My Angel (LadyElvenArcher)

(((This is perhaps one of my best yet to be posted in the BA. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.)))

Left alone in the sanctity of my mythical solitude I played on for the still pairs of ever watchful, yet blind eyes and deaf ears. All around me were flowers of all colors, and the floor was dressed with the brightest red rose petals I had ever set eyes on. Holding the thick base of this violin under my chin, compressing to my chest and grasping the long thin neck I played on it this hollow church, a church that was used frequently by the great bishops and priests of this age, but today it was empty. I played on the violin’s cords that shined like a neon fire-- dark transparent strings each of a different thickness to create the desired notes I longed for. The frame itself was as dark as a moonless night, a blackish tint with thorny branches twisting up the side in decoration. A violin manifested from my own will and a bow that hadn’t a string to play these cords, yet still it sung, still it sung with the violent depression. One fluid movement after another to shower my spectators ears with an orgy of harmonic rhythm. Each note came like a passing breeze so gentle and flowing, speaking a language that any ear could appreciate even those that did not know they were listening. The rhythmic pulse was throbbing through my cold lifeless veins expressing the sorrow burrowing within my haunted dying soul. My violin sung through the great church walls, singing past the arched murals. There was one I quite liked the mural was the one with a maiden dressed in white torn clothes who reached up to the heavens. She kept an immortal gaze upwards in her locked portrait, Looking up to the overshadowing army of clouds, only the smallest rays of light breaking through the lines of darkness for guidance perhaps showing her to her salvation. I liked that one a lot; it showed the pain, and the conquering conviction of her beliefs that no pain could thwart her faith. This church was grand, even the statues of men who bore no clothes hands stretched out in dramatic posses, and women without arms whose faces only expressed the deadliest of sorrow, but holding still the firm belief. I played for them, my still lifeless spectators as if my music could bring life into their stone souls. Of course, I knew this was impossible to bring these heaps of rocks to life, but it was still the thought that I was playing for someone that kept me going.

I stepped down from the cathedral like stand onto the red velvet that dressed the upper level leading down to the white marble floor. All cut in large square blocks that spanned the entire church with the exception of the walkway where blue marble was set in the shape of a cross leaving the connecting center block white as the rest of the church. I looked up playing one with my eyes closed letting my arm flow back in forth without restraint striking the strings with the bow. I was playing like the devil himself leaving Satan’s jaw dropped to the flow I created with this violin. It spoke more like a human. More then we ever could. This violin expressed emotion with such a strong expression that no person could ignore its persuasion of emotions. With a sharp D, I brought the bow down-- descending on the strings to create a slow ever-lasting throb that echoed throughout the domed ceiling. The domed ceiling created out of some stone most likely gold. I was not aware of the name, but it was gorgeous, it could be gold, but it shined so brightly. Never had I seen gold shine like that, but perhaps it was. No stone could shine like that, it had to be gold, but the piece I loved most about this church was the stained glass.

Most especially of the virgin maiden that was up behind me. The light that came through was far from miraculous perhaps even heavenly. This church was a testament in itself to man’s faith to this god. I could not describe the stained window with words, but it was far beyond beautiful. The colors flooded together in a tapestry that left my eyes in a sightless orgy as the light pieced them. I had stopped my senseless playing for a moment to bow to the cross and the virgin painted on the glass before playing on again, but this time my solo was directed specifically for her. I played on deep long lasting notes that kept expressing the unrelenting depression that played on the violin of my heart. The bow drifted across the strings ever constantly while my fingers worked their magic on the neck weaving between the cords creating an art that was their and gone before the next musical masterpiece rung through the church. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s when she entered. That’s when she came prancing into the church one slow step after another keeping a true and deadly silence taking a quiet seat on one of the many oak benches. Where she listened intently to every depressing note that escaped the strings of my violin... waiting for me to stop before she would speak. My violin sang on as I danced around in a slow circle dancing in the ways of the old, titling my violin downward, and pulling it up with a slow pulsing stroke that left my visitor in a quiet and passionate state. It was if she where feeling the pain I was playing with, the pain I expressed through my violin. The pain inside me that would never die, that lived on in my hollow corpse through decades I have live, and the decades my soul could not bare to exist. Ending that seemingly never ending note I lowered the black bow with no string, and violin with no longer any cords letting them both vanish into the nothingness they were created from.

