

If you want to participate in the challenge please send the following info in an IM/ask/fanmail:

     1. Character (s): You can choose from one to three characters. They will interact with the OCs of the person who receives this package.      2. Moment of the day and/or Weather: Morning, evening, night, dinner time, tea time. It is raining, sunny, cold, too hot for this world? The writer needs to make a reference at some point about this.     3. Topic: Friendship, love, sadness, happiness, the last movie you saw, the news, the same weather. You can send RANDOM to give freedom to the writer.

SEND THE PACKAGE BEFORE: Monday, March 13th at 11:00 pm (gtm -06:00)

SHOW DAY! Friday, March 31st!

POST YOUR WORK WITH THE FOLLOWING INFO (whether you participate or not in the challenge) Even if it is a link to another webpage. Universe: [ AU or SS U ] Character(s): Moment of the Day and/or Weather: Topic: Length: *Category: Is it angst, romance, friendship… *Plot Summary: A short description of your story. *OPTIONAL

Please, keep reading to know the rules and some very important points!!

The afternoon of SUNDAY 12th I will make a list of the people who have sent their package. This way you will know if your package has been received properly.

The rules and reminders are here. Please read them Note: If possible, please send/tag us the information of your OC BEFORE THE SHOW DAY! If you have it in the @ss-oc blog, it is totally fine, tag us or send us the link to the post. Add as well this link to the fic so people have an idea of your OC!

Tags to use;

#Saint FFic Fest #Saint FFic Fest Life #Saint FFic Fest 2017 #Saint FFic Fest English, Español or used language in case you are a Free Writer

The first two need to be used, the last two are optional.

Any news or changing/adding something will be posted with the tag #Saint FFic Update

Questions / ideas for future topics can be sent at any time through the askbox. I will answer them asap.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME! ENJOY!

[wild-e-art-e]

One more bet | Saint FFic Fest

After so long without writing (no, better say, finish anything) I’m happy about this; was funny to write, I like the characters and the topic! I hope you enjoy and comments are always welcome.

This time I didn’t have time to ask someone to hep me to check it orz so, any mistake, remember english isn’t my first langauge but I will glad to edit it later after exams.

UNIVERSE: StS Universe CHARACTER(S): Saori Kido, Dragon Shiryu & Cygnus Hyoga SCENERY: Saori’s piano parlour LENGTH: 2580 words CATEGORY: Friendship / Comedy (?? I don’t know, I hope you laugh)

                                                              The big windows of the alley helped to have some nice natural light. Dragon Shiryu smiled feeling the warm over his skin and realised that for sure his Goddess, Saori Kido, was feeling the same. 

                 After a small trip from China to Japan, in comparison the ones he had to Greece, Shiryu already left his baggage in the guest room he would share with Seiya and now was talking with her about the party of that night. Not a party exactly, just an elegant dinner for the Foundation who will help some students with scholarships. And Saori somehow thought would be good for the Bronze Saints to have a normal and calm night. Normal for her, and totally awkward for them.

                 “I’m glad you arrived at the time, Shiryu.” Saori smiled as both were walking towards the staircase, maybe to get ready for lunch time.

                 “Well, Athena, I didn’t want to disappoint you. You asked very nice for our help.”

                 “Shiryu, once again, stop calling me Athena. It feels weird being outside the Sanctuary.”

                 The Dragon Saints just chuckled and nodded.

                 “Too much time with my master. But, anyway, did someone else has arrived?” he asked curiously mostly for someone. “Did Ikki say yes to the invitation?”

                 “Oh, well, you know him better than I do. He hasn’t answer and there are chances he arrives or chances he doesn’t arrive. Shun, on the other hand, was very happy to come and see you guys. Seiya said will come later because of some matters in the Sanctuary.” Saori looked satisfied at least knowing four of the five were there. “And Hyoga, he arrived last night very late so maybe he must be sleeping.”

“Really? Oh… I hope he doesn’t sleep too much. But if Hyoga and Shun are in the same place, Ikki will come running.”

“Of course. One is his brother and one is his husband.” Saori giggled by the surprise of Shiryu, who just looked at her very serious of that last comment. “Sorry…”

“Let me guess, you talked with Shiva last night.” He sighed to then smile trying to don’t laugh about those two and their friendship.

“I would love she comes to save me from this boring dinner. But, in the other hand, she would be flirting with all the handsome guys that will come.”

Both kept in silence, Saori thinking about how much fun would be seeing Shiva around acting as the peacock he was and flirting shamelessly with the other men, while Shiryu was a bit worried to the fact Hyoga was still sleeping. The only good thing about those downs of the Cygnus Saint was that for sure Ikki would appear any moment.

“Well, I hope our old brother arrives and…”

A horrible, thunderous, incredibly annoying and high pitch sound suddenly. And the continuation of said noise was moving from high to low but still terrible. Shiryu and Saori, with both hands over their ears, saw each other; the Dragon Saints expecting an answer from the goddess herself and she was just trying to see if he could have it by any guess.

Quickly as they could, they ran to the source of such atrocity just to find the music room, the one that had a beautiful classical old piano where Saori learned to play when so young, as well some books she used to take breaks time to time. But, something was sure, that sound wasn’t at all her beloved piano.

Without waiting any longer, or the few minutes their ears could survive, Shiryu opened the doors just to find a very funny image. Even the same Saori couldn’t hide a snort and take her phone to try to take a picture, Shiva needed to see this.

It was so noisy, it was a torture for their eats, but then it would be the death for the same Cygnus Saint, he who was causing such apocalyptic sound. Hyoga was holding a bagpipe and his cheeks were red as he was pushing all the air from his mouth, without noticing that he was closing his eyes for the noise and that inflammation inside his mouth. Wasn’t till Shiryu decided to take the bagpipe that Hyoga stopped and realised those two were there, his brother with not such pleasant face and Saori still giggling about that last scene.

“Oh… hello, guys.” Hyoga said with a low voice.

“What were you doing?!” Shiryu asked giving him back the instrument. “It sounded like you were killing a cat… or a bag of cats.”

“C’mon, I wasn’t playing that badly.”

“Hyoga, it was horrible.” Explained Saori looking at him now a bit serious. “We were going deaf.”

“Don’t worry, the speciality of Shiryu is getting blind.” he laughed, being interrupted by a profanity in Chinese.

He didn’t look that happy as he crossed his arms.

“Did Ikki told you to make fun of me in the moment you saw me?”

“No… yes.” Hyoga smiled. “But I did it because I had the opportunity.”

Before a fight pitched began between the Cygnus and Dragon Saints, Saori decided to finished with just moving in the middle of those two.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to give you a talk about being respectful towards your own brother, but I would like to know what are you doing here and why playing that.”

For Shiryu wasn’t that hard to calm down and, at a certain point, he was used to hearing those jokes time to time, he even laughed at them, but the whole bagpipe thing just made him go to the border of his patience. Anyway, Hyoga decided to place said instrument over a table and tried to explain those questions Saori just did.

“Well, you invited us to the party.”

“That’s obvious.” Said Saori.

“There you go your answer.” He smiled once again, but the way Saori and Shiryu were looking at him explained they weren't very happy about that answer. “Fine, I was practising the bagpipe.”

“Practising?” asked his brother. “As in ‘I know how to play it so I will practice’ kind of way?” he chuckled a bit. “No, that was like ‘I don’t even know how to play it so let’s give a try’ kind of way.”

“Excuse me? I did take classes before today.”

“How many?”

Saori asked to then see how Hyoga took a pause. He looked around and then at his hand counting with his fingers. Totally, with one hand he could count them and even some fingers were left.

“Ok, maybe I didn’t take many classes but I know how to use it.”

“How to use it? Really?” Shiryu was trying to don’t laugh as he saw the bagpipe.

“Sorry, sorry, ‘Mr. Perfect’, but I still have time. I was thinking in play tonight.”

“Wait, in the party?” Saori asked feeling already the shame of said action.

But Shiryu just denied with the head.

“Don’t worry, his shyness wouldn’t even let him say his name in front of those people.”

“Exactly.” Hyoga nodded. “I just want to practice a bit before Ikki arrives.”

Thanks to this, the owner of the manor and the Dragon Saint looked, once again, at each other. It wasn’t totally needed to ask why in the underworld Hyoga wanted to practice before his brother arrived because their faces said everything. Even so, Saori wanted to let Hyoga know.

“Ikki?” she asked.

“Yeah, he will come tonight, maybe after the party.”

“At least we know he will come.” Shiryu smiled. “But why to play the bagpipes?”

The half-Russian smiled but at the same time looked a bit nervous.

“We did a bet.”

Of course, for sure. Those two ‘birds’ really liked to make those kinds of things. If they weren’t playing pranks around the Sanctuary, they would play them to each other or do bets. A big part of them beginning by the hands of the Phoenix Saint.

“What kind of bet? Let’s see who breaks Shiryu’s patience first?”

“Oh, no.” Hyoga laughed a bit because of this. “We did this bet the last time we saw each other, beginning the exactly next day. We need to learn something new and show it off today. To make it better, Ikki chose for me and I chose for him.”

That, in comparison with their pranks, was almost harmless. If it wasn’t because before open the doors, Shiryu and Saori suffered a bit. But now they were curious about what Hyoga chose for his best friend and brother.

“Crochet, obviously.” He laughed as it was the best idea in the world.

“You gave to one of the most dangerous Bronze Saints two big needles. Great.” Shiryu explained. “Weapons, in fewer words.”

“Anything is a weapon in his hands, anyway. But, here is my problem, I thought he wouldn’t do it because was too… you know.”

“Girly?” Saori said a bit serious.

“Ah… well… don’t tell to Shiva I said that because I didn’t even say it. But, let me explain.” He said pointing at the bagpipes. “I didn’t practice or asked for a teacher because I thought Ikki wouldn’t try it at all. Then last week he sent me a picture of a scarf he did!”

“Ikki is doing crochet?” Shiryu said with big eyes to then… laugh hard. “You must be kidding me!”

“What’s wrong about a guy doing that?” asked Saori a bit annoyed.

“Nothing at all.” The half-Chinese said being honest. “But Ikki doing crochet, that’s another story.  I mean, myself I know how to do cross-stitch because of Shunrei, but Ikki?”

Now that he mentioned it, Saori couldn’t indeed picture that in his head. For sure that man burned more than one scarf before the one he showed to Hyoga. And that’s why she laughed.

“Maybe he bought the scarf just to scare you.” She said in the end. “Don’t worry.”

For a second Hyoga thought about it and maybe she was right about it, Ikki would like to prank him a bit before seeing him. He sighed and nodded with a smile, to then being interrupted by one of the servants of the manor.

“Miss Saori?”

“Miss Saori?” another voice interrupted. It was Ikki, holding a bag pack and a suitcase. “Yeah, of course, ‘Miss’.”

“Nice to see you, Ikki.” She answered with a diplomatic smile.

“Brother!” the Cygnus Saint moved quickly to say hello to his brother with a bump fist while Shiryu helped him with the suitcase.

“How was your fly?” he asked.

“Ah, I could use my speed.”

“You asked a first-class ticket.” Saori interrupted.

“Yeah, but the same people of the economic class spend the same hours than me who was drinking a margarita.” Ikki explained.

“And why are you here so early? You said you would come after the party.” Asked Hyoga.

The older brother just placed his arm around his neck.

“The party don’t start till I walk in, bro.”

“It is a gala party, very serious, Ikki.” Said Saori.

The Phoenix Saint looked at her without expression to then chuckled.

“I will not go to that party. Hey, Shiryu, do you want to go to a bar with me?”

“No? Saori invited me tonight to…”

“Ok, ok, fine, then I will go with Hyoga. You both know he will be an awkward duck around those fancy people.” He sighed. “But anyway, I’m here and I’m hungry.”

“We were going to eat something… before your brother decided to put cats in a bag and blow to them.” Shiryu explained.

Hyoga laughed because of this as he removed Ikki’s arm from his shoulders.

“See? I did my part, Ikki.” He smiled a bit proud of himself. “You just bought a scarf.”

“No.” Ikki answered while taking his backpack to open it. “In fact, I did something for you and for Shun.”

Once again, Saori couldn’t wait to take his phone and send that picture to her friend. Ikki quickly placed a crochet hat over Hyoga’s head, one that looked like a white duck with an angry face and the same symbol the Cygnus’ armour had in the helmet. His young brother just saw it and realised that there couldn’t exist a shop that sells that, and much less the scarf that has some kind of chains as patterns.

“Well, I can play the bagpipe for you…”

“No!” said Shiryu and Saori in the same time.

Of course, this made Ikki be a bit serious as he didn’t understand why they reacted like that.

“Believe me, Hyoga did practice. He knows how to use it.” Smiled Saori. “I have a better idea, let’s get ready to eat something. C’mon, Hyoga, I will help you to place the bagpipe in… that… another bag.”

Hyoga felt a bit relieved with this and nodded to then follow Saori to the other side of the room to do as she said. Shiryu now was with Ikki alone and decided to ask him something else as he was speaking in a low voice.

“May I ask you something?” Ikki let him know that he could with a sound. “Why a bagpipe?”

“Why not?” Ikki moved his shoulders.

“Yeah but, why that bet? Lately, you both do weird bets.” The Dragon Saint began to think about it. “You challenged him to learn to cook, he failed a bit, to be honest. Then you had this weird bet about finding a job and now this? Why?”

The Phoenix Saint smiled and nodded.

“I can’t take care of Hyoga 24/7, you know?” he said, with a touch of sadness.

“Neither of Shun, but you don’t do weird bets with him.”

“And I don’t call him every day either.” Ikki said with a low voice as well, but strong enough to make Shiryu know that he was serious. “Look, I know that both of them are capable of many things and even more. My young brother is strong and Hyoga as well, but the difference is that sometimes, some terrible times, Hyoga doesn’t feel like that. So, at least he had his mind busy, don’t you think so?”

The other brother saw him with a smile and some proud and respect to then turn to see how Hyoga and Saori were fighting with that instrument. He sighed.

“I get it. But he needs another kind of help.”

“While he gets it, I will do more of those weird bets.” Ikki chuckled. “Maybe the next one will be doing an appointment with a psychologist, I don’t know, I just help as I can.”

“And that’s great, Ikki.” Shiryu patted his back in a friendly way as the others came close.

“What’s great?” Hyoga said to then remove the hat from his head. “Apart from this abomination of Swan.”

“Adorable abomination.” Said Saori. “At least that’s what Shiva thought.”

“Thanks a lot, you send her pictures.” Sighed Hyoga. “She will not stop bothering me now.”

“Quack, quack, mother fucker.” Smiled Ikki.

“Anyway, what’s great you asked? Ikki decided he will cook for us, right? Some pizza or maybe sushi or what’s on the menu, chef?” Shiryu joked a bit.

“Whatever you want, just give me the ingredients.” He quickly held Hyoga from the neck and placed the hat again over his head. “Let’s go, duck.”

“Oh! Just don’t hurt me!”

Those two began their usual fight as moving outside the room while Saori and Shiryu looked at them and just broke the silence for one single thing.

“Let’s hide that bagpipe.”

[aqualianbird]

SAINT FFIC FEST - MUSIC

*Version Française ici*

  Well, this is so late it’s not even embarrassing anymore but here I am with my entry for the last Saint Ffic Fest. As a sort of excuse, part of why it took my so long to finish this out is that this time I decided to write it in French as well (click here to read in French).

Now to introduce the ffic, let’s start with the prompt I received :

Characters : Mime and Fenrir Scenery : The forest Instrument : Singing Music : Either Wardruna or Apocalyptica

Quick summary : I did write this text meaning for each elements to be discovered in the narrative, also I will stick to enumerating some of the topics of the fic in this section : Friendship, Music, What brings humans closer or further apart, Social pressures.

Word Count : 5 873

   I was really excited to write about Mime. He is my favourite Asgardian character, and in general one of the few characters I “faved” immediately while watching Saint Seiya the first time (and who remained a fave), even the first one I made hc for. It was an absolute pleasure to develop the first ideas newbie me had six years later with some experience and fics on the record, and I must say I am really proud of how it came out in general (not saying it’s perfect, but if I listened to perfectionism I’d never finish anything)

   I borrowed some hcs for Fenrir from Xocowilde, mostly those involving Thor, but pretty soon he felt as natural for me to write as Mime. Similarly, I had started writing this having only a couple of details clear and an initial setting, but pretty soon the entire fic almost wrote itself. 

Too bad it was not the case for the title as well.

   The theme of this Fest was “Music”, also I tried to include the musical elements to its maximum, meaning for some passages to be read while listening to the music you will find in the links. When two parts are separated by ***, it means I recommend to stop the reading until the end of the piece, and just listen to the music imagining Mime is playing it, and when a sentence ends with --- I recommend to stop the music. I admit this as all quite experimental, and hopefully a successful one.

   Now we will skip the Terms and Conditions agreement part to go straight to the text itself.

