KENSHIN
if I knew you were going to survive
I WOULD HAVE NEVER LET YOU FALL
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ITS A DREAM
The feeling of being on the verge of life and death is something that no one should ever have to experience. It's like walking on a tightrope, wobbling barefooted high above a city. Just as you are about to fall, you realize that if you fall one way, you will be saved. If you fall the other... the street will be stained with your tainted blood. Kenshin the barbarian was on such a tightrope. It wasn't as if he had not been on it before. In fact, there were multiple times that the man had experienced such a situation. But this time it was different. Among all the shadows that represented people waiting for him on the side that would surely bring him back to conciousness, there was one whose face was lifted towards him, bright and very much alive. He staggered when he saw her, reaching out to him with a determined gaze. Her scent was overwhelming him. It was strong... too strong. And despite all the bloodied grips of those he had slaughtered before now... despite all the cries of revenge that came from the other side (to which he knew he must answer at some point)... he swayed towards her, amber portals looking with amazement as she reached out to him.
Suddenly Kenshin's nape shot up, his lungs commanding him to gasp for breath, pools wide though he could not see. At first he was, for the first time in years, frightened. The question to his slight problem with his sight was a queer answer. A head rush from sitting up too fast. He had been propped up by something-- no, someone. The scent hit him before the sight of her did. But he barely had the strength to turn around and see her before he slowly lowered his head back down, burrowing his skull into her pelt. He inhaled softly, his maw parted just barely. He stayed quiet and still for minutes on end after this, just taking her in. Kahlan of Saw Tooth. An overly kind femme with the heart and perserverance of any soldier Kenshin had ever come across. Kenshin felt as he never had before around her. He felt peaceful. Not worried. The monster that had taken him over suddenly was all but gone... banished from the earth. Surely he would not be coming back anytime soon. He... he smelled like her. Had she cleaned him? Kenshin's amber spyglasses opened just slightly, catching sight of his brindled form up against her sandy one. The coloring was back to normal... as he thought-- she had rid him of the blood that had been caked on him in layers. How utterly wretched. I grew up in the shadow of a great varg of the ice after being abandoned, as many children were during that time, by my mother. This God of mine took me in, taught me how to fight cruelly. How to never lose. Before he knew it, he was speaking to her. He hadn't even noticed that his jowls had let loose his own voice. After marking me as his pupil, he abandoned me as well. Of course, what he was talking about was the scar on his palette. The "x" shaped one that stood out so vividly against his pelt despite the dark color.
After tasting bloodlust and delving deep into it, one can never go back. I scoured landscape after landscape, was hired by jealous suitors, wealthy Kings and even by children at times. All with the job of killing others. Wars were started because of my actions. Wars were ended because of my actions. I broke families, slaughtered infants, tore the jugulars of Alpha's right out of their throats. But I was never caught in the act. If I was, I suppose I ended them as well, shutting their mouths forever so that only the blood-soaked ground knew of the monster I had become. She may not have known the reason as to why he was telling this to her, but Kenshin knew. He knew that his story was to be shared with her as soon as he had seen her so vividly against the shadows that swarmed beneath him. Only she had been able to summon him. If he had been on that tightrope one last time... and he had never known that she was even alive... the rurouni was sure that he would have fallen the opposite way. His eyes would have never been open to the light of day again. Five months ago, I vowed to change myself. At five years of age, my life had been devoted to theiving and killing. Seducing and stealing. I wanted to change... I want to change.... He pressed his cranial into her side, shutting his lookers tight against the light. His attempts to change had turned out to be in vain. The demon killer had still returned to him, taken him over, and had denied him access to his own body for weeks. But I am beginning to see that perhaps that is impossible, after all.
TO WHAT COLOR… AM I DYED?
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