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Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Scrapped Princess's Casket | Part 5/10
Pacifica's hair fluttered down.
While she tumbled to the floor, Pacifica stared in horror at her fallen barrette. That metal barrette was perfectly in two. In addition to that, rather than being mangled, it gave the impression of having been cut by a hacksaw.
It looked as though something like a chain had come shooting out of Convict's sleeve. It had undulated like a whip as it flew through the air to strike at Pacifica.
But of course, it was not a chain. Neither was it a whip.
It . . . They were a swarm of small blades connected by steel wire.
Each and every blade was about the size of the palm of a toddler's hand. The bladed edges were covered in tiny serrations, and at first glance, they looked like the gears used in crafting some kind of machine.
From there, this sort of weapon was most likely completed by running a steel wire through the very center of each blade.
It bent like a whip and cut like a saw. Its effectiveness probably depended on the wielder, but by wrapping it around and pulling it back, something like a human body would easily be sliced to pieces, and no mistake.
"Next time . . . I won't miss."
Saying this, Convict pulled his weapon back. As though time had reversed, the swarm of blades returned to the hilt in Convict's grasp with a clink, forming a single, jagged sword.
In general, he probably stored this weapon within his clothes in whip-form. However, if need be, a single swing of his arm could carve up his prey in an instant.
". . ."
Pacifica, still sitting on the floor, stared at the hired killer, dumbfounded.
Her legs would not move. Even though she was uninjured, her legs refused to obey her. I wonder if this is what people mean when they say the floor's dropped out from under them . . . muttered a strangely calm voice from somewhere deep inside her.
He's going to kill me . . .
Her thoughts were overwhelmed by this conviction.
She had managed to avoid the first strike because Convict had been careless. The next time that weapon came swinging down, there would be no escape. Those countless little saw-like blades would cut her to pieces.
He's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me . . . !
Terror raced through her entire body.
Yet at the same time, Pacifica was aware of one part of her that observed this in a cool, detached way.
He's going to kill me. I'm going to die.
Isn't that for the best? . . . it said.
Better than living the rest of her life in terror of killers. Better than putting Shannon and Raquel in danger, wasting their precious lives in order to extend her own. Better than a life spent creeping about in the shadows, feeling the burden of that indebtedness.
Pacifica shuddered in fear of herself, for entertaining such thoughts.
Do I . . . want to die?
The assassin's blades came forward, bringing certain death.
One instant, stretched to infinity by her horror . . . In that one instant, countless thoughts and emotions raced through her.
She was going to die.
It ended here. The life of the person called Pacifica Casull would cease. There would be nothing beyond this. Perfect nothingness. Annihilation. Extinction.
She would disappear. Her future would vanish.
She would never . . . see them again.
Just like her father.
She would never see them again, never hear their voices, never laugh with them, never fight with them, never make memories with them again.
Everything would come to the end.
Complete elimination. Joy and sadness--everything would be erased without exception, without discrimination. A state of absolute consummation. And exactly because it is consummate, it can never be undone. For all eternity.
She would never see them again. Even the heart that longed to see them would be scattered into nothingness.
I don't want that . . . Pacifica thought, staring at the swarm of blades as they drew near. I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't . . . Absolutely not!
As though it were a matter of course, she cried out, "Shannon-niiiii!"
". . . yeah, all right."
A voice came down through the stained glass window.
". . . huh?"
The next moment, against the backdrop of the blue sky, Shannon broke through the stained glass window and plunged into the chapel. Scattering varicolored shards of glass, Shannon drew a dagger from his breast pocket in midair and threw it.
Even the adept Convict was thrown off his balance. Although he managed to dodge Shannon's thrown dagger, the attack he had launched to mince Pacifica to bits ended up striking a place nowhere near her.
Shannon used this opportunity to pass over Convict's head and land at Pacifica's side.
Looking closely through the broken stained glass window, Pacifica saw a rope swaying slowly. It had probably been quicker and easier for him to take the initiative this way, rather than by traveling through the castle's passages.
"Oniichan . . .?" Pacifica said in blank amazement.
"You know, I went to a lot of trouble to get here at exactly the right moment, when it would be the most dashing, so you could at least be a little impressed."
Shannon's grumbling voice drifted through the air as he stood facing away, toward Convict.
Even in a situation like this, his voice was the same as ever, and Pacifica was so happy she could have cried.
