#onethousandspirits

[dragxnbxy]

-slides you some honey and lemon tea- I hope you feel better soon, Haku! My mommy gives this to me all the time when I've got a cold. It's really tasty!

♋—; A gentle, tentative smile curved the spirit’s pallid lip, wrapping his lurid fingers about the cup’s handle with gentility, grateful for the soothe it would surely provide for his throat’s ache. “…I’m sure that it will be. Thank you, Chihiro. That’s very kind of you.”

[dragxnbxy]

Chihiro - all the chihiro's.

♋—; “…Chihiro is a pure soul with a fathomless heart…but she is not for me to have. She is not mine. She will never be mine. She belongs to another world…and will one day belong to another man. I mus release her to this fate…with both joy, and bitterness in my heart.”

[dragxnbxy]

♋ ;; Passage of Time

♋—; Days bled into months, and months bled into  y e a r s.

     Had the years yet bled into decades? Centuries? Had a millennium passed yet between their separate existences? The empty chasm echoing the lonely absence through the wayward spirit's blackened heart begged to say so, falsehood abrupt and outward amidst the claim, though perhaps it would ease the pain of his pride somewhat to claim otherwise.

                              -- Perhaps he should take a page from his new teacher's book...                                                                                    And abandon his { h e a r t } ...

     The stark contrast of his life prior was staggering. When last he'd grasped that fragile, uncertain hand between his own porcelain digits, he'd been oppressed and exposed, used and abused for the sake of greed and gluttony and foolish naivety. The Witch was long behind him now, and for the sake of his efforts and her own holy memory, he'd finally established himself into a new home, and a new life with a Tutor in the magical arts that treated him in place of dismissal and disgrace with encouragement, and dare he say, affection.

     -- The Great Wizard, the man of a thousand names, Howl Pendragon.

     His proficiency in the magical arts had only grown since his abandonment of the Bath House, though no amount of knowledge or skill could fill the gaping hole that the young human had left within the breath of his soul...

'Can we meet again?' Of course. 'Promise?' Promise.

                                                                               { A promise. }                                                                                               { A  l i e ... }

     Spirits could not cross the river, and only the darkest of magic had yet the power to permit him travel beyond the Boatman's terrain. By his Master's hand, perhaps...but even then, only for a day's time. Would a day be enough?

                                                                                                                          ---- Never.

     Until he could hold her hand within his own eternally, he would have to hold onto the memories that she'd likely long forgotten. Perhaps when she departed her world, he'd finally be able to keep his promise, and meet her off of the Boatman's ferry with open arms, and a home amongst the dead.

                                               -- He'd wait forever, if he must.