The Calm
folder
+. to F › Cowboy Bebop
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
49
Views:
2,521
Reviews:
34
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+. to F › Cowboy Bebop
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
49
Views:
2,521
Reviews:
34
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Cowboy Bebop, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Poetry
Disclaimer: I don' own Bebop characters! Nor do I own Sith! I do use her from time to time, but that's it! James, Amaya/Rain/Eve/Marissa (Damn she has a lot of names) anrorarora belong to me! They be mine! If you want to use them, do what Natakamani did and ask me! Or you shall have the torture of a thousand wet noodles unleashed upon ye!... I'm done ranting now, enjoy!
The Calm
Chapter 38: Poetry
“She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament.
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn-
A dancing shape, and image gay,
To haunt to startle, and waylay…”
He sasideside her bed, a weathered, leather bound book in hand as he spoke. This had become something that he did daily. A month and a half had passed since her return to their lives. He remained there, by her side until a nurse came to order him home at night. He would return to the apartment, cerulean eyes filled with a desolate sadness that he covered well in the presence of the others. He, her daily sentinel.
“I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature, not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food-
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles…”
The others would sometimes accompany him, but none stayed as long as he. Spike, unable to stay for he blamed himself; Faye, never longer than an hour, hating the sight of her friend’s suffering; Jet would come weekly, he would sit beside her and talk to her unresponsive form, only to leave a bit later, sorrow shimmering in his blue eyes. Sith seemed to be the only one that had the stamina to stay there with him, only leaving when she was needed. Vicious was getting better, talked sometimes, even had been brought to see her.
Vicious had finally come out of his catatonia then. Never had any of them, save Spike, seen him in such a raw way. He had cried out, and wept next to her. He had cried out his apologies to her, for letting Julia trick him first, for what he had done to her in the past, for not dragging her home that day in the bar. He had felt such sympathy for the seemingly cold man, now so open and covered with such regretful wounds.
He had gained such a respect for Vicious that day. Such a new respect for how well Sith had handled him. Sith was most obviously the strongest of their group. She was the mother to the children, the loving and supportive wife of Vicious, and the friend to Spike and Faye. She had such a look of unguarded relief in her black eyes when Vicious came back. She looked to raw, so strained. All this had taken so much out of her.
“And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperature will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel-light.”
Softly, he closed the book, his eyes searching her still form. Her hair had grown, looked more even now. She looked pasty, her lips only a shade darker than her skin, still stretched, a tube down her throat, helping her breathe. What he would give to see her eyes again, to see her laugh, to see her cry, just to see something other than this death-like state. His beloved fallen angel, his Amaya.
“That was beautiful,” Sith’s voice said from the doorway.
James turned to see his sister leaning against the doorframe. He smiled and nodded. “William Wordsworth. When I read it, I always think of ‘er.”
Sith nodded. “How is she today?”
James smiled and turned back to the unresponsive woman in the bed before him. “She ‘as a bit ‘o color today. I wish she would just wake up, though.”
Sith nodded again, her brows drawn together. “So do I.”
James sighed. “’Ow’s Vicious?”
Sith smiled slightly. “Better. He’s locked himself in his office, though.”
James chuckled. “Tryin’ to catch up on the work he missed while ‘e was in lala land?”
Sith nodded, ignoring the joke. “I miss her,” she murmured unconsciously.
James grinned and brushed a few invisible, stray hairs from Amaya’s impassive face. “So do I. I miss her laugh the most. You know, the one where her eyes light up and she just appears as though she’s never ‘ad a day of pain in her life.”
Sith nodded in agreement. “Her advice.”
James snorted. “’Ow she always seems to know what you’re thinking and already ‘as the answer. ‘Ow she’s never wrong, and she tells you why.”
Sith let out a short laugh. “How she always seems to have a secret hidden in her e”
”
James smiled and joined the laugh. “When she sings, she seems to let the music just engulf ‘er. ‘Ow she just exists in the song for that moment.”
Sith nodded. She had never really seen Amaya sing that much, but in that one time, she had seen how the world just didn’t exist to Amaya as she sang. How she hadn’t detected her or Spike at all. “Could you read another poem?” she asked absently.
James smiled and leafed through the book. “Sure, lil sis.”