Fighting down the reflexive urge to cling to his back, Pacifica took a deep breath (knowing that she would start crying if she spoke carelessly), forcibly regained her composure, and spoke the way she always did.
"Wha . . . what's with you?! If you're going to come rescue me, be quicker about it! Thanks to you, my barrette got broken, you know!"
"All right, all right, I'll buy you another one. But first of all, I did get here in a hurry."
"What about that was hurrying? First of all, what did you go and climb all the way up to the roof for, just so you could jump down here? You've got no common sense, none at all!"
"Yeah, yeah. Next time I'll come in through the front door, announce myself with a 'Sorry to intrude,' and then cometh to thy rescue, My Princess. But you know, I think the one who ran off to a confusing place like this has to share some of the blame."
"I couldn't help it--I was brought here!"
"What are you, a little kid? Don't just go blithely off with strange men."
"He wasn't a stranger!"
"That guy? You know, you . . . for right now, you really need to be choosier about your friends and acquaintances," Shannon said while eying Convict.
"Not him . . ."
As they talked the same way they always had, Pacifica was grateful that Shannon had his back to her. She did not have to worry about his seeing the tears that were trickling down her cheeks.
The same Shannon as always.
His same old voice. His words. His attitude. The big brother who always, always came to save her, ever since she was little. Pacifica's family--unrelated by blood, but closer to her than anyone.
It's okay for me to live, right?
Everything about him, which had stayed unchanged, assured her of that.
I don't have to be the Scrapped Princess or anything . . . I can go on living as Pacifica Casull, right? I can stay Shannon-nii and Raquel-nee's little sister, right?
Of course, there was no answer. There was no answer, but . . .
Even so, Pacifica felt like she had been saved just a tiny bit.
---
[Next] [Previous]
Hey! Her hair is supposed to be down around her shoulders. Caught ya' slippin', Azumi, caught ya' slippin'.
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Scrapped Princess's Casket | Part 5/10
Pacifica's hair fluttered down.
While she tumbled to the floor, Pacifica stared in horror at her fallen barrette. That metal barrette was perfectly in two. In addition to that, rather than being mangled, it gave the impression of having been cut by a hacksaw.
It looked as though something like a chain had come shooting out of Convict's sleeve. It had undulated like a whip as it flew through the air to strike at Pacifica.
But of course, it was not a chain. Neither was it a whip.
It . . . They were a swarm of small blades connected by steel wire.
Each and every blade was about the size of the palm of a toddler's hand. The bladed edges were covered in tiny serrations, and at first glance, they looked like the gears used in crafting some kind of machine.
From there, this sort of weapon was most likely completed by running a steel wire through the very center of each blade.
It bent like a whip and cut like a saw. Its effectiveness probably depended on the wielder, but by wrapping it around and pulling it back, something like a human body would easily be sliced to pieces, and no mistake.
"Next time . . . I won't miss."
Saying this, Convict pulled his weapon back. As though time had reversed, the swarm of blades returned to the hilt in Convict's grasp with a clink, forming a single, jagged sword.
In general, he probably stored this weapon within his clothes in whip-form. However, if need be, a single swing of his arm could carve up his prey in an instant.
". . ."
Pacifica, still sitting on the floor, stared at the hired killer, dumbfounded.
Her legs would not move. Even though she was uninjured, her legs refused to obey her. I wonder if this is what people mean when they say the floor's dropped out from under them . . . muttered a strangely calm voice from somewhere deep inside her.
He's going to kill me . . .
Her thoughts were overwhelmed by this conviction.
She had managed to avoid the first strike because Convict had been careless. The next time that weapon came swinging down, there would be no escape. Those countless little saw-like blades would cut her to pieces.
He's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me . . . !
Terror raced through her entire body.
Yet at the same time, Pacifica was aware of one part of her that observed this in a cool, detached way.
He's going to kill me. I'm going to die.
Isn't that for the best? . . . it said.
Better than living the rest of her life in terror of killers. Better than putting Shannon and Raquel in danger, wasting their precious lives in order to extend her own. Better than a life spent creeping about in the shadows, feeling the burden of that indebtedness.
Pacifica shuddered in fear of herself, for entertaining such thoughts.
Do I . . . want to die?
The assassin's blades came forward, bringing certain death.
One instant, stretched to infinity by her horror . . . In that one instant, countless thoughts and emotions raced through her.
She was going to die.