TUNING FORK

  The fur felt soft and warm, contrasting with the cold air biting his hands whenever he cleared a strand of hair out of his face. Snow was quietly falling around them, scarce but constant; and yet not a single snowflake had reached the wolf's body. For some reason, the young man had this particular melody stuck in his head – maybe because he had been listening to Wardruna when his fellow God Warrior had knocked on his door; or maybe because the melancholic motif seemed to echo in the snowfall. Occasionally, the wind's blow would sneak in between the trees, rocking the lamp Fenrir was holding. More disturbing, however, were the numerous eyes glowing in the dark as a result of the light's oscillations – concentration was no easy task in the middle of so many judges.    Fortunately, Mime had a good grasp of the situation now; the wounded animal laying before his knees only needed some basic medical attention. The young man reached for his bag : he would need alcohol and a little something to strengthen the beast's immune system to help her fight off a minor infection. He petted her collar, mindful to keep the wolf relaxed enough in her trance, before he disinfected her wounds.                        ---    Begrudged to watch his comrade-in-arms silently apply ointments on a member of his pack, the young leader spoke up :    - So. You are going to make her better ... Right ?    - I am not a vet, Fenrir, declared Mime. If you wanted to be reassured, you should have called one.    - C'mon, dude ... You're good at this !    - I'm still not a vet. You are just lucky this seems to be benign.    - I told you already : there is no way I'd ask a human for help. Ever. It's not like they're reliable anyway ...   The young leader hardly waited any longer to share his full reasoning :   - A human vet could do experiments on her or something ! Humans have no respect for animals or nature in general.   - I am a human ...   - You - well, yes, you are. But you are an okay human. You treat animals well. And, the way you calmed her with music … I mean, nobody else can do that. I am sure she is as relaxed and pain-free as possible right now.   Mime weighted his comrade's words for a moment; just like the wolves lurking at the fringes of the illuminated circle, Fenrir was utterly protective of his pack - and it seemed like desperation had not been the only reason behind his coming at the musician's door ...   - Still, he replied. This is not in my job description; you can't randomly call me out of my house like that.   - But ... I knocked before entering, and I said please ? That's how Thor tells me to do it.The young man had almost let surprise rise his eyebrows.   - Thor ?   The majority of the God Warriors had only barely met before their battle against the Knights of Athena. Additionally, Mime had not tried to keep in touch with his comrades-in-arms in their gifted second life - at all; also, it took him a while to remember about the giant warrior of Phecda, inconveniently named after their God of Thunder.   - Well, yeah, him. He knows the ways of humans, right ?   The young man wondered if Fenrir knew about his own land's mythology.   - You mean you have been listening to what a brutal, unreliable and tyrannical human has said ?   His comrade blushed.   - I never said that ! Besides, he is half giant, so not very human either ... I mean, he is half trustworthy, he concluded raising his chin.   - Unlike me, who is zero percent trustworthy, and yet still gets called to take care of your family. I really wonder what half trustworthy means … Fenrir showered the redhead with snow :   - Shut up, stupid-ass !   Of course, one needed much more to shake the musician's composure off, not to mention his current investment in a very important task :   - Easy there, he replied. You could scare her out of her trance; it's not good to be brutally waken up like that.   The young leader immediately stopped while Mime reached for a small percussion on which he soon began to play a gentle beat.   To ensure the wolf's peaceful awakening, the young man decided to play again the song he had used to induce the trance in the first place – another Wardruna piece, faithfully to his current musical crush.   As a general rule, one should usually refrain from performing such instrumentally rich songs on their own. But the Benetnach warrior had a couple of aces up sleeves most humans weren't even aware of; also, he confidently kept the beat, enriching it with an equally soft rhythm played on the percussion's wooden sides which somewhat followed the original piece's introduction. The musician paid special attention to the wolf laying besides his knees, for the meantime still plunged in her deep sleep. Snow kept serenely falling around them while Fenrir took a seat nearby, scrutinising his comrade's every move just like the first time Mime had played that evening. However, little by little, as he dived into his rendition, the redhead lost track of anything happening beyond his and the canid's personal space, from the wind smoothly teasing some frozen twigs to the wolves surrounding the small circle formed by the light.   Once he felt connected to his “patient”, the young man wielded years of arduous practice in a way his father and training comrades would have most certainly condemned : he maintained the percussion's beat via pulsations he regularly initiated with his cosmos. And because he was using the air as tool to interact with the drum's membrane instead of his limbs, the musician's hands remained free to play the violin's melody. It was a trick Mime frequently used to accompany himself on the harp, lyre and other instruments.   He concentrated on the wolf again. If the first time he had accentuated the rhythmic and repetitive aspects of the song, the redhead now planed to play on its texture and dynamism to gradually connect her to her surroundings. With great pleasure, Mime noticed she had already displayed positive signs to the sound of his lyre.

  Nevertheless, the hardest part was yet to come; the lyre and the beat, he could play in his sleep. But he would soon need to sing. Not that Solringen's lyrics were particularly challenging; for the better part of the song, the same two verses were echoed over by the soloist and the chorus. Though neither did it mean the song should be deemed trivial to perform, as splitting one's attention into three different tasks – one of them involving cosmos nonetheless – could be seen as utterly bold. No, the source of the musician's concern dwelt elsewhere : even if he knew the lyrics by heart, even when he sang in his native language and nailed every single key, even if he had years of creative experience to use, he still lacked that one crucial element that made vocalists great; according to himself, Mime had the most dull, monotonous, and tiresome singing voice ever heard on earth.   The young man shook his head. As any good musician, the redhead persisted despite his doubts. He focused on tastefully accentuating his beat to compensate for his mediocre voice, all this without neglecting to execute the smoothest crescendo he was capable of; he wanted everything to be perfectly lead to a climax.   When he felt the wolf's attention had been fully awakened, Mime stopped everything. Complete silence fell on the glade. Not even the wind could be heard, and it seemed snow had ceased to fall for a moment. It was as though even the trees had been listening to the musician this entire time ...   A heartbeat later, Mime intoned the glorious conclusion of the piece. Definitively the hardest part of the song to play, especially considering the fact he was performing alone. With the lyre, he tried to simultaneously render the violin's melody and the sopranos' part while reciting as loudly as he tastefully could the men's lines, all this without neglecting the percussion's cadence. The amount of concentration required was tremendous; the young man remained barely aware of the existence of anything other than his instruments. He could not miss a single beat.   Fortunately, that part was intense but short; he soon returned to the song's previous construction. While he could not catch his breath quite literally yet, it did feel relaxing to render a known part where the lead singer and soprano chorus dialogued, answering to each other the same two verses about the summer, the sun's ring and the rooster's song.   With his rendition requiring less concentration, the young man remembered to check on his patient, now fully awakened. But despite her regained autonomy he found the wolf still laying by his knees; she had moved only enough to be able to watch the musician play. Mime smiled. The redhead then prepared himself for the piece's last measures, which he planned to perform just like on the original record : first, he stopped the lyre and the beat, following then with a decrescendo diffusing the last two verses of the song.

                                                            ***   Silence gradually grew on the glade. Little by little, Mime regained full awareness of his surroundings : the snow serenely falling, his comrade sitting by his right side, the other wolves who had come closer during his performance, the trees smoothly rocked by the wind, the distant hooting of an owl somewhere in the night ...   Until a quiet voice called his attention back to the clearing :   - Could you play this again ? Please ?   Fenrir's cheeks regained their brighter colours.   - The rest of the pack seems to love it, but I'm the only one who can ask.   He scratched the back of his head and changed his sitting position. Mime had a hard time deciding whether he was surprised by this sudden request or not. Ultimately, though, only one emotion prevailed : curiosity. After all, the young man had always craved to understand the psychology of all living beings.   - Only if you tell me why you like Thor. For real.   His comrade pouted. Mime locked his gaze on the strand of hair covering the warrior's nose-bridge while the latter stayed still, his arms and legs crossed. For a long time, the redhead thought Fenrir would not give in and he'd be on his way back home soon – something he would not deplore either.   - He is a good human, okay ? It looks like those are rare, but exist after all. Or maybe it's because he is half Giant ? But so he is loyal and also he is a very good hunter. So sometimes, when I really really need it, I ask him for a bit of help. It's for the pack. Not good hunting seasons happen sometimes, but when too much food is missing ... Anyways so he always gives what he can and never even asks for anything in return. Which makes him a very good human. Not selfish or greedy. So, will you play now ?   The young man hid his amusement adjusting the position of the small percussion by his side.   - How about I play something else ? Maybe you will like this song as well; it's from the same band. It's called Pertho, and it's about dwarves feasting.  

Once again, Mime chased his everlasting dissatisfaction with his singing voice and tried his best at replicating the particular timber he loved so much in his idol's voice. The small glade they were in helped the musician in keeping his rendition quite faithful to the atmosphere of the original piece for it echoed to some extent his voice and the drum's beat. Of course, despite his skills he could not fill in for the choir parts all by himself; also, the young man tried to compensate by performing the chorus one octave lower than the rest of the song.

  During the second verse, Mime moved his left hand from the percussion to the lyre, making use of his special trick to keep up the beat. Said verse being relatively short he soon enough sang the chorus again, this time accompanying himself on the lyre. The motif was quite simple, but once again the challenge dwelt in the concentration required to harmoniously render three different parts at once.   The reason Mime had decided to play this particular song was because, unlike the requested one, it featured a lyre solo – the occasion for him to shine. Being in his comfort zone the young man could make use of all the nuance and subtlety his skill was capable of.

  The rest of the pack came to form a closer circle around them. Some wolves even laid down in the snow nearby. What Mime loved most was when they would tilt their heads or move ears in reaction to his music; the young man liked to believe he had spent enough time playing among animals to know these wolves appreciated his rendition. Fenrir, on the other hand, was observing him with such an intense and genuine fascination the musician could only draw comparisons with a behaviour he had only witnessed in children so far …

                                                                ***   The song was fairly short. Also, as soon as the last chord had stopped resonating, Fenrir claimed :   - Again !   - Heey, not so fast : this is not a concert either.   - But … Please ?   With his head tilted, his arms wrapped around his knees and his clear-eyed gaze locked straight into his interlocutor's eyes, the young leader could honestly pretend to have mastered the puppy look.   - Oh wait ! -He abruptly straightened his back.- I am indeed the one in debt to you. But so maybe this would help.   - What would help ? Asked Mime, confused.   The Aliot warrior disappeared in between the trees, only to come back a few minutes later with some sort of plastic box.   - So, you can of course call me on any favour, he explained after having negotiated a rough landing in the snow. But in the meantime, let me show you some hospitality ! Here, this is a royal snack.   Fenrir proudly held out a raw piece of meat. Slightly larger than the size of a hand, of dark, wine-ish shade and what the musician would qualify as “unspeakable” shape, it seemed to have caught the interest of the rest of the pack while putting Mime's composure skills through the mill. The redhead did not want to know what was supposed to be “royal” about this; he imagined the sole reason it did not spill any blood was because the fluid had frozen.   - Thanks, but I'm not hungry, he finally anszered trying to contain his disgust.   - Oh ! Yes, that's alright … ammm, I must have something for hospitality other than eating … Ah, here ! Thor gave me this last time.   The young leader was now holding two bottles of beer.   - This is okay for human hospitality, right ?   Mime gazed down at the bottles : their labels betrayed the outstanding origin of those products. After the first incident, goods purchased at one of Asgard's finest brewery were the last thing he had expected to see coming out of that box ...   - Indeed, it is.   The young man opened both bottles to reduce his risks of returning home with clothes soaked in beer.   - You really must be spending a lot of time with Thor, he commented.   - I did not say that ! Stop doing it !   - Well, you keep talking about him. Additionally, this is high-quality beer : you two either spend a lot of time together, or Thor is incredibly generous … Or just really naïve.   - But. Like I told you. He is a good human. Unlike you apparently, Fenrir pouted.   The redhead tried to contain a smirk.   - I'm not an okay human any more ?   - I thought so. But you keep being mean.   - How so ?   - You keep …Fenrir stopped abruptly.   - When you do ... You did …   As his frustration increased a curious grimace grew on his face, becoming somewhat reminiscent of a dog's snarl.   - You haaaaave ...   It was clear he had troubles translating his thoughts into words.   - Hurt one of your pack ?   - What ? No ! -He quickly checked- No, it's something else ...   - Insulted you ?   - No … Not really.   - Hmm … What could it be ? Said the young man faking concentration.   - It's not something as awful as the examples you gave. But you have been annoying ! You keep saying things I did not say like it was the truth !   - Did I get anything wrong ?   The young leader pouted again.   - Well, no. But … Oh, see ? You do it again ! Stop being annoying !   Mime chuckled.   - It's called teasing. That's what I was doing : teasing you. By exposing truths you want to hide.   Fenrir weighed those words.   - Yeah … Why do you do that ? Will you stop ?   - Why don't you want to tell those things ?   This time, instead of displaying his usual signs of agitation, the Aliot warrior just glared at his guest.   - I think I understand … You know the answers, but you take amusement in watching others getting embarrassed … That's very human of you, he concluded narrowing his eyes. The harpist, on the other hand, smirked; he was indeed enjoying himself a lot. - Well, sort of … But there is a legitimate question behind all this : why do people lie so much ?   Mime started petting the wolf still laying at his feet.   - Human relationships, connexions, do come in many “shapes and colours”, and every single individual should have the right to privacy as well as absolute control over where they set their own boundaries, which makes a thorough answer to this question utterly complex. But I sincerely believe we would all gain a lot by being much more honest with each other in general. And with ourselves.   The young man had years worth of contemplations ready to share on the matter. But in between the overflow of words trying to overcome the barrier of his mouth all at once and the memories still fresh of his battle against the Phoenix Saint, Mime remained silent. The subject had taken a new dimension since, painfully carving itself some extra room in the musician's mind. Fenrir's mind, on the other hand, was not troubled by the reflections haunting his comrade :   - Yeah, humans are such hypocrites. I didn't understand everything you said, but yes. I knew this since I was seven. You should not bother others because you are slow to understand something.   The redhead immediately recovered his smirk.   - Even if I'm bothering bad humans ?   The question resulted in another curious snarl on Fenrir's face.   - Yes, even. And you are smart, you already know those answers I'm sure. So you should stop. Better play music instead !   The young leader displayed some of his earlier enthusiasm, obviously hoping to hear another song.   - You still want to hear music performed by a bad human like me ?   He took a moment to think about it.   - Well … Unless you keep being mean … Please ? His comrade asked with a smile.Mime raised his eyebrows.Here is someone not indulging himself in the practice of ass-kissing …- I'll stop teasing you yes … for now. But just to be clear : I am not a member of your pack either. I am not going to follow your directives simply because you said so. Understood ? Fenrir took his most serious expression and nodded.   - We- yes, you are a visitor ! That's it.   - Good.      The young man pulled the percussion closer and stroked it with the tip of his fingers, trying to choose his next song. Right away, the melody haunting the musician's mind imposed itself as obvious choice; however, despite his strong desire to hear the song Mime decided against performing it : if he could use his cosmos to play the drums without hands, the list of instruments on which this trick worked was short. Furthermore, unlike the songs previously performed, Mannar-Liv featured a complex harmony rich in texture, obtained through the use of many instruments and the polyphony of each partition. Also, even if the musician had known how to play on every instruments with his cosmos, any combination with the lyre would amount to trying to write with both hands at the same time. And if by some sort of miracle he would have managed to master this hurdle, the musician felt it impossible for him to faithfully render the piece with only two or three instruments at hand, and especially without the violin's characteristic timber. No matter how strong it was, a cosmos would never change the sound of an instrument into another.   His favourite piece disregarded, the choice of the song became only more difficult; what would he play next ? The young man was fond of all of Wardruna's songs, but only a handful of those were accessible to his skills-set – or more accurately, none of these songs were meant to be played alone.   Mime glanced at his comrade; Fenrir was not displaying any signs of impatience, but the eyes of the Aliot warrior betrayed his expectations. The intensity of the young leader's enthusiasm astonished the musician once more; it reminded him of the time he and his classmates from the conservatory had dressed as elves to support Santa Claus' actor evolution around the town-square in music.   The presence of this innocent gaze in the look of a warrior in his twenties seemed to be a natural consequence of Fenrir's early isolation from human society; he had not lived the experiences most had endured at this age. In Mime's opinion, the young leader was the living proof of the level of corruption in human societies with its ever-increasing number of selfish, greedy and power-thirsty individuals, turning every child into leery, closed-minded, dishonest and equally power-thirsty individuals; a vicious circle breaking down every single spirit to the shape and docility of the cast. Furthermore, the majority of the animals living with humans -most notably dogs- never displayed any signs of the moral corruption observed in their "masters". The latters could argue as much as they wanted this was due to the animals' "inferior intelligence", Mime would remain convinced until the end this fact reflected the vile nature of humans more than anything else; after all, the only difference between an animal learning to live in this society and a child was the height of the language barrier. Because of their limited understanding of the human languages, animals did not perceive the full depth of the humans' scurvy schemes. Fenrir, having been cut from that world since the age of seven, proved the inverse to be true as well; he had conserved the honest and straight-forward nature every child seemed to be born with. Mime found himself envying the young leader's position for a moment; Fenrir had had the space to grow up to become a truly free spirit, untouched by the influence his potential classmates, teachers, neighbours and other close relatives could have had on him, but first and foremost free of the pressures and parental expectations.   The musician put an end to his internal monologue and chose his next piece; he would play a song entitled NaudiR. Of course, following the same logic that lead him to discard Mannar-Liv, it was impossible for him to accurately render the introduction of the song; however, in this case, the young man felt he could remain faithful to its general structure by creating his own dramatic ouverture using solely his lyre, his voice and percussion. The rest of the song was centered around the lyre.    Decided, the redhead turned the absent-minded strokes into a confident rhythm. Soon, he broke out a beat and played accords on the lyre, completing the melody with humming. He immediately caught the assistance's attention.   When he interrupted the play after the introduction, the musician could feel all eyes hung on his moves, and especially Fenrir's who seemed about to open his presents on Christmas day. If Mime had to describe him at the moment, he would not use any other words than “an eight year old boy in the body of a twenty-something”. Mime switched instruments before he continued playing, feeling more at ease when in direct contact with the strings after all. While pulling the first chord, the young man made it a point to discretely observe his comrade throughout the performance - he wanted to understand and measure his fascination for music. Mime was especially curious considering how Fenrir had basically rejected his humanity and had lived isolated from their society for the better part of his life; he was “pure” of the usual preconception and prejudices, group effect or even generational influences those he had met – and even himself – had assimilated. How did it factor into his approach of music ? What would he qualify as “music” ? What did he consider being “normal” music ? Classical music ? Pop ? Or what would he qualify as odd in the musical world ? From experience, the musician knew some animals appreciated music while some others remained completely indifferent to it : would he be able to understand why thanks to Fenrir ? Could he create music that would allow him to better connect with one of his favourite audience on earth ? Could he discover some new elements to add to the timeless debate of what made art, art ?    For now, however, his only certainty was the young leader's constant and genuine enthusiasm as displayed throughout the successive performances of Wardruna's songs ...                                                                   ***   After silence had fell on the glade again, and the atmosphere of song had dissipated enough, Mime tried to ask :   - Tell me; how much do you know about music ?   - Not much, answered Fenrir. I remember my mother had a beautiful voice. She often sang to me before sleep. Sometimes during the day too, but so …   The young leader frowned.   - I think she knew how to play the … arf, what's the big black thing called ?   - The piano ?   - Yeah, something like that … But it was a long time ago.   They both stayed silent for a while; Mime didn't know whether Fenrir needed a moment to grieve or not. The latter, however, soon spoke out again :   - Oh ! Thor listens to music !   - Great ! What kind of music does he listen to ?   The Aliot warrior showed his best smile before answering :   - Thor says it's called “metal”.   - Nice … So you do know stuff !   The musician found himself lost in a conversation he had initiated; despite his thirst of knowledge, he had doubts regarding the results he expected out of this, and, as it turned out, they had ventured into a topic on which he had very limited knowledge.   Fenrir on the other hand seemed eager to share his musical experience.   - Last time we listened to a strange band … Ammm … Wait I'll remember ! Acopo … Apaco- no.   - Apocalyptica ?   - Yes ! Yes that ! You know them too ?   - Broadly. They are quite famous, and since they play on cellos it tickled my musical curiosity.   - Oh then maybe you can play a song from them ? I really liked some of their songs.   - Sorry, I'm not so familiar with their repertoire ...   His comrade looked confused.   - But, he protested after a while. Thor says they play very known songs, only on different instruments. You can't do that ?   - I can, but not like they do : metal music is not really my cup of tea, Mime declared.   - Ahhh … Okay, I guess I should have known.   After he finished speaking, the young leader tilted his head as his eyes drifted to the right.   - Known what ?   - That you would not like metal. It's music that fits like, Thor, more. It's fast and loud and rough ...   The young man stopped moving, his gaze locked on Fenrir.   - … when he shows pictures of the players they don't look like the humans I see at Hilda's place or you. They don't look like they spend much time at ... hairdressers ... or shops ... or I don't know what else. You, on the other hand, are a very -   - If you meant to say girly or gay, I will strangle you, Mime interrupted.   Fenrir froze mid sentence, possibly unaware of his gaping mouth.   - And for the record, I know plenty of girls who like this genre, some being very “girly” as well. This has nothing to do with taste.   Actually, Mime's only reference was a classmate from the days he frequented music academy, who aside from being their grade's top harpist had also formed a metal band of some sort. He lacked the solid statistics which would have ensued from a wider circle of friends, but for what it was worth he had attended said classmate's concert once and had seen girls with various styles there. At any rate, the Benetnach warrior had never opposed the use of some “fight fire with fire” policy. He did not doubt those people existed, even if he had never seen them; also, as long as he remained aware of the fact he was crossing the line between truth and lie, he could allow himself to breach the rule sometimes ... Smashing down people's stupid prejudices like that was just so worth it.   - I was going to say civilised, declared Fenrir. You are a very … err, city person. Appreciating delicate things. Which is why I thought it made sense you don't like metal.   Now the young man was the one standing agape – or at least he would have been had it not been for his poker-faced skills. He should have expected that someone isolated from society since childhood would display a different set of prejudices than those who had mocked him all his life for behaving “like a girl”.   - This still does not have much to do with the fact I don't like metal, he replied in a calmer tone. Some taste just have no particular reason attached to it, like why one likes red more and others orange more even though those colours are fairly close to each other on the spectrum. Sometimes the answer is “just because”. And we should not ignore nor lie to ourselves about those tastes. We never need a deep reason to justify liking this or that : if it's not hurting anybody, then the mere fact we prefer spending time doing this or that over something else should be enough.   Mime sighed.   - I don't understand why people try so hard to meddle in other's interests or police their pass-times. I am a man and I can act however the hell I want to. And the heartbreaking truth is, too many people find themselves doing stuff they hate or saying stuff they do not think or even condone. Because some foolish humans have decided they know better, or that random sets of physical traits you were born with should dictate your personality or future.   Silence fell on the glade. It seemed like the young man had lost some of his usually excellent control over himself. One could also assume the wolves had sensed the redhead's perturbation : the one he had healed stood up and tried to lick his face. Mime recovered his smile- It's important to be strong and stubborn in this context. To stay true to ourselves. For our own happiness and the sake of others, he concluded while petting the wolf.Fenrir pondered over his comrade's words for a very long time. Maybe the subject of his rant had become too abstract for the wild-bred warrior ...- Suuuuuuuuuure, he finally uttered, still confused. Do you mean … Like, I should not go live with other humans if I don't want to … ?   The young man did not expect this particular interpretation of his little speech; nevertheless, it did stay faithful to his original message.   - Indeed. If it makes you happier to stay near the pack, do so. And I am not going to call you “domesticated” or anything just because you also enjoy spending time with Thor.   - Really ? The young leader beamed. It does not show my destiny should be in a city ? Or that I can't escape my true nature or something ?   - No, it does not … Don't wolves sometimes leave a pack to visit friends in other packs ?   Fenrir took that comment at heart.   - So, I can visit Thor and still not be part of human society ?   - Absolutely, Mime smiled.   - Awesome ! I like visiting Thor … And some other things humans do ... Like music.   The shade of pink tinting his cheeks grew in intensity, but it was with a renewed confidence that the young leader added :   - You too … I would like to visit you sometimes ...   After the numerous occasions in which he had been surprised by his comrade that night, it greatly pleased the musician to know he had guessed at least one fact right.   - Just don't bring me any dead animals, please. I like my food processed and cooked like the delicate and civilised human I am, he joked.   When the Aliot warrior's laughter had stopped resonating and his “patient” stood up to incite her friends to play, Mime finally asked :   - Would you like me to show you how to play music ?   Fenrir frenetically nodded. The young man proceeded to teach him the name of every chord of his lyre and the different ways of pulling the strings. The young leader turned out to be a surprisingly patient student who did his best to follow the harpist's instructions despite a complete lack of musical background. However, careful not to let his comrade grow frustrated -or worse, bored- by his beginner's skills, after Fenrir successfully played “happy birthday” twice in a row, Mime handed him the small percussion he had brought and said :   - Let's try to play a song together !   Later that night, in the same little glade surrounded by frozen trees and covered in snow, and despite the temperatures having considerably fallen, the voices of two young man filled the air once again, followed by the sound of percussions and lyre, rendering the themes of yet another Wardruna song, carried away by the wind in the Asgardian night.

