THE DOVE OF SANCTUARY - DRABBLES

AUTHOR: Zpan Sven

E-MAIL: Zpan(underscore)Sven(at)hotmail(dot)com or zpan(dot)sven(at)gmail(dot)com

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Saint Seiya, only the characters of my creation, this story, and the alterations I have made to the characters, histories, ect. No profit is being made from this; this is being written solely for the enjoyment of myself and others whom like to indulge in the scenario of ‘what if?’.

AUTHOR' NOTES: One of my infamous ‘What If?’ fanfics, where I take some of my ideas, an original character or two, the plot of an anime and throw them in the blender set on puree just to see what happens. For these drabbles, I blame Plantress! And DaHaloChick. ;

“Some believe it is the ability to speak that separates us from the animals…”

‘I think, there for I am…’

:Our minds are as one…:

SUMMARY: A series of drabbles connected to my fanfic, which is an AU retelling of Saint Seiya, mostly from the view point of the Bronze Saint of Columba, Angie, telling the world from her eyes and showing how much difference a ‘minor’ character can make…

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Starring child!Angie and teen!Deathmask. Deathmask sulks over the fact his 'pet pigeon' is having to leave him to train with the Amazons...

RATING: K+ to T (PG-13)

WARNINGS: Violence, swearing, and sexual innuendo and situations…and my depraved sense of humor XD

GENRE: Action & Adventure/Drama/Supernatural/Humor

ARCHIVE: FanFiction(dot)Net, FicWad(dot)Com, Zpan Sven’s Works, others please ask

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Cook

Master Cancer loved to cook.

But she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone that, otherwise he’d be very upset with her.

Standing on a chair pulled up beside the counter, she stood beside the Gold Saint, peering into the massive mixing bowl as she carefully stirred the contents with a big wooden spoon. The tomatoes and fresh basil smelled so delightfully good. The steady rhythm click-clack-click-clack of the teenager’s knife moving atop the cutting board, mincing the basil she had brought for him mixed with the faint hum of the refrigerator and the sound of the wooden spoon against the metal side of the bowl. The blade gleamed in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window.

The pair of them wore matching aprons with the Astrological Sign of Cancer on the front bib; the trainee’s had to be adjusted to fit her and it still resembled more of a chiton then an actual apron. With the tip of her tongue sticking from the corner of her mouth and her brows drawn together as she stared into the bowl in concentration, she didn’t see the faint smile on the Cancer Saint’s face. For all of being such a terrifying figure he did like the little brat and over the past few years, she’d grown on him. Maybe it was because she didn’t fear him and looked at him in awe and reverence, that she acknowledged his strength and never looked for any weaknesses. It was rather flattering to the ego, to have someone who looked up to you like that, with the hero-worship evident.

And she served a bit as a focus, someone he knew he could protect. That odd need still lingered, even now and with her trailing about after either him or the others, it gave them all someone to interact with that really and truly needed them. He railed against the thought that she’d be going to the female-only area to begin her official training soon, to learn from the Amazons how to fight and further channel her Cosmos. She’d pass their tests and get her first true mask, hiding away that cherubic face completely rather than the cloth half-mask she wore now.

He didn’t like it. He wanted her to stay here and fawn over him; he was – rather grudgingly – willing to share her attentions with his fellow Gold Saints but for her to leave them! But there was nothing he could do, she was growing up. The Pope had spoken and that was that. She’d still come around, but she’d not always be running between one of the temples or sleeping in whichever one she wanted for the night.

Frowning down at the cutting board, he studied the minced basil and added them to the mixing bowl for her to stir the ingredients together. At least he could have her to himself for a little while, have someone to adore him and marvel over him.

“As soon as you mix this, then we---”