It ended here. The life of the person called Pacifica Casull would cease. There would be nothing beyond this. Perfect nothingness. Annihilation. Extinction.
She would disappear. Her future would vanish.
She would never . . . see them again.
Just like her father.
She would never see them again, never hear their voices, never laugh with them, never fight with them, never make memories with them again.
Everything would come to the end.
Complete elimination. Joy and sadness--everything would be erased without exception, without discrimination. A state of absolute consummation. And exactly because it is consummate, it can never be undone. For all eternity.
She would never see them again. Even the heart that longed to see them would be scattered into nothingness.
I don't want that . . . Pacifica thought, staring at the swarm of blades as they drew near. I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't . . . Absolutely not!
As though it were a matter of course, she cried out, "Shannon-niiiii!"
". . . yeah, all right."
A voice came down through the stained glass window.
". . . huh?"
The next moment, against the backdrop of the blue sky, Shannon broke through the stained glass window and plunged into the chapel. Scattering varicolored shards of glass, Shannon drew a dagger from his breast pocket in midair and threw it.
Even the adept Convict was thrown off his balance. Although he managed to dodge Shannon's thrown dagger, the attack he had launched to mince Pacifica to bits ended up striking a place nowhere near her.
Shannon used this opportunity to pass over Convict's head and land at Pacifica's side.
Looking closely through the broken stained glass window, Pacifica saw a rope swaying slowly. It had probably been quicker and easier for him to take the initiative this way, rather than by traveling through the castle's passages.
"Oniichan . . .?" Pacifica said in blank amazement.
"You know, I went to a lot of trouble to get here at exactly the right moment, when it would be the most dashing, so you could at least be a little impressed."
Shannon's grumbling voice drifted through the air as he stood facing away, toward Convict.
Even in a situation like this, his voice was the same as ever, and Pacifica was so happy she could have cried.
Fighting down the reflexive urge to cling to his back, Pacifica took a deep breath (knowing that she would start crying if she spoke carelessly), forcibly regained her composure, and spoke the way she always did.
"Wha . . . what's with you?! If you're going to come rescue me, be quicker about it! Thanks to you, my barrette got broken, you know!"
"All right, all right, I'll buy you another one. But first of all, I did get here in a hurry."
"What about that was hurrying? First of all, what did you go and climb all the way up to the roof for, just so you could jump down here? You've got no common sense, none at all!"
"Yeah, yeah. Next time I'll come in through the front door, announce myself with a 'Sorry to intrude,' and then cometh to thy rescue, My Princess. But you know, I think the one who ran off to a confusing place like this has to share some of the blame."
"I couldn't help it--I was brought here!"
"What are you, a little kid? Don't just go blithely off with strange men."
"He wasn't a stranger!"
"That guy? You know, you . . . for right now, you really need to be choosier about your friends and acquaintances," Shannon said while eying Convict.
"Not him . . ."
As they talked the same way they always had, Pacifica was grateful that Shannon had his back to her. She did not have to worry about his seeing the tears that were trickling down her cheeks.
The same Shannon as always.
His same old voice. His words. His attitude. The big brother who always, always came to save her, ever since she was little. Pacifica's family--unrelated by blood, but closer to her than anyone.
It's okay for me to live, right?
Everything about him, which had stayed unchanged, assured her of that.
I don't have to be the Scrapped Princess or anything . . . I can go on living as Pacifica Casull, right? I can stay Shannon-nii and Raquel-nee's little sister, right?
Of course, there was no answer. There was no answer, but . . .
Even so, Pacifica felt like she had been saved just a tiny bit.
---
[Next] [Previous]
Hey! Her hair is supposed to be down around her shoulders. Caught ya' slippin', Azumi, caught ya' slippin'.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-07-11 05:12 am (UTC)The descriptions of the blades - Yikes! That was so intense and the internal thinking of Pacifica. Pacifica's will to live is truly amazing when all odds are stacked against her.
It's expected that Shannon would show up and the bickering between them makes me laugh. The same switch between serious and funny scenes here, too. I like these characters a lot.
"Caught ya' slippin', Azumi, caught ya' slippin'."
Heh, maybe it's all neatly behind her back ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 12:52 am (UTC)No, you can totally see it still coiled on top of her head! My faith in Azumi-sensei is shattered! SHATTERED.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 08:26 am (UTC)(Is there a name for Convict's
awesomeweapon?)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 03:07 pm (UTC)