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sakon76Very much inspired by the memory of Hiromasa's playing in the movie Onmyouji. Very much want the soundtracks to both the movie and its sequel. Also probably nicked from Hoshikage's FST. If she wants it back, though, I'll delete this.
Quatre stepped off the porch and shaded his eyes against the bright sun. He hadn't found Seiji inside the house so outside was the next place to look. The sun was hot, but compared to the arid death of a desert, it was a mild day. He looked up into the shifting shade of a tree and found Touma comfortably perched on a branch, paused in his reading to look down upon Quatre.
"Have you seen Seiji?" he asked.
Touma's cyan eyes took on an unfocused look for a few seconds, as if looking into a distance or resharpening their focus to peer into a world Quatre could only barely sense. "He's in the forest." Touma jerked his head to the right in an indication of direction. "Follow the flute music."
"Thank you." Smiling harmlessly, an expression so often practiced that it came more naturally to Quatre than allowing his true feelings crossing his face, Quatre stepped forward.
He wasn't far into the woods when he heard the first note, a shrill, piercing sound that cleaved the silence and then died abruptly, leaving a hollowing emptiness in its wake. Another note followed after a moment, wavering gently in the air. It was the music of a shakuhachi, a traditional Japanese flute, and a sound that Quatre had only heard once or twice in his life. The playing was very different from the symphonies he was used to, or even the livelier Arabic music that time with the Magunacs had taught him to love. But somehow this haunting sound, too, called to his soul. He followed the music, longing for its beauty and balance.
When he finally came to the small clearing where Seiji sat on a boulder, playing, he paused. The musician's eyes were closed, his body relaxed, and in the air around him blazed the light of a thousand candles, glowing as he breathed and played. A shift up to a higher note caused one to be born before Quatre's eyes, a spark emerging into being where before in the air there had been nothing. He reached out his hand toward that light, cupped it in his palm. It was heatless and washed away shadows.
"Beautiful," he whispered, looking back at Seiji, who had stopped playing and regarded him, eyes now open. Wordlessly the other warrior nodded, lowering his flute. The hovering lights did not fade away. "You created all this?"
Seiji nodded. He raised a hand, an elegant gesture, and a few of the lights came as if called, kissing his fingertips, hovering about him like fond little birds. "It's good to remember that beauty can come of an armor designed for war." He looked at Quatre again. "Touma said you wanted to speak with me?"
Quatre stepped off the porch and shaded his eyes against the bright sun. He hadn't found Seiji inside the house so outside was the next place to look. The sun was hot, but compared to the arid death of a desert, it was a mild day. He looked up into the shifting shade of a tree and found Touma comfortably perched on a branch, paused in his reading to look down upon Quatre.
"Have you seen Seiji?" he asked.
Touma's cyan eyes took on an unfocused look for a few seconds, as if looking into a distance or resharpening their focus to peer into a world Quatre could only barely sense. "He's in the forest." Touma jerked his head to the right in an indication of direction. "Follow the flute music."
"Thank you." Smiling harmlessly, an expression so often practiced that it came more naturally to Quatre than allowing his true feelings crossing his face, Quatre stepped forward.
He wasn't far into the woods when he heard the first note, a shrill, piercing sound that cleaved the silence and then died abruptly, leaving a hollowing emptiness in its wake. Another note followed after a moment, wavering gently in the air. It was the music of a shakuhachi, a traditional Japanese flute, and a sound that Quatre had only heard once or twice in his life. The playing was very different from the symphonies he was used to, or even the livelier Arabic music that time with the Magunacs had taught him to love. But somehow this haunting sound, too, called to his soul. He followed the music, longing for its beauty and balance.
When he finally came to the small clearing where Seiji sat on a boulder, playing, he paused. The musician's eyes were closed, his body relaxed, and in the air around him blazed the light of a thousand candles, glowing as he breathed and played. A shift up to a higher note caused one to be born before Quatre's eyes, a spark emerging into being where before in the air there had been nothing. He reached out his hand toward that light, cupped it in his palm. It was heatless and washed away shadows.
"Beautiful," he whispered, looking back at Seiji, who had stopped playing and regarded him, eyes now open. Wordlessly the other warrior nodded, lowering his flute. The hovering lights did not fade away. "You created all this?"
Seiji nodded. He raised a hand, an elegant gesture, and a few of the lights came as if called, kissing his fingertips, hovering about him like fond little birds. "It's good to remember that beauty can come of an armor designed for war." He looked at Quatre again. "Touma said you wanted to speak with me?"
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Date: 2003-10-27 12:06 pm (UTC)I don't know quite how to comment, other than to say I love your ability to paint pictures with words. Gorgeous.