Ohhh Pretty Cure...
I've realized something. I may hope and hope, but there will never be a true proliferation of Pretty Cure stories. The fandom isn't big enough to produce a large amount of writers nor dedicated enough to have a high percentage of writers. In fact, my story will likely be the only multichapter PreCure story out there for a very long while.
In reality it probably should be like this. Pretty Cure is really a mediocre anime at best, and I really can't stand watching the episodes more than once, although I do it anyway so I can get my facts and quotes accurate. Still, it would be nice for some fanfiction. Until then I guess I'll just keep writing and hoping.
At any rate, my story's kinda stalled anyway until I finish Silence. Actually it's not really halted, just going at snail-pace because it's not very high priority for me at all. Just take it along lazily. *shrugs*
Chapter 11 of Silence, I better damn well finish this before the end of the year.
Previous Chapters: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Silence
Chapter 11: Intermission
Gah. This will probably be rather confusing; it's a continuation of the Interlude, aka Chapter 5, because originally I had it tied into the story. However, I never got Chapter 5 right so that people could understand it, and this isn't much better. Very likely you'll be so confused you want to stop reading, because it isn't exactly a great piece of writing either. At any rate, I hope you just bear with me, because you won't have to deal with anymore of this kinda esoteric crap after this chapter. After this one we race towards the ending. Woohoo!
Garet had been running for hours, or perhaps it was days. Or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it didn't really matter; what was important was that he keep running, pumping screaming legs in pursuit of an image that burned clear of his mind and away from the terrifying darkness that seemed to engulf everything behind him. Running just to keep running, to keep doing what he'd been doing before. Besides, if he kept on swinging his arms and moving his legs, eventually he would have to find Jenna, no matter that one object moving with the other at standstill had a better chance of finding each other than two objects moving. He had no way of knowing whether Jenna was moving or not, or indeed even existant in this scary hellish place, so his best chance was to keep moving. Some primal instinct told him this, and since it was all he had left in this desolate unending world, he followed it with all the power in him.
A random fire flared to life in front of him and he just narrowly missed being charred to a crisp by it, though it wouldn't have mattered anyway, as he healed and regrew limbs and skin in this black place, which one might consider a godsend, but he'd found out that it only served to torture him yet more, regenerating things just to have them dealt waves of pain all over again.
Just keep running, he thought to himself. He summoned up his memories of Jenna, trying to remind himself of what he needed to do and keep him inspired. Jenna, hooking her tiny child's fist into his cheek, reddish-brownish eyes colored like desert rocks flashing, angry at Garet mocking her for looking like a boy with her raggedy self-styled crew cut. Jenna, thick mane of brilliant red hair flying out from behind her messy ponytail, roundish features slimmed into more delicately shaped nose and mouth, but still as nimble and strong as ever, gloating with a quite unladylike air over beating him in a race, then choking the air out of him in a headlock after he said so. Jenna, face painted with all the things she would never say as his vision faded into a murky black-red, already unclear from the falling haze of dust.
Already he could feel himself speeding up, buoyed by the thoughts floating around in his mind. He hadn't actually seen a hint of Jenna anywhere, wasn't even sure she was really there, but something within him told him to keep looking, told him that she was there. It was like they had their own personal telepathic connection. Long ago Garet would've laughed it off and dismissed it as girly nonsense, but when it was the only thread he had to hang on to, he reached out and clenched it with all the ferocity of a true believer. How times have changed, he thought.
Suddenly a pack of wolves howled, red eyes opening and closing ahead, and Garet collapsed to the ground, curled up into a ball with his hands around his just-mended breeches, ready for pain to begin ripping into him as the wolves devoured his flesh in a hungry frenzy. This had already happened to him too many times to count, and the only comfort he could take from it was that the next time he would still be around and able to move. Able to find Jenna.
He was surprised when the sharp teeth that normally dug into his skin with an inhuman speed merely grazed against it lightly, and he opened his eyes to stare at a mass of shaggy gray fur. The wolves were all facing towards what he thought was east, evidently having been distracted by something with far more power than he had. He could feel it himself, a crushing weight making his movements slower than a snail, flattening his lungs and instilling pure fear into his every fiber.
And there it was, a hulking entity that exuded pure darkness even in this place of pitch black. Crimson eyes glowed from behind a sneering snout, its lipless mouth baring the slightest hint of fangs, which had a sheen of corrosive acid coating them, eating into the yellowed teeth only to have to repeat the process as the enamel regrew itself again. Fearsome spikes jutted from its back, rising high above it and giving it the image of being even larger than it actually was, which was still quite giant.