[xocowilde]

I’M GENUINALY SOOOO HAPPY AND EXCITED TO WORK AGAIN IN THE SAINT FFIC FEST!

I still remember the first one XP @teary-eyed-circle-of-friendship helped me with the name *sighs* those times I thought I could do it alone but then my beautiful sis @aqualianbird arrives and made it even better.

But everyone who has participate it has make it better every time!

I just need some touches and Lune bless to post some info and then write the new fest post.

[ao3feed-saintseiya]

His Favourite Place in the World

AO3: http://ift.tt/2y1nk8W

by Stella_Sirius

Caça isn't one to speak much about memories - he knows their power on people too well to give them up so easily. But even a ruthless warrior like him has a happy memory to hold dear... the one that first showed him the sea.

Originally written for the Saint FFic Fest on Tumblr, with the prompt "Nationality".

Words: 1083, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Thalassa, Thalassa - Stories of the Sea

Fandoms: Saint Seiya

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Lyumnades Caça, Chrysaor Krishna

Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Childhood Memories, Home Country, The Marinas are actually nostalgic dorks

AO3: http://ift.tt/2y1nk8W

[ninaandromeda]

Universe: Classic SS series Character(s): Shun and Seiya Scenery: Saori’s Mansion Length: 3,032 (including credits) Category: Angst and friendship! Plot Summary: Its Shun’s Birthday, and its been one year since the Holy War... but he stills having bad dreams about it. Seiya is willing to help! So... HAPPY SHUN’s BIRTHDAY FOR ALL!!

Its angsty but... hope not too much...

English its not my first language, i really hope im not doing too many mistakes u-u

[teary-eyed-circle-of-friendship]

Home From War

So, @xocowilde​, a little birdie told me that no one ever wrote your Ladies Fest FFicFest package, and I volunteered to put a little something together for you. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m terrible at taking meanings from songs, and I think this fic kind of lost itself halfway through, but hey, here’s a little something with Hilda!

Universe: SS Canon Characters: Hilda Song: En Vie -  Apocalyptica Word Count: 1,929 Plot Summary: I honestly don’t even know how to summarize this. Like I said, I think it got a little lost halfway through, but Hilda’s there and a little angsty, then Freya shows up to try and cheer her up! (I feel like this is the modern day “I suck at summaries” kind of summary XD)

The waters of the icy cold sea lapped gently against the cliff face. Hilda stood alone on the rocks at the edge of the shore, the water coming within a hair’s breadth of the hem of her dress before it was drawn back out to sea. On the water, eight boats drifted slowly away from the cliffs, somber black shrouds cloaking their decks.

Eight boats before her, and eight arrows in the quiver on her back, and one brazier flickering with flames.

Hilda’s grip tightened on the gilded bow in her hand. Her other hand shook as she reached behind her for the first of the arrows. She pulled it free of the quiver, and holding it near its fletching she slowly moved the head toward the smoldering brazier. The fire licked hungrily at the resin soaked rag just below the arrowhead, even as the shaft shook in her unsteady grip. Arm, still shaking, she nocked the arrow on the bow, and pulled back on the bowstring. It resisted her efforts, only pulling to half draw. Or maybe she was the one resisting.

Possessed or not, she alone had been the one to send her faithful warriors to their deaths. Therefore she alone should set them on the path home to Valhalla where their souls may find the peace she’d stolen from them in life.

Hilda gritted her teeth, and gathered up her resolve. Holding onto this willpower, she pulled on the bowstring once again, pulling it back until her wrist brushed her ear.  She loosed the first of the arrows. It arced over the water, its flaming head giving it the appearance of a miniature comet. It struck the leftmost boat, and soon fire raced across its entire hull.

Farewell mighty Thor. If we are to meet again in the next life  I hope you will find some way to forgive me.

Swallowing back tears she refused to shed, Hilda reached for the second arrow.

Seven flaming arrows, and seven flaming boats later Hilda retired to her private chambers, the weight of her crimes draped around her shoulders like a mourning shawl. Did one such as her truly deserve to be Odin’s representative on Earth? Had she any right to think herself able to lead the people of Asgard? After what had happened? After what she had allowed –no, after what she had ordered to be done?

She plucked idly at a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve. Rather than pull free the thread puckered the fabric, eliciting a frown from Hilda’s delicately painted lips. She pulled again, and still the thread did not yield, marring the fabric even worse. With a frustrated huff that was not at all befitting a lady of her standing, Hilda released the frustrating sleeve, and settled both hands on the carved arms of the chair she sat in.

It seemed everything she did from now on was going to end in ruin.

“Looks like someone could  do with a visit to the tailor.” A pleasant voice pulled Hilda out of her dark musings. Unbeknownst to her, Freya had slipped into the room, a silver lined tray in her arms. Her skits swirled around her feet as she approached the chair Hilda sat in.

“And what brings you here Freya?” Hilda asked, tilting her head, and resting her cheek on the fingers of one hand. For her sister’s sake she tried a small smile. The upward twist of her lips seemed so foreign. How long had it been since she’d smiled, she briefly wondered.

Freya flourished the tray in her arms. “The maids said you didn’t eat your breakfast or lunch again. I thought I might tempt you with a little dinner, and maybe some company?” There was a hesitant note in her sisters voice as she added this query.

Hilda could no longer find the stomach for food. Nothing was palatable. Everything tasted as flavourful as sawdust and would settle like lead in her stomach. Then it would churn and twist her gut until her insides were as unsettled as her mind. But she couldn’t bring herself to refuse the hopeful smile on her sisters face. Not when the few times Hilda had caught Freya in her unguarded moments, there was a look of such deep sadness in her eyes. No doubt thinking of the loss of her closest childhood friend, Hagen.

Everyone’s sorrows it seems were on her shoulders. The least she could do was alleviate Freya’s, even for this short moment.

“How could I say no to such an offer?” Hilda uncrossed her legs, and gestured toward the small side table next to her chair. Dipping her head Freya hurried over and set the tray down on the table before pulling another chair up beside it. She reached for the tray and lifted the engraved platter covering to reveal two small bowls of soup, wisps of steam trailing away from them.

Gratitude rose in Hilda as she reached for her own bowl. It was simple fare, a few noodles floating in it, but mostly broth. Just the type of thing she might be able to keep down, no doubt something Freya  had considered. Her sister always seemed to know how she was feeling, even if Hilda never said as much. She dipped her spoon in it, and took a small sip. The taste was almost as bland as the soup’s appearance, but for once that was a welcome thing, and Hilda dug in for a larger spoonful of the warm broth.

Looking up from the bowl Hilda saw Freya watching her as she took her first tastes. She wasn’t imagining the relief in Freya’s blue-green eyes. Her sister’s expression turned sheepish when she realized she’d been caught watching Hilda, and she ducked her head. Head still bowed, Freya went about taking up her own bowl of soup and dipping her spoon in it.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Hilda said, knowing those simple words wouldn’t be enough to convey all that she was grateful for. For the simple food, which was exactly what she needed if she wanted to actually keep some food down. For her quiet company. For everything Freya had done when Hilda had been possessed, and above all else for staying by her side afterwards. Athena and her Saints may have lent their strengths in battle, but Freya had truly been the one to save Asgard.

“I’m glad you like it,” Freya replied in that soft way she had about herself. So quiet and unassuming, but with more strength than anyone had ever given her credit for, Hilda included. “Everyone will be relieved to hear you’ve eaten.”

Hilda set her spoon aside, then thought better of it and took it up once again. She dipped it into her bowl to bring another spoonful of the steaming soup up to her lips. “I’m sorry to have troubled you all. It was never my intention. I’ve just not been able to find my appetite after,” Hilda’s lip twisted in a small frown. “Well, after.”

Freya apparently had no response to that, so the two sisters sipped their soup in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence though. It was punctured by the pleasant clink of metal spoon on porcelain bowl, and the faint slurping sound each sister made as they ate. Hilda let out a small sigh that almost sounded contented when she finished her bowl and set it back on her tray. Across the table Freya too had finished, though she still gripped her bowl, staring into the dredges that remained at the bottom.

Hilda cocked her head to the side as she regarded her younger sister. Freya didn’t have that look of sorrow on her face that she wore when she thought of Hagen, but given the tug on the corner of her mouth, she was deep in thought. “You know you didn’t have to do that alone.” Freya’s voice was low as she spoke, still looking down at her bowl.

Hilda didn’t ask what it was that Freya was referring to. The image of eight boats set to take eight heroes to their final resting place flashed across her mind’s eyes. “Yes, I did.” Hilda let the words drop heavily from her lips.

An uncharacteristic flash of anger crossed Freya’s face. It was there and gone so quickly that Hilda wasn’t sure if she’d just imagined it or not. Freya set her bowl and looked up, meeting Hilda’s eyes steadily.  “Do you remember when father was teaching us how to skate?”

Hilda’s brows rose slightly at the unexpected turn in their conversation. “Do you even remember?” She replied with a question of her won. “You were so young when he passed away.” A fever it had been. One that wracked the body with violent shivers and hacking coughs that brought up blood. Their mother had wasted away not long after. The elders had said she had succumbed to grief. At the time Hilda hadn’t believed it possible to die from such a thing, and she’d cursed her mother for being weak and leaving her and Freya alone. Now, she realized she owed her deceased mother an apology. Grief was a much more potent force than Hilda had imagined as a child.

“Well, I remember this,” Freya went on, folding her hands in her lap, but losing none of the intensity in her gaze. “There was something he always told us when we fell down. He would say that standing up on our own was best if we could, but it was never shameful to ask for a helping hand. Especially if we were hurting.”

Hilda shook her head. “Freya, this isn’t like skating. This is-“

“You’ve fallen down Hilda,” Freya overrode her. Hilda blinked at the forceful edge that had entered her sister’s voice. “You’ve fallen down,” Freya repeated, her voice softening to her normal lilt. “And you’re hurting.”

Hilda opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her lips. She was hurting, but she didn’t want to share that pain with anyone. Especially not someone who was already hurting themselves. It would be so much easier though, to share the burden of her guilt.

Freya’s hand fell on her own. Hilda looked down at her sister’s pale, slender fingers as they gave a gentle squeeze. “I know we all need to grieve in her own way, I’m just asking that you let me be there for you through this. You don’t need to get through this all on your own.” Her sister pulled away then. Freya stood up and began collecting the tray she’d brought in.

She turned away and was halfway back to the door when Hilda called out to her. “Freya,” her sister paused in her step, and turned her head, mountains of blonde hair shifting around her shoulders. “Thank you.” Hilda tried for another small smile. It came easier this time than it had earlier. “We- we should dine together more often.”

Freya nodded, a smile growing on her face. “If it gets you to eat, we can start having breakfast, lunch and dinner together.” She turned away again, and Hilda watched her sister until the door closed behind her.

Hilda sat back in her chair, and let out another sigh to her now quiet chambers. It was strange. One simple meal with her sister, and the weight on her shoulder no longer seemed so crushing.

Freya had been the one to save Asgard. Maybe she would be the one to save Hilda from her own grief as well.

[shyminikit]

Saint FFicFest GIFT -- Secret Admirer?

