a traveler from an antique land
15. ozymandias for alphabetlove— Clow, Yuuko
for: Sherri's belated birthday
He always comes unannounced, but she knows hours, days before he sets out. Clow/Yuuko.
He always comes unannounced, but she knows hours, days before he sets out. The hair at the back of her neck sticks straight up, as if a storm was near.
Then a few days later he will simply be there, leaning against her doorway with that smirk.
"Greetings, Yuuko," He smirks, "Shall I ready the carriage?"
"Why not just for you? Preferably a location light-years away."
"So fierce," but he smiles and all her anger slides right off, water to skin, none of the bite slipping through.
"The shop will never even have time to miss you," he whispers against her neck.
She brushes him off, ignoring the heat that still resides in her skin.
"I'll have you back before dark, I assure you my intentions are most pure," he smiles wryly.
"The day when you have pure intentions the world will cease to exist."
He laughs. "Well said, Yuuko, well said."
"But," she relents, "It has been a while."
"It's been far too long since we drank together."
"I'll drink you under the table," she says.
"I know you will," he laughs.
They have seen the world together, many times, many years, it has been over a hundred years since they last visited.
They arrive like gods, hidden away from view, walking among mortals. Her hair is pinned in with jeweled combs, he wore his finest robes just for this occasion, together they look like a king and a queen of some lost kingdom.
She barters trinkets off a merchant, blows the dust off a tiny bronze bell. It rings, clear, trilling over the air. The local attire is much too modest for her tastes, but they both stock up on the local alcohol, a favorite to both of them.
He checks for herb and spices for his latest, perhaps last project.
Later when they have finished with the bazaar, packages already sent home, he suggests a restaurant at random, having heard something about the quality of the wine. She can hardly argue.
He opens a door for her in a sweeping flourish, she accidentally steps on his foot in her two inch heel boots on the way in.
They sip wine and nibble on entrees, discussing politics and philosophy in a way only the half-drunk can.
The restaurant is abuzz with people, they both watch the fleeting lives of all those around them. Mothers, children, all growing old too soon.
They dine on foreign delicacies, the food is so spicy, he winces somewhat and gulps down water. She savors it, taking slow, pointed bites while looking triumphant.
When the food was suitably finished and they were on their fifth round, he turned to more morose things, perhaps affected by too much drink, or just a hint to the fault lines in immortality.
"We weren't made to be gods, Yuuko" he looks to the distance, looking so tired, so weary.
He has lived for so very long.
She traces the rim of her glass, unsure what to say.
"There's still hope," he says.
He chuckles. "You'll miss me, admit it."
"Like I'd miss a thorn stuck in my foot," she says.
"Don't worry, I'll come back to haunt you."
"What a pleasant prospect."
Sunset falls over the dunes, the spell is fading, soon twilight will come and they will return, Yuuko to her shop, Clow to his last vestiges of life.
She almost expects a kiss, a fitting end to their trip which, she admits, almost feels like a date.
"Until we meet again, Yuuko," he says, sounding more final than any goodbye.
She only watches a moment, his back turned towards the gates, staring up at the stars coming into view as the night comes loose over the sky.
It is the last time she ever sees him alive.