It did not open its mouth, for which Garet was very thankful for, as he did not care to find out what rode upon its breath, but nevertheless he experienced a ringing thought in his mind, intoxicating and painful.
Hello Garet.
Garet jumped and clamped ears over his ears, eyes wide then squeezed shut tightly, as if closing them would make a difference in this total night world anyway. How does it know who I am?
It is my business to know who you are.
It laughed humorlessly, and Garet had to scramble to get out of the way of the frosty white air that pillowed out from its mouth and nostrils. He had the opportunity of seeing firsthand what it did when it brushed against one of the wolves and instantly froze his legs and entire right side to not even ice - shattered ice. A minute later the wolf had regenerated the parts that he'd lost, but it was still horrifying to watch.
Donotrundonotgiveindonotcryohgodohgod- Garet found his legs shaking of their own accord and turning him around, taking infinitely futile steps in a pitiful attempt to get away from the monster.
It wasn't the demon that shifted; the world phased out for barely a moment and then Garet found himself facing the monster again, whose wings were spread out wide, displaying all the tattered holes in them and giving Garet an ever bigger sense of being swallowed whole by the darkness.
Will you run? Its eyes were still mocking him, manipulating him into what it wanted, and Garet knew that he had no choice but to face him, not that he would've done something else. It had been his legs that had disobeyed, not his mind.
"No," he said as loudly as he could, but it still rung small and miniscule in his ears against the deafening colorlessness that draped over everything like a heavy blanket.
Flames flared up around him, illuminating the creature clearly, and Garet suddenly recalled the terror-filled first encounter that made him forget nearly everything. The terrible voice invaded his mind again, forcing out all other thoughts and making him only able to concentrate on the pain that exploded behind his eyes.
What are you willing to give up?
What?
What are you willing to give up? The demon asked again, malice and knowing in the vibrations of its voice. Garet didn't quite know in his conscious mind what he was talking about, but before he had even given clear thought to it one word rang out in his head.
Everything.
It closed its mouth, leaving just the two largest fangs out, which grew in length until they were like mirrors themselves, reflecting the eerie light given off by the fire back. In the dances between shadow and light, the demon looked as if he were smiling.
Then show me.
And it began. The encircling flames rose ever higher, creating a wall that was impassable by even the most invincible creatures. Even as a fire adept accustomed to heat, Garet felt himself sweltering in the veritable inferno.
A gargantuan hand swiped at him and Garet narrowly missed not just having his head lopped off, but his entire body swatted away like a fly.
He crouched and rolled in tandem with the demon's swift swipes, unable to do anything else. He was sure that the giant midnight-black being before him was merely toying with him; the lethal calws extended from the ghastly arm with such quickness that Garet couldn't even see it until it snaked out right in front of him, yet he was always able to escape them just by a hair.
You are weak. The creature said it matter-of-factly, even as it continued to rain blows down on him.
Suddenly it threw flames at him, and Garet screamed at the burst of pain that arose from the searing sensation in his leg. Even with his tolerance for fire, this was just too much. A normal person would've passed out from the flames already.
As soon as the flames receded his charred skin began patching itself into tender pink, but then his arm was hit by it, and then every other part of his body imaginable.
Garet screamed until his voice was hoarse, throat sore from the sound that tried to erupt into a yell even as it died, and when the fire finally disappeared and no more appeared, he could only lie on the endless floor, crippled and beaten.
And you intend to save her with this? The demon's voice was brutal, mocking, and the blows rained down on him ever harder, with the intent to almost-kill, and Garet took it all in, feeling every bump that swelled up only to recede again as it hungered for more.
No. Somewhere within him that word began chanting a resolve in his heart, and even as he felt pain jabbing at him strength began to flow in his veins, brought on by the desperation to stay aware, but also the determination to follow through.
A fire he hadn't known had been smudged out flared to life again, flames enveloping him and nesting him within its protective circle. Suddenly he did not feel the searing heat so much anymore, instead reveling in a soft warmth and a sound long forgotten but so amazing to hear.
He could hear his heart beating, feel his fingers warmed by the blood that flowed through them.
No. He repeated this to himself, sensing himself grow stronger mentally, if not physically as well, and when he opened his clenched fist a stream of fire shot out of his palm, clashing with the almost-stunned demon's icy breath and forcing it to a stalemate.
He walked toward it, ignoring the angry strikes at him that drew blood but bled themselves, a strange black oozing caused by the tendrils of fire that rose all around Garet.
The world had turned from a hazy gray picture with the only sparkle being the demon to an actual color-filled world, where the wolves had blue eyes and speckles in the distance spoke of people, and he could see Jenna.