@saint-ffic-fest-blog

Universe: SS U

Character(s): Perseus Algol, Cerberus Dante, and Lacerta Misty

Gift: A book called Computer for Dummies

Length: 1561

Category: Suspense, friendship and humor mostly

Plot Summary: One morning, Algol found an anonymous gift in front of the cabin he shared with Dante. Upon opening the gift and seeing its content, the Perseus saint was sure that it was a prank or an insult, but will he be able to tell who among the 88 saints was the culprit? Was it even a saint who gave him such a gift?

A/N: I’m so sorry for this being so late, and a lot shorter than I planned, but I thought if I don’t post the short version, I will never post anything at all at this rate ^^;;; I hope everyone, and especially the one who came up with this package, will enjoy reading this and forgive me for its extreme lateness haha ^^;;;

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Instead of sunlight gently awaking him from his slumber like usual, Algol was violently awakened by a familiar scream. Trained since childhood to be ready for combat, the silver saint jumped out of his bed and ran out the old wooden door, located just a few feet away from his creaky bed. For giving the each gold saint a temple, the Sanctuary provided only small cabins for the silver and bronze saints, an unfairness that Algol loathed ever since he was an apprentice. He had grown up watching his master sleep in the same bed he had just stumbled out of.  

“What happened?!” shouted Algol, looking left and right as he tried to find the enemy. However, the only person he could find within yards of the run down house was Cerberus Dante, his roommate, who was freaking out… over a mud puddle?

Algol facepalmed. “Just… What are you doing?” muttered the Perseus saint, trying to wrap his head around the fact he woke up for this, of all things.

Dante jumped, then quickly turned toward Algol. “O-Oh hey, what’s up?” said Dante, his eyebrows twitching as he sweated almost unnaturally. Must be the sun, thought Algol as he rubbed his forehead, hoping to ease away both the heat and his tiredness. The blond’s eyesight was starting to sway, as it seemed to Algol that Dante was closer to the cabin than the mud puddle he had been standing in just a second earlier.

“I should be the one asking you that,” said Algol, “Playing with mud at dawn? What are you, a pig? An untrained pup?”

“Errr.. No, I’m three-headed hound that can bite your head off, and it’s pretty much noon, Algol.” said Dante as he pointed out the sun that was shining right above their heads. Algol flushed red, his hands balling themselves into fists.

“So what? My point still stands.” said the Perseus, almost too loud and hurried. Dante was getting on his nerves, faster than last time, which happened last night when the cerberus saint refused to get off his phone and Algol couldn’t sleep because of flashing lights.

He needed total darkness.

Dante laughed, causing the Perseus saint to consider knocking out some of the Cerberus’s teeth with his fist. Before he could do so, however, a cheery voice called.

“You have a secret admirer, Algol.”

Snapping his head toward the source of the voice, Algol saw Misty holding a wrapped box with one hand as he smiled at him.

“Who? You?”

“No.” said Misty coldly, losing his smile at the horrified face Algol was making, “And don’t make that idiotic face.” Throwing the box at the silver saint, Misty said, “It was on the ground where I always walk, so you should be glad I didn’t decide to just step on it.”

Dante, who had been panicking at the flying box, sighed in relief when Algol caught it with one hand. Then, glaring at the lizard saint, the Cerberus said, “Everyone passes through there, it’s a dirt road for Athena’s sake. And it’s where mails are usually delivered.”

Misty raised his delicate eyebrows. “And how did you know where I found it?”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Err I don’t know, because the road is in front of our house? And you are still standing on it?” said Dante, still keeping his hands behind his back as he stood an inch away from the opened door of the cabin.

“What?!” Algol suddenly shouted, his hands shaking as he gripped the book in his hand. The wrapping paper lay torn apart on the ground that was damped due to the rain last night.  His eyebrows were furrowed as his face turned deep crimson, a frown threatening to swallow his face whole. All heads turned toward him, even Misty’s whose tongue had been ready to unleash some words of discipline on the disrespectful silver saint.

Ignoring the stabbing glare he was getting from Misty, Algol continued to stare at the book in his shaking hands. “Why? Just why?” Algol said, sighing heavily as he thought about throwing the book away and turning the culprit into stone, “Who would dare prank me? And on today of all days?” He would die than admit it to another living person, but he had been looking forward to Valentine’s Day because, come on, a handsome guy like him should have some fans dying to give him cards and presents. Never mind last year, and the year before that… and all the years before that when no one admitted his awesomeness… except that one time where a few jealous kids threw mud at him.

Caught up in his mental rant, Algol failed to defend when Misty snatched the offensive book from his hand. The lizard snickered. “Computer for Dummies? Well, at least you got something on your favorite holiday.” said Misty, handing the book back to Algol instead of tossing it because he knew the other saint would not try to catch it. Glancing behind the scowling Perseus, Misty raised an eyebrow at Dante who just walked out of the rundown cabin, looking as though he had gotten rid of a curse and a gift at the same time.

“Instead of pouting, why don’t you ask that dog over there?” said Misty, causing the cerberus saint to flinch. “It appears he knows something.”

“Dante? No way,” said Algol, waving his right hand as though shooing the possibility away. “With his level of intelligence, there’s no way.”

As Misty snickered, Dante raised an eyebrow. “What kind of intelligence do you people think I have?” said Dante, unsure if he should be feeling offended, since he was better with technology than both of them put together.

“The kind that dogs-- sorry I mean adults-- who play in muds have.”

“What?” spat the Cerberus, although he was well aware of his dirtied pants.“I wasn’t playing with mud, I was trying to help you!”

“By cleaning up or dragging mud all over the place?” said Algol, rolling his eyes.

Slapping his forehead, Dante sighed. “You know what, I don’t care anymore,” Turning on his mud-covered heel, the silver saint went back into the poor cabin.

“Hey! Wipe your shoes fir--” An almost wet object slammed into Algol’s face, although it was not heavy or even hard. Grabbing what seemed to be made of paper roughly, the Perseus saint glared at Dante, whose mocking eyes stared at him on a seemingly stone face. Algol clenched the muddy thing in his fist, feeling it crumpled, before actually looking at it. His anger creased.

“A letter?”

“From your mom.” said Dante, “It came with the book, but I think the mailman or whoever it delivered it was too careless to tie it to the package.” They should have known it was windy here during this time of the year after all.

“How do you know?”

Pulling out his phone and flashing the screen toward Algol, Dante said,“I’ve been in contact with her, and she told me she sent you a book-- yeah that one you got mad over, now start treating it more gently-- by mail.”

“Why the hell is she telling you these things?” said Algol as he pried open the crumpled letter. The book Computer for Dummies held between his left arm and his side.

Dante stared, frowning. So much for being a thoughtful present from a mother he hadn’t seen in years, the Cerberus thought. “She’s worried about you, since you never call or text or mail or email her.”

“I don’t have a phone.” said Algol absentmindedly as he tried to read the messy words, some of whose ink had mixed together due to having fallen in mud.

“Of course, you broke it the moment you received it.” said Dante, “But she knows could have used the computer in the library in Athens.” Or his phone really, but after what happened to that latest version phone, there was no way in hell Dante was going to let Algol lay a finger on his baby.

Algol glanced up, almost glaring yet not at his roommate. “What? You told her? Why? This is none of your business to begin with.” To be honest, the Perseus saint didn’t even know there was a library in Athens-- or at least not where it located-- much less knew it had computers.

“Dude, I’m your childhood friend, even before we came here.” said Dante as he thought Besides, she knows my number. His text message will be even more spammed if he didn’t answer her.

Algol’s eyes widen at the word “friend.” A faint blush almost coloring his cheeks as he started to speak. “Hey, I--”

Crunch.

All heads turned toward Misty, who was in the middle of adding more popcorns into his mouth. “What? Don’t stop on my account, keeping going.”

Dante and Algol looked at each other, almost mirroring their childhood selves as understanding passed wordlessly between them. In unison, the two turned toward Misty, who had stopped chewing.

“Hey, our cabin could use a little more decoration right?” asked Dante, willing his cloth onto his body, Algol did the same, and the silver parts of both armors shimmered as Algol replied.

“Yeah, a stone statue would look great in that corner next to the closet. Its emptiness has been bothering me for a while now.”

[regina-del-cielo]

Saint FFic Fest OCs - The Queen’s Revenge

So, posting it immediately ‘cause I’m a ‘tomorrow starts in ten minutes’ type. First time I write of these OCs and I hurt them. I’m a horrible person. ç__ç

@saint-ffic-fest-blog

Universe: [SS U] Character(s): Cassiopeia Pallas (OC), Columba Antigone (OC), Cepheus Albiore Scenery: Hebrides Islands, Scotland (flashbacks are set on Andromeda Island) Length: 2,524 words Category: Angst, romance Plot Summary: The civil war between Saori Kido and the Sanctuary is at its apex. Saints are taking sides and putting their lives in line. Pallas, under advice from Antigone and her long-time friend Albiore, has chosen Saori. She has to live up to her choice, but may lose a lot in the process... OPTIONAL: Albiore is older than his age in canon - the same age as Pallas; also, before becoming real Saints trainees keep their given names, different from the ones we know them for. Hope it doesn’t get confusing.

That moonless night was the darkest ever seen on the island.

The silence was barely broken only by the quiet, almost sad song of the waves coming and going, crashing over the rocky shores without strength, seemingly afraid to wet them. The sea and the sky had no boundary to divide them, the same infinite blackness uniting water and air. Even the stars couldn’t break the endless obscurity, their usual shine damped by the same sadness the ocean was feeling.

Pallas was sitting on her knees, facing south east, Cassiopeia’s Pandora Box resting beside her, its usual silvery glow now almost absent. Her ebony black hair, surprisingly untied, fell on her shoulders like a cape, slightly covering her lowered face. The mask she was supposed to wear was on her thighs, surrounded by her long fingered hands, painted silver against calloused skin. Its expressionless eyes looked back at her own golden ones, usually sparkling with emotion and fire, but that now were dry and showed no apparent feeling.

Her thumbs traced by heart the intricate decorations on the mask’s forehead, remembering every single movement made to draw them, so many years ago. It would be impossible for her to forget the day she’d first painted it, as much as she’d never be able to forget the day she’d received the red hijab covering her neck.

His gift.

 It had been a surprisingly mild spring day on Andromeda Island. It was her fourteenth birthday and she considered the sweet sea breeze and the slightly covered sun to be the greatest present she could receive. Nestor, her master, had allowed her and Juan to train for less hours that day, as he usually did on their birthdays: it was just the three of them on the island and he knew well the need of his young trainees to rest sometimes. In any case, Juan had looked far too distracted to train correctly anyway. The blond Argentinean had seemed positively trembling with impatience, constantly darting his gaze towards the bay facing the main land.

“Juan, what is it with you today? I can hardly get you to move!” She’d complained, huffing loudly behind her mask.

He’d looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. “O-oh... I’m sorry, Mariam, I was just checking if Ahmed had gotten here yet...”

She’d raised her eyebrow in a very sceptical expression he hadn’t seen, but he’d known her well enough to guess it.

“What is it that you need so much from the main land that you can’t stay focused for more than thirty seconds?” She’d wondered, putting her hands on her hips.

He’d smiled in a secretive way, his sky blue eyes shining in a way that had filled her stomach with butterflies.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll see when he comes.”

Ahmed had arrived just before sunset, while Mariam had been preparing a frugal dinner for herself, Juan and their master, so she hadn’t had occasion to greet the Somali fisherman that brought food, letters and other indispensable materials to Saints living on the island.

Later that night, Juan had paid a visit to her in her room, his hands hidden behind his back, a nervous smile on his handsome face. Mariam had waited for him to cross the room and reach her by the bed before asking him what was going on.

His only answer came in the form of a small package wrapped in brown paper.

“Happy birthday, Mariam.”

She’d taken it, already moved by the fact that he’d gone all that way just to buy her a present... and had to block a gasp from escaping her mouth when said gift had fallen on her knees in a pool of red silk.

“I noticed that your hijab is all tattered so I thought you’d like a new one... and you told me once that sunset red is your favourite colour...” He’d mumbled, slightly blushing.

She’d gingerly taken the piece of cloth with the tips of her fingers, almost afraid to ruin it with her touch, ignoring for once the fact that Juan couldn’t pronounce ‘hijab’ correctly. She’d let it slide along her palms, marvelling at its softness and shininess. The last time she’d seen such a work of art in fabric form had been when she’d still be living with her family, as a child...

But that gift had a greater importance to her.

Much greater.

“Do... do you like it?” He’d asked, almost worried.

She’d answered by hugging him fiercely, surprising him.

“I love it, Juan! Thank you... thank you so much!” She’d said, her voice breaking with emotion. Juan had hugged her back, sighing in relief.

 Pallas bit her lip, closing her eyes all of a sudden. She’d believed she’d exhausted all her tears hours before, but apparently she could still shed some. A drop fell on the mask, sliding down the metal cheekbone to wet her thumb. She raised a hand to put it in front of her mouth, hoping to stop a sob threatening to rise from her throat.

Taking a shaky breath, she raised her eyes towards the sky, her gaze immediately finding her constellation, the never-setting Cassiopeia. It was bleaker than usual, its stars twinkling with less strength, in tune with the extreme sadness of her own Cosmos. Cepheus, right beside it, was almost impossible to see, as if engulfed by the darkness surrounding it; even the Milky Way couldn’t bring its brightness back.

She couldn’t believe it.

She couldn’t possibly understand how she would live without feeling Albiore’s gentle Cosmos in the back of her mind, knowing that she could reach out and touch it with her own whenever she felt like it.

That she’d never see his handsome face anymore, never hear his deep voice again, touch his shoulders, or his golden hair...

That she’d never be able to take her mask off in front of him and tell him that she loved him.

His eyes would never scan her face, taking in every detail of her skin and traits. She’d never be able to kiss him.

She should have taken the occasion when it had presented itself, years before.

 The decorations on her mask had faded. She’d checked it thoroughly on her Cloth’s mirror despite the slight guilt in using her armour for such a mundane task.

“Pallas? Is everything alright?” Albiore had asked, sitting beside her on a rock. She’d huffed good-naturedly.

“You know you can still call me Mariam, don’t you?” She’d replied, letting the Silver Cloth detach from her body and recompose itself inside its Box.

“Yeah, but I like your new name too.” He’d answered, smiling slightly.

“I need to repaint my mask, the ink has faded.”

“Is it so important?” He’d asked, genuinely confused.

“We’ve been to the Sanctuary, you’ve seen how the masks are a way to distinguish a female Saint from another. Yes, it’s important.” Pallas had retorted.

He’d noticed all the painting material resting near her feet. “May I watch?”

“I have to take the mask off, Albiore. This could pose a problem, you know...” She’d mused, her voice taking a dubious undertone. “But... I may have an idea! Turn around and don’t look until I tell you, ok?”

He’d turned, chuckling slightly. She’d taken her mask off, grabbed her hijab and twisted it around her hair and neck, but instead of leaving her face out she’d taken a piece of it and tucked it across her face, as to leave only her eyes out.

“Ok, I’m done!”

He’d turned his head again and had smiled at her resourcefulness. “So that’s how you wear it?”

“No, actually. It should leave the face out, but in this case I’ve done an exception!”

He’d nodded, then had settled quietly and looked at her intently while she’d dipped a small brush in night blue ink and traced complex patterns over the mask’s forehead and cheeks.

After finishing, she’d seemed ready to put it back, but he’d stopped her gently.

“Please, wait. I... I’d really like to see your eyes.” He’d whispered.

It had taken a couple of moments for Pallas to register the request, but then she had gingerly accepted. She’d turned her face towards him, raising her eyes to meet his.

He’d looked at her so intensely she’d felt shivers running down her back. It was a completely new experience that had taken her by surprise.

“Tienes ojos tan lindos, Mariam...” He’d murmured, switching to his native language for the first time in years. She’d learned enough of it to know that he liked what he was seeing. A fierce blush had raised to her cheeks, and she’d been grateful for the coverage the hijab granted her.

For an instant, she’d been tempted to just let that edge of  silky cloth fall, disclosing her face to him. They were alone on the Island, after all and had known each other since childhood...

But then he’d smiled, thanked her for the honour and raised from his sitting position, walking away. To give her some privacy, he’d said.

He’d never asked to see her eyes again.

 A feathery touch around her shoulders brought her out of her sobbing haze. Milky white, slender arms gently engulfed her upper body, and a whiff of freshly-mowed grass reached her nostrils.

“I’m so sorry, Pallas.”

Pallas sighed deeply, drying her tears and turning slightly to meet Antigone’s dark blue eyes, looking at her with deep sadness.

“It isn’t your fault, Antigone.” She murmured, her voice made raw by crying. “You can’t control your visions.”

“I had seen the signs. I’d read it in the stars... We could have warned them, had I seen it sooner you could have gone back and helped them...” the Columba Saint retorted, her voice slightly breaking in the process.

Pallas put a hand over Antigone’s ones, interrupting her rambling.

“Antigone, please. I already feel bad enough for it. You did much more than you could think, honey.”

The younger woman stood silent, sliding down beside her teacher. Those were the moments she hated the power the Columba constellation had given her. Clairvoyance wasn’t an easy weight to carry on her shoulders and sometimes  the visions became so unbearable... It had been horrible for her to watch her strong, apparently unbreakable master crumble down in despair when Cepheus had dissolved, killed by the power of the golden Pisces. He’d died for having believed his pupil over the Pope; he’d been right, but would probably always be remembered as a traitor. She could hardly imagine how Pallas could be feeling about this.

Pallas looked at the stars again for a few minutes, before talking again.

“They will come for us too, won’t they.”

Antigone’s eyes closed in pain. The signs had been terrible... she’d suffered physically while interpreting them.

“The Sanctuary is arranging for war. Dissidents aren’t allowed... we’ll be attacked too. Most probably tomorrow, the day after at latest. It depends if the Pope wants to see if we’ll surrender after knowing what happens to those who don’t side with him... that part is a bit confused.”

