Sei Shonagon
lord of the flies
Vocab:
Theme: Kikuo- Don't look at me with those eyes.
Filthy. Filthy. Filthy. She was filthy. The floor she walked on was filthy, the air she inhaled was filthy, the faces she looked at were filthy. The act of existing a dizzying task of trying to push air down into lungs that wouldn't breathe and moving limbs that carried an invisible resistance in stiff muscles. The events that had transpired weighing her down in rage and perhaps a little bit of guilt, precipitating from clenched fists against the bonds of the leather. The image of the Seer fleeted by in her head and haunted her in the twitches of pursed lips. Such an inconsequential thing in comparison to the fluttering of the white robes that surrounded her and halted her steps in unsheathed blades and accusing spears and yet-
Yet it was all she could think of in the revelation of the Coup d'etat. "I'm afraid you've not the authority to issue that command." A snort, more self-derisive than taunting choked between the uprooted ends of a lacklustre smile. "Ha-ha." Stumbled in a peal of laughter, chopped up and fragmented in its travel in tremors through her limp shoulders. Her voice rose to a shrill shriek, and she threw her head back in an eruption of violent cackling. “HAHA-“ They weren’t only trying to dethrone her, the sharp ends of the weapons inched closer, they were trying to kill her. Kill her? She slowly came down from her laughing high, a sputter of bitter chuckles the only joyful thing remaining upon her visage as she did. She had never had a chance had she? Her head spun, the Seer, the bracelet, her kiseru, smoke and cinders, flame and mukuro wax-
The dark corners of her prison, the needle piercing her skin, stab, stab, stab- transitioned into that of her own sword splitting the canvas of flesh open to reveal the swirling mass of muscle, fat and white bones. Fibres snapping in half and bulbous landscapes of jaundice jiggling in a redistribution of the force through the surface. The empty plate, the plum- cut open to reveal the small hand belonging to child Hayate in front of her that progressively aged up in a contortion to the face that had snarled at her only moments before this.
“You don’t know anything Mitsuko. You never have.”
He was right. Her younger clone intertwined her fingers in Hayate’s in the haypile, the straws tickling their cheeks in laughter and dimpled smiles. She closed her eyes, and the Seer was once again there in the hand shaking hers over the table. “I guess I won’t be able to keep my promise to you of seeing you tomorrow,” The whisper hinged in the curled corner of a lopsided grin and the cinereous gaze flashed open in renewed flaming determination. Mitsuko branded her dagger to the man and braced herself in the steeling of jaws. A warm breeze crept up from behind, stirred the exposed skin around ankles and neck in little bumps. In contrast she froze, followed the man’s gaze over her shoulder at his breathless exclamation. Her own following shortly after in a slack mouthed expression.
“Haru…?”
The heat that had appeared as if out of nowhere ensnared her throat, dried it up in its clammy grip that refused to let any words through. The Seer was dishevelled, covered in blood from head to toe. Some of it his own no doubt judging by the ridges on his face and the amassment of red under his nails. The other belonged to the bodies that lay littered around his feet, necks slashed open and pooling a liquid mattress of crimson across the floorboards. His hair stood on its ends, red flames twisting and dancing like a bonfire into the dark cascades of night that was the hallway’s shadows.
The guards turned to point their swords and spears at the demon that was approaching them in lumbering steps and Mitsuko winced out of her daze. Realisation quick to cross her mind in bated breath and a crouched stance. She loosened the obis grip around her waist and pulled the fabric of the skirt into her arms. That wasn’t Haru, that was-
“The Phoenix.”
The words growled out loud from her chest and hushed to a rumble as they passed the gates of clinched teeth. Her eyes inspected the Seer intently, looking for any other signs of injuries. It seemed like he had yet to be struck once despite the earlier onslaught. Still, they didn’t know how many more guards remained and whether the white robed fellows had any reinforcements of their own. Worry deepened the tense lines on her face in knitted brows. She also didn’t have any way to know the extent of his powers nor when this phase would wear off. Or whether he would attack her in the same way if she tried getting close. In worst case he could be caught off guard and-
Mitsuko cut her line of thought off in a trembling inhale. If it had just been her then she would have fought. Knowing that someone out there would receive joy at the announcement of her death. The Seer was another matter. The deer that couldn’t run. She gripped her dagger tighter and cut the skirt.
The head priest found a way out of his statue like state in a staggering step backwards and filled his chest in an inflating inhale. “CAPTURE THE SEER! DON’T LET HIM BE HURT!” His voice boomed over her head and she darted forward at once out of the sprint ready stance. Her eyes locked onto the Seer’s, burning red against her own muted ashen ones, and she threw the pieces of cut textile at his face. The kimono pieces fluttering like veils before his eyes as she ducked underneath and crashed into his waist. Her hands snaking around the back of his legs into the dents opposite the knees and the other folding him in half over her shoulder. Then she ran.
“Haru snap out of it!” She screamed at her hostage, heaving heavily under his weight as she rounded the hallway corner and broke out into the garden with a kick to the shoji door. The guards emerged in waves behind them in the hallway and she clicked her tongue and swore. In the corner stood a paper lantern, flame flickering innocently within. Mitsuko swung her leg at it and kicked it to the ground upon which the flames quickly started lapping at the paper in a roaring barrier separating them from their pursuers. Her legs trembled under the weight as she side stepped down the short distance to the ground from the raised floor and stormed onwards over the stone path.
Her bones ached and her ribs cut into her lungs, straining against the cage of her chest in shallow pants. The night air felt cold against the skin of exposed knees and she had to keep her head craned back, lest she would stumble and fall. They reached the end of the garden that bridged into the forest in one direction and towards the temple in the other. She had hesitated for just a second, whipping back and forth between the two when a sudden push burrowed itself in her shoulder. It sent her stumbling forward before regaining balance in steeled thighs. The pain and sudden wetness on her back alerting her to the bowman in the door opening that they had fled out of. She swirled around and turned left, sprinting into the forest.
The branches ripped into her flesh and whipped her skin. For every root she floundered over she lost a tiny bit of composure- a hand that slipped from the Seer’s back but then nailed itself steady in fingers wringing through fabric, a cough that lodged itself in her throat in a taste of iron at the back of her tongue but that she swallowed back down and a numbness that prickled along the drenched area on her back; spreading to her arm and waist in a worrying rate that caused her to rock in her step. She couldn’t stop to examine the arrow sticking out her back but she knew it was there, every move grinding her muscles against the rupture in her posterior in an awkward swinging of the stick.
The trees thinned and before them appeared a stable, unattended and seemingly abandoned in the chaos at court. Mitsuko stumbled forward to the nearest horse and heaved the Seer over its back, her hand shot up to her shoulder to graze the wound with a wince. It had to wait, they didn’t have time. She saddled the horse in a one-handed flurry and even fastened a bow with quiver to the saddle before tying the man to it. Then she led it out in front and crooked her foot into the stirrup. A pained grunt escaped the brunette as she lifted herself up through sheer willpower and grabbed the reins in the other. She smacked her lips and the horse lunged forward in a gallop into the forest.
Then they were gone.
Last edited: