path_unprepared | (no subject)

(no subject)

The dormitories are silent and empty during the school day, and even on the afternoons and weekends most of Ohtori Academy's student population prefer to spend their time out of doors when the weather permits.

If you are alone in a dormitory, the silence can be comforting, a welcome change from the noise and often inane chatter.

It can also be oppressive, hanging heavy in the air like the unnatural stillness before a thunderstorm.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Saionji's focused on the leaf, applying the last coat of varnish. Wakaba wanted to wear it today, but he told her the paint would chip.

It's almost perfect now.

He blows on the coat of varnish; rotates his shoulders. He feels tense.

The hairs on the back of his next stand up.

They should.

He isn't alone in the room any longer.

'What an enviable position you are in, Saionji Kyouichi-kun.' A dry, ironical voice, which makes the word enviable into something vaguely insulting.

He lurches back, his back flattening against the wall below the window.

"You--Mikage!" He's breathing a little fast. The sunlight falls in a stream between them, and dust mote dance in it, slow and dream-like.

The head of the Mikage Seminar is sitting in the chair opposite, half in the sunlight and half out of it, leaning slightly forward and watching the younger man intently.

'It has been quite some time, has it not?' Deliberate formality, carefully chosen.

"When--" he says raggedly.

His eyes flick to the door. Still locked. "I mean... how'd you get in here?"

There is the faintest sound of chirping outside, the bright noise of insects and birds. The day is warm and the weather is fine; no one would spend it indoors unless they had to.

'Even the smallest secrets in the Academy are not outside the jurisdiction of the Black Rose Society,' Mikage replies calmly, entirely ignoring the question. 'But regardless, Saionji-kun. Imagine, you who once served as Vice-President of the Student Council...now reduced to sponging off a female student.'

A quiet chuckle, as if the situation greatly amuses him.

The despair and rage that this kindles in him drives the impossibility of Mikage's presence from his mind; besides, this is Ohtori, where impossible slips away like water through a fist.

"I don't intend to stay here forever," he says angrily. "I'll find a way back to the Academy--even to the Student Council."

'Oh?' His smile is small, and just this side of mocking. 'How?'

He licks his lips. "I..."

He lets the silence hang in the air for a moment.

'Having wasted your time thus far, what do you intend to do?'

"Well--" He feels like a pit is opening up underneath him.

There's no way for him to go back. He doesn't have the leverage, doesn't have a chance; he just hasn't admitted it to himself yet.

His eyes are those of a trapped animal. He looks away from Mikage, desperate not to show the dismay he feels.

Wakaba never asks. She takes his word on it.

Mikage does not look away from him -- the intent gaze never wavers. The faint chirpings that can be heard outside make Wakaba's little room seem a little more airless, a little more confining.

'Well what?' he says, with the same placid, slightly detached air. 'You could do something about it, had you a fragment of our power.'

Our power. But in this room, at this moment...my power.

Access to the political network of the Black Rose Circle is nothing to be sneezed at. Rumor has it that there are highly-place government bureaucrats involved in the seminar--but then, so little is known about the seminar that all kinds of rumors fly around.

That's what he told Moiraine about Souji Mikage.

"What?" he says slowly, stupid hope dawning in his face.

The blossoming of hope, unfolding like the petals of a rare flower, is a beautiful thing to watch. So fragile. So delicate.

'We are distressed by the future prospects of the Academy.' His facial expression does not change; his gaze remains fixed on Saionji. 'Your talent is...precious.'

You will find, perhaps, that black roses are not the most desirable of flowers.

And that's what Moiraine had replied.

The words seem faraway and faded, like something he read in a book long ago. While this is like a dream; a dream he's had a thousand times, finally coming true.

He can feel a smile crawling over his face. It seems entirely unconnected to himself. "I see. So that's how it is."

"What do you want in exchange?"

'Well, then.' Suddenly, he is very business-like. This is a transaction, after all, an important transaction, and it must be done properly. 'There is one item that we would like from you.'

A brief pause.

'A trifle, really.'

He follows Mikage's gaze, and if there's any part of him that protests--

(if your soul hasn't given up entirely)

--it's faint, and far away, and he stopped listening to it long ago.

A trifle, really. Only that and nothing more.

absolute destiny apocalypse

He nods.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only