“It’s irrelevant. I won’t change my mind. I’d disrespect all I’ve ever believed in, all Albiore’s ever believed in. The Pope is an imposter and as a Saint it is my duty to stay on Athena’s side. You said she’s with those young Japanese Bronze Saints... I trust you. You never failed.” Pallas retorted, her voice suddenly sounding as strong as iron. Her Cosmos was slightly recovering its power, Cassiopeia’s stars twinkling a little more above their heads.

“I won’t make you stay here if you don’t want to, though. I won’t blame you for wanting to get to safety... you’d be more useful to our Goddess alive than dead. I’m already older than most Saints, I’m not afraid to die...” She mused, looking at her hands.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pallas.” Antigone interrupted her, severely. “None of us will leave you here alone. You taught us better than leaving a comrade behind. We’re all in this together and if it’s our destiny to perish in this fight we’ll do it side by side. And after all, if they’re going to send us a Gold Saint, we’ll have more possibilities if it’s the six of us against one.”

Pallas couldn’t help smiling. “Indeed I have taught you well. Thank you.”

Antigone smiled softly, before raising and going back to the trainees’ building. If they were going to fight, they were going to need a good night’s sleep. Maybe the stars would send her another vision that may help them.

Pallas didn’t go to bed. Her gut feelings told her that whoever the traitorous Pope would send to kill them, would attack as soon as possible and probably arrive when they’d be most vulnerable. She needed to be ready; she was the Island’s master, and the Saint of highest rank in there. It was her responsibility to be on the first line of fight and protect the other girls, no matter what Antigone could say.

For the first time in years, she prayed as she’d been taught as a child; asked for strength to whatever divinity may be over the stars, and hoped that Athena would help her even as a simple driving force.

When the sky greyed slightly, finally dividing heaven and water, the stars setting behind the horizon to let a new day rise, she got to her feet, taking a deep breath.

“Albiore... Juan... I’ll fight for you too. Watch out for me.” She whispered, her fists closing, before putting her mask back on her face.

She watched as the sky became lighter and lighter, unmoving as greyish blue became lilac, pink, and then red and yellow. She deeply inhaled as the first sunrays caressed the waves, reaching out to her feet, knees, hips, chest, face and hair. If this was going to be her last day on Earth, she wanted to enjoy it completely.

She’d make sure to bring some enemies down with her anyway.

The Cassiopeia’s Cloth shivered inside its Box, humming in tune with its owner’s Cosmos. It was seething, ready for battle.

Pallas didn’t care if the Pope sent the strongest Gold Saint; he could come there in person, she wouldn’t step down.  It was a question of principle, that went over the whole betrayal issue. It went even over Athena’s safety.

It would be her own pain that would push her forward, that would make her rise time and again, whirling her chains even when her arms would be crying for a stop. Pain that could become anger, a rage that only a woman in love could feel. Her tears would be the fuel to nurture the fire of her Cosmos.

She was Cassiopeia. Albiore had been Cepheus. They’d been the Queen and the King.

The traitors had killed the King. And his Queen would avenge him, be it the last thing she did.

They would taste her bitter, burning cold wrath.

They would taste the Queen’s revenge.

And it wasn’t going to be pretty for them just because she was a woman.

Let them come.

She was ready.

End note: Hope you liked it! ^-^

[saint-ffic-fest-blog]

SAINT FFIC FEST - ESPAÑOL || OCs V2

About - Ask - Masterposts - English - Français ¡Bienvenidos al Saint FFic Fest! 

¿Cómo están todos? ¿Cómo va su 2017? ¡Estamos muy contentos de decirles que hemos estado actualizando el blog para hacer este Fest algo mejor que el año pasado! Esta bien enviar preguntas si no entienden algo. Esperamos tener todo listo este mes. ¡Pero de todos modos! ¡Nuestro primer Fest en 2017! Impresionante, ¿no? ¡Vayamos al punto entonces!

Esta vez el tema será ...

¡PERSONAKES ORIGINALES V2!

Decidimos comenzar con algo de viejos fests. Ya hemos tomado los personajes originales como un tema, y ​​una vez más PORQUE ES INCREÍBLE. Así que tomen sus bebés originales y vamos a hacer esto ~

Ahora, decidimos hacer algo relajado, ¿saben? Sólo para disfrutar de la escritura sobre los personajes de Saint Seiya y sus OCs, es por eso que damos un...

SLICE OF LIFE

Quiero una rebanada de pizza ahora. ¡Este será el tema! El día a día, ya sea en una UA, en el Universo Saint Seiya, la vida fuera o dentro del Santuario / Asgard / Hades / Atlantis. Depende totalmente de ustedes. Recuerden también que pueden preguntar a sus amigos si pueden usar uno de sus OC y dar crédito adecuado en el fic.

Y AHORA EL...

RETO

Todos pueden participar, y si no quieren entrar en el reto pueden escribir sobre el tema respetando las reglas y subir su drabble como “free writer”

Si quieren participar en el reto, por favor envíanos lo siguiente por IM/ask/fanmail:

     1. Personaje (s): Pueden elegir entre uno hasta tres personajes. Ellos serán los que interactuarán con los OCs de la persona que reciba este paquete.      2. Momento del día y/o Clima: Mañana, tarde, noche, hora de la cena, hora del té. ¿Está lloviendo, soleado, frío, muy caliente para este mundo? El escritor tiene que hacer referencia en algún punto sobre esto.       3. Tema: Amistad, amor, tristeza, la última película que vieron, las noticinas, incluso el mismo clima. Puedes enviar RANDOM para darle libertad al escritor.

ENVIAR EL PAQUETE ANTES DEL : Lunes, 13 de Marzo, 11:00 pm (gtm -6:00)

SHOW DAY! Viernes, 31 de Marzo

PUBLICA TU TRABAJO CON LA SIGUIENTE INFORMACIÓN (incluso si participas o no en el Reto) Incluso si es un link a otra página web.

Universo: [ AU o SS U ] Personaje(s): Momento del día y/o Clima:

Tema: Largo del texto: *Categoría: ¿Es sobre angst, romance, amistad…? *Sinopsis: Una descripción rápida de tu historia. *OPCIONAL

¡¡SIGUE LEYENDO PARA SABER LAS REGLAS Y ALGUNOS PUNTOS IMPORTANTES!!

En la noche del DOMINGO 12 voy a hacer una lista de las personas que han enviado sus paquetes. Asi se aseguraran que su paquete fue enviado correctamente.

Las reglas y reminders estan aquí. Por favor léenlas. Nota: Si es posible, por favor envíenos la información de su OC ANTES DEL SHOW DAY! Si los tienen en el blog de @ss-oc, está totalmente bien, etiquétenos o envíenos el enlace a la publicación. ¡Agreguen también este link al fic para que la gente tenga una idea de su OC!

 Tags que se usarán;

#Saint FFic Fest #Saint FFic Fest Life #Saint FFic Fest 2016 #Saint FFic Fest Español, English o idioma utilizado en caso de que seas un Free Writer

Los primeros dos son necesarios, los otros son opcionales

Cualquier noticia o cambio/adición de algo, será posteado en el tag de #Saint FFic Update

Preguntas / ideas para temas en el futuro pueden ser enviadas en cualquier tiempo en el askbox. Serán contestados tan rápido se pueda.

¡GRACIAS POR SU TIEMPO! ¡DISFRUTEN!

[wild-e-art-e]

Sunset || Saint FFic Fest CELEBRATION

So here we go! I’m happy to had this package, I normally write comedy with these characters so I decided to be a piece of poop and write angst :) hehe but indeed I’m proud in how it finished ^^ I hope you enjoy it as well! Oh and I decided to leave in surprise who are the characters xD but you will see soon after the READ MORE

Universe: [ SS U ] Character(s): ??? Scenery: The Beach Length: 2868 Category: Angst - Friendship

                            “I can’t believe we are here.”

              With such warm weather and the sound of the waves hitting the shore, even some people laughing for their happiness and fun and the sweet smell of the sea… he was angry. Some people might say “well, nobody order him to be there, it was his decision.” But the big problem was that indeed someone order him to go to that Italian beach.

              “Oh, c’mon.” a man had sunglasses and his hair held in a bun while drinking something that looked like piña colada. “You better believe it and begin to enjoy it!” he then sighed and stretch himself to fix his arms at the back of his head. “Do we need to call our boss and tell her to order you to have fun?”

              The first man was sit down, very straight, in one of those beach chairs. He was seeing around and realized there wasn’t so much people around. Some kids here and there with their families and even some couples holding hands.

              “Really, when was the last time you took holidays?” a third man was using a big hat over his own face and still with the eyes closed as if he was sleeping minutes ago.

“Well... we are the three Judges in the hell. How in the world you think we have holidays?”

Wyvern Radhamantys didn’t look so happy, he even looked very anxious for being there. So many duties, things to do, souls to punish... but they were in the beach!

“Hadn’t you?” Garuda Aiacos drink more from his piña colada and laughed. “Do you know we can have holidays?”

“How?” Radhamantys asked. “We are very important; our job is important!”

“When was the last time you had holidays, Aiacos?” Griffon Minos removed the hat and sat down to hold his own drink.

Both of the Judges saw him. They still couldn’t with that new style of his hair.

“Remind me why did you cut your hair.” Aiacos asked.

“Because it is his stupid tradition after every holy war.” Radhamantys answered to then stand up and see the other two.

“You should shave that thing over your eyes.”

This time Aiacos and Minos laughed, but their companion was in silence crossing his arms.

“Anyway, you asked me when I had the last holiday.” the Garuda Saint began to think about it. “Oh, I remember now. Sometimes I take free days but the real holidays were years after the last Holy War, after we fixed all, I decided to go to Greece.”

“What? Oh, I see.” The British Judge smiled. “You went to spy our enemies?”

“No?” Aiacos chuckled. “The first Olympic Games were way more interesting. Spy our enemies? Really, stop thinking about the work...” he finished his drink and pushed softly to Minos to ask him the same question.

The last judge smiled and fixed a bit his now short hair as if he was happy to think about his last memories.

“I took some days around in the North America.” he explained. “August 15th, 1969. You know, a little concert.”

“Oh, yeah, you can take holidays more often because Lune.” Aiacos sighed.

“Even Lune has holidays.” Minos quickly pointed to Radhamantys, who was still a bit anxious. “Do you ever know about nowadays celebrations? You never go out of the Hades.”

“Why do you want immortality if you only smell the air from that place?” Aiacos stood up to came close to his companion. “Why don’t you enjoy a bit?”

The Wyvern Spectre saw them as if they were crazy. He had his reasons to never go out of that place, and he really thought his duty was important.

“You both are crazy. We should be doing our work; we are important in this world.” he then pointed to a man swimming in the water. “That guy can die and he will spend years and years waiting for his place in the Hades just because we enjoy some minutes here. Now imagine how many centuries he will wait because we spend an hour or even days.”

The other two Judges saw each other as if they couldn’t understand Radhamantys.

“How many lives we had being working as Judges?” Minos said. “Do you really want to keep in the past? Just being a Judge? Can’t you remember your first time as human...”

“When you took my throne?”

“Ok, not that.” Minos quickly said. “Just... forget that one. Maybe you remember the other ones?”

“I don’t know you, but I had enjoyed more this one.” Aiacos smiled. “It was a good idea born away from Europe, I learnt new thing.” he then began to walk as if he didn’t mind the others. “This body is almost finishing, I give it some more centuries, maybe one more Holy War. Then maybe I should born in America.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Minos came close to Radhamantys. “Look, I remember you are always working. You had never enjoyed so many years as mortal... it looks like you only want to be a Judge and that’s all.” he moved his shoulders as he didn’t mind. “We will live forever, try to make nice memories of those lives.”

“You must be kidding me.” the Wyvern really looked angry when his brother finished talking. “You don’t know about my other lives, you weren’t there very often, sometimes you born in a different place. The last time you even left home earlier. We only see each other when we finally remember who we are and die!”

Garuda Aiacos came close to them and scratched his head looking at this man.

“You don’t want to live, right?” he said in the end.

“What?” Minos asked. “How do you know?”

“He is suffering.” Aiacos patted Wyvern’s back, this made him got even angrier. “I told you, I learnt new things, and one thing is that life doesn’t need to be always a suffer. I mean, your soul will spend centuries in that phase, at least if you are not from other believes.” he then turned around as he wanted to whisper to himself. ���Stupid Virgo Shaka...” to then smiled to them. “But, as I say, I think our good brother had a terrible past life before this one.”

“I just remember you were from...” Minos suddenly opened his eyes widely. “Radhamantys, sorry... I just forgot.”

“Just shut up.” he said angry. “You know what? Tomorrow early I will go back to the Hades. I don’t care if Pandora wants to yell at me, I will go back!”

Before any of the Judges could say something, Wyvern Radhamantys left their side and began to walk away. Garuda and Griffon just decided to see him go, with that anger hitting the sand with strong steps like he had still his armour over.

“I don’t remember.” Aiacos said to Minos.

“He was from Italy before this life.” he sighed seeing his mistake. “I don’t even remember his name, but the thing is that something happened. But it doesn’t matter, he does remember it and for sure that was enough to make him always enjoy be in the Hades more than here.”

“Tonight, tonight we will help him.” the Garuda smiled and patted as well Minos’ back. “You will see; he will forget all.”

Griffon Minos smiled seeing the positive aura that had Aiacos, even if they were Judges they let themselves be more human. But then he realized something. Radhamantys and Aiacos always changed their side of the planet to judge every reincarnation, this time Aiacos decided to born in Nepal because was the time to judge the East, so...

“Why ‘stupid Virgo Shaka’?”

“Oh, no, don’t make me think about the reincarnation, Nirvana and Buddha!” Aiacos almost yelled. “Better let’s go for some piña coladas, that’s better. Yes, happy thoughts.”

-

It was close seven at night and the sun already was gone, that’s why the two spectres, Minos and Aiacos, were enjoying a fireplace on the sand. The first one smiled seeing that Radhamantys arrived, while the second just stand up from the rocks he was sit down.

“What do you need?” The Wyvern asked crossing his arms. “Tomorrow I will go, doesn’t matter what you say.”

“Well…” Aiacos smiled as he came close. “Sit down, let’s have a beer. It is a good English beer, by the way, so don’t need to worry.”

The man just saw how the Garuda held a cold beer to give it to him, and he didn’t mind and accept it and sit down in one of the chairs that was close to the fire. It was weird to feel such warm air around their skins, but still the coldness of being death.

“So, which was your original name?” Aiacos smiled. “I don’t remember mine.”

“Mine was Bjorn.” The Griffon answered trying to keep the play of his friend.

“I don’t know.” Radhamantys sighed. “Well, was something like William.”

“Then you know.” The black haired man laughed to then sit at his side. “Before that, I remember.” He could see how the other was a bit angry now. “I was born in Russia and my name was Ivan.” Then Aiacos decided to do it. “What about you, Rhada?”

“Don’t call me like that… and I don’t remember.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you were here, isn’t? In Italy.”

In that instant Radhamantys stood up and threw the beer to the fire. Aiacos was still smiling and Mino didn’t mind in even move from his place. The Wyvern look furious to then look at his brother.

“Did you tell him?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because Aiacos is worried. Just answer him and he will shut up.”

“Man, I’m still here.” He said as he stood up as well. “So? Rhada?”

The Wyvern took a deep breath and saw around. Nobody but them were on the beach and he could hear the sound of the ocean, the palm trees as the air was moving them and once again felt that warm feeling around his skin.

“My name was Raffaele, and yes I lived here in Italy in the other life. Before this one.”

“And why do you hate being here?” Minos asked. “I mean; I remember something happened but I can’t remember what. I even decided was the last time I born with you.”

“You wasn’t there, how could you remember?”

Once again, Radhamantys took his sit and began to see the fire. He was thinking in how to say it, in how to explain why he was feeling human after so long.

“In Russia there was this woman who sold some delicious bread.” Aiacos began to talk. “And she was always angry at me because I was trying to stole them. I just remember that… but then I remembered it was because I was hungry and that was how I got sick.” He snuffled before continue. “My health was terrible and I died. Bam! Suddenly I had all my memories from being Aiacos, the Garuda Spectre and one of the Three Judges.”

“I didn’t die here.” Radhamantys now decided to speak, as the Garuda’s plan worked. “My father was a fisherman and he had some boats. Sometimes I would help him, some other he would ask me to sell the fish. But there was another man.”

“Now I remember that.” Minos said. “He was good friend of our family and you and their son were the best friend ever. I so remember I hated when you didn’t let me play with you both…” then the Griffon turned to see Radhamantys. “oh…”

“We decided to go and fish something without our parents knowing. He died. And it was my fault. He cut himself with a knife I had because we were fighting about some stupidity, and then he fell down from the boat and I remember I was scared and wanted to help him. But no, I didn’t. He was tied from the fish net and tried to swim back to the boat.”

The three Judges were in silence for a bit, enjoying the sound of the sea. Garuda Aiacos took another beer and opened it to give it to Radhamantys. Once again he accepted but didn’t drink anything and just played a bit with the bottle.

“Do you remember his name?”

“Andrea.”

“And then what happened? Why was he so important?”

“C’mon, Aiacos.” Minos sighed. “I told you, they were best friends since kids. I must admit, they were like brothers.”

“Yes, he was.”

“So that’s why you are such an angry man?”

Radhamantys saw him with such anger that he realized Aiacos wasn’t lying. But he didn’t remove his smile to give a sip to his beer.

“What do you want me to say?” The Wyvern asked. “That I should forget him? He was the only and last human I loved, at least the one I remember.”

“And you don’t want to forget him.” Aiacos sighed. “You don’t need to, Rhada. But just enjoy, you know? I bet he made you very happy, it is the first time I hear you say you love someone. And he was like your brother, he made you all like this. Then… why not celebrate that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yes, celebrate his friendship.” Aiacos smiled and Minos didn’t wait to do the same.