But she couldn't see him, her eyes looking through him and only afraid of the monster which had now ceased its attacks and instead stared with a hating fervor at the auburn-haired girl Garet was determined to save.
He rushed in front of the demon's onslaught and summoned a pit of fire to ward him off, but the monster's giant wings opened and it took to the air, somehow managing to fly with the mangled wings. (though this was its world, so Garet supposed it could do anything)
You shall not interfere. With those words it swept its spike-tipped tail around and threw Garet off to the side, encircling him with the clear eyed wolves.
He thrashed through them though, their shaggy fur gritty and real against his bare arms, and reached Jenna just in time to ward off another great strike which snapped his arm in half. NO. he repeated, even as he squeezed his eyes shut to calm down the electric pain coursing through his entire body.
No.
He snapped his eyes open, suddenly feeling power in every fiber of his being. The flames rose higher again, but this time it was because of him, not the creature that had narrowed its eyes at him, and he felt only more warmth. Even though Garet heard an audible gasp from behind him and a paralyzed whisper of, "Garet?" he did not pause in the feeding of the tornado of flame that howled all around them. The being in front of him looked throughly uncomfortable now, and for the first time somewhat scared.
Garet trembled from the strain of it all, until the power finally threatened to overspill and explode, and then he let go. The flames whipped past his ear, everywhere, and the demon screamed, a long, piercing shriek that near-shattered Garet's earlobes and spoke of pain and terror... and change.
He knew this, though he did not know why. What he did know was that the girl with hair and eyes the same color as the flames had crawled in front of him and was passing a hand through his legs as if they were insubstantial, and her eyes were filled with a terrible mixture of happiness and sorrow.
He sank to his knees slowly, the disappearance of the monster forgotten as he drew level with the heart-shaped face before him, passing a hand through her body and to where her face would be if it were corporeal, and not feeling but knowing all the same that she was reciprocating as well.
He'd thought he could save her, could see her, and technically he had, but he couldn't help the feeling of misery that came over him all the same. Perhaps it would've been better to have forgotten all than to have to experience and cling on to this.
Until a bright blue light enveloped them, completely foreign but so gentle they couldn't help but let it into their systems, and their eyes closed slowly as their forms shimmered in the dimensions of the world.
The last thing Garet saw before losing consciousness was the prone form of Isaac in a distance not too far from themselves, charred and bloody as if he had sustained a deep slash and a horrific burning, saturated by the same glowing blue light.
In reality it probably should be like this. Pretty Cure is really a mediocre anime at best, and I really can't stand watching the episodes more than once, although I do it anyway so I can get my facts and quotes accurate. Still, it would be nice for some fanfiction. Until then I guess I'll just keep writing and hoping.
At any rate, my story's kinda stalled anyway until I finish Silence. Actually it's not really halted, just going at snail-pace because it's not very high priority for me at all. Just take it along lazily. *shrugs*
Chapter 11 of Silence, I better damn well finish this before the end of the year.
Previous Chapters: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Silence
Chapter 11: Intermission
Gah. This will probably be rather confusing; it's a continuation of the Interlude, aka Chapter 5, because originally I had it tied into the story. However, I never got Chapter 5 right so that people could understand it, and this isn't much better. Very likely you'll be so confused you want to stop reading, because it isn't exactly a great piece of writing either. At any rate, I hope you just bear with me, because you won't have to deal with anymore of this kinda esoteric crap after this chapter. After this one we race towards the ending. Woohoo!
Garet had been running for hours, or perhaps it was days. Or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it didn't really matter; what was important was that he keep running, pumping screaming legs in pursuit of an image that burned clear of his mind and away from the terrifying darkness that seemed to engulf everything behind him. Running just to keep running, to keep doing what he'd been doing before. Besides, if he kept on swinging his arms and moving his legs, eventually he would have to find Jenna, no matter that one object moving with the other at standstill had a better chance of finding each other than two objects moving. He had no way of knowing whether Jenna was moving or not, or indeed even existant in this scary hellish place, so his best chance was to keep moving. Some primal instinct told him this, and since it was all he had left in this desolate unending world, he followed it with all the power in him.
A random fire flared to life in front of him and he just narrowly missed being charred to a crisp by it, though it wouldn't have mattered anyway, as he healed and regrew limbs and skin in this black place, which one might consider a godsend, but he'd found out that it only served to torture him yet more, regenerating things just to have them dealt waves of pain all over again.
