Burning
We're solitary creatures, alone and amongst ourselves out in the world. I can't remember the last time I saw another of my kind happen to pass by. Granted the world is large and if you know where to wander you can go months without seeing another being, but to see another of your kind? The inhabitants of the Makai are so scattered as it is that isn't very likely. If one isn't in the cities of the Makai Lords with their high towers and flashing lights that look like lightning every night, one is generally alone wandering through any kind of terrain. Demons tend to gather around each other, leaving those like my kind to wander alone in preferred silence, the world around us silent and non-disturbing for years at a time.
I liked being along and I enjoyed my solitude. But that was perhaps trained into me due to the fact of my almost never being around anyone.
Youkai, demons, whatever you would like to call us, come in all shapes and sizes. My kind are rare then most, not really having a solid shape of our own. Instead we shift much like the pitch flames that enable our existence. A physical shape changed and molded at will with limbs that could grasp, pass through or burn at command. It's not a matter of power or disadvantage, simply a state of being unique to us. I will admit it did make certain things in life easier then others.
My current area of wandering consisted of a field of trees and a stream which wound down and disappeared into the forest, flowing and trickling over rocks creating the sound of perhaps a nymph fleeing her pursuer. Water splashing on small rocks along its way and brushing against the occasional outcropping reminded my ears of foot steps passing over grass as quiet as possible. The sound of fleeing, flight, escape... and perhaps a little fear.
With such sounds it never struck me as strange to find a small bundle caught in a patch of reeds, swaying back and forth in the water as if it were trying to wiggle itself out. The water splashed over it in a light spray and occasionally there was a soft sound from within.
Curiosity almost never gets the best of me, but I must admit I couldn't resist seeing what was within such a bundle. Especially considering that as I stepped closer I saw there were seal markings attached over the wrapping of torn and worn cloth. Something was sealed inside. Something wasn't meant to escape. Perhaps, even, something had been meant to drowned.
Kneeling next to the water's edge, I molding hands out of my flames and carefully caught a piece of the cloth, dragging the bundle from the water. I avoided the splashing and managed to stay completely dry, in spite of whatever ulterior motive the river held, for it splashed largely after my hand was clear. I moved the bundle in front of me then set about carefully melting away the seals to see what was inside.
Burnt cloth and occasional drops of water with the ashes that remained from the seals soon fell away to reveal a small body. I found myself staring in surprise at the body of a child who's head was covered with miscut and misshapen spiked hair, jutting every which way in it's wetness. Skin pale as the snow from the Koorime's floating isles contrasted the hair and even though his eyes were closed I could tell they were just a bit too large for his entire face. This child was pale, cold to the touch and barely breathing. But his hair and the large eyes spoke of a being that should never be cold. For one of his kind, cold meant death and pain beyond imaging.
And someone had dropped him into the water, sealed in a cocoon without a second care.
Someone had wanted him to die.
My hand passed over his cheek and I watched as the small child curled against my hand, trying desperately to grasp onto it and absorb the warmth it presented. Amazing how he was so young and so close to death, and yet seemed to focus all his being on gathering whatever warmth he could. Abandoned children in the Makai almost never lasted, especially not fire demons. Nor halfbreeds like this one.
Pity and caring aren't specialty's of my kind. In fact, they are rare enough in the Makai. In a world of tooth, claw, flesheaters and powers that could occasionally blow apart worlds, compassion wasn't recommended. Even with those who appeared to be children such a though could be deadly.
Somehow this one passed my better judgment.
I slid my hand over his cold body and watched him desperately curl against my hand, begging silently for warmth and the life that it offered.
My kind live alone, wandering and doing as we wish, generally never running into anyone who we cared to remember or stay with. And yet, ironic as it is, we possess an ability that is rare in the Makai. We become symbiont's and can meld ourselves into another being, offering our own powers and being for their use.
In this case I offered warmth. A warmth that would give this child back the life which had almost been stolen. And perhaps, in the future, he in turn would reveal who had tried to do such a thing.
Fire is not just the warmth of life. But also the burning rage of revenge.
