Black Eagle O'Scathach: The Gardens of Xanadu
"So what now?"
He walked her to her bedroom door, and said "We go to bed and rest, and we wake tomorrow and continue training."
She flashed him a smile and walked into her room, he turned and silently walked to the door to his chamber, and went in, laying on his bed to think about the events of the evening.
It was the third night in a row she'd asked Michael to walk with her through the gardens. He only did it to keep his watchful eye on her.
But, she would steer the conversation away from strategy, planning, and technique, and into more personal business. By the third night, she had by-passed more pressing concerns completely.
Now, they seemed to be locked in a discussion of favorite books. More and more, Michael was growing uncomfortable with this trend. After all, this was no time to be lax and let their guard down. As a result, he was stiff of body, his voice carried the hint of nervousness, and he glanced around erraticly, avaoiding eye contact with her.
"What is this all about, Sabine?" the voice was edgy, the man was confused.
"I dunno, I just don't want to have any regrets going into this fight."
"Regrets?" he looked about, scanning the garden for possible danger... "Like not getting to know me better?"
"Like never taking the time to know you. You said you were my friend...isn't this what friends do?"
He looked over the items he'd collected. Swords, axes, armour, staves, clubs. He'd managed to collect these things over the course of the last three years. Some he found, some items were given to him, others he wrested from the cold, dead hands of his enemies.
There were no pictures, no paintings, no sculptures, or artwork of any kind. Just his clothing and his armaments.
In three years, all he'd managed to gather were things to use to hurt and kill.
The fading sun in the distance had cast a warm glow across her face. Michael smiled for the first time that night when he replied. "No, you said we were friends. I said this was an arrangement of convienience" he reminded her "on both our parts."
"You said friends after I told you to fuck off." she countered, a look of slight worry crossed her face "Was that all a lie?"
Michael cocked his eybrow and thought about it for a moment "Did I?"
"I believe so. Maybe we should ask the whore to be sure?" she glanced at Michael and then looked away "I just thought it was worth a try" Sabine twisted her hands "obviously I was wrong again."
Three years of nothing but tracking, hunting, and training.
He had elimnated most of the underlings of his nemesis. He had found his wya to the one who had waged war on him for so long. He had trained to the point of mastery with hand weapons, and taken his own body to the peak of readiness.
But, he had nothing. Aside from his quest for revenge, there was nothing in his life that made him happy. Even his quest served to burn his soul away.
He had sacrificed much to get him to where he is now.
Michael grabbed her and turned her around to face him. Sabine stared into his eyes, supprised with glazed eyes. He pulled her close to him, pressing against her.
"You don't want to be my friend..."
Sabine leaned into him, unabashed, a single tear rolled down her cheek, breathlessly, she whispered "What if I want more?"
Michael stopped what he had been saying, indeed, his heart stopped, and he couldn't think anymore, his face just turned red...
He had no friends. No family. No lovers. Nothing except a small arsenal and a burning hatred inside him.
~I'd only have to watch them suffer and die again.~ is what he always told himself.
And he believed it to be true. After all, it is what has always happened.
And, as a consequence, whenever he was in the position to make meaningful personal contact with anyone else, he would stop himself...and remind himself...
~I'd only have to watch them suffer and die again.~
Sabine stood on her tip toes to get close to Michaels lips, stopping, almost there with her eyes closed.
Michael stepped back, the look of utter confusion and terror painting his face.
She noticed he was no longer holding her, she opened her eyes and they filled with more tears. She looked as if she is about to turn and run... "I'm sorry!"
Michaels hands shook as he stared at the girl in disbelief, he looked very vulnerable, probably for the first time ever since Sabine had known him..
"No..."
"please.."
She turned and looked him in the eyes.
Fate and Death hung in their sheaths on the wall across from him.
The twin treasures, two beatuifully crafted swords, were the perfect pair.
Fate gave his enemies a glimpse of what woudl befall them should they cross him, and instilled them with a fear few had ever encountered, showing them what Fate awaited them at his hands.
Death gave him the power to strike swiftly, to strike first.
In his hands, they wer deadly. Fate showed the end to his enemies, and Death allowed him greater skill to deliver that end.
And, they could only work together, in a pair. One without the other was useless, even as just a sword.
Michael pondered the sybolism of that, and the evening's events made more sense.
Michael walked across the garden, back to her, he grabbed Sabine and hugged her. "I just...can't...I can't lose someone I love."
"Not again."
"Love?" She was vulnerable, as well, he face appearing scared and childlike in the orange glow of the setting sun "How could anyone love me?" Sabine touched her burn scars "Look at me..."
Michael reached out and traced his fingers over the mass of knotted scar tissue "I think they are beautiful", Michael wiped the tears from her cheeks, and as he touched her face, she grabbed hold of his hand.
Sabine looked up at Michael again, looking into his black pooled eyes, breathlessly, she whispered...
"Kiss me?"
And, he did. He kissed her. passionately, longingly, as if he had been wanting to kiss her for too long a time.
He was pacing. now. It had been hours since he had left her in front of her room for the night. And now, all Michael could do was search his heart and mind for a direction and a purpose for all of it, and pace back and forth.
He was lost. He had denied himself these feelings for a very long time.
He was scared. Fate could be a cruel mistress, and in the end deny him this one simple happiness, and sacrifice one or both of them to her brother, Death.
He was hurt. The memory of everyone he'd ever lost, Fae and Mortal alike, flooded back to him, now. He could see parts of all of them in Sabine.
He paced, and thought, until, after hours of this, he left his room.
Moments later, Sabine awoke to find him, once again, sitting on the foot of her bed. This time, he had no blade in his hand to threaten her with, no look of anger about him.
"What, what is it Micheal?"
Without a word, he leaned in and kissed her again...