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i love you more than words or the night sky.

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[ i did this so i could remember. ] zutto zutto. [Jan. 2nd, 2006|12:45 am]
i love you more than words or the night sky.
[Tags|]
[Current Mood |last ditch effort.]
[Current Music |passion.]

I keep returning to this one memory. When I fell in love with you I didn't anticipate it to be the type of love where I always try to catch you out of the corner of my eye, or brush where your fingers had been on the banister, the counter; when you leave the room I bring your green mug to my lips.

I'm starved when you're not near. You walk out for the day -- I kiss you sweet, you back out of the kitchen with your hand half raised -- and I can't catch my breath. Love is this disease, love is this silent stalker, a thief in the night that stole away the relic of my heart a long time ago, back when the Gods were swirling moon dust and star light into what we are; I couldn't exist without your glow.

If I could bring myself to speak the speech would last until you breathed no more. If I can let myself go, if I can just let go, if I can stop being so afraid, I'd wrap my hand around your's and never let you go. I know the future may seem bleak, but I am aware even more of the fact destiny curled my soul around your's; we're crocheted beautifully. The pink yarn of my heart unfurls and frizzes around your skin, around your Chinese jaw.

But I worry and worry and the doubt seems to grow.




I guess you'll never know.


And what it comes to is I love you just enough to let you go. What it comes to is I've always liked the way the calm, smooth muscles of your back move beneath the quaint Tomoeda uniform; I'd be sufficiently content if that was the last I saw of you.

I'd let you go go go,

Syaoran.

But don't make me.

God Jei, don't make me.

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p.s. [Oct. 30th, 2005|07:23 pm]
i love you more than words or the night sky.
[Current Music |i guess maybe it's selfish afterall.]

and, yes, i am forcing myself to do this.

for now.

because this isn't healthy for me anymore.
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(no subject) [Oct. 30th, 2005|07:19 pm]
i love you more than words or the night sky.
I miss this but I don't think we can keep fooling ourselves anymore; Jei's not coming back, Meiling's gone and we can't keep this proverbial fire lit.

I miss the way things used to be, but now it just hurts too much to even think about RPing CCS. It was a chapter in my life and I guess, now, it's closed . I have to move on before I sincerely wither. And I am. And I have. Moved on, I mean.

Zettai daijobu. I know you all believe that.

I want to do what's best.

Chins up, buttercups.
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(no subject) [Apr. 28th, 2005|09:24 am]
i love you more than words or the night sky.

Fear caught up with her, did it show in her movement? Before a rainsong replaced the false calm of her warm home -- the cherrywood door creaking open, in spilling all the demons -- her grip was around an umbrella ( color lost on her ) and she was shouting down the adjacent hallway, voice nearly impassive. Something came up, stay inside -- we'll be back soon.

    Call me if you need me, she'd said. And then the door slammed shut.


     She was convinced it would never stop; the journey, the stinging on her skin -- the rain a thousand needles bruising her skin, the sky a lingering phantom. An umbrella had been a well-to-do-gesture, but it hung in her hands like a passing memory, gymnast's legs carrying her -- faster, closer; he seemed to be disappearing in her sight. All dark and black and gray, damp and distant. Tunnel vision.

The rain sunk in to her brain; her eyes, her hair, coursing through the marrow in her bones, the pulsing of her circulatory system, the beating of her heart. It was in this way was she numb, the fermentation in her legs doing nothing --- strengthening her, only an idle thought. Her skin was white, an illumination in the overcast skies; her hair heavy and clinging to her shoulders, her neck. She and the rain not so different now, both just a powerful thundering on the road.

It took either an eternity or just a few seconds, but there he was bounding in to an overhang, then up a stairwell three-four steps at a time. She inhaled cold air and followed suit -- was that Jump's magic in her thighs, clenching in her calves? Desperation disoriented her.

Then slow motion -- the click of his apartment door, the black that welcomed them. The silence. Syaoran bounded in, too fast and too deep, too quickly. He seemed to fade in front of her, causing her fingers to flutter absently over a deck of cards that was a necessary weight against the quivering of her thigh. Fear heightened her senses, and she followed suit -- reluctant, almost. Afraid.

She knew what she'd felt.

And she knew who she didn't feel now.

From too far off he called in to this artificial night, his voice aching, arching over her, past her. She shivered from the rain, she thought. But then the warm pulse of magic -- green, seeming, it was his aura -- radiated a false sense of security. A flickering light caught her eyes, punching a hole in the dark and she went to it, found his voice -- still strong, but weak with anger and a not so guarded trepidation. He seemed wounded.

    Light, she murmured, and a fluorescent achingly bright white flooded forth a good distance. A hum of energy buzzing.

