Theme No. 46 (scent, perfume, odor)
Title: Lilies
Author: Nyneve
Theme(s): No. 46; Scent, Perfume, Odor
Summary: No one escapes the Dead City
Pairing/Characters: Rei/Hige (Wolf's Rain)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
AN: This story can be read as a sequel to Splendid Isolation
Lilies
I didn't start to remember her until it was too late. When I first saw the lilies in the flower shop, and I remembered the scent, but couldn't place it. When I went back to Jaguara's city, and I remembered what happened there, what I was. When I saw her body lying there in the hall with so many others...
There weren't any lilies then.
Still though, even without a scent, even with her face covered by a mask, I remembered her. Her long hair, her graceful body, and her hands. That's what I remember most about the girl. Her hands were the first thing I had ever seen of her. Hands that threw meat into my cage, then quickly retreated into the safety beyond the bars, because we both knew if she wasted one moment I would have tried to take them off right along with the meat.
They were so white, her hands...but hard. Callused. Later she told me how they got that way; she ran a shrine for years. She worked it all by herself after her grandfather died, but then one day, she decided to leave and come here, where her father lived up in the keep, serving Lady Jaguara.
She wouldn't tell me what it was that had made her want to leave.
But I'm getting things out of order. That was later, when she would sit and talk to me. Before that, all I cared about was the meat. Raw, bloody, sweet and tender that gave my young body the strength to grow and become powerful. She wasn't supposed to walk us, that was the job of the guards. They had guns, and the few that dared to rebel were shot and burned. At least, that's what they said.
Personally, I questioned where they got the meat in a city as dead and sterile as this one.
They gave her the job with the wolves because she didn't want to be a maid to Jaguara. And Jaguara didn't like her either. She didn't like anyone smarter or prettier than herself, so it only made sense to send the new girl, still young and lovely, down into the kennels to feed the wolves, in hopes that she would either be mauled into hideousness or be forgotten.
Neither one happened.
She was kind; that's the other thing I remember vividly. Her kindness and the lilies. I wasn't the first one she treated well. There was an old one, sick and dying. I don't remember his name. But the girl sat up with him all night. He didn't have the strength to bite anymore. She went right into the cage and put his head in her lap, and even when death claimed him and the stink of his emptying body filled the kennel, she didn't move. The guards had to pull her out along with the old one's body, and next thing we knew there was no smell anymore. Everything was sterile. The cage was empty.
When we were friends, she told me she burned his body herself.
I stopped trying to bite her after I watched her that night. I even went so far as to lick her hand when she gave me the meat. I think that helped win her over. As time went by, she would sneak me extra treats, things from her own meager rations. And then one night, she came into my cage.
Of all the things I remember about her, I still regret that her name escapes me.
And it's not fair, because she gave me mine. Instead of just being a letter, I was now Hige.
I let her pet me, and listened to her stories. About when she was a child, and her mother died. About the crows that lived at her shrine. About her grandfather, long dead, and her father, who lived up above with the rest of Jaguara's dolls. She would tell me about how much she hated the noble, how she hated this dead city with no life and no smells, and how she wished she'd never come to this place.
I agreed.
Maybe it was because she had only been here a few months, but she still had a scent. I didn't know what it was at the time, only that it was light and delicious. She fell asleep in my cage once, hugging me close to her. I could smell it then, when I heard her whisper a name I couldn't quite make out.
But even as I loved her more and more, I knew things couldn't last. The others were leaving. Some being shot, some dying, some just disappearing. She knew too, and it scared her, because they didn't tell her anything. Her job was to feed and watch the wolves, not to ask questions. So we waited, scared out of our wits.
They let her walk with me sometimes though. When I asked her how she had convinced the guards to give her the privelege, she blushed and turned away, murmuring something I didn't understand. Humans are weird like that.
It was when we were on one of our walks when I first showed her the human form I'd thought up. I got scared at first, thinking I'd done it wrong, because she still looked at me and only saw a big brown wolf. That was when she told me about her sixth sense, that let her see past the disguises wolves wear. But when she stopped using it, and tried to use her regular eyes, she approved, but asked why I had made one up in the first place. When the other wolves were sent out, they were sent to go find other wolves, not humans.
I told her about my plan. When it was my turn to leave, I would run, as far away from this place as I could. When I got to other towns, I would pretend to be a human, get a job, do whatever it took to survive. I swore I wouldn't end up like the ones who died here. I know now how naive of an idea that was. At the time, I couldn't even comprehend the methods Jaguara used to control her pets when they were running errands.
She didn't say anything, just brushed a strand of that long black hair out of her face and scratched me behind the ears. She never admitted it, but I think she wanted to escape with me. Or just escape at all. But the two of us knew it in our hearts even then: she would never leave this dead city.
That was why I had to get away. One of us had to make it out alive. And it was too late for her. She was losing her scent.
The turning point came with the incident that involved one of the younger wolves. She was a clever one, chewing on the bars every night when the guards were gone. Over time, she'd managed to weaken them, and on top of that, she stopped eating. She got skinnier and skinnier, and the bars were bending out more and more. Eventually, she slipped out. Got all the way up to Jaguara's hall before they shot her down, right in front of Jaguara herself.
They blamed the girl who fed the wolves. If the incident had happened earlier, when more of us were around, she might have been okay. But the wolves couldn't afford to be dying and escaping now. Even one lost was too many.
They took her away.
I don't know what happened to her when she went back up to the keep. I know they didn't kill her. One of the guards took over, feeding us almost nothing and keeping us locked up. No one tried to escape again. And one by one, we left.
I was the last to go. The guards took me out early one morning, and brought me up to a hall I'd never seen before. Jaguara herself was there, and in her hands was a black leather collar. There were glowing pillars everywhere, and inside the pillars were the bodies of those wolves who had successfully followed Jaguara's orders. Later, I would learn they had betrayed other packs of wolves into coming to this city, where they were locked up in a separate kennel and left to die.
She burst in when Jaguara put the collar on me. They hadn't put a mask on her yet (or else she'd refused to wear it), but already she was dressed like the rest of them. Racing towards me, she screamed my name, told me not to let Jaguara put the collar on me. But it was too late. I felt it click under the metal plate on the front, and my head erupted in pain as the noble crushed my will.
I lay down at Jaguara's feet and watched the guards beat her, scarring her pretty face and tearing those rich yet horrible clothes. Those who opposed the nobles were punished. And I let it happen, because this woman, this unrecognizable woman who was bleeding and bruised, had no familiar scent.
They dragged her out of the hall unconscious. I never saw her face again.
I don't remember much of what happened after. Sometime after I left the dead city, I forgot what happened there, and began to remember things that weren't real. Not once did it occur to me what I was, what my mission was. The closest I ever came to remembering anything was smelling those flowers at a shop once. Lilies, that's what she smelled like. Except I didn't remember that until I went back to the city, and saw the aftermath of Darcia's attack on the ceremony. Even then, her body was as sterile as ever, and the mask hid whatever scars she might've retained from that day.
I wish I could've said goodbye.
Another AN: I never intended to write a sequel to "Splendid Isolation." This one happened by pure chance when I drew just the right numbers. I know this one's a little "out there," but I had tons of fun writing it all the same.
Author: Nyneve
Theme(s): No. 46; Scent, Perfume, Odor
Summary: No one escapes the Dead City
Pairing/Characters: Rei/Hige (Wolf's Rain)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
AN: This story can be read as a sequel to Splendid Isolation
Lilies
I didn't start to remember her until it was too late. When I first saw the lilies in the flower shop, and I remembered the scent, but couldn't place it. When I went back to Jaguara's city, and I remembered what happened there, what I was. When I saw her body lying there in the hall with so many others...
There weren't any lilies then.
Still though, even without a scent, even with her face covered by a mask, I remembered her. Her long hair, her graceful body, and her hands. That's what I remember most about the girl. Her hands were the first thing I had ever seen of her. Hands that threw meat into my cage, then quickly retreated into the safety beyond the bars, because we both knew if she wasted one moment I would have tried to take them off right along with the meat.
They were so white, her hands...but hard. Callused. Later she told me how they got that way; she ran a shrine for years. She worked it all by herself after her grandfather died, but then one day, she decided to leave and come here, where her father lived up in the keep, serving Lady Jaguara.
She wouldn't tell me what it was that had made her want to leave.
But I'm getting things out of order. That was later, when she would sit and talk to me. Before that, all I cared about was the meat. Raw, bloody, sweet and tender that gave my young body the strength to grow and become powerful. She wasn't supposed to walk us, that was the job of the guards. They had guns, and the few that dared to rebel were shot and burned. At least, that's what they said.
Personally, I questioned where they got the meat in a city as dead and sterile as this one.
They gave her the job with the wolves because she didn't want to be a maid to Jaguara. And Jaguara didn't like her either. She didn't like anyone smarter or prettier than herself, so it only made sense to send the new girl, still young and lovely, down into the kennels to feed the wolves, in hopes that she would either be mauled into hideousness or be forgotten.
Neither one happened.
She was kind; that's the other thing I remember vividly. Her kindness and the lilies. I wasn't the first one she treated well. There was an old one, sick and dying. I don't remember his name. But the girl sat up with him all night. He didn't have the strength to bite anymore. She went right into the cage and put his head in her lap, and even when death claimed him and the stink of his emptying body filled the kennel, she didn't move. The guards had to pull her out along with the old one's body, and next thing we knew there was no smell anymore. Everything was sterile. The cage was empty.
When we were friends, she told me she burned his body herself.
