Well, I'm not sure if the FFML is working right, and usually every 
time I post anything it goes down again..:P

Anyway, here goes!!


This is a little something I ran off while suffering from writers
block on the latest piece of Ragnarok. Its different from anything
I've done before, and _much_ shorter (which I am sure will make many
people very happy! :)

All the characters here are copyright Hirano, I make no claim on
anything!

Anyway, I'd very much like to have C&C on this one...


Dave Row
Davidrow@ryoohki.demon.co.uk



Sisters
-------


I walk down the corridors, the echoes of my footsteps clattering
softly from the metal walls, appearing unconcerned as the other
inhabitants look at me and then get out of my way. It hurts, the way
they treat me as if I had the plague, but I keep my head high, my face
impassive; my pride will not allow me to give them the satisfaction of
showing any sign of noticing their actions.

Standing outside the room in which my estranged sister lives, nothing
indicating that she lives here but a simple glyph on the door. Sighing
softly, I nurture the hope that this time something may have changed,
that we can reach some sort of understanding, even though I know in my
heart that the possibility is slim. But still, I have to try. Not only
is she my sister, but it is partly my fault she is this way, and that
debt of guilt is one I can never repay.

The door whispers open, sliding sideways and showing me the room that
lies within. There is no need to announce my presence, she had felt me
standing here as clearly as I had felt her presence inside. Stepping
over the threshold, I see that nothing has changed. The room is still
empty, its bare, simple layout reflecting my sister's heart, cold and
empty of anything resembling love. She looks at me, her face as usual
impassive, shadowed by the solitary candle lighted by the shrine in
the corner, its flickering glow the only illumination the room
possesses.

"Greeting, elder sister."

She responds with a small, polite bow, gesturing to me to sit.

I look at her for a long moment, hoping against hope that _this_ time
there will be a flicker of emotion, any emotion; anything would be
better than this frozen calm, like a marble statue given the power to
move and speak. But there is none, and I slowly sit, watching as she
seats herself opposite me with a grace that barely disturbs the simple
robe she wears. She is ruler here, bur insists on wearing nothing
more, as a sign of her dedication. I don't call it dedication, it is
fanaticism, nothing else, and a sign of her growing distance from
reality, but I don't say that now; that conversation has passed, with
nothing to show for it but my anger reflecting off the smooth stone
that seems to have replaced her heart.

She gestures, a small motion of her hand offering refreshment. I reply
with a tilt of my head, refusing her offer. We need not speak normally
between us, we are too much reflections of each other to need many
words, even if we could not flesh the unspoken out with the flavour of
our emotions. I only wish her emotions were more than a negative, dark
shadow of mine, every time I feel the emptiness inside of her another
part of me withers and flakes away into the darkness.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

I refrain from gritting my teeth in response, letting her sarcasm
glide off me. 

"I've come for the same reason as before. To beg you not to continue
on this course. There is no need to keep fighting, can't you let
things drop, find peace at last?"

She looks at me, not so much in sadness, but with the look of someone
who realises that she will never be able to explain herself, and so
doesn't bother trying any more, since it is so obvious that she is
right.

"I must. I am the leader, the protector. As long as there is the
possibility of danger to my people, I will protect them."

She smiles, as if to explain to me how stupid of me it is not to
realise this. I look down at my hands for a moment, trying to marshal
an argument she might accept. My fingers twine together, as helpless
to escape as my words are helpless to move her, absently twisting some
stray strands of scarlet hair between them, the colour reminding me of
the blood I can never wash from my hands, that has stained my soul so
deeply.

"But there _is_ no danger anymore! Why can't you let it rest, let the
people find a home at last? Leave the dead to sleep in peace, sister!"

She shakes her head, very slowly. I feel a bitter helplessness steal
through me, knowing that my outburst has yet again shattered against
the steel of the wall she has built about herself. The worst thing
about being an empath is that you can't lie to yourself that you have
reached someone, you have to live with your failures.

"Sister, Big Gold is dead, Nagisa is dead! You have to accept that,
change, lead the people to something other than another fight.
Please..."

This time she doesn't even deign to answer, she just sits there,
looking at me with a calmness that hides the madness hiding within.
She will never admit she's wrong, that the war is over at last; the
need to keep fighting is the only thing holding her since Nagisa's
death, this is her way of avoiding it, pretending it isn't real. I bow
my head, unable to meet her stare, having to live with the fact that I
was mainly responsible for that, that its my fault my sister is like
this.

I look at her for a long time, trying, praying to see any glimmer of
hope, but there is nothing there. Sadly, I rise to my feet, watching
as she politely joins me, then shake my head sadly.

"Goodbye, elder sister."

She bows, again the image of politeness, as if the shell of ceremony
will hide the emptiness that hides within, as I turn, leaving, unable
to face her any longer. I know its weak, but there are some things
that you cannot face, that you can only run from, hoping they will not
find you in the silent corners of your mind when the darkness comes.

My footsteps mock me as I walk away, knowing I've failed yet again,
yet unable to imagine any way of resolving the situation, my steps
leading me until I find myself facing a crystal window in the side of
the world-ship in which we live.

I look out at the view of the endless dark surrounding us. Despite the
knowledge that it must be an illusion, I cannot help but shiver at the
feeling of cold that seems to whisper through the glass, icy fingers
that seem to caress my bones. The small sparks of stars seem so
distant, their dim light doing nothing to warm my soul. I can see a
faint shadow imprinted on the crystal surface in front of me, my
reflection. Now that I am alone, I allow myself to feel the full
weight of my sorrow, as I gaze upon myself, the etherial glimmer of my
shadow-self having more substance than the bond holding me and my
sister together. But I am Iczer-2, and I will not weep.

End.