And all she saw was the plush carpet, abandoned belongings. She felt like she was trespassing in Death's home.

    "Shadow wouldn't work," she explained, more to herself than anything. Not enough light. Too much darkness.

And wasn't that always the way?

    So he sauntered off, the ebbing warmth of his retreating fire draining the heat from her skin. She followed his dim outline and it disappeared in to an adjacent room, his voice replacing where he once stood, echoing against the walls. Against nothing but insentience. Lifelessness.

A cover was removed, a blinder in her mind. She fell quietly against a wall, feeling defeated. With a heave, her lashes falling, she called a silent plea to father Time; the card in her pocket a searing, blistering mark for a full second. The craft alerted her senses, her mind's eye replaying -- rewinding. There they were, fire and Light, then just him inside the black -- bounding out of the apartment, the door slamming shut. Then darkness, no Meiling and no power in the house, .. Her proverbial tape was a screen of night for a moment in time and then a flicker or two, and a spark of lightning -- then light. Finally light. A second later, her body excited, willing Time's recount faster ---- there was the cell phone rising in to the air, levitating ----

    and then Meiling, long hair like midnight. She talked, animated -- alive and right there. The scene behind her eyes froze. She found it to cliche to say Play -- and the circumstances inappropriate -- so she pushed further, magic allowing the scene to follow through. Meiling, older now, taller and leaner and fiery, talking and lightly annoyed. She was very much here, very much alright. Then a crack, something pressing and heavy in the air. A blur of black.

The power failing –
lightning shuddering, coursing. A clap as the cell phone fell -- generator buzzing in to action for just a moment.

And the absence of Meiling,

and the feeling of dread----


Syaoran was flooding her senses -- she heard his voice in this suspended animation, the trance failing too quickly. What is it, what's wrong I felt you use, .. And he was so desperate, distress lined in his face -- Light doing nothing to ease the look of complete fear.

Her eyelashes fluttered, gaze inconstant. There was silence for a moment, and then she made her choice:

    "No, nothing." It was bretrayal, even to her. "You checked in her room?" She pushed away from him gently.

Trying to justify a lie.




OOCCollapse )

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(no subject) [Feb. 20th, 2005|11:44 pm]
i love you more than words or the night sky.


      I was on the roof, under the chimney's overhang.

      Tomoeda's seemingly terminal condition had neither improved nor worsened, the rain falling at a steady beat that I nearly knew by heart, some secret lullaby that made my head loll foreward in the middle of class, that put me to sleep in my brother's arms. It was the softest magic.

      Kero had made me swear to take a blanket (it was green) and made me promise four times that I wouldn't take let it drape from around my shoulders. I just wanted a moment lost in time that I am desperately trying to hold on to. It had been too long since I've had a second to exhale smoothly.

      Pruning fingers touched the flaking edges of an archaic Seal that made me crave chocolate and see sepia all around. It made me want to hold a boy's hand. It felt brittle and old in my palms, kind of ironic. The Li Empire was the last standing stronghold of a long, ancient line of Clans in China.
      There was a strong feministic quality to the Chinese characters in the first few petrified pages. It was the newest olfactory, the permenant ink breaking through the chains of old and drifting through the dense pungent taste of antique yellow. Ieran-sama's handwriting was elegent, refined; it presented dignity in a woman thousands of miles away. The wind blew strong from the west.
      It was a new tome, arrived late last week, a day after Syaoran and Meiling had stepped on to familiar soil. I'd skimmed the pages twice before, but now I read with a rekindled interest that bordered on fear.


I didn't think, you know. I assumed it was a lingering breath of Hiiragizawa's craft, stubborn like it's creator, drifting throughout the city. At first it sent gooseflesh creeping, edging across my thighs and over my forearms. But I became accustomed to it, knew where it was strongest, could understand where it was going and how long it would take before reaching that destination. It was predictable; a hum against the other presences Tomoeda housed.
        But I didn't think--
Second Semester is nearly over. I was late-- I didn't call Onii-chan. Tomoeda High is a few blocks away from Tomoyo, from my house. Syaoran is right around the corner. The cards were warm in my pocket.
      It came like a startled animal, passed right through me. My umbrella clattered to the ground. I sucked in a breath, readying for my Craft when it leapt up, pulsated---- it was deep, so thick, I couldn't speak! I didn't breathe. The rain was heavy in my hair, pressing it to my face like aching hands. I had the overwhelming urge to cry.
      And then nothing.

There was nothing to exhale. The umbrella swayed beside me, the water fall tapping like a hundred needles on to the dyed plastic.

I ran.