I stopped trying to bite her after I watched her that night. I even went so far as to lick her hand when she gave me the meat. I think that helped win her over. As time went by, she would sneak me extra treats, things from her own meager rations. And then one night, she came into my cage.
Of all the things I remember about her, I still regret that her name escapes me.
And it's not fair, because she gave me mine. Instead of just being a letter, I was now Hige.
I let her pet me, and listened to her stories. About when she was a child, and her mother died. About the crows that lived at her shrine. About her grandfather, long dead, and her father, who lived up above with the rest of Jaguara's dolls. She would tell me about how much she hated the noble, how she hated this dead city with no life and no smells, and how she wished she'd never come to this place.
I agreed.
Maybe it was because she had only been here a few months, but she still had a scent. I didn't know what it was at the time, only that it was light and delicious. She fell asleep in my cage once, hugging me close to her. I could smell it then, when I heard her whisper a name I couldn't quite make out.
But even as I loved her more and more, I knew things couldn't last. The others were leaving. Some being shot, some dying, some just disappearing. She knew too, and it scared her, because they didn't tell her anything. Her job was to feed and watch the wolves, not to ask questions. So we waited, scared out of our wits.
They let her walk with me sometimes though. When I asked her how she had convinced the guards to give her the privelege, she blushed and turned away, murmuring something I didn't understand. Humans are weird like that.
It was when we were on one of our walks when I first showed her the human form I'd thought up. I got scared at first, thinking I'd done it wrong, because she still looked at me and only saw a big brown wolf. That was when she told me about her sixth sense, that let her see past the disguises wolves wear. But when she stopped using it, and tried to use her regular eyes, she approved, but asked why I had made one up in the first place. When the other wolves were sent out, they were sent to go find other wolves, not humans.
I told her about my plan. When it was my turn to leave, I would run, as far away from this place as I could. When I got to other towns, I would pretend to be a human, get a job, do whatever it took to survive. I swore I wouldn't end up like the ones who died here. I know now how naive of an idea that was. At the time, I couldn't even comprehend the methods Jaguara used to control her pets when they were running errands.
She didn't say anything, just brushed a strand of that long black hair out of her face and scratched me behind the ears. She never admitted it, but I think she wanted to escape with me. Or just escape at all. But the two of us knew it in our hearts even then: she would never leave this dead city.
That was why I had to get away. One of us had to make it out alive. And it was too late for her. She was losing her scent.
The turning point came with the incident that involved one of the younger wolves. She was a clever one, chewing on the bars every night when the guards were gone. Over time, she'd managed to weaken them, and on top of that, she stopped eating. She got skinnier and skinnier, and the bars were bending out more and more. Eventually, she slipped out. Got all the way up to Jaguara's hall before they shot her down, right in front of Jaguara herself.
They blamed the girl who fed the wolves. If the incident had happened earlier, when more of us were around, she might have been okay. But the wolves couldn't afford to be dying and escaping now. Even one lost was too many.
They took her away.
I don't know what happened to her when she went back up to the keep. I know they didn't kill her. One of the guards took over, feeding us almost nothing and keeping us locked up. No one tried to escape again. And one by one, we left.
I was the last to go. The guards took me out early one morning, and brought me up to a hall I'd never seen before. Jaguara herself was there, and in her hands was a black leather collar. There were glowing pillars everywhere, and inside the pillars were the bodies of those wolves who had successfully followed Jaguara's orders. Later, I would learn they had betrayed other packs of wolves into coming to this city, where they were locked up in a separate kennel and left to die.
She burst in when Jaguara put the collar on me. They hadn't put a mask on her yet (or else she'd refused to wear it), but already she was dressed like the rest of them. Racing towards me, she screamed my name, told me not to let Jaguara put the collar on me. But it was too late. I felt it click under the metal plate on the front, and my head erupted in pain as the noble crushed my will.
I lay down at Jaguara's feet and watched the guards beat her, scarring her pretty face and tearing those rich yet horrible clothes. Those who opposed the nobles were punished. And I let it happen, because this woman, this unrecognizable woman who was bleeding and bruised, had no familiar scent.
They dragged her out of the hall unconscious. I never saw her face again.
I don't remember much of what happened after. Sometime after I left the dead city, I forgot what happened there, and began to remember things that weren't real. Not once did it occur to me what I was, what my mission was. The closest I ever came to remembering anything was smelling those flowers at a shop once. Lilies, that's what she smelled like. Except I didn't remember that until I went back to the city, and saw the aftermath of Darcia's attack on the ceremony. Even then, her body was as sterile as ever, and the mask hid whatever scars she might've retained from that day.
I wish I could've said goodbye.
Another AN: I never intended to write a sequel to "Splendid Isolation." This one happened by pure chance when I drew just the right numbers. I know this one's a little "out there," but I had tons of fun writing it all the same.