Unicorn Jelly Fan Fiction Submitted: September 27th 2002 C.E.

Last Day

By Snow Hart and Naeta Waismulo

Copyright © 2002 by Snow Hart and Naeta Waismulo.

  Naeta carefully slipped up, trying to shift out of the bed silently.  He managed to get his body perhaps one-half out before his ponytail was yanked back by a strong hand.  "Naeta..." the woman who lay beside him half-whined, jerking him close again.  "It's too early for you to leave!"

        The blonde Alchemist landed back down with a thump, and a strong arm wrapped around his waist.  The Wiccan he had recently managed to somehow start some form of relationship with nuzzled against his arm.  "Look, Tsunoha, I have to go...  The...  Everything...  I've..."  The confused young man stammered, and she laughed, planting a kiss on his neck.

        "I understand.  You know I don't agree, but I understand.  I still don't want to see you go..."  She buried her face against him, and he patted her largely close-cropped hair reassuringly.  "Promise me...  Promise me you'll be careful."

        He hesitated, and patted her shoulder, turning to face her.  "I don't want to leave you either, Tsunoha.  But this has to happen.  Think about it!  Only a few live, while everybody else...  Dies?  That's not right."

        She shook her head and bit her lip, pulling him close.  "Naeta...  I...  I wish I could go with you.  Please..."  She reached over him and grabbed her knife, using it to cut off her carefully braided tail of hair.  She handed it to him, pressing it to his chest as she took what she knew would be her last kiss from him.

        Naeta placed the hair in his pocket, though it would be lost over the sea when the boat he was in hit a wave particularly harshly.  He never had the chance to notice the loss.

        Daeus slammed the book shut and scratched his head.  "This will never work..."  He shook his head agitatedly.  "This is crazy!  It won't possibly work.  Never never never...!"  He swept his arm across the desk with an agonised cry, shattering the glass, dumping all the contents to the floor.

        It wouldn't matter anyway.

        It would be gone.  In less than a day, it would be gone.  Dust and debris in the column of falling cloud and stone.

        He couldn't figure out what this sense of dread was.  Why it seemed so...  Wrong.  There was a knock on the door.

        He screwed up his resolve, and sat up straight, shaking his head at the cleared desk.  "Come in, Naeta."

        Naeta walked in, carefully, and scratched his head.  "Sorry I'm late, sir, but--"

        Daeus couldn't help but snicker.  He finished the sentence for Naeta, as if he had done so many times before.  "But you got held up by a woman?  I don't blame you.  We have work to do."

        Kirav and Laulop Vas stood outside their home.  The air rushed around their ears, and Laulop cuddled their rat Dahoub with tears in her eyes.  "Kirav, I'm scared."

        Kirav frowned, nose wrinkling, running a hand through his smooth blonde hair before he patted her rougher, brown hair.  "I know, Laulop.  I know."

        The rat in Laulop's hands chittered and scurried across her shoulders, clinging to her neck with tiny claws.  Kirav scratched his head, and sighed.  "I don't know what to do, Laulop.  I really don't.  You can see it coming, can't you?  What do we do?"

        Laulop wrapped him in a tight embrace, tears in her eyes.  "I've always loved you, Kirav.  I've always trusted you.  I hope to the Goddess we'll meet again."

        Kirav returned the embrace, struggling to hold his tears back.  "I'll miss you until then, Laulop."

       Once again Myrmil fell- and with it ended tens of thousands of stories.  A young Alchemist caught up in his idealism.  A determined man, broken by the weight of a terrible system.  A young Wiccan couple, dedicated in their love.  A weaponsmith, muddled and confused, chasing the phantoms of monsters.  A teacher and her long-enslaved husband.  More.  All of them, in their own way, attempting to find meaning in their lives.  All of them cut short by the Storm.

        Someday, perhaps, there shall be no more Myrmil 

The End



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