"Jinnai probably told it to," Makoto reasoned as he clung
tightly to Afura's waist.
<snip>
"Just keep quiet and get ready to do your thing. And watch
where you put those hands."
"Say, Afura?" asked Makoto, "Is all this danger and my close
physical presence turning you on?"
"I refer you to the alleged Afura/Shayla subtext in Chapter Ten,"
replied Afura.
"Shucks."
Afura, airborne, had no difficulty; neither did Miz, who was
easily capable of navigating rough seas. Shayla, however, whose
position even upon the flat water had been only a little less
precarious than that of a skipped stone,
<snip>
A sudden increase in speed made his stomach drop like a
stone.
<snip>
"I nailed it," the fire priestess crowed triumphantly.
"Sank like a stone. Miz and Fujisawa went down after it."
is it just me, or is the 'stone' metaphor being used a lot?
He hit the water painfully, back-first and arms flailing.
Breath fled his lungs at the stinging impact of the water, but he
had enough presence of mind to clamp his mouth shut as the sea
closed over his head. Awkwardly positioned, sinking rapidly,
tasting salt upon his lips, he struggled to orient himself
properly and fight for the surface. The baggy Roshtarian
clothing he wore soaked up water like a sponge, and was about as
easy to swim in as a lead suit. Worse even than that,
Even worse than that?
This close, Lethiaphan's bonded presence felt almost like a
second mind within his, cold and steely like a blade, filled with
memories of old killing and an obedience reaching beyond
fanaticism into something purer, deadly and simple and
relentless. How could human hands have designed something so
alien?
Jinnai is not its true master, that's for sure.
As though in answer, Lethiaphan spoke:
"Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.
The human dress is forged iron,
The human form a fiery forge,
The human face a furnace seal'd,
The human heart its hungry gorge."
Finished its monotone recitation, Lethiaphan bowed, one arm
still pressed against its dark-smoking chest. Makoto struggled
to reconcile this inconsistency with his previous experience of
Lethiaphan, failed to achieve that, and simply gave up.
me too. *something* sent it to Jinnai.
await to see how this fits into the 'God' thread.
bits of deepening mystery as the story progresses -
fine line between being interesting/enticing and being
overly cryptic. but overall, good balance still.
"Don't you have something cleaner?" A wheedling note in his
voice would do it, yes, all those days in the Shakespeare Society
of Shinanome were paying off, he'd seen Jinnai do Caliban two
years ago, he knew how to whine...
just a little surprised that Jinnai would agree to play Caliban.
and great fight/action scene.
"Poor, poor Ifurita," clucked Osilis. "You are without a
master to serve now; don't you realize that we have no purpose
unless we have someone to obey? Humans struggle and agonize
because of their unknowable God; they ponder endlessly the
existence or nonexistence of their maker and master, his nature,
what he wants. That is why they are unhappy."
interesting theology. though i lean towards Hegel and Nietzsche
myself.
"One's maker is not necessarily a worthy master," Ifurita
said softly. "Nor is one you call master necessarily worthy of
your service."
erm. assuming this is a God who is the Creator in this story,
Ifurita's logic could most definitely apply to it.
A scuttling of tiny sharp legs towards her as she fell...
ohmigod. Osilis is after Ifurita's body?
"Alielle, she's breathing. She doesn't need you to give her
mouth-to-mouth." Makoto looked down again at Afura. "Now please
check on Fujisawa-sensei."
"I never get to have any fun."
though Alliele never seemed very keen on Afura anyway.
"Aughh! GET--okay, look, _just_ this once, because you
saved my life and everybody else's, and HEY! there are limits, I
didn't mean you could put your hands there--"
Makoto turned away, leaving Shayla and Alielle to their own
particular brand of reconciliation.
and Afura to stew in jealousy. ;)
"Fine." Trying and failing to keep a calm veil over his
inexplicable agitation, Makoto walked to the edge of the boat and
stared at out the featureless spot of see that he thought was
where Lethiaphan had gone down.
stared out at
All around him, the others, Miz Shayla Fujisawa Alielle,
clamouring voices, question after question which he cannot
willnot answer, and, "SHUT UP! Shut up! Let me think! Leave me
alone!"
while not exactly grammaratically correct, the effect is
just... wonderful. a reminder of what a wonderful tool the
written word can be.
full of great, flowing prose. congrats.
awaiting the next part.
regards
EeL