Turning to leave I saw her angelic face sitting there staring at me emotionlessly... I could only wonder what she was thinking. She must have noticed now the fair white hair, the simple blue tattoo’s that has long lived on me from my days as an infant. For my sake, I was glad the Stygian clad was long dead and extinct. Perhaps now she was just seeing me as one of these new age Goths in my all-dark and ragged clothing. That was right I had just remembered this was the new day in age, but this woman.... She had wings and dressed like a noble in the ancient days, where I was from. Her eyes seemed to have out lived even mine and her soul burned with a power that knew no limits. I was certain that who ever my angelic visitor was, was from my time before the great flood that purged the worlds diverse races, and washed away the bloody sins that had turned my home black with death. Yes my home, I have lived so long that I considered all home and all my family.

“You play like a god, but that should be expected shouldn’t it Kishin?” My eyes widened as I took a retreating step fearfully fading away as if I never existed. Reappearing in the air a slight distance back; Hanging in the air as if suspended by thousands of invisible wires. All around me, the air began to stir and warp opening a gateway to my own realm away from this painful world of limitations and men. Into a world, where the sorrow surpassed my own and I could fell like I was at my true home. My angelic visitor cried out and reached for me, but I slipped into the shadows letting the gateway close behind me. Unknowing whether she gave pursuit or not.

Here the sky’s burned red like fire and twisted with the shadows of dark souls trapped here for eternity forever captured by my fathers merciless desires to cause pain on to all those mortal.

“Wait Kishin! You can’t escape me that easily.” She spoke giving off a tender yet mischievous smile. I turned to take sight on her, but could no longer bare the sight of her beauty and nervously ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I ran through the twisted shadows and swatted away at the weeping souls that came to grab my shoulders or any other limb they could get their wraith like hands on. I must have lost her this place was maze but with no walls. There was a floor yet no proof that it was even there then the thin layer of water and the fog it created. This water itself was the extent of the sorrow that rained here; this was the result of Oni’s rage and the tears that rained from the eyes of countless souls.

I found a safe spot, a tombstone left without a name or a date nor an occupant... This was my grave. My grave to be, or perhaps it already was I could not remember. Next to the gray stone rested the case to my most beloved possession my violin that I have owned since my days as a child so many, many years ago. Gently I touched the dark leather case. It showed no sign of age nor had it been deteriorated by the many years of weather, preserved by the deepest reached of my memories in its age of perfection. I put it on my knee as I sat on my gravestone. Flipping the age old clasps with the utmost care to not damage it in even the slightest of ways. The top came open stiff as if the joints were still new. Inside rested the thin Violin resting on the fine red velvet that was so soft to the touch and with strings that shined with the benevolence I remembered them to always have. I would imagine she was lost at this point, tracking down any form of life was impossible in this ever gathering cesspool of the tormented dead.

“I’ll play for you, come to me... my angel.” My voice drifted into the darkness as I took the thick bow in my right hand and the violin in my left. Playing a song so sad that my cheerful angel must be have been weeping.
“Come angel” I spoke while playing letting my words transcend to another level of frenzied heartfelt music. Playing so viciously and so intense to bring out every bit of my pain into this song, the song I played for my torn angel.... Come to me.

Alys wandered aimlessly through the warped dimensional space, her footsteps echoing loudly as she stepped through the thin layer of water covering the floor. Mist swirled low to the ground, gently caressing her ankles. The dampness soon infused into her wings, weighing them down. Slightly irritated, Alys channeled a small amount of Wind into them to dry out the downy feathers. She then proceeded to flick a few beads of condensed fog from her face and continued on, searching for Kishin.

She did not quite know what had drawn her into that church in the first place. Yes, part of it might have been the soulful music emanating from the doorway. Yet, there had been something else, too. Something had told her—urged her—to slip into the cathedral. It might have been God, though He had not spoken directly to her, or it might have been her own feelings. Whatever the case, Alys had entered the holy place and had been greatly surprised to find Kishin inside.

She did not know much of Kishin other than the fact that he was the son of Oni. A shiver ran down her spine when she thought of the god of darkness. He left death and mass destruction in his wake wherever he went. Shaking herself back to the situation at hand, Alys blinked once. Strange…this place looked so familiar to her. Oh, of course. She mentally kicked herself. This was where she had started from. Exhaling in exasperation, Alys put both hands on her hips and attempted to find her bearings.

Suddenly, music floated to her through the evanescent mist, a melody so haunting that Alys was intrigued by it. She was drawn to its source as if a string had been tied to her. There was no doubt in her mind as to whom she would find when she reached her destination.

Finally, the mist parted to reveal a figure ensconced near what appeared to be a tombstone. And it was the figure, which was the source of the music, playing the violin, his back to Alys. The angel stared at him for a few moments and began to take a step forward, but something stayed her. Although he did not immediately acknowledge her, Alys was certain that Kishin was very well aware of her presence. So, instead of interrupting, Alys stood silently, basking in the emotion of the music, and waited for Kishin to finish.