AU Digimon Story (Part 2a)
Sunday, August 17th, 2003 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaikoBlah. Not as happy with this part. Less humor, less forward moving plot, more explaining, and shorter. I'll probably rewrite large chunks of it when I doa rewrite. Next scene is going to be from Ken's POV which will help withthe length. Then I get to the part where you have Davis running around his parent's apartment by himself and being inordinately pleased with the fact that he can fit into Jun's jeans. It makes sense in the story.
Same warning as first: I am typing this in notepad since this computer has no MS Word or other word processor with a spellcheck/grammar check. It's also only had a rough proof done on it. I'm going to run LJ's spellchecker on it before I post.
And now, the beginning of the second part.
Six years later
Davis was... antsy. Fidgety. Tense. Twitchy. He had been awake since before the sun had risen, and had finally given up on going back to sleep. Which was how he found himself sitting on the window bench, bored and restless, and not quite sure why.
He had been like this for weeks, unable to concentrate on anything for long periods of time without this feeling of restless discontent. Usually, at this time of the year, he was getting ready to play the series of harvest festivals that would come up in a months time. It involved traveling throughout the archipelago and port towns collecting songs, memorizing lyrics, and practicing chords.
Instead he was still at his home, picking out discordant notes on his mandolin and staring at the early morning sun.
"You know, this is ridiculous. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me." Talking to himself was a left over habit from the time when he had been... not all there. His only problem was remembering not to do it around others. It tended to not go over well. "There is no reason for me to be like this."
More discordant notes and minor chords came from his mandolin, a reflection of the state of his mind. Davis sighed and set the instrument aside. "If I'm not careful, people are going to think I've gone nuts again."
Taking the stairs two at a time until his legs ached with the effort, Davis soon reached the top of the lighthouse. A large hurricane lantern filled with whale oil and a concave bronze mirror served as the working parts of the light house. Davis checked the level of the oil. Satisfied that it was fine, he looked out over the ocean. Thick bubbly glass warped the view, turning sea and sky into nothing more than different shades of blue and white
The problem was Davis had a pretty good idea of what caused this bout of restlessness. About a month ago he had been cleaning out the basement of the old lighthouse he lived in. Under some clothing, in the bottom of a trunk he'd found the bracelet with the cracked stone that he'd ripped off the girl who had gotten him out of the institution. Davis didn't know how he'd managed to hang onto it.
The stone was not only cracked, but a piece of it had managed to wiggle itself free leaving a hole in the dark red stone. The inlaid silver had tarnished, though the gold remained as pure as ever. The clasp was still broken, and somewhere along the way a link or two had gone missing. In other words, the bracelet was in pretty bad shape.
None of that had mattered when his hand had closed around it.
He'd been so startled by the broken bits of song that at first he'd dropped the bracelet. The second time Davis had been prepared for the notes. There was a spell on the bracelet, or at least the remnants of a spell, translated into song by his mind. He could still hear the echoes of power if he sat still and really listened.
Star, his teacher and sometime houseguest, had given him a long, involved lecture about why their kind heard magic in the form of song. After the first five minutes, Davis had completed tuned out. After the first fifteen, he'd gone so far as to start doodling pictures in the margins of his notes. He had just added wings to a credible likeness of a chocobo when Star had rolled her eyes and given up.
It didn't really matter to him why he heard magic as music. All that mattered to him was that he did.
In the end, no amount of listening had told him what the spell was supposed to do, how to fix it, or even if it was fixable. The song was too complex for Davis. Since Star still had a few days before she went and did... whatever it was she did when she wasn't teaching him, he'd shown it to her.
"Davis, where did you get this?
"I picked it up somewhere. Why? What does it do?"
"Well, the bracelet itself is just... a bracelet. Someone's put a gate spell on it, though. I think. Maybe? I don't remember ever seeing a spell this badly deteriorated and still intact. It's a wonder it hasn't just unraveled altogether..."
"Star, back to the spell. What does it do?"
"A gate spell? It basically opens a portal... something like a doorway... between two places. They're really hard to do and keep open because they require so much energy. A lot of people create the spells when they have the time and energy and then set the spell on something, like the bracelet. That way when they need to do the spell, they just trigger the one on the bracelet somehow and don't have to actually do the work themselves."
"And the bracelet still has one of those gate spells on it?"
"Kind of. It's got the parts to activate the gate, and the part that remembers where the last gate was from, but the piece that supplies all the power and stuff is really messed up."
"What does that mean?"
"That if you tried you might be able to use it to set a gate up. It would only go to the last place it was triggered though, and you'd have to use a lot of your own strength to get it up. Davis, stop snickering you know I didn't mean it like that. The spell would probably only work one, maybe two times."
"Okay, okay. That means you can use it to go back to wherever the spell was last done, right?"
"Yes."
"Can you show me how?"
For the first time in six years, Davis had a way to go home. Back to Japan and the life that he had known for most of his life. There were problems with going home though. People in his world still thought he was crazy. Maybe in some ways, he still was. That was sure not to go over well.
Then there was the problem of explaining where he'd been for the past six years. "Hi, everyone. I've been living in another world for the past five years tending a lighthouse on a semi-tropical island. I assume I was living in that world for the first year as well but that's all a little foggy to me," Davis said to himself. The words echoed around the lantern room.
