Jiyu No~prologue

[Egg Drop Soup]

‘ Thinking ’
“ Speaking ”
// Song lyrics //
Flash backs or dream sequences
(Interruptions)


Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing. I do however own the plot and story line ideas. I got the idea for the beginning from that Nadia, Secret of blue water preview; I saw it and was like…oh my god!!!! I had to use it! So..I technically don't own it, my friend sophia read it and agreed that I used it well...hopefully I didn't stress any of the scenes to much...
Description: I am vaguely aware that stories are out there with such familiar plots, as mine, but I have many different twists and ideas for this new work. So please enjoy this story. I’ve always wanted to write something like this, so here it goes. I’m falling in, and it’s too late to hold me back now! So, please enjoy.

On another note: You know…I was looking at the recent poll I put out a couple days ago…it seems that out of the 55 people who viewed it…only 4 people voted. That there is just sad. So…don’t even bother to read this thing if you’re not gonna give me a review, its basicly the whole reason behind me I posting this topic. Thank you to the readers whom have stuck with me, and have at least posted their thoughts. *hugs* without all of you…I wouldn’t go on!


Jiyu No
By: Egg Drop Soup


Prologue…


“Grammy!” A young girl with long honey blond hair ran franticly, taking long strides with her short legs. The hard wood floor was harsh to the sensitive skin of her bare feet. The thick THUD sounds echoed like a lyric off a golden lyre against the long walls of the elegantly decorated hallway. The longitudinal train of her gown flowed behind her, hastily, in vast great waves.

She wobbled uneasily on her feet, fighting to stay upright and not be sent crashing into the old bureau around the next corner.

The dress was ever so trouble some, the girl felt this was somewhat ironic, how something so beautiful could cause so much distress and affliction. The sleeves of the dress billowed slightly below the shoulders, and had no collar to it, but a low v shape, slightly below her collarbone, that went from shoulder to shoulder. The embroidery included delicately sown flowers and fine lace outlined many of the roses.

Her hair, like her mother’s, and her mother’s mother before her, was delicately pulled into a halfway ponytail, the strands constricted in simple braids. Her free golden locks softly curled and then hastily condensed with each erythematic step of her feet. The silk locks that shimmered down to the middle of her back now flowed hastily behind her.

Her chest heaved with each harboring breath she took causing flashes of light from the open windows played magically upon the small Sanc seal that clung to the brooch at her chest.

Her skirts did not altogether comply with the abusive dragging they suffered, and the seams found many opportunities to catch onto passing furniture and cracks in the floor. She resigned the notion to raise them high from the floor; still she pressed onward, her teddy bear swinging loosely on the limbs by her side, in confident hold of her small hand. It was an old friend; the dust covered teddy bear, one that she had, had since she was very small.

The bear, even though it never spoke, was one of the girl’s closest friends. It and it alone kept all her secrets, well guarded and hidden, amidst the stuffed ears.

Many years of hearing secrets whispered to it had made it very wise, even beyond the boundaries of stuffed animal accountability. Its fur had been soaked and ruined with not only the recent owner’s tears, but also the tears of her mother and that of her grandmother before her.

It truly was an important friend.

Her short legs finally carried her to the large wood doors at the end of the curving halls. She skidded to an abrupt halt, which consisted of occasionally almost tripping till she delicately stopped just before running smack dab into the doors.

She placed her tiny delicate hands upon the door handle. The door was harshly numb with cold and the sensation tingled down through her fingers and flowed throughout her body. Her senses rejected the cruel feeling and she hastily jerked her hand away in shock.

Her brows narrowed, as she decided after having no choice, placed her hand once again upon the old battered and partly rusted knob. The first inch she opened it, the doors betrayed her menacingly with a loud CREAK. She stopped in place, scowling at the treacherous doors. She let out a muffled sigh behind the palm of her hand and then returned it to the knob where her delicate fingers slowly but surely, willed it open.

She peered earnestly through the small crack of space into the dimly lit study. The figure of an old woman greeted her, knitting, whilst humming an old distant memory of a song. The creaking of the old rocking chair, which seemed to be as old as the sedate form of its user, traveled back and forth, upon its uneasy hinges.

The woman was old, yes, but her eyes remained young, gleaming, like that of when she was a simple maid, and seemed unchanged by even time itself. Those stormy aquamarine orbs carried a fire that still blazed defiantly amidst the tired creases of her brow, and the dark circles that etched their place under her eyes, along with the occasional lowering of the lashes that would briefly hide them.

The contours of her face carried the evident wrinkles that came with many years of a hard earned peaceful life, and her hair, confined into that of a bun, still glimmered the alto familiar golden strands of honey blond, but they were now tainted with random traces of gray.

The woman’s senses had aged along with her, and she did not perceive the sound of upcoming feet, until it was accompanied by the slight rattle of the creaking doors that had enclosed her, in the private walls of her study.

She lowered her instruments needed for knitting and idly placed them down neatly, next to the warm light of the oil lamp on the table beside her, readying herself to greet her visitor.