Just keep running, he thought to himself. He summoned up his memories of Jenna, trying to remind himself of what he needed to do and keep him inspired. Jenna, hooking her tiny child's fist into his cheek, reddish-brownish eyes colored like desert rocks flashing, angry at Garet mocking her for looking like a boy with her raggedy self-styled crew cut. Jenna, thick mane of brilliant red hair flying out from behind her messy ponytail, roundish features slimmed into more delicately shaped nose and mouth, but still as nimble and strong as ever, gloating with a quite unladylike air over beating him in a race, then choking the air out of him in a headlock after he said so. Jenna, face painted with all the things she would never say as his vision faded into a murky black-red, already unclear from the falling haze of dust.
Already he could feel himself speeding up, buoyed by the thoughts floating around in his mind. He hadn't actually seen a hint of Jenna anywhere, wasn't even sure she was really there, but something within him told him to keep looking, told him that she was there. It was like they had their own personal telepathic connection. Long ago Garet would've laughed it off and dismissed it as girly nonsense, but when it was the only thread he had to hang on to, he reached out and clenched it with all the ferocity of a true believer. How times have changed, he thought.
Suddenly a pack of wolves howled, red eyes opening and closing ahead, and Garet collapsed to the ground, curled up into a ball with his hands around his just-mended breeches, ready for pain to begin ripping into him as the wolves devoured his flesh in a hungry frenzy. This had already happened to him too many times to count, and the only comfort he could take from it was that the next time he would still be around and able to move. Able to find Jenna.
He was surprised when the sharp teeth that normally dug into his skin with an inhuman speed merely grazed against it lightly, and he opened his eyes to stare at a mass of shaggy gray fur. The wolves were all facing towards what he thought was east, evidently having been distracted by something with far more power than he had. He could feel it himself, a crushing weight making his movements slower than a snail, flattening his lungs and instilling pure fear into his every fiber.
And there it was, a hulking entity that exuded pure darkness even in this place of pitch black. Crimson eyes glowed from behind a sneering snout, its lipless mouth baring the slightest hint of fangs, which had a sheen of corrosive acid coating them, eating into the yellowed teeth only to have to repeat the process as the enamel regrew itself again. Fearsome spikes jutted from its back, rising high above it and giving it the image of being even larger than it actually was, which was still quite giant.
It did not open its mouth, for which Garet was very thankful for, as he did not care to find out what rode upon its breath, but nevertheless he experienced a ringing thought in his mind, intoxicating and painful.
Hello Garet.
Garet jumped and clamped ears over his ears, eyes wide then squeezed shut tightly, as if closing them would make a difference in this total night world anyway. How does it know who I am?
It is my business to know who you are.
It laughed humorlessly, and Garet had to scramble to get out of the way of the frosty white air that pillowed out from its mouth and nostrils. He had the opportunity of seeing firsthand what it did when it brushed against one of the wolves and instantly froze his legs and entire right side to not even ice - shattered ice. A minute later the wolf had regenerated the parts that he'd lost, but it was still horrifying to watch.
Donotrundonotgiveindonotcryohgodohgod- Garet found his legs shaking of their own accord and turning him around, taking infinitely futile steps in a pitiful attempt to get away from the monster.
It wasn't the demon that shifted; the world phased out for barely a moment and then Garet found himself facing the monster again, whose wings were spread out wide, displaying all the tattered holes in them and giving Garet an ever bigger sense of being swallowed whole by the darkness.
Will you run? Its eyes were still mocking him, manipulating him into what it wanted, and Garet knew that he had no choice but to face him, not that he would've done something else. It had been his legs that had disobeyed, not his mind.
"No," he said as loudly as he could, but it still rung small and miniscule in his ears against the deafening colorlessness that draped over everything like a heavy blanket.
Flames flared up around him, illuminating the creature clearly, and Garet suddenly recalled the terror-filled first encounter that made him forget nearly everything. The terrible voice invaded his mind again, forcing out all other thoughts and making him only able to concentrate on the pain that exploded behind his eyes.
What are you willing to give up?
What?
What are you willing to give up? The demon asked again, malice and knowing in the vibrations of its voice. Garet didn't quite know in his conscious mind what he was talking about, but before he had even given clear thought to it one word rang out in his head.
Everything.
It closed its mouth, leaving just the two largest fangs out, which grew in length until they were like mirrors themselves, reflecting the eerie light given off by the fire back. In the dances between shadow and light, the demon looked as if he were smiling.
Then show me.
And it began. The encircling flames rose ever higher, creating a wall that was impassable by even the most invincible creatures. Even as a fire adept accustomed to heat, Garet felt himself sweltering in the veritable inferno.
A gargantuan hand swiped at him and Garet narrowly missed not just having his head lopped off, but his entire body swatted away like a fly.