          Meet me in the soccer field after Fourth period, if you can.
          In one of your mother's books, I found something. I can't read a few of the characters, but the incantation, so far, doesn't look too advanced, ..

          I miss you.


     The last line was scribled in a hesitated and rushed scrawl that was still very much her script. Had she been afraid?

              Your
                Sakura

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i'm even starting to like the color green. [Jan. 7th, 2005|05:53 pm]
i love you more than words or the night sky.
[Current Mood |mortal.]





    "Your lips are turning blue."


"I told you it was getting colder--"


    "I think we should take this inside."


"No, .."


".."


"I like the rain, sometimes."


    "He said you don't sleep much anymore. Your light is always on, .."


"Did he tell you or him?"


    "There's no difference."


".."


"I'm scared."


"-- Too much reading. Probably just school work, you know?" Laughter.


    And he took her chin between spider fingers. Spring and winter and something beautiful.


  "I don't like lies."


"Daijobu desu, .. daijobu."


    ".."


    He leaned down and in to his arms she came. Lighter than angel's breath, an angel's breath -- his breath -- he pressed in to her matted hair:


    "If it's any consolation, .. I'm scared too, Sakura."






    I missed you, I think I said. Did I say it enough?

My fingers are white from the cold and the rain and I wonder, wonder now why hasn't it stopped yet? What's the magic number? It's been nearly three weeks now. I'm tempted to scream at the skies, Light and Fire, when all I need is a little Hope to reel back the curtain.

Did I say it enough?

You're supposed to be here in a few minutes. Four o clock, and I know it will be right to the hour. I feel soaked to the bone but can't bring myself to climb up the stairs to my room to find something not chilled by the Tomoeda air.

    Is this even Tomoeda?

I'm thinking. I'm thinking of a tracking glyph, I've read about them and the formation and incantation wouldn't be too hard to translate. I want to get to it before it takes anymore of what I have left. There's something singing in my dreams, some slow desperately cold song and maybe that's the cold, the arctic blast? Black whispers and evil things.




      3:59 and it feels like my heart has wings.
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free flight in to the wordless. [Dec. 2nd, 2004|04:31 am]
i love you more than words or the night sky.
[Current Music |aruite yukou.]

Doesn't any one else feel the cold?

I can't remember my dreams anymore. He's in a lot of them, I think, so .. It's kind of a disappointment. But there's something else, something deeper, calling through. And I can't hear it.

I lost my resolve and called him. Toya said the bills were getting too high--- said it with the best grin, I'll never forget ---- and Oto-san wanted me to try to keep it to letters. But this, it's not something you say over a letter.

Doesn't anyone feel how cold Tomoeda is?

It was great to hear his voice again; it was deeper than I remember. He changed in just a few months!, .. I'm a little envious. It seemed a lifetime since our last call. It's been a while, but I'm still me. I wrote to Ieran-san a year ago, and she sent wonderful tomes on Eastern & Western magics, so that's been keeping me busy. It's fascinating, and the Cards enjoy being used so frequently. The wand remains in it's key form, unnecessary now. But it's always around my neck. Some memories are best kept closest to the heart.

He answered in Chinese. And I didn't breathe for a long while. "Syaoran, .." And that was all it took, miles dissolved and it was like yesterday he was boarding his plane. I--
I mainly wanted to know if he'd felt anything, even from way out there. He knew right away there was more. He always knows. And I found myself trying to convince him that I would be fine. He called back ten minutes after we'd said slow good-byes, saying the tickets were already purchased for he & Meiling, and they were coming within a fortnight. And I knew I had no choice but to say I'd see them at the airport, and have dinner waiting here.

I didn't want to get them involved. But I've got a feeling.

It was a beautiful day; Fall's in Tomoeda and it's beautiful. Frigid, but beautiful. There's something about autumn that presses clarity in to the world. When Tomoyo's got choir practice, I wait in the park on the swing set with Hamlet in hand. I've just recently found an old copy of Antony & Cleopatra in my father's basement, close to where I could still feel the pulse of the old Clow Book. In 9th grade I had a wonderful Literature teacher; he introduced me to a world of words and pages. Maybe that's the clarity of Fall. The more I read the more beautiful everything becomes.

There's a moment lost in time that I can barely remember, maybe the remains of a dream, but I see something ahead. I've got a feeling.

Tomoyo's been hard to catch lately, and I miss her. All I've got to keep me company is the humming of magic from my deck and Kero, constantly on his games. (I think he's gaining weight.)

I used Firey to light the hearth. It's cold; is it going to snow?

.. I'll be glad when everyone is back here. Back home.

I don't think I'll be able to rest easy until I see his eyes.
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