“She walks in beauty like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies…”
Sith moved from her leaning position to beside Amaya. She drug her hand softly over the pale woman’s cheek. If she pressed down, she’d feel the wire that held her ex-partner’s jaw shut. She let those fingers trail down the column of her throat, over her collarbone, to the edge of the flimsy gown on her body. Memories flashed in her mind as she listened to rhythm of the respirator and the sound of her brother’s voice.
“One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts sereneweetweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place…”
Gently, she let her fingers trail back up Amaya’s face and comb through the short dark hair. She could recall when it was the length of the woman’s back, when she had combed through her tresses then, during those nights that they had laid in bed together. All those nights when she watched her sleep, back when her name was Eve.
“And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tells of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.”
Sith could feel a tear escape her eyes as she watched James close his book and stare at her with an understanding light. “Who wrote that?” she asked in a choked whisper.
“Byron.”
“She does look better,” she said absently as her fingers brushed over her bandaged eye. She wanted so bad for Amaya to waken, yet wished that she never would. If Amaya never woke, she’d never have to know. Never have to know how damaged she was now. Of how cruel Julia’s revenge had been on her fragile body.
James nodded as he watched Sith bend down and press her lips against Amaya’s brow and a tear fall against her pale skin. Slowly, he stood and walked over to where the crimson haired woman stood. Gently, he gathered her into his arms and let her cry in his embrace as they stood beside the unmoving bof aof a woman they both loved so dearly before leading her out of the room.
The tear drifted over her brow, eventually settling against the closed lips of the sleeping woman. As the tear vanished into her skin, her right eye opened slowly, unfocused grey staring up at a white ceiling before closing again. She had heard them, had felt them, and would wait for them before showing them that she was ready to return to them. And ready to get her own retribution against that demonic succubus, Julia.
~*~*~*~
Levii: Thanks to Natakamani for all those nice things you said about me! I very much apreciate that! And thanks to BlueVixon for reviewing me! I love you Blue! You rock! I just got back from a short holiday in Michiana Shores, Michigan. Which was a whole lotta computerless fun! I have many ideas buzzing now, just waitng to be unleashed! All I need is a few reviews from you guys! Please review! See that link right below me? Yes, that one that says 'REVIEW THE CALM'? Yes, click on it, it's not very hard, you you have to do is write a le soe something to me, your thoughts, as long as they're notmes.mes. You don't have to leave your name, just send me a review. Please? I'll give you.... a cookie and a bengal tiger! REVIEW! Ja ne!
The Calm
Chapter 38: Poetry
“She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament.
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn-
A dancing shape, and image gay,
To haunt to startle, and waylay…”
He sasideside her bed, a weathered, leather bound book in hand as he spoke. This had become something that he did daily. A month and a half had passed since her return to their lives. He remained there, by her side until a nurse came to order him home at night. He would return to the apartment, cerulean eyes filled with a desolate sadness that he covered well in the presence of the others. He, her daily sentinel.
“I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature, not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food-
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles…”
The others would sometimes accompany him, but none stayed as long as he. Spike, unable to stay for he blamed himself; Faye, never longer than an hour, hating the sight of her friend’s suffering; Jet would come weekly, he would sit beside her and talk to her unresponsive form, only to leave a bit later, sorrow shimmering in his blue eyes. Sith seemed to be the only one that had the stamina to stay there with him, only leaving when she was needed. Vicious was getting better, talked sometimes, even had been brought to see her.
Vicious had finally come out of his catatonia then. Never had any of them, save Spike, seen him in such a raw way. He had cried out, and wept next to her. He had cried out his apologies to her, for letting Julia trick him first, for what he had done to her in the past, for not dragging her home that day in the bar. He had felt such sympathy for the seemingly cold man, now so open and covered with such regretful wounds.
He had gained such a respect for Vicious that day. Such a new respect for how well Sith had handled him. Sith was most obviously the strongest of their group. She was the mother to the children, the loving and supportive wife of Vicious, and the friend to Spike and Faye. She had such a look of unguarded relief in her black eyes when Vicious came back. She looked to raw, so strained. All this had taken so much out of her.
“And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperature will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel-light.”
