storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-10-30 09:10 am
storypaint) wrote2009-10-30 09:10 am
Entry tags:
Pilgrimage (Syaoran gen)
Title: Pilgrimage
Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle
Length: 373 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days: 23 Oct 09 // As if tired from their pilgrimage
Pairing: Syaoran-tachi; Syaoran mostly; mention of Syaoran/Sakura
Other: spoilers for end of series.
Excerpt: Nevertheless, the solemn-faced, polite, young man who asked the questions never seemed to get the answers he was looking for, no matter what direction he was sent in the world, to mages or philosophers or scientists.
They were seasoned travelers; any innkeeper could tell you that. They wasted no time in negotiations, knew exactly what they wanted in a room, and disappeared into said rooms with an air of determined weariness, wearing their few possessions.
And the next morning, there were questions. Perhaps they thought that the little white creature would help ease the air (and in many inns, Mokona did charm the wives and children of the proprietors), because they always had it near. Nevertheless, the solemn-faced, polite, young man who asked the questions never seemed to get the answers he was looking for, no matter what direction he was sent in the world, to mages or philosophers or scientists.
Those who kept the places of rest all communicated, some across worlds, because world-traveling was certainly unusual, but not unheard of (and anyone who had met Seishirou or the twins thought it best to send on a warning). And just as those innkeepers said, "Like the Dimension Witch's children? Or like Clow's guardians?" to the oft-asked question, soon they began to expect the travelers. They were distinctive, after all-- the dark swordsman, the bright mage, the steady archaeologist (for this was the profession Syaoran claimed to follow), and the excitable pet. Even so, they never had the answers that the travelers were looking for.
So after a few days, sometimes a week or a month, the small group paid their bill and shook dust or sand or dampness from their shoes, and walked on. They showed no frustration, not anymore; just a stolid determination.
"Like a pilgrimage," a little girl said to them once, stroking Mokona and then teasing it with one of the large fronds that decorated the courtyard. Syaoran's eyes widened in consideration. Finally, he nodded.
"But what are you going to see at the end?" she asked.
"Myself," Syaoran answered after a long moment. "My family, and my wife."
"Then I wish you traveler's luck," she said, giggling sweetly before she was called away to help with the chores. Syaoran bowed to her receding form. They didn't travel with Sakura's luck anymore, but even in the darkest worlds, thought of her sustained him.
And so they journeyed, on and on.
Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle
Length: 373 words
Prompt:
31_days: 23 Oct 09 // As if tired from their pilgrimagePairing: Syaoran-tachi; Syaoran mostly; mention of Syaoran/Sakura
Other: spoilers for end of series.
Excerpt: Nevertheless, the solemn-faced, polite, young man who asked the questions never seemed to get the answers he was looking for, no matter what direction he was sent in the world, to mages or philosophers or scientists.
They were seasoned travelers; any innkeeper could tell you that. They wasted no time in negotiations, knew exactly what they wanted in a room, and disappeared into said rooms with an air of determined weariness, wearing their few possessions.
And the next morning, there were questions. Perhaps they thought that the little white creature would help ease the air (and in many inns, Mokona did charm the wives and children of the proprietors), because they always had it near. Nevertheless, the solemn-faced, polite, young man who asked the questions never seemed to get the answers he was looking for, no matter what direction he was sent in the world, to mages or philosophers or scientists.
Those who kept the places of rest all communicated, some across worlds, because world-traveling was certainly unusual, but not unheard of (and anyone who had met Seishirou or the twins thought it best to send on a warning). And just as those innkeepers said, "Like the Dimension Witch's children? Or like Clow's guardians?" to the oft-asked question, soon they began to expect the travelers. They were distinctive, after all-- the dark swordsman, the bright mage, the steady archaeologist (for this was the profession Syaoran claimed to follow), and the excitable pet. Even so, they never had the answers that the travelers were looking for.
So after a few days, sometimes a week or a month, the small group paid their bill and shook dust or sand or dampness from their shoes, and walked on. They showed no frustration, not anymore; just a stolid determination.
"Like a pilgrimage," a little girl said to them once, stroking Mokona and then teasing it with one of the large fronds that decorated the courtyard. Syaoran's eyes widened in consideration. Finally, he nodded.
"But what are you going to see at the end?" she asked.
"Myself," Syaoran answered after a long moment. "My family, and my wife."
"Then I wish you traveler's luck," she said, giggling sweetly before she was called away to help with the chores. Syaoran bowed to her receding form. They didn't travel with Sakura's luck anymore, but even in the darkest worlds, thought of her sustained him.
And so they journeyed, on and on.