Afterwards:
Jan. 27th, 2005 09:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kingandyI'm not sure exactly where we are now. Some kind of desert, it's night. I think we're a long way from where we were.
We spent a while searching that chamber for clues, secret hatches or hidden items or signposts or something. It would have been a lot quicker if we'd asked Jinkouraimon right away. Naturally he noticed it first - he notices everything first - but he's so dependent on external orders that he doesn't volunteer information. He was so lost without Rai that it was hard enough to get him to move out of the corridor. So for what must have been almost twenty minutes, the rest of us poked and prodded the wall and stared blankly at the inscriptions on the pedestal without once stopping to ask ourselves what it was he was staring at.
You know how, once you've noticed something, you don't look at it again, and just assume that it matches up with whatever you saw earlier? Jinkouraimon was standing, in the middle of our hemi-demi-whateversphere, staring at the mirror. At the children in the mirror.
I don't know how long they'd been there. And I don't think they could see us like we could see them. But there they were, alongside our own reflections. They must have figured the room was important too, because like us they were feeling their way around. We tried feeling for where their reflections would have placed them, shouting their names, hammering against the mirror - nothing. The only one who displayed any kind of reaction was Akemi. She still didn't seem to see us, and it wasn't so much a direct reaction to anything we did, but while we were trying to attract their attention she began staring thoughtfully at the mirror. She had that distracted frown on her face that means she's trying to put things together in her head. She walked over to the pedestal; so did I. It was weird, watching our images intersect, superimposed like that. Like one of us was a ghost. Of course her face was somewhere around my abdomen, which didn't help.
Something inspired her to reach out and touch the surface of the pedestal. As she did, a small handprint lit up on its face (outside the mirror, exactly where her hand would have to be to cast that reflection) and burst into flame. I could feel its heat on my face, my wings - in the mirror her hand was on fire. She says that it didn't hurt her, but at the time I didn't know, because she had her other arm up to shield her eyes from the light. I almost tried to smash the glass again (that would have been smart, considering where Akemi was stood), and the other kids were trying to pull her away. She pushed them back. I realised she was waiting for something. I'm still not sure exactly what I was thinking, or if there was a thought process involved as such. Call it another example of that Trainer/Partner link I keep talking about. But instead of howling bloody murder, I reached out and placed my hand over hers.
At that moment I knew she could see me. She looked directly into my eyes and nodded. The entire room lit up, light from inside the rock, the walls, the floor, the dome of the roof, but mostly the pedestal, which was now burning like a small sun. Another small glowing shape rose out of its centre - the Key we've been looking for. With an expression of purest joy Akemi reached out and it landed softly in her cupped hands.
There was some exposition at this point, a booming voice proclaiming this to be the Key of Trust, me being its Guardian and her its Bearer or some such. I wasn't really listening. I'd noticed our reflections were gone, as was the mirror itself - we really were in a hemispherical room with our chosen children now. That was a lot more important than some old pronouncement about Responsibilities of Doom. As far as I'm concerned, we just carry on doing what we've been doing, no change in job description's going to bother me. Like I was ever going to not guard her.
And then we weren't there any more. For whatever reason the Shrine Guardian (I'm guessing) transported us some way towards the next Shrine (we're hoping), leaving us with the instruction to head in the direction of the rising sun. Being night, we figured it was a good opportunity to get some rest.
Which pretty much brings us up to date. Tomorrow, onwards and upwards. But for now I'm getting some much-needed downtime.
Sayonara.
We spent a while searching that chamber for clues, secret hatches or hidden items or signposts or something. It would have been a lot quicker if we'd asked Jinkouraimon right away. Naturally he noticed it first - he notices everything first - but he's so dependent on external orders that he doesn't volunteer information. He was so lost without Rai that it was hard enough to get him to move out of the corridor. So for what must have been almost twenty minutes, the rest of us poked and prodded the wall and stared blankly at the inscriptions on the pedestal without once stopping to ask ourselves what it was he was staring at.
You know how, once you've noticed something, you don't look at it again, and just assume that it matches up with whatever you saw earlier? Jinkouraimon was standing, in the middle of our hemi-demi-whateversphere, staring at the mirror. At the children in the mirror.
I don't know how long they'd been there. And I don't think they could see us like we could see them. But there they were, alongside our own reflections. They must have figured the room was important too, because like us they were feeling their way around. We tried feeling for where their reflections would have placed them, shouting their names, hammering against the mirror - nothing. The only one who displayed any kind of reaction was Akemi. She still didn't seem to see us, and it wasn't so much a direct reaction to anything we did, but while we were trying to attract their attention she began staring thoughtfully at the mirror. She had that distracted frown on her face that means she's trying to put things together in her head. She walked over to the pedestal; so did I. It was weird, watching our images intersect, superimposed like that. Like one of us was a ghost. Of course her face was somewhere around my abdomen, which didn't help.
Something inspired her to reach out and touch the surface of the pedestal. As she did, a small handprint lit up on its face (outside the mirror, exactly where her hand would have to be to cast that reflection) and burst into flame. I could feel its heat on my face, my wings - in the mirror her hand was on fire. She says that it didn't hurt her, but at the time I didn't know, because she had her other arm up to shield her eyes from the light. I almost tried to smash the glass again (that would have been smart, considering where Akemi was stood), and the other kids were trying to pull her away. She pushed them back. I realised she was waiting for something. I'm still not sure exactly what I was thinking, or if there was a thought process involved as such. Call it another example of that Trainer/Partner link I keep talking about. But instead of howling bloody murder, I reached out and placed my hand over hers.
At that moment I knew she could see me. She looked directly into my eyes and nodded. The entire room lit up, light from inside the rock, the walls, the floor, the dome of the roof, but mostly the pedestal, which was now burning like a small sun. Another small glowing shape rose out of its centre - the Key we've been looking for. With an expression of purest joy Akemi reached out and it landed softly in her cupped hands.
There was some exposition at this point, a booming voice proclaiming this to be the Key of Trust, me being its Guardian and her its Bearer or some such. I wasn't really listening. I'd noticed our reflections were gone, as was the mirror itself - we really were in a hemispherical room with our chosen children now. That was a lot more important than some old pronouncement about Responsibilities of Doom. As far as I'm concerned, we just carry on doing what we've been doing, no change in job description's going to bother me. Like I was ever going to not guard her.
And then we weren't there any more. For whatever reason the Shrine Guardian (I'm guessing) transported us some way towards the next Shrine (we're hoping), leaving us with the instruction to head in the direction of the rising sun. Being night, we figured it was a good opportunity to get some rest.
Which pretty much brings us up to date. Tomorrow, onwards and upwards. But for now I'm getting some much-needed downtime.
Sayonara.
