Disclaimer: I absolutely own my plot, and my original characters, should there be any at all. Other than those, I own nothing.


Arietta


Author's Note:

According to some online dictionaries that I saw on the internet, an arietta is a short aria (whose definition is 'a solo vocal piece with instrumental accompaniment, as in opera'; and 'an air, a melody'. I should like to think that arietta, for here, then, is just a short melody.) So, this will be an assortment of short…things. Whatever that comes to my mind at this or that time. Such as this one…


First Piece...

Twins...


"It's hard," the young man remarked to the old man one day, "to believe sometimes that they are brother and sister. Like that, they look almost like lovers. What do you think, Father?"

The old man glanced at the direction of the white tree nonchalantly.

There they were, underneath the blossoming tree with delicate petals drifting down all around them. It was not an unusual sight to see, no. Why should it? Just because he was holding her in the gentlest of embraces, with her head tucking under his chin; and she, a peaceful expression on her face, with one little hand resting on his chest just above his heart…

They were twins, after all.

"Even so," said the young man, looking uncertain. "They seem…too close."

"Ah, but haven't you heard before, my son?" said the old man, his voice lazy with indulgence. "That those who were born twins were actually lovers in their past lives. And I win, by the way." He flicked at the white king. The piece fell back against the board. He smiled.

"Another checkmate, I think, Your Majesty."


Of course, this one is – er – a part of what will be in Between Dream and Destiny. I'm still trying to decide whether to have them as twins and so have to deal with all the problems, if they were to become lovers, or put in something to make them not related at all – for the sake of my bleeding conscience and the readers'...


Second Piece...

Don't...


I never let people see me cry, you know. And I don't cry so often like this either. But why...? Why is it that when I'm with you, I seem to always cry? Why do I let you see my tears? And why do I have to care so much? So much that I think I might have cried a thousand tears for you when I heard that time that you were...

"Cagalli…"

How I hate it that you seem to always know, too, every-time I am hurt and sad...

"It's all right…"

I'm not weak, you know. So, don't look at me with such understanding in your eyes...

"It's not your fault, Cagalli, and you know it. What happened here…it's not your fault at all. Just like you have told me once before that it's not my fault, what happened then…"

Don't put your arms around me, holding me as though you love me, as though you want to protect me…

"Cagalli, you don't have to do this alone, you realize that, don't you?"

Don't…make me cry. Don't you know that I have to be strong? I'm not weak, you know.

"I'm here for you. We're all here for you. Always. So…" a gentle hand reached up and covered her eyes. "Don't cry alone anymore."

I cannot love you. So, please... Don't make me love you anymore…

But tears kept falling and falling, and she cried.


Something...like that. (shurg) Well...