4Disclaimer: ...Well, first off, this was inspired by + Anima and so the general idea of it belongs to the creators.
This is a one shot (just a warning) about how and what Cooro's mother felt/saw during her last moments. I didn't know her name, so I just called her Clarice, though the 'Dark Messenger' is my creation of a sort of Angel of Death if you will...
And without further ado, I present...
The Black Phoenix
It was horrible. The alternating numbness and pain made her want to cry out for release, though the she was able to hold it in with what remained of her decaying will. Her beaten body automatically tensed as a new wave of pain swept over her, a single tear flowed down her rose colored cheek as she felt her life leek out along with her blood. She wanted to cry for both her and her unborn child, wanted to cry for all of her now broken wishes and dreams, but she couldn't. Her strength was fading and she needed what remained for the task at hand.
So many wants, so many unanswered questions, so many untold emotions swarmed her mind as she replayed what had occurred only a few seconds ago. Was it only a few seconds? It seemed to be an eternity to the woman. A gust of wind shook her blood splattered hair as another tear mingled with her blood. No, their blood. She was dieing, she knew it. Knew that the slice across her throat that rendered her mute and the gaping hole in the right side of her chest meant that her time was limited. And because she was losing her life, that meant that her own child was going to parish as well.
Her body shook as she felt her muscles constrict, making her gasp soundlessly as her body shook with the after affects. 'My baby,' she mouthed before once again focusing on her unsteady breaths, trying to get them to even out. She couldn't stand the pain, her mind started to swarm even as she felt another wave take over her body.
After a few moments, the woman stilled as she was once again gasping for breath, her azure eyes looking up to the matching sky as they blurred near the corners. Her attention was attracted to large black dot that stood against the sky before she could hear the sound of beating wings. 'Help me! Save him,' she tried to call, inwardly knowing that there was no possible way for them to hear her, must less listen.
As soon as she thought this, however, the black started to grow as she watched it approach. 'Oh, Dark Messenger, don't take him too,' she pleaded, though her eyes widened as she realized that it was not the Angel of Death like she had feared, or perhaps hoped. Instead, it was a flock of crows that soon landed next to her.
Starting for a few seconds, though it felt longer to her, the woman's eyes snapped close as her muscles unconsciously tightened once again with the spasm. He's coming, she thought, pushing with all of her might. Still, she soon collapses in exhaustion, panting lightly. When she felt something soft on her bloody cheek, however, the woman opened her eyes to turn fractionally, though she was greeted by a particularly dark crow. The eyes, however, hypnotized her, leaving her instantly calmer. 'Thank you,' she tried to say, not even surprised when she received something akin to a nod.
She didn't know how much time passed like this, fighting against both the pain from her slow but mortal wounds and birth, but eventually she could hear small sounds made from a child. Her child. As she felt the last of her strength seep out, she wished that she could see her son, just once. Almost immediately however, most of the crows jumped into the air, their wings beating the air as they flew away.
After a few seconds, she also hear the sound of a delayed pair, though they were heaver than the birds. What is that, she thought, panicking slightly before she saw the form of an infant take to the sky, ebony hair and wings standing stark again the cloudless blue. 'He's beautiful,' she mouthed, tears streaming down her face as she watched her son fly away with the crows that had saved him with their presence.
"He most certainly is," a deep voice responded, making her turn her gaze to the right, though she was somewhat alarmed by the sudden clarity of her vision. Standing in front of her was a man clad in midnight blue and black, though his hair was far darker than them. And his eyes, she thought, though her eyes widened almost immediately.
"You're the crow," she said, soft voice ringing out clearly. At this, her eyes widened almost to a comical point as she raised a slim hand to her throat and sat up, earning another gasp when she looked down to see that she no longer had any injuries, her cerulean dress perfectly clean of the dark crimson. At this, the man grinned, making his angular face soften.
"Come, it is time, my dear Clarice," he stated, holding out a hand for her to grab. After a second, the woman took it and stood, feeling remarkably light now that her body no longer encumbered her. Looking down at the ruins where her body lay, she gave a slight smile when she saw the content expression marked on her now empty shell, not even slightly perturbed by the thought that she was no longer alive.
After a second of silence, she turned to him, her eyes shining. "Thank you. Thank you for granting my last wishes," she said, smiling at him kindly, though her hand tightened unconsciously as her resolve wavered briefly at the thought of her son now completely along in the world. The being in front her seemed to sense this, however, and he briefly assured her that all would be well.
Contemplating for a second, Clarice nodded in acceptance before she titled her gaze back up to him, her eyes showing both gratitude and trust that his words were true. "I'm ready." And with a nod, the man uncurled his dark wings and held her gently before jumping up into the air. Live well, my son, for you were giving a second chance, she thought lightly, though there was still a smile on her face as she left the world.
Like it? Love it? Hate it? Feel free to tell me, just please no flames...Me no likey those...