The door fully opened slowly, revealing the hesitantly shy and eagerly anticipated heart shaped face of a little girl.

The girl was a fair sight, indeed!

Her own golden hair was askew from her running, her mouth gasping in shallow breaths, as her tired body trembled from what seemed like an excruciating workout. Her dress robes were in disarray; oh how her mother would skin her alive if she saw the wrinkles and ruffled seams of the now ruined billowing fabric that was called a dress.

But all she could do was chuckle at the sight of the small doubled over, heavily breathing form, and the girl slowly, still occasionally letting out a wearied breath, walked forward, parting her small pink lips slightly to whisper lowly… “Grammy!”

The trace of exhaustion the tired orbs held, quickly changed to that of ecstatic happiness, as she all but flung herself into the older woman’s arms, snuggling deeply in the warmth of the embrace.

The woman had no chance to react, as the giggling bubbly blob of a child showered her with chaste kisses from her small pink lips, upon the older woman’s cheeks, forehead, and mouth, all the while tightening the hold of her sudden embrace, recalling all the sights sounds and smells that often accompanied her grandmother.

The smell of jasmine and babies breath was always thick and warmly heavy, a constant unnerving scent, and wherever her grandmother had ventured, regardless of time or place, one could always recall that same scent, forever haunting, that still penetrated all whom violated its sanctity.

Her grandmother loosened her hold, but this only caused the child to tighten hers, as she rested her head lightly atop her grandmother’s breast, ever pleased of the tranquility that came with it. Yes, she was still a child, ever blissfully happy and content with the spoils that often came with adolescence.

The woman chuckled gingerly and steadily resumed her hold around the girl’s waist. “Now Caitlin, settle down! Settle down! I’m not going anywhere.”

The girl stopped her showering of affection, as she nervously looked up to the aged face that still mirrored young eyes. The childlike mannerisms were still present within the reactions upon the blossoming girl’s face, as it changed in unsure glimpses of twisting expression, self conscious, and thinking she had committed a wrong of some kind.

The woman let out another fit of laughter, this time it carried a rusty air, for like her, her voice had long past aged from the silvery vocals it once was. She squeezed the girl briefly for reassurance. “It is alright Caitlin,” She smiled, bringing her forehead to the rest against the child’s. “Now, what brings you to see me on such a fine day!”

The girl giggled as she quickly shifted her uneasy weight upon her grandmother’s lap, trying to become comfortable upon the aged knees. “Grammy ‘Lena,” she cocked her head to the side, unsure to ask, but curiosity, for a child, was a cruel thing. It often jeered at you in taunting mockery, and you would then feel compelled to ask inquisitively, whether the reason, itself, be wrong or right. Such a fate, Caitlin, herself, met, and like any other child in her time, gave in to the gentle words curiosity told her. “Mommy said that you have a secret.”

The older woman raised an eyebrow. “Oh, she did, did she?”

Caitlin nodded; curiosity indeed evident upon her features. Such a cruel temptress it was! “Yes, and she said I should ask you about it.”

“Well…do you think you’re ready to know?” Grammy ‘Lena asked, glancing down briefly into Caitlin’s face.

Caitlin met her gaze, eyes hard and determined. She had no need to confirm the question, for the stormy waves of aquamarine and oceans blue were, themselves, enough to reassure her grandmother’s own questioning ones.

Grammy ‘Lena smiled warmly, her eyes laughing. Her arms involuntarily tightened their hold around the little girl in her lap; it was a small comfort that gave her little strength. But that strength alone gave her courage to part her lips and form words. “So…you wish to know all of it then…Alright…I’ll tell you…”

Her eyes closed momentarily, a lump rose to her throat, suppressing it, she continued. “Many years ago, this land was far different than what it is now. Women, noble creatures that once tainted men’s desires of pleasure and irrupted their sanity, were only mere shells of themselves. Forced to do labor of the men’s choices…and some… one would not call work. It was not unusual to hear a distant scream or see a battered woman. Ironic though it was, men, before that time, protected us and treated us like precious glass.

But such liability changed, to them, we were no longer human, forced to obey orders, broken dolls. Our humanity forcibly taken along with any hope in living for a future of ruin…”

These are the tales of the land of Sanc…and so our story begins…


AN: SO??? You Like??? I have this story posted on Fictionpress.com, but they wouldn’t let me post any Fanfiction, so I was forced to change the names of the characters around. Darn it! It makes me so mad! You can find this story at Fanfiction.com too. Thanks again to all whom review. If my readers seem to like this prologue, I will soon be able to post chapter 1. I really have come a long way….I’ve already started writing chapter 2! I’m moving on up!

Love,
Egg Drop Soup

[APerfectSoldier87]

Hello, Fire is good, and Ice is awesome, This story is Fire-Ice mixed.

Continue it please.

[Egg Drop Soup]

APerfectSoldier87 *hugs* i love ya! thank ya for the review. I'm writing other chapters and i'll soon post 'em. thanks again for the review.

[Eienvine]

This sounds interesting! And this prologue was very descriptive. Great job.