“We are always surrender by death, it is nice to remember that we were alive and that we will be once again and we will forget all.” Minos laughed. “Then we will die again and remember all. So Aiacos is right. You remember him, then let’s celebrate him.”

“You both are stupid and crazy.”

“And you are sane and can’t enjoy anything.” Aiacos said kneeling down to be in the same height that Radhamantys. “Andrea had bad taste in friends.”

The Wyvern just saw around. The warm beach, the nice smell of the sea, the fire and some cold beers. For a minute or two he was in silence remembering those good times as if he had them a week ago; running in the sand, swimming, eating and drinking with his friend and brother. He had the sadness that couldn’t remember the faces of all those, not even his own face in that life, but Radhamantys could remember those nice moments and feelings like it was a movie.

After those minutes of silence, he and Aiacos stood up. But now was smiling.

“Fuck everything. You two are stupid and crazy, I will not let you enjoy without me.” He then held his beer in the air. “For Andrea and his friendship.”

“For all those who I can’t remember but I’m sure let me enjoy my other lives.” Aiacos did the same with his own beer.

“And for all those ladies I kissed and those men I…” Minos held two beers and then kept in silence. “And the friendship, friendship is always good.”

Aiacos was laughing so hard with the face Minos did, but Radhamantys just kept with that tiny smile and moved his head. After that they gave a drink to their beers and sighed as if they were enjoying since the beginning.

Hours passed while the three Judges kept talking, enjoying some music that could heard in the background, maybe from a bar not so far; they talk kept going and going till the sunset was ready to begin. Wyvern Radhamantys, Griffon Minos y Garuda Aiacos, who was already smoking, were seeing it coming.

“Aren’t you going back to Hades?” Minos asked to Radhamantys.

“Are you kidding me?” he chuckled. “Nah, let’s keep the party. I know isn’t a party like the ones you had when you went to USA, but it is the first I have in centuries.”

“Want a party? I know a bar close to here that still open. Their music is nice and the girls are pretty.” Aiacos then saw Minos. “The boys too…”

“Shut up.” He laughed. “Anyway, I’m glad you feel better. But you still being the angry one.”

“You will never forget when I rawr, right?”

“It was funny.”

“Yeah, let’s move boys!” Aiacos yelled finishing his cigarette.

“Let me enjoy this, I didn’t remember how it was.”

Both Minos and Aiacos saw each other and then turned to see their friend. He was so calm, smiling and seeing the sunset as something he never saw in his life. They decided to came close as well and wait some minutes as the sun kept moving.

After all that small celebration, at least that’s how Radhamantys saw it, he was happy and enjoyed everything around him as never before.

“Finish…” he turned around keeping his smile.

“Hey, by the way.” Minos asked. “Would you both explain me what’s the problem with the Virgo Saints and the reincarnation?”

“That again?” Aiacos sighed.

“You know what, Minos? You go back to the hotel. That’s a way to break the party.”

“Oh, c’mon guys…” but they were already moving away from there. “At least explain me when we go back to Hades?”

As Minos was trying to run and be with Aiacos and Radhamantys, the music of the bar close to there was being turn off and the people arrived to enjoy the beach in such nice day in Italy.

[aqualianbird]

SAINT FFIC FEST - MUSIQUE

*English Version here*

   Je publie ceci tellement en retard que s’en n’est même plus embarrassant. Mais comme il vaut mieux tard que jamais, voici mon entrée pour le dernier Ffic Fest en date. Cela m’as prit autant de temps en partie parce que cette fois ci, je ne me suis pas laissée aller sur mon petit défi personnel : écrire le texte en anglais ET en français.

Commençons par les éléments du défi reçu :

Personnages : Mime et Fenrir Scène : La foret Instrument : Le chant Élément Musical : soit Wardruna soit Apocalyptica

Petit résume : J’ai écrit tout le texte comptant sur le dévoilement progressif des éléments de l’intrigue, aussi je vais me contenter d’énumérer quelques thèmes de la ffic : Amitié, Musique, Ce qui rapproche ou éloigne les hommes, Pressions Sociales.

Nbr de Mots : 6 504

   J’ai été absolument ravie d’avoir occasion d’écrire sur Mime. C’est mon personnage d’Asgard préféré, et en général l’un des seul à en avoir gagné le titre dès mon premier visionnage de la série (et à l’avoir conservé jusqu’à aujourd’hui). C’est même le premier pour lequel j’ai commencé à faire des hc. Ce fut un régal de revoir et développer ces premières idées léguées par le bleu que j’étais il y a six ans en ayant un peu plus d’expérience et quelques fic dans le dos, et je dois dire je suis plutôt fière du résultat (j’dis pas que c’est parfait, mais si je ne faisais qu’écouter le Perfectionnisme, je ne finirais jamais rien)

   J’ai été assez influencée par Xocowilde pour l’interprétation de Fenrir, et en particulier sa relation avec Thor, mais très vite il devint aussi naturel à écrire que Mime. De même, j’avais commencé cette fic en n’ayant que quelques détails et la situation initiale en tête, et très vite ce récit s’est mit pratiquement a s’écrire tout seul.

  Dommage que cela ne s’est pas appliqué aussi au titre

  Le thème du Fest était “Musique”, aussi je me suis efforcée d’inclure l’élément musical au maximum dans le récit, visant à ce que certains passage soient lut en écoutant le musique que vous allez trouver dans les liens. Lorsque deux paragraphes sont séparés par *** cela signifie que je vous encourage à arrêter la lecture un moment pour écouter la fin du morceau en vous imaginant Mime le jouant, et si une phrase se termine par --- d’arrêter le morceau complètement. J’admets que tout ceci était assez expérimental, et j’espère que c’est une expérience réussie.

  Maintenant nous allons sauter la partie des Conditions d’Utilisation pour enchaîner avec le récit propre.

DIAPASON

   La fourrure était douce et chaleureuse, contrastant avec l'air froid mordant ses doigts à chaque fois qu'il écartait une mèche de cheveux de son visage. La neige tombait doucement autour d'eux, en filaments clairsemés, mais constants; et pourtant, pas un seul flocon n'avait encore atteint le corps du loup. Pour une raison qui lui était inconnue, l'esprit du jeune homme était hanté par cette mélodie en particulier. Peut-être était-ce parce qu'il avait été entrain d'écouter du Wardruna lorsque son compagnon d'armes avait frappé à sa porte, ou peut-être était-ce parce que le motif mélancolique semblait se refléter dans la neige tombante. De temps à autre, le souffle du vent parvenait à se faufiler entre les arbres, faisant trembler la lanterne que tenait Fenrir. Plus déroutants, toutefois, étaient les nombreux yeux s'illuminant dans le noir en réponse aux oscillations de la lampe. Ce  n'était pas chose facile de concentrer entouré de tant de juges ...   Heureusement, Mime avait un bon aperçu de la situation à présent : l'animal étendu à ses pieds avait seulement besoin de quelques soins élémentaires. Le jeune homme s'empara de sa sacoche; il allait avoir besoin d'alcool et d'un petit quelque chose pour renforcer le système immunitaire de la bête afin de l'aider à combattre une légère infection. Il lui caressa le col, soucieux de garder la louve dans son état de transe, avant de désinfecter ses plaies.    ---   Mécontent d'observer son frère d'armes appliquer des onguents sur un membre de sa meute en silence, le jeune chef prit la parole :   - Alors. Tu vas la refaire tout bien ... n'est ce pas ?   - Tu sais bien que je ne suis pas vétérinaire, Fenrir, déclara Mime. Si tu voulais être rassuré, tu aurais dû faire appel à un.   - Oh ça va ... T'es quand même bon dans le genre !   - Cela ne vaut pas le savoir d'un professionnel. Tu es juste chanceux que ce soit bénin.   - Mais j'te l'ai déjà dit : il est hors de question que je demande d' l'aide à un humain. Plus-ja-mais. C'est pas comme s'ils étaient fiable de toute façon ... Il n'en fallait pas plus pour encourager le jeune meneur à élaborer sa pensée :   - Un vétérinaire humain pourrait essayer de faire des expériences sur elle ou comme ça ! Les humains n'ont vraiment aucun respect pour les animaux et la nature en général.   - Je suis un "humain" ...   - Tu ... Ben ... Oui. T'es humain. Mais toi, ça va : tu es un humain passable. Tu te comportes bien avec les animaux. P'is, la manière que tu l'as calmé avec la musique ... enfin, je veux dire, personne d'autre ne sait faire ça. Je suis certain qu'elle est aussi détendue que possible et qu'elle ne souffre pas trop là maintenant ...   Mime pesa les mots choisis par son camarade; tout comme les loups rôdant à l’extérieur du cercle illuminé par la lampe, Fenrir avait un instinct très protecteur envers sa meute - et apparemment, la force du désespoir n'avait pas été l'unique à l'œuvre derrière sa venue aux portes du musicien.   - Quand bien même, finit-il par répondre. Ce n'est pas dans mes fonctions. Tu ne peux pas débarquer chez moi comme ça sans prévenir.   - Mais, j'ai frappé avant d'entrer, et j'ai dit le mot magique ? Thor m'a dit qu'il fallait faire comme ça.Le jeune homme marqua une pause.   - Thor ?   La majorité des Guerriers d'Odin s’étaient à peine rencontrés avant la bataille contre les Chevaliers d’Athéna. Qui plus est, Mime n'avait absolument pas cherché à garder le contact avec ses camarades d'armes dans cette seconde vie qu'Odin leur avait octroyés. Aussi, il ne fit pas le lien avec le guerrier géant de Phecda de suite, leur Dieu du Tonnerre semblant être l'association d’idées la plus évidente.   - Ben oui, lui. Il connaît les manières des humains, n'est ce pas ?   Le jeune homme se demanda si Fenrir connaissait la mythologie de son propre pays.   - Tu veux donc dire, que tu as suivi les conseils d'un de ces humains peu fiables, brutaux et sanguinaires ?   Son camarade rougit.   - J'ai jamais dit ça ! Et en plus il est à moitié géant, donc pas très humain non plus ... Il est donc à moitié fiable ! Conclut Fenrir en relevant son menton.   - Contrairement à moi, qui est zéro pour cent fiable, et à qui tu fais pourtant appel pour soigner ta famille. Je me demande vraiment ce que "à moitié fiable" veut dire ...Fenrir bombarda le rouquin de neige.   - Tais-toi, tête de nœud !

  Bien entendu, il en fallait bien plus pour ébranler ne serait ce qu'un peu l'impassibilité du musicien, et c’était sans compter sur son investissement dans une tâche très importante.   - Doucement : tu pourrais la stresser. Ce n'est pas bon, le réveil brutal, après une transe ...   Le jeune meneur s'arrêta immédiatement; Mime, quant-à-lui, s'empara d'un petit tambour, sur les côtés duquel il entreprit de construire un rythme doux.   Afin d'assurer le réveil paisible de la louve, le jeune homme décida de jouer le même morceau que celui utilisé lors de la mise en transe plus tôt dans la soirée; une autre chanson de Wardruna, choisie en accord avec son tout dernier béguin musical.   En règle générale, tout homme sensé devrait s'abstenir d'interpréter seul des morceaux à l'instrumentation si riche. Mais le guerrier de Benetnach avait quelques atouts dans des manches que le commun des mortels n'avait même pas conscience d'avoir. Aussi, il maintint la cadence, confiant, enrichissant son rythme de base avec une cadence tout aussi douce frappée à la membrane, rappelant l'introduction originale de la chanson. Le musicien porta une attention toute spéciale à la louve couchée à ses pieds, pour le moment toujours prisonnière des bras de Morphée. La neige continuait de tomber autour d'eux, gardant sa sérénité, tandis que Fenrir s'asseyait à proximité, scrutant de ses yeux grand ouverts les moindres geste de son camarade (tout comme la première fois que Mime avait joué de sa lyre cette soirée). Cependant, petit à petit, tandis qu'il s’immergeait dans son jeu, le rouquin perdit conscience de tout ce qui se passait au delà de son voisinage immédiat, du vent qui berçait les quelques branches des arbres gelées aux loups bordant le petit cercle formé par la lumière de la lanterne.   Lorsqu'il se sentit connecté à sa "patiente", le jeune homme utilisa ses années d'entraînement rigoureux d'une manière que son père et ses compagnons d'entraînement aurait certainement condamné : il maintint la cadence de la percussion à l'aide de pressions sur la membrane qu'il initia régulièrement - avec son cosmos. Et étant donné qu'il utilisait l'air comme outil pour interagir avec la membrane du tambour au lieu de ses bras, rien n’empêchait les mains du musicien de jouer la mélodie du violon sur la lyre. C'était un tour que Mime employait souvent pour s'accompagner à la harpe et autres instruments.Le jeune homme se concentra une nouvelle fois sur la louve. Si la première fois il avait accentué les aspects rythmiques et répétitifs du morceau afin de guider son public vers l’état de transe, le rouquin comptait à présent jouer sur sa texture et son dynamisme, afin de graduellement reconnecter sa patiente à son environnement. Ce fut avec grand plaisir qu'il remarqua que l’animal réagissait déjà au son de sa lyre.

  Cependant, le plus difficile restait à venir.

  Jouer de la lyre et du tambour, ça, le jeune homme pouvait le faire les yeux fermés.

  Mais bientôt, il allait devoir aussi chanter.

  Non pas que les paroles de Solringen étaient particulièrement difficiles à mémoriser; la chanson était en grande partie composée des deux même vers répétés en canon par le chœur et le soliste. Ce qui ne voulait absolument pas dire que l'interprétation de ce morceau devait être considéré comme triviale, loin de la : nombreux sont ceux qui qualifierait l'acte de répartition de l'attention sur trois tâches différentes -dont une impliquant l'usage du cosmos, qui plus est- comme d’extrêmement audacieux. Non, la source des angoisses du musicien se trouvait ailleurs : peu importait qu'il connût les paroles par chœur, qu'il chantât dans la langue de son choix ou que chacune de ses notes fût juste; peu importait qu'il pût puiser dans ses nombreuses années d'expérience musicale, il lui manquerait toujours cet élément crucial au succès des chanteurs. Selon lui, Mime avait le timbre de voix le plus laid, le plus  monotone et  fastidieux  jamais entendu sur terre.

  Le jeune homme secoua sa tête. Comme tout bon musicien, il persista malgré ses doutes. Il essaya d'accentuer encore plus de sa cadence afin de compenser sa voix monotone, le tout sans oublier d'exécuter le crescendo le plus doux dont il était capable; il voulait que tout soit mené de manière parfaite à une apogée.

  Lorsqu'il sentit que la conscience du loup fut pleinement éveillée, Mime s'arrêta net. Un silence total régna sur la clairière. Ni même le vent ne se faisait entendre, et il sembla que la neige avait cessé de tomber. Ce fut comme si même les arbres avaient prêté leur attention au musicien pendent tout ce temps ...

  L'instant d’après, Mime entonna la glorieuse conclusion de la chanson. Sans aucun doute, c’était les mesures du morceau les plus exigeantes à interpréter, d'autan plus qu'il jouait seul. Avec la lyre, il fusionnait les parties du violon et des sopranos tandis qu'il récitait les paroles du chœur d'homme aussi fort que le bon goût le permettait, le tout sans négliger la cadence sur le tambour. Cette union exigeait une quantité de concentration immense : c'était à peine si le jeune homme eut conscience de la présence de quoi que ce soit d'autre que ses instruments. Il ne pouvait pas se permettre de manquer une seule note.Heureusement, cette phrase était intense mais courte; bientôt, Mime retrouva la construction de départ du morceau. S'il ne pouvait pas encore reprendre son souffle de manière littérale, il lui était rassurant d'interpréter ces mesures familières où le chœur de sopranos dialoguait avec le soliste, s'échangeant les mêmes vers sur l'été, le cercle du soleil et le chant du coq.   L'interprétation du morceau étant devenue moins exigeante en concentration, le jeune homme se rappela de contrôler l'état de sa "patiente", à présent complètement éveillée. À sa grande surprise, il trouva la louve toujours couchée à ses genoux en dépit de son autonomie regagné : elle n'avait pas bougé plus qu'il ne lui eût été nécessaire afin de voire le musicien jouer. Mime sourit. Le rouquin se prépara ensuite à jouer les dernières mesures du morceau, qu'il comptait interpréter exactement comme sur l'enregistrement officiel : d'abord, il arrêterait son tambour et sa lyre, enchaînant avec un decrescendo diffusant les deux derniers vers de la chanson.

                                                          ***

  Le silence retomba peu à peu sur la clairière. Peu à peu, Mime reprit conscience de ce qui l'entourait : la neige qui tombait sereinement, son camarade assis à sa droite, les autres loups qui s'étaient rapproché durant son récital, les arbres bercés par le vent, la chouette qui hululait au loin ...   Jusqu'à ce qu'une petite voix rapatria son attention à la clairière :   - Est-ce que tu pourrais jouer ça encore une fois ? S'il te plaît ?   Les joues du jeune meneur se teintèrent de rose.   - Les autres semblent adorer ça mais je suis le seul à pouvoir demander ...   Fenrir se gratta l'arrière du crâne et changea de position. Mime, lui, n'arrivait pas à déterminer si cette soudaine requête le surprenait ou pas. Mais au final, un sentiment unique éclipsa tous les autres : la curiosité. Après tout, le jeune homme avait toujours eu soif de savoir et en particulier dans le domaine de la psychologie du vivant.   - Seulement si tu m'expliques les vraies causes de ta sympathie pour Thor.   Son camarade bouda. Mime fixa son regard sur la mèche couvrant l'arête du nez du guerrier tandis que ce dernier restait immobile, le regard noir et les bras et les jambes croisées. Longtemps, le rouquin pensa que Fenrir n'allait pas céder et que par conséquent il serait bientôt de retour chez lui - une pensée qui ne lui déplaisait pas non plus.   - C'est un humain bien, o.k ? On dirait que c'est rare, mais que ça existe après tout. Ou peut être c'est parce qu'il est à moitié géant. Mais bon alors il est loyal, mais aussi un très bon chasseur. Donc dès fois, quand j'en ai vraiment vraiment besoin, je lui demande un peu d'aide. C'est pour la meute. Ça arrive que des périodes de chasse sont moins bonnes que les autres, mais quand trop de nourriture manque ... Enfin donc lui il fait toujours de son mieux pour aider et ne demande jamais rien en retour. Ce qui fait de lui un humain très bien. Pas un égoïste ou un cupide. Alors, tu vas jouer maintenant ?   Le jeune homme cacha son amusement en ajustant la position de son petit tambour.   - Et si je jouais quelque chose d'autre ? Il se pourrait que cette chanson te plaise aussi : c'est du même groupe. Elle s'appelle Pertho, et elle parle d'un festin de nains.