Softly, he closed the book, his eyes searching her still form. Her hair had grown, looked more even now. She looked pasty, her lips only a shade darker than her skin, still stretched, a tube down her throat, helping her breathe. What he would give to see her eyes again, to see her laugh, to see her cry, just to see something other than this death-like state. His beloved fallen angel, his Amaya.
“That was beautiful,” Sith’s voice said from the doorway.
James turned to see his sister leaning against the doorframe. He smiled and nodded. “William Wordsworth. When I read it, I always think of ‘er.”
Sith nodded. “How is she today?”
James smiled and turned back to the unresponsive woman in the bed before him. “She ‘as a bit ‘o color today. I wish she would just wake up, though.”
Sith nodded again, her brows drawn together. “So do I.”
James sighed. “’Ow’s Vicious?”
Sith smiled slightly. “Better. He’s locked himself in his office, though.”
James chuckled. “Tryin’ to catch up on the work he missed while ‘e was in lala land?”
Sith nodded, ignoring the joke. “I miss her,” she murmured unconsciously.
James grinned and brushed a few invisible, stray hairs from Amaya’s impassive face. “So do I. I miss her laugh the most. You know, the one where her eyes light up and she just appears as though she’s never ‘ad a day of pain in her life.”
Sith nodded in agreement. “Her advice.”
James snorted. “’Ow she always seems to know what you’re thinking and already ‘as the answer. ‘Ow she’s never wrong, and she tells you why.”
Sith let out a short laugh. “How she always seems to have a secret hidden in her e”
”
James smiled and joined the laugh. “When she sings, she seems to let the music just engulf ‘er. ‘Ow she just exists in the song for that moment.”
Sith nodded. She had never really seen Amaya sing that much, but in that one time, she had seen how the world just didn’t exist to Amaya as she sang. How she hadn’t detected her or Spike at all. “Could you read another poem?” she asked absently.
James smiled and leafed through the book. “Sure, lil sis.”
“She walks in beauty like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies…”
Sith moved from her leaning position to beside Amaya. She drug her hand softly over the pale woman’s cheek. If she pressed down, she’d feel the wire that held her ex-partner’s jaw shut. She let those fingers trail down the column of her throat, over her collarbone, to the edge of the flimsy gown on her body. Memories flashed in her mind as she listened to rhythm of the respirator and the sound of her brother’s voice.
“One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts sereneweetweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place…”
Gently, she let her fingers trail back up Amaya’s face and comb through the short dark hair. She could recall when it was the length of the woman’s back, when she had combed through her tresses then, during those nights that they had laid in bed together. All those nights when she watched her sleep, back when her name was Eve.
“And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tells of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.”
Sith could feel a tear escape her eyes as she watched James close his book and stare at her with an understanding light. “Who wrote that?” she asked in a choked whisper.
“Byron.”
“She does look better,” she said absently as her fingers brushed over her bandaged eye. She wanted so bad for Amaya to waken, yet wished that she never would. If Amaya never woke, she’d never have to know. Never have to know how damaged she was now. Of how cruel Julia’s revenge had been on her fragile body.
James nodded as he watched Sith bend down and press her lips against Amaya’s brow and a tear fall against her pale skin. Slowly, he stood and walked over to where the crimson haired woman stood. Gently, he gathered her into his arms and let her cry in his embrace as they stood beside the unmoving bof aof a woman they both loved so dearly before leading her out of the room.
The tear drifted over her brow, eventually settling against the closed lips of the sleeping woman. As the tear vanished into her skin, her right eye opened slowly, unfocused grey staring up at a white ceiling before closing again. She had heard them, had felt them, and would wait for them before showing them that she was ready to return to them. And ready to get her own retribution against that demonic succubus, Julia.
~*~*~*~
Levii: Thanks to Natakamani for all those nice things you said about me! I very much apreciate that! And thanks to BlueVixon for reviewing me! I love you Blue! You rock! I just got back from a short holiday in Michiana Shores, Michigan. Which was a whole lotta computerless fun! I have many ideas buzzing now, just waitng to be unleashed! All I need is a few reviews from you guys! Please review! See that link right below me? Yes, that one that says 'REVIEW THE CALM'? Yes, click on it, it's not very hard, you you have to do is write a le soe something to me, your thoughts, as long as they're notmes.mes. You don't have to leave your name, just send me a review. Please? I'll give you.... a cookie and a bengal tiger! REVIEW! Ja ne!