He crouched and rolled in tandem with the demon's swift swipes, unable to do anything else. He was sure that the giant midnight-black being before him was merely toying with him; the lethal calws extended from the ghastly arm with such quickness that Garet couldn't even see it until it snaked out right in front of him, yet he was always able to escape them just by a hair.
You are weak. The creature said it matter-of-factly, even as it continued to rain blows down on him.
Suddenly it threw flames at him, and Garet screamed at the burst of pain that arose from the searing sensation in his leg. Even with his tolerance for fire, this was just too much. A normal person would've passed out from the flames already.
As soon as the flames receded his charred skin began patching itself into tender pink, but then his arm was hit by it, and then every other part of his body imaginable.
Garet screamed until his voice was hoarse, throat sore from the sound that tried to erupt into a yell even as it died, and when the fire finally disappeared and no more appeared, he could only lie on the endless floor, crippled and beaten.
And you intend to save her with this? The demon's voice was brutal, mocking, and the blows rained down on him ever harder, with the intent to almost-kill, and Garet took it all in, feeling every bump that swelled up only to recede again as it hungered for more.
No. Somewhere within him that word began chanting a resolve in his heart, and even as he felt pain jabbing at him strength began to flow in his veins, brought on by the desperation to stay aware, but also the determination to follow through.
A fire he hadn't known had been smudged out flared to life again, flames enveloping him and nesting him within its protective circle. Suddenly he did not feel the searing heat so much anymore, instead reveling in a soft warmth and a sound long forgotten but so amazing to hear.
He could hear his heart beating, feel his fingers warmed by the blood that flowed through them.
No. He repeated this to himself, sensing himself grow stronger mentally, if not physically as well, and when he opened his clenched fist a stream of fire shot out of his palm, clashing with the almost-stunned demon's icy breath and forcing it to a stalemate.
He walked toward it, ignoring the angry strikes at him that drew blood but bled themselves, a strange black oozing caused by the tendrils of fire that rose all around Garet.
The world had turned from a hazy gray picture with the only sparkle being the demon to an actual color-filled world, where the wolves had blue eyes and speckles in the distance spoke of people, and he could see Jenna.
But she couldn't see him, her eyes looking through him and only afraid of the monster which had now ceased its attacks and instead stared with a hating fervor at the auburn-haired girl Garet was determined to save.
He rushed in front of the demon's onslaught and summoned a pit of fire to ward him off, but the monster's giant wings opened and it took to the air, somehow managing to fly with the mangled wings. (though this was its world, so Garet supposed it could do anything)
You shall not interfere. With those words it swept its spike-tipped tail around and threw Garet off to the side, encircling him with the clear eyed wolves.
He thrashed through them though, their shaggy fur gritty and real against his bare arms, and reached Jenna just in time to ward off another great strike which snapped his arm in half. NO. he repeated, even as he squeezed his eyes shut to calm down the electric pain coursing through his entire body.
No.
He snapped his eyes open, suddenly feeling power in every fiber of his being. The flames rose higher again, but this time it was because of him, not the creature that had narrowed its eyes at him, and he felt only more warmth. Even though Garet heard an audible gasp from behind him and a paralyzed whisper of, "Garet?" he did not pause in the feeding of the tornado of flame that howled all around them. The being in front of him looked throughly uncomfortable now, and for the first time somewhat scared.
Garet trembled from the strain of it all, until the power finally threatened to overspill and explode, and then he let go. The flames whipped past his ear, everywhere, and the demon screamed, a long, piercing shriek that near-shattered Garet's earlobes and spoke of pain and terror... and change.
He knew this, though he did not know why. What he did know was that the girl with hair and eyes the same color as the flames had crawled in front of him and was passing a hand through his legs as if they were insubstantial, and her eyes were filled with a terrible mixture of happiness and sorrow.
He sank to his knees slowly, the disappearance of the monster forgotten as he drew level with the heart-shaped face before him, passing a hand through her body and to where her face would be if it were corporeal, and not feeling but knowing all the same that she was reciprocating as well.
He'd thought he could save her, could see her, and technically he had, but he couldn't help the feeling of misery that came over him all the same. Perhaps it would've been better to have forgotten all than to have to experience and cling on to this.
Until a bright blue light enveloped them, completely foreign but so gentle they couldn't help but let it into their systems, and their eyes closed slowly as their forms shimmered in the dimensions of the world.
The last thing Garet saw before losing consciousness was the prone form of Isaac in a distance not too far from themselves, charred and bloody as if he had sustained a deep slash and a horrific burning, saturated by the same glowing blue light.