  Mime chassa encore une fois son éternel mécontentement face à ses capacités vocales et s'efforça à imiter de son mieux le timbre de voix qu'il aimait tant chez son idole. La clairière aida le musicien à reproduire l'atmosphère de la pièce grâce au petit écho avec lequel elle rendait le son de sa voix et de son tambour. Bien entendu, malgré son habilité, Mime ne pouvait remplacer un chœur entier à lui tout seul; aussi le jeune homme chanta les refrains un octave plus bas que le reste de la chanson pour compenser l'absence de vocalistes supplémentaires.

    Lors du second couplet, Mime déplaça sa main gauche de la percussion vers la lyre, faisant usage de son atout pour maintenir la cadence. Ledit couplet étant relativement court, il se retrouva très vite à chanter le refrain, cette fois-ci en s'accompagnant à la lyre. La mélodie était plutôt simple, mais là encore le défi résidait dans la quantité de concentration requise pour jouer harmonieusement les trois partitions différentes en même temps.   Si Mime avait tenu à jouer ce morceau en particulier, c'était parce que, contrairement à celui demandé, il se composait d'un solo à la lyre - l'occasion pour lui de briller. Étant dans sa zone de prédilection, le jeune homme pouvait faire usage de toute la subtilité et nuances dont son talent était capable.

  Le reste de la meute de rapprocha encore plus, comme hypnotisée par le virtuose. Quelques loup se couchèrent sur la neige tout près du musicien. Ce que Mime aimait le plus, c'était la manière dont certains penchaient leurs têtes ou remuaient leur oreilles en guise de réaction à sa performance; le jeune homme aimait à penser qu'il avait passé suffisamment de temps entouré d'animaux pour savoir que ces loups appréciait son rendu. Fenrir, lui, l'observait avec une fascination si intense et candide que le musicien ne pouvait trouver de comparaison qu'avec les comportements observées uniquement chez les plus jeunes enfants jusqu'à ce jour ...

                                                        ***

  Le morceau était plutôt court. Aussi, dès que le dernier accord eut finit de résonner,  Fenrir réclama :   - Encore !   - Ho la, pas si vite : ce n'est pas un concert non plus.   - Oui mais ... S'teu plaaît ?   Avec sa tête penchée, ses jambes enlacées dans ses bras et son regard limpide plongeant droit dans les yeux de son interlocuteur, le jeune meneur pouvait prétendre, en toute sincérité, à la maîtrise du regard de chien battu.   - Oh mais c'est vrai ! Fenrir se redressa brusquement. Je suis celui qui a une dette envers toi. Mais donc attend, peut-être que ça va aider ...   - Qu'es ce qui va aider ? Demanda Mime, perplexe.   Mais le guerrier de l'Aliot disparut entre les arbres. Il ne revint que quelque minutes plus tard avec une sorte de boîte en plastique.   - Alors, tu peux bien sûre me demander n'importe quelle faveur -il expliqua en amorçant un freinage brutal dans la neige.- Mais entre temps, laisse-moi te montrer un peu d'hospitalité ! Tiens, c'est un goûter royal ça !   Fenrir présenta fièrement un morceau de viande crue. Un poil plus large que sa main, d'une couleur semblable à du vin rouge et d'une forme que le musicien qualifierait "d'indescriptible", la chose sembla capter l'intérêt du reste de la meute tandis qu'elle mettait l'impassibilité de Mime à rude épreuve. Le rouquin ne voulait pas savoir en quoi ce morceau était "royal"; il pensait que si la chose ne dégoulinait pas de sang, c'était uniquement parce que le fluide avait gelé.   - Je n'ai pas faim, merci, finit-il par articuler en essayant de contrôler son dégoût.   - Oh ... euu oui, ça arrive. Je devrais avoir quelque chose pour l'hospitalité qui ne soit pas du manger ... Ah trouvé ! Thor m'as donné ça la dernière fois.   Le jeune meneur tenait deux bouteilles de bière à présent.   - C'est bon pour l'hospitalité, ça, hein ?   Mime examina les bouteilles : l'étiquette trahissait leur origine exceptionnelle. Après la première expérience, des biens acquis auprès de l'une des meilleures brasseries d'Asgard était la dernière chose qu'il s'attendait à voire sortit de cette boîte ...   - En effet, c'est plus qu'acceptable.   Le jeune homme ouvrit les deux bouteilles pour réduire le risque de rentrer chez lui les vêtements imbibés de bière.   - Tu dois vraiment passer beaucoup de temps avec Thor, observa-t-il.   - J'ai pas dit ça ! Arrête de faire ça !!   - Eh bien, tu n'arrêtes pas de parler de lui. Par ailleurs, ce sont deux bière de haute qualité : soit vous passez beaucoup de temps ensemble, soit Thor est d'une générosité hors du commun ... ou juste vraiment naïf.   - Mais ! J'te l'ai dit : c'est un humain vraiment bien. Pas comme toi apparemment, Fenrir bouda.   Le rouquin retint un sourire narquois.   - J'ai perdu mon statut d'humain "passable" ?   - Oui. Je pensais que tu en étais un, mais tu n'arrêtes pas d'être méchant.   - Ah, vraiment ?   - Ouais. Tu fais ...Fenrir s’arrêta net.- Tu n'arrêtes pas de ... Quand tu parles de ...   Tandis que sa frustration s’intensifiait, une curieuse grimace grandit sur le visage de Fenrir, rappelant chaque seconde un peu plus le grognement d'un chien.   - Tu aaaaaas ...Il était clair qu'il avait du mal à exprimer verbalement ses pensées.- J'ai blessé un membre de ta meute ?   - Quoi ?! Non ... - il vérifia rapidement l'état de ses compagnons- Non, ce n'est pas ça.   - Je t'ai insulté ?   - Euu ...non. Pas vraiment ça non ...   - Hmm ... Qu'ai-je donc bien pu faire ? Demanda le jeune homme feignant la concentration.   - C'est pas aussi grave que comme dans les exemples que tu as donné. Mais tu as été très embêtant ! Tu n'arrête pas de dire des trucs que j'ai pas dit comme si c'était la vérité !   - Me suis-je trompé quelque part ?   Le jeune meneur bouda encore une fois.   - Eh bien ... non ... Mais - Oh, mais tu vois ? Tu l'as encore fait ! Arrêté d'être embêtant !   Mime gloussa.   - Ça s'appelle taquiner. C'est ce que je faisais : je te taquinais. Je t'embête un peu en exposant de vérités que tu voudrais garder cachées.   Fenrir pondéra cette déclaration.   - Ouais ... Pourquoi tu fais ça ? Tu vas arrêter ou pas ?   - Pourquoi cherches-tu à cacher ces choses ?   Cette fois, au lieu d'afficher ses habituels signes d'agacement, le guerrier de l'Aliot se contenta de lancer un regard noir à son invité.   - Je crois que je comprends ... Tu sais les réponses, mais tu aimes à voire les autres devenir embrassés ... C'est très humain comme comportement de ta part, conclut-il en plissant les yeux.   Le musicien de son côté, eut un sourire narquois; en effet, il prenait beaucoup de plaisir à observer les réactions de son camarade.   - En partie oui ... mais derrière tout ça, je cherche également la réponse à une question légitime : pourquoi l'humanité ment-elle autant ?   Mime caressa la louve couchée à ses pieds.   - Les liens, les relations humaines, on en trouve de toutes les formes et les couleurs. De plus, chaque individu devrait avoir le droit à une vie privée, ainsi qu'un contrôle absolu en ce qui concerne l'établissement de leur limites personnelles, faisant toute tentative de réponse complète à cette question une tâche herculéenne. Mais je crois sincèrement que nous gagnerions tous beaucoup à êtres en général plus honnêtes les uns avec les autres. Et avec soi-même.   Le jeune homme avait des années de réflexion prêtes à partager en la matière. Cependant, entre le torrent de mots essayant de franchir le barrage de ses dents en même temps et les souvenirs encore frais de sa bataille contre le Chevalier du Phoenix, Mime resta silencieux. Le sujet avait gagné une dimension en plus depuis lors, se forgeant douloureusement un espace supplémentaire  dans l'esprit du musicien.   Fenrir, de son côté, n'était pas troublé par les réflexions qui hantaient l'esprit de son camarade :   - Ouais, les humains sont tous des hypocrites, répondit-il. Je n'ai pas tout compris de ce que tu as dit, mais oui je savais ça depuis que j'ai sept ans. Tu ne devrais pas embêter les autres parce que tu es lent à comprendre quelque chose.   Le rouquin retrouvea tout de suite son sourire narquois :   - Même si ça embête les mauvais humains ?   La question provoqua une nouvelle grimace sur les lèvres de Fenrir.   - Oui, même. Et puis t'es intelligent. Je suis sûr que tu sais les réponses à tes questions. Donc tu devrais arrêter. C'est mieux de jouer de la musique à la place !   Le jeune meneur retrouva un peu de son enthousiasme précédent, espérant visiblement entendre une autre chanson.   - Tu veux vraiment écouter de la musique jouée par une mauvaise personne comme moi ?   Fenrir prit le temps de réfléchir à sa réponse.   - Eh bien ... Si t'arrêtes vraiment d'être méchant ... S'te plaît ? Le guerrier sourit.   Mime haussa les sourcils.   En voilà un qui ne s'adonne pas à la pratique du léchage de bottes ...   - Je vais arrêter de te taquiner oui ... pour le moment. Mais qu'on se comprenne bien : je ne suis pas un membre de ta meute. Je ne vais pas suivre tes directives juste parce que. Est-ce suffisamment clair ?   Fenrir se dota de son expression la plus sérieuse et hocha la tête.   - Nous- oui oui, tu es un visiteur. Et c'est tout !   - Bien.