We're solitary creatures, alone and amongst ourselves out in the world. I can't remember the last time I saw another of my kind happen to pass by. Granted the world is large and if you know where to wander you can go months without seeing another being, but to see another of your kind? The inhabitants of the Makai are so scattered as it is that isn't very likely. If one isn't in the cities of the Makai Lords with their high towers and flashing lights that look like lightning every night, one is generally alone wandering through any kind of terrain. Demons tend to gather around each other, leaving those like my kind to wander alone in preferred silence, the world around us silent and non-disturbing for years at a time.
I liked being along and I enjoyed my solitude. But that was perhaps trained into me due to the fact of my almost never being around anyone.
Youkai, demons, whatever you would like to call us, come in all shapes and sizes. My kind are rare then most, not really having a solid shape of our own. Instead we shift much like the pitch flames that enable our existence. A physical shape changed and molded at will with limbs that could grasp, pass through or burn at command. It's not a matter of power or disadvantage, simply a state of being unique to us. I will admit it did make certain things in life easier then others.
My current area of wandering consisted of a field of trees and a stream which wound down and disappeared into the forest, flowing and trickling over rocks creating the sound of perhaps a nymph fleeing her pursuer. Water splashing on small rocks along its way and brushing against the occasional outcropping reminded my ears of foot steps passing over grass as quiet as possible. The sound of fleeing, flight, escape... and perhaps a little fear.
With such sounds it never struck me as strange to find a small bundle caught in a patch of reeds, swaying back and forth in the water as if it were trying to wiggle itself out. The water splashed over it in a light spray and occasionally there was a soft sound from within.
Curiosity almost never gets the best of me, but I must admit I couldn't resist seeing what was within such a bundle. Especially considering that as I stepped closer I saw there were seal markings attached over the wrapping of torn and worn cloth. Something was sealed inside. Something wasn't meant to escape. Perhaps, even, something had been meant to drowned.
Kneeling next to the water's edge, I molding hands out of my flames and carefully caught a piece of the cloth, dragging the bundle from the water. I avoided the splashing and managed to stay completely dry, in spite of whatever ulterior motive the river held, for it splashed largely after my hand was clear. I moved the bundle in front of me then set about carefully melting away the seals to see what was inside.
Burnt cloth and occasional drops of water with the ashes that remained from the seals soon fell away to reveal a small body. I found myself staring in surprise at the body of a child who's head was covered with miscut and misshapen spiked hair, jutting every which way in it's wetness. Skin pale as the snow from the Koorime's floating isles contrasted the hair and even though his eyes were closed I could tell they were just a bit too large for his entire face. This child was pale, cold to the touch and barely breathing. But his hair and the large eyes spoke of a being that should never be cold. For one of his kind, cold meant death and pain beyond imaging.
And someone had dropped him into the water, sealed in a cocoon without a second care.
Someone had wanted him to die.
My hand passed over his cheek and I watched as the small child curled against my hand, trying desperately to grasp onto it and absorb the warmth it presented. Amazing how he was so young and so close to death, and yet seemed to focus all his being on gathering whatever warmth he could. Abandoned children in the Makai almost never lasted, especially not fire demons. Nor halfbreeds like this one.
Pity and caring aren't specialty's of my kind. In fact, they are rare enough in the Makai. In a world of tooth, claw, flesheaters and powers that could occasionally blow apart worlds, compassion wasn't recommended. Even with those who appeared to be children such a though could be deadly.
Somehow this one passed my better judgment.
I slid my hand over his cold body and watched him desperately curl against my hand, begging silently for warmth and the life that it offered.
My kind live alone, wandering and doing as we wish, generally never running into anyone who we cared to remember or stay with. And yet, ironic as it is, we possess an ability that is rare in the Makai. We become symbiont's and can meld ourselves into another being, offering our own powers and being for their use.
In this case I offered warmth. A warmth that would give this child back the life which had almost been stolen. And perhaps, in the future, he in turn would reveal who had tried to do such a thing.
Fire is not just the warmth of life. But also the burning rage of revenge.