  Le jeune homme caressa sa percussion du bout des doigts, essayant de choisir son prochain morceau. Sur le moment, la mélodie qui hantait son esprit s'imposa comme choix évident; pourtant, malgré son désir d'entendre la chanson, Mime s'en refusa le jeu : s'il pouvait faire usage de son cosmos pour donner une cadence sans toucher au tambour, la liste d'instruments sur lesquels cette technique fonctionnait était très courte. De plus, contrairement aux morceaux interprétés précédemment, Mannar-Liv se caractérisait par une harmonie complexe ainsi que par la richesse de sa texture, obtenues grâce à l'usage de divers instruments et la polyphonie de leur partitions respectives. Aussi, même si le musicien avait pu maîtriser les instruments de son choix avec son cosmos, toute combinaison avec la lyre reviendrait à essayer d'écrire avec les deux mains en même temps. Et si par miracle il eut réussit a surmonter cet obstacle, il lui semblait impossible d'interpréter fidèlement ce morceau avec moins de quatre instruments de toute façon, et en particulier sans le timbre si caractéristique du violon (aussi fort qu'il soit, un cosmos ne pourrait jamais transformer le son d'un instrument en celui d'un autre).   Son morceau préféré écarté, le choix de sa prochaine pièce ne se fit que plus coriace : que pouvait-il bien jouer à présent? Le jeune homme aimait chacune des chansons de Wardruna; cependant, les morceaux qu'il était capable d’interpréter pouvaient se compter sur les doigts d'une seule main - ou pour être plus précis, il s'agissait des morceaux qu'il était capable d’interpréter seul.   Mime jeta un regard furtif à son compagnon d'armes : Fenrir ne montrait aucun signe d'impatience, mais son regard trahissait les attentes du guerrier d'Aliot. Le musicien s’étonna une nouvelle fois de l'intensité de son enthousiasme : il lui rappelait la fois où, avec ses camarades du conservatoire, ils s’étaient déguisés en lutins pour accompagner en musique l'acteur du Père Noël sur la place du village.   Cette innocence dans le regard d'un guerrier dans la vingtaine semblait s'expliquer naturellement par le fait que Fenrir s’était isolé du monde des hommes depuis son plus jeune âge; il n'avait pas subi les mêmes épreuves que la plupart des jeunes gens de son âge. Aux yeux de Mime, le jeune meneur incarnait la preuve que les sociétés humaines étaient corrompues par le nombre trop important d'hommes égoïstes, cupides et avide de pouvoir qui faisaient de chaque enfant un adulte méfiant, fermé, tout aussi avide de pouvoir et malhonnête; un cercle vicieux qui brisait chaque esprit jusqu’à lui donner la docilité et la forme du moule. Par ailleurs, la majorité des animaux vivant avec les hommes - notamment les chiens- ne montraient aucun des signes de la corruption morale observées chez leurs "maîtres". Ces derniers pouvaient argumenter autant qu'ils le souhaitaient que c’était dû à leur "intelligence inférieure", Mime ne démordrait jamais de sa version des faits : la seule différence entre un animal et un enfant apprenant à vivre dans cette société était la hauteur de la barrière de langage; du fait de leur compréhension limité des langues des hommes, les animaux ne se retrouvaient pas exposés à toute l’ampleur des viles intrigues de leur compagnons humains. Fenrir ayant été coupé de ce monde à  l'âge de sept ans prouvait que la réciproque était vraie : il avait conservé la droiture et l’honnêteté que chaque enfant possédait.   Mime se surprit à envier la situation du jeune meneur un instant : lui avait pu développer un esprit réellement libre, insoumit à l'influence de ses camarades de classes, des professeurs, de ses voisins et autres proches, et surtout sans l'influence de ses parents.   Le musicien mit fin a ses divagations internes et porta son choix sur un morceau intitulé NaudiR. Certes, les difficultés d’interprétation liés à   la texture ne s'en trouvaient pas amoindries, loin de là; cependant, contrairement à l’œuvre précédente, le jeune homme se sentait en mesure de rester fidèle à la structure générale du morceau en improvisant une introduction dramatique avec les moyens du bord- le reste de la chanson était centré sur la lyre.   Décidé, le rouquin changea ses pianotements distrait en une cadence assurée. Très  vite, il l'enrichit d'un rythme joué sur les  côtés  boisés du tambour et d'accords sur la lyre, fredonnant la mélodie pour compléter le tout. Il capta immédiatement l'attention de l'assistance.   Lors qu'il s'interrompit après l'introduction, le musicien sentit tous les yeux tournés vers lui, pendus à ses moindres gestes, et en particulier ceux de Fenrir qui semblait sur le point d'ouvrir un cadeau de Noël; s'il avait du le décrire à ce moment Mime n'aurait pas d'autres mots que "un enfant de huit ans prisonier du corps d'un jeune homme dans sa vingtaine".   Mime laissa le tambour de côté pour empoigner sa lyre avant de continuer son interprétation, se sentant finalement plus à l'aise au contact direct avec les cordes. En pinçant le premier accord, le jeune homme se promit d'observer discrètement son camarade tout au long de sa performance - le musicien voulait mesurer et comprendre sa fascination pour la musique. Mime en était d'autant plus curieux que Fenrir avait essentiellement rejeté son humanité et avait vécu isolé de leur société la majeur partie de sa vie; par conséquent, il était "pur" des préconceptions et préjudices, effets de groupe et influences de génération tous ceux qu'il avait rencontrés jusque là -lui-même inclus- avait assimilés. Comment cela se transposait-il dans son approche de la musique ? Que pouvait-il bien qualifier de musique ? Quel genre de musique pouvait-il bien considérer comme "normale" ? Quel genre de musique considérait-il comme assonante ou absurde ? D’expérience le musicien savait que certain animaux appréciaient la musique tandis que d'autres y semblaient complètement indifférent :  serait-il en mesure d'en comprendre la raison grâce à Fenrir ? Serait-il en mesure de créer de la musique qui le rapprocherait plus de son publique préféré ? Se pourrait-il qu'il découvre de nouveaux éléments à apporter à l’éternel débat sur la nature de l'art ?   Pour le moment, l'unique certitude était l’enthousiasme constant et ingénu que le jeune meneur affichait tout au long des interprétations successives des chansons de Wardruna ...                                                             ***   Après que le silence fut retombé sur la clairière, dissipant les rémanents de l’atmosphère crée par le morceau, Mime tenta sa chance :   - Dis-moi : que sais-tu de la musique ?   - Pas beaucoup, répondit Fenrir. Je me souviens que ma mère avait une très belle voix. Elle chantait très souvent pour m'endormir. Dès fois durant le jour aussi mais ...   Le jeune meneur fronça les sourcils.   - Je crois qu'elle savait jouer du ... arf, comment s'appelle le gros truc tout noir ?   - Le piano ?   - Quelque chose comme ça oui ... Mais enfin, c’était il y a très longtemps.   Ils restèrent silencieux un moment; Mime ne savait pas si son camarade avait besoin d'un moment de deuil ou non. Cependant, ce dernier reprit très vite la parole :   - Oh mais : Thor écoute de la musique !   - Génial ! Quelle genre de musique écoute-t-il ?   Le guerrier de l'Aliot s'interrompit pour afficher son meilleur sourire avant de répondre :   - Thor dit que ça s’appelle le "métal".   - Chouette ... donc tu en sais des choses !   Le musicien se retrouva désorienté au milieu d'une conversation qu'il avait lui même initié. En dépit de sa soif de connaissances, il doutait de la nature des résultats qu'il espérait en tirer, et, comme il s’était avéré, ils avaient hasardé dans un sujet qui ne lui était pas familier.   Fenrir de son côté semblait avide de partager son expérience musicale :   - L'autre jour on a écouté un groupe bizarre ... Amm ... Attends attends hein je vais m'en souvenir ... Apaco ... Acopo-non.- Apocalyptica ?   - Oui ! C'est ça ! Tu les connais aussi ?   - D'une manière générale. Ils sont plutôt connus, et étant donnée qu'ils jouent sur des violoncelles ma curiosité en a été piquée.   - Oh tu peux jouer une de leur chanson alors ?? J'ai vraiment beaucoup aimé certaines.   - Désole, je ne connais pas vraiment leur répertoire ...   Son camarade d'armes sembla confus.   - Mais ... Thor dit qu'ils jouent des chansons très connues, juste qu'elles sont sur des différents instruments. Tu peux pas faire ça ?   - Oui, mais pas comme eux : le métal, ce n'est pas vraiment ma tasse de thé, déclara Mime.   - Ahhhh ... ok je suppose que j'aurais du l'savoir.   Lorsqu'il eut finit de parler le jeune meneur pencha sa tête tandis que son regard dériva sur sa droite.   - Tu aurais du savoir quoi exactement ?   - Que tu n'aimes pas le métal. C'est un truc qui passe mieux avec, genre, Thor. C'est rapide et fort et dure ...   Le jeune homme stoppa net, son regard fixé sur Fenrir.   - ... quand il me montre des photo des musiciens ils ne ressemblent pas du tout aux humains que je vois au palais de Hilda ou à toi. Ils n'ont pas l'aire de passer beaucoup de temps à ... au coiffeur ... ou dans les magasins ... ou ch'é pas quoi d'autre. Toi au contraire, t'as l'aire d'un humain très-   - Si tu avais l'intention de dire "gay" ou "chochotte", interrompit Mime, je vais prendre un grand plaisir à t'étrangler.   Fenrir se figea au milieu de sa phrase, probablement inconscient de sa bouche grand ouverte.   - Et pour ton information je connais pleins de filles qui aime le métal, certaines étant très "féminines", princesses et maquillage. Ça n'as vraiment rien a avoir avec le goût en musique.   En réalité, la seule référence que Mime possédait en la matière était une camarade de classe de ses jours de conservatoire qui en plus d’être la meilleure harpiste de leur cycle avait fondé un certain groupe de métal. Certes, il lui manquait les statistiques solides qui découlent d'une vie sociale plus active, mais pour ce que cela valait il avait assisté à un concert de ladite camarade une fois et y avait vu des filles avec des styles variés.   En tout les cas le guerrier de Benetnach ne s'opposait jamais à un peu de lutte du par le feu. En aucun cas il ne doutait de l'existence de ces personnes; le fait qu'il n'en connaissait pas personnellement ne signifiait rien. Aussi, tant qu'il restait conscient d’être entrain de trépasser la frontière entre le vrai et le faux, il pouvait bien s'autoriser une petite entorse à la règle de temps en temps ... Fracasser les préjudices de merde des gens en valait juste tellement la peine.   - J'allais dire civilisé, déclara Fenrir. Tu es un humain très ... euu, genre de la ville quoi. Tu aime les trucs délicats ou raffinés ou, genre, sophistiqués. C'est pour ça que je pensais c’est logique que tu n'aimes pas le métal.   Cette fois, c’était au tour du jeune homme d'en être bouche bée, ou du moins au sens figuré, Mime ayant trop la maîtrise de ses expressions pour ne pas rester impassible devant la surprise. Il aurait du se douter qu'une personne isolée de leur société depuis sa plus tendre enfance n'afficherait pas les mêmes préjudices que ceux l'ayant moqué toute sa vie pour son apparence et comportement "de fille".   - Cela n'a toujours pas vraiment de lien avec la fait que je n'aime pas le métal, répondit Mime sur un ton plus calme. Certain goûts n'ont tout simplement pas d'origines particulières liées à leur existence. Par exemple, il n'est pas rare de voir des personnes préférer le rouge au orange ou vice versa bien que ces deux couleurs soient très proches l'une de l'autre sur l'échelle chromatique. Parfois il n'y a pas d'autre explications que "parce que". Et nous ne devrions pas rejeter, ignorer ou nous mentir au sujet de ces goûts. Nous n'avons jamais besoin d'une "bonne" raison pour aimer ceci ou cela : tan que le goût ou l’activité en question ne nuit pas à autrui, le simple fait que nous préférons passer du temps sur ceci ou cela au détriment d'autres choses devrait être suffisent.   Mime soupira.   - Je ne comprends vraiment pas pourquoi certains s’entêtent si fort à se mêler des intérêts et passes-temps d'autrui. Je suis un homme et je peux agir comme je veux. Ce qui fend le cœur, c'est le nombre de gens qui se retrouvent à faire des choses qu'ils détestent ou a mentir sur leur goûts ou opinions. Tout ça parce que quelques imbéciles ont décidés qu'ils savent mieux que les autres, ou que les notions de "garçon" et "fille" devraient dicter ta personnalité et ton futur.   Le silence tomba sur la clairière. Le jeune homme avait perdu de son habituel impeccable maîtrise de soi. Il sembla que les loups eurent senti le changement dans l’état du rouquin : celui qu'il avait soigné se leva et entreprit de lui lécher le visage. Mime retrouva son sourire.   - C'est important de rester fort et têtu dans ce contexte. Pour rester fidèles à nous-mêmes. Pour notre bonheur et pour le bien d'autrui, il conclut en caressant la louve.   Fenrir resta silencieux très longtemps. Il sembla que le sujet de sa diatribe était devenu trop abstrait pour le guerrier à moitié sauvage ...   - Oouuuuuuuuuuuaaaais, articula-t-il finalement, l'air toujours confus. Tu veux dire que ... genre, je ne devrais pas aller vivre avec des humains si je ne veux pas ..?   Le jeune homme s’étonna de cette interprétation de son petit discours; néanmoins, elle restait en effet fidèle a son message d'origine.   - Absolument. Si tu te sens plus heureux lorsque tu vis près de la meute, reste avec eux. Et je ne vais pas dire que tu as été "domestiqué" ou autre parce que tu aimes aussi passer du temps avec Thor.   - Vraiment ?   Lejeune meneur rayonna.   - Ça ne veux vraiment pas dire que mon destin est dans une ville ou comme ça ? Ou que je ne peux pas échapper à ma vraie nature ?   - Non, vraiment pas. Est-ce que les loups ne quittent pas leurs meutes pour visiter des amis dans d'autres meutes de temps en temps ?   Fenrir prit ce commentaire à cœur.   - Donc, je peux visiter Thor et quand même ne pas faire partie des sociétés humaines ?   - Tout à fait, Mime sourit.   - Super ! J'aime visiter Thor ... Et certains trucs que les humains font .... comme la musique.   Le rose de ses joues s'intensifia, mais c'est avec une assurance renouvelée que le jeune meneur demanda :   - Toi aussi ... j'aimerai bien te visiter dès fois ...   Après toutes les fois où son camarade l'avait prit au dépourvu au cours de cette soirée, le musicien s'en trouva grandement satisfait d'avoir deviné au moins ce fait juste.   - Je te demanderai juste de ne plus m'apporter de carcasses d'animaux, s'il te plaît. J'aime mes repas traités chimiquement et cuisinés en tan qu’être humain délicat et sensible que je suis, plaisanta-t-il.   Lorsque le rire du guerrier de l'Aliot eut finit de résonner dans la clairière, et que sa "patiente" se fut levée pour aller inciter ses amis à jouer, Mime posa enfin la question :   - Voudrais-tu que je te montre comment jouer de la musique ?   Fenrir hocha frénétiquement la tête. Le jeune homme lui apprit alors le nom de chaque corde de sa lyre et les différentes façons de pincer celles-ci. Le jeune meneur se trouva être un élève incroyablement patient qui s'appliqua à suivre les instructions de l'harpiste, et cela malgré son manque total d’expérience musicales. Cependant, soucieux de ne pas laisser son camarade se lasser -ou pire, se frustrer- de ses capacités de débutant, après que Fenrir eut réussit de jouer "joyeux anniversaire" deux fois à la suite, Mime lui tendit sa percussion et déclara :   - Essayons de jouer une chanson ensemble !

  Bien plus tard dans la soirée, dans la même clairière entourée d'arbres gelées emmitouflés dans leurs manteaux de neige, et malgré la chute considérable de température, les voix de deux jeunes hommes emplirent l'air une nouvelle fois, suivit par le sons de percussions et d'une lyre, interprétant les mélodies d'un énième chanson de Wardruna, emportées ensuite par les vents dans les profondeurs de la nuit d'Asgard.

[xocowilde]

I hadn’t draw or write for more than two weeks and I feel so anxious !! Lamentably this level of anxiety is connected as well with Tumblr for different reasons that happened a year ago, so maybe I will need a break =__=  I hope can feel better soon and then share with you some of my poo art :D

of course, I will not let @askilluminatedfamily and @saint-ffic-fest-blog go down and we still answer asks and fix/organize all ^^

I hope you all have a nice week !! see you soon :D

[morita-azul]

Saint FFic Fest Gift || Cada vez que te mires en el espejo.

First thing first, english readers, there will be an english version, I swear. Be patient with me, for I suck at that language but I’ll do my best with a little help from my brother.

Ejem... ya que me he sacado eso del pecho (? Esta es mi segunda vez participando en el FFic Fest y ahora sí me siento un poquito más segura como para decir algunas palabras. Como en la última ocasión, me toca trabajar con personajes a los que no estoy acostumbrada, y debo decir que fue una experiencia bastante interesante (con decirles que les agarré cariño y me nació una fascinación por Saga en particular). 

Espero que quien haya enviado este paquete quede satisfecho con el resultado, pero también hay dos personas a las que espero les guste este pequeño fic.

@miss-celanea, quien tiene tanto amor por estos hermanos que los ha desarrollado al derecho y al revés. Debo decir que me serví de su ayuda y algunos headcanons suyos para armar este fic. Tsuru, ¡dedicado con cariño para ti!

@aloria-navidal, porque cuando me falta la inspiración suelo buscarla en alguna imagen, y ésta fue a la que recurrí.

Y dicho eso, aquí está mi fanfic.

Universo: Saint Seiya.

Personajes: Saga y Kanon.

Regalo: Espejo.

Extensión: 1040 palabras.

Categoría: Angst.

Lado a lado se encontraban dos pequeñas figuras cobijadas únicamente por el cielo estrellado a las afueras del santuario que llamaban hogar. Como dos gotas de agua, adoptaban la misma posición: abrazaban sus propias piernas apoyando la barbilla sobre las rodillas, reflejando en sus miradas perdidas la mezcla de incertidumbre, temor y desesperación que acongojaba sus corazones. “¿Qué voy a hacer sin él?” se preguntaba Kanon, el menor, no siendo capaz de recordar un momento de su corta vida separado de su hermano. “¿Lo lograré solo?” era la pregunta que rondaba la mente de Saga, el mayor, quien había hallado consuelo para sus desafortunadas circunstancias únicamente en la compañía del otro.

La decisión del gran patriarca era inapelable: ambos aspirantes a la armadura dorada de géminis deberían continuar su entrenamiento separados por tiempo indefinido. Esto debido a la excesiva codependencia que había observado manifestarse en los pequeños hermanos, y que temía fuera un obstáculo en el camino que para ellos marcaban las estrellas.

En menos de veinticuatro horas estarían embarcándose en direcciones opuestas, hasta que llegara el momento de pelear por el derecho a defender el templo de los gemelos, cosa que no hacía del todo reconfortante la posibilidad del reencuentro.

—¿Sabes? He oído decir por aquí que el tiempo pasa volando —murmuró por fin Saga, más como un consuelo para sí mismo que para su hermano— Antes de que nos demos cuenta, vamos a estar juntos de nuevo.

—Lo he escuchado también. ¿Crees que sea cierto?

—No sé… pero tal vez ayude pensar que sí —fue la respuesta emitida con casi nula convicción, luego de lo cual reinó el silencio nuevamente, hasta que esta vez Kanon se atrevió a hablar.

—Tengo algo para ti. Puede que también ayude.

Saga arqueó una ceja, extrañado, y observó con curiosidad mientras Kanon sacaba de entre sus ropas un pequeño bolso que hurgó hasta extraer un espejo, sencillo en su borde, pero bellamente adornado en el mango con finas molduras.

—¿De dónde sacaste eso? —exclamó Saga cuando Kanon puso el espejo en sus manos, seguro de que aquello no había podido ser obtenido por medios legítimos.

—No importa, pero deberías mantenerlo escondido si no quieres que te acusen de robo.

—¡Kanon!

La preocupación del mayor provocó que casi soltara el espejo, apresurándose el otro a justificar su acción.

—Consérvalo. Te digo que puede ayudar también.

—No veo cómo tomar cosas ajenas pueda ayudarnos.

—Muy sencillo —Kanon tomó las manos de Saga, quien aún sostenían el espejo, ayudándolo a colocarlo frente a su cara para que pudiera contemplarse en él— Somos gemelos, así que tenemos el mismo rostro. Si alguna vez quieres verme, búscame en el espejo. ¿Me ves?

Saga no pudo evitar reír ante la lógica planteada por su hermano, entreteniéndose en el rostro que del otro lado del cristal le devolvía la sonrisa, rostro que a partir de ese momento, ya no contemplaría como el propio, sino como el de aquél a quien esperaría volver a ver sano y salvo. Pero en ese reflejo pronto vio disiparse la inocencia infantil y el amor fraternal que les unía. Ante los incrédulos ojos del gemelo mayor, la jovial sonrisa se transformó en una mueca resentida ostentada por un ser de odio y maldad cuya cara era atravesada por firmes barrotes en su miserable encierro.

—¡Sácame de aquí, Saga! ¡Sácame de aquí! ¡¿Vas a condenar a tu propio hermano?! —bramó Kanon colérico desde su prisión— ¡Te estoy hablando, maldita sea! ¡Ten la decencia de mirarme a los ojos siquiera! ¡Mírame!

La imagen delante suyo se nubló de a poco debido a las lágrimas que amenazaban con escapar, alcanzando apenas a distinguir los rasgos reflejados en el cristal, al que juraba le arrastraría la mano que luchaba por extenderse hacia la ansiada libertad.

—¿O es que acaso no puedes encararme? ¡¿Es eso?! —en ese momento, la voz de Kanon rompió en una cruel carcajada que resonó con fuerza dentro de la mente de Saga— Tendrás que hacerlo, Saga, cuando te mires en el espejo, ¿lo recuerdas? Yo estaré ahí frente a ti lo quieras o no, ¡¿me oyes?! ¡No puedes escapar de esto! ¡Eres tanto o más perverso que yo, lo sé! ¡Y yo estaré ahí cuando decidas mostrar tu verdadera…!

Crash

Las palabras se entrecortaron abruptamente con el impacto de un puño, fragmentando aquella ilusión en sangrientos trozos de vidrio que se dispersaron por el suelo de mármol de los aposentos patriarcales. Los trozos que aún se aferraban al marco en la pared atestiguaron la transición de azul marino a gris apagado en los cabellos del hombre revestido en finos ropajes que aún no podía salir de su estupor.

—¿Ya terminaste con tu estúpido sentido de culpabilidad? —consiguió articular por fin en aquella habitación vacía al escapar de su alucinación, recuperando el control sobre sí mismo.

“Es mi hermano, a pesar de todo.”

—Y hubiese sido un excelente aliado de no haberlo dejado podrirse en Cabo Sunion.

“No tenía otra opción, él quería… quería…”

—Hacer exactamente lo que estamos haciendo ahora. Irónico, ¿no? Ya no importa, en trece años no me ha hecho falta ni él ni nadie para continuar con este engaño sin levantar sospechas —exclamó lleno de orgullo mientras aliviaba el daño provocado en sus nudillos mediante su cosmos— El único cabo suelto ahora es esa chiquilla Kido en Japón y los caballeros de bronce convocados a su torneo. Cygnus debe estar encargándose de eso ahora mismo… ¿No dices nada? Mejor aún, no te necesito perturbándome.

La estabilidad había vuelto a la mente del falso patriarca, cada vez le era más fácil contener al “otro” y mantenerlo en silencio, alejado de sus cavilaciones. En cuanto estuvo completamente seguro de estarlo manteniendo a raya, se colocó nuevamente la máscara y el resto de su indumentaria, ocultando así por completo sus facciones. Sólo entonces hizo sonar una fina campanilla de plata, ante la que se presentó su doncella personal.

—A sus órdenes, gran patriarca —expresó ella sumisamente haciendo una reverencia.

—Debo purificar mi cuerpo para mi audiencia con mi señora Atenea. Haz que preparen las termas y mis ropas.

—Enseguida, señor.

—Y otra cosa. Encárgate de deshacerte de este espejo y recoger todos los restos.

—Haré que lo reemplacen de inmediato.

—No. No hace falta.

[lilc77]

Gemini’s Lamia Version 2

Hi Everyone! 

Just wanted to let you know that I rewrote parts of this episode to fit better with my HC’s & tweaked it to make it a little more canon. Most of the story is the same except for 2 scenes. I explained my reasons more on the page. Like the last one, I uploaded it on my DA account for format reasons, please understand.  Hope you like the changes & please let me know your thoughts.  Thanks and enjoy!

http://lilc77.deviantart.com/journal/GEMINI-S-LAMIA-VERSION-2-570342811