"Somehow I don't think so," he muttered. If he showed up after being gone for so long, there would be questions. Too many questions. It didn't take a genius to figure out it was better if he didn't go home.
But... he missed his old life. He missed eating ramen in the shops near his home. Davis missed soccer and television and radio and movies and going out with friends until curfew came and he was forced to go home. He missed fighting with his sister over little things, hugs from his mom, lectures and the good hearted jokes from his dad. Davis even missed school sometimes.
It wasn't any of those things that haunted Davis's thoughts during the night. Ichijouji Ken was the real driving force behind Davis wanting to go home. He shifted slightly as his butt went numb from the hard wooden floor. His eyes slid shut and he could see his best friend like it was yesterday.
"He had skin that was lighter than mine. His hair was blue-black and his eyes were sometimes gray, sometimes blue, sometimes almost violet. They turned more violet when I kissed him." Davis shivered a little at the memory, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Pretty. Too pretty. But he was nice and kind and had the most hesitant hands when he touched me. I miss him. I want to go back."
And really, that was all the reason Davis needed. He wanted to see Ken. He wanted to be rid of the restlessness that had plagued him for weeks. He wanted to once more remember his old life.
Davis was going home.
Same warning as first: I am typing this in notepad since this computer has no MS Word or other word processor with a spellcheck/grammar check. It's also only had a rough proof done on it. I'm going to run LJ's spellchecker on it before I post.
And now, the beginning of the second part.
Six years later
Davis was... antsy. Fidgety. Tense. Twitchy. He had been awake since before the sun had risen, and had finally given up on going back to sleep. Which was how he found himself sitting on the window bench, bored and restless, and not quite sure why.
He had been like this for weeks, unable to concentrate on anything for long periods of time without this feeling of restless discontent. Usually, at this time of the year, he was getting ready to play the series of harvest festivals that would come up in a months time. It involved traveling throughout the archipelago and port towns collecting songs, memorizing lyrics, and practicing chords.
Instead he was still at his home, picking out discordant notes on his mandolin and staring at the early morning sun.
"You know, this is ridiculous. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me." Talking to himself was a left over habit from the time when he had been... not all there. His only problem was remembering not to do it around others. It tended to not go over well. "There is no reason for me to be like this."
More discordant notes and minor chords came from his mandolin, a reflection of the state of his mind. Davis sighed and set the instrument aside. "If I'm not careful, people are going to think I've gone nuts again."
Taking the stairs two at a time until his legs ached with the effort, Davis soon reached the top of the lighthouse. A large hurricane lantern filled with whale oil and a concave bronze mirror served as the working parts of the light house. Davis checked the level of the oil. Satisfied that it was fine, he looked out over the ocean. Thick bubbly glass warped the view, turning sea and sky into nothing more than different shades of blue and white
The problem was Davis had a pretty good idea of what caused this bout of restlessness. About a month ago he had been cleaning out the basement of the old lighthouse he lived in. Under some clothing, in the bottom of a trunk he'd found the bracelet with the cracked stone that he'd ripped off the girl who had gotten him out of the institution. Davis didn't know how he'd managed to hang onto it.
The stone was not only cracked, but a piece of it had managed to wiggle itself free leaving a hole in the dark red stone. The inlaid silver had tarnished, though the gold remained as pure as ever. The clasp was still broken, and somewhere along the way a link or two had gone missing. In other words, the bracelet was in pretty bad shape.
None of that had mattered when his hand had closed around it.
He'd been so startled by the broken bits of song that at first he'd dropped the bracelet. The second time Davis had been prepared for the notes. There was a spell on the bracelet, or at least the remnants of a spell, translated into song by his mind. He could still hear the echoes of power if he sat still and really listened.
Star, his teacher and sometime houseguest, had given him a long, involved lecture about why their kind heard magic in the form of song. After the first five minutes, Davis had completed tuned out. After the first fifteen, he'd gone so far as to start doodling pictures in the margins of his notes. He had just added wings to a credible likeness of a chocobo when Star had rolled her eyes and given up.
It didn't really matter to him why he heard magic as music. All that mattered to him was that he did.
In the end, no amount of listening had told him what the spell was supposed to do, how to fix it, or even if it was fixable. The song was too complex for Davis. Since Star still had a few days before she went and did... whatever it was she did when she wasn't teaching him, he'd shown it to her.
"Davis, where did you get this?
"I picked it up somewhere. Why? What does it do?"
"Well, the bracelet itself is just... a bracelet. Someone's put a gate spell on it, though. I think. Maybe? I don't remember ever seeing a spell this badly deteriorated and still intact. It's a wonder it hasn't just unraveled altogether..."
"Star, back to the spell. What does it do?"
"A gate spell? It basically opens a portal... something like a doorway... between two places. They're really hard to do and keep open because they require so much energy. A lot of people create the spells when they have the time and energy and then set the spell on something, like the bracelet. That way when they need to do the spell, they just trigger the one on the bracelet somehow and don't have to actually do the work themselves."
"And the bracelet still has one of those gate spells on it?"
"Kind of. It's got the parts to activate the gate, and the part that remembers where the last gate was from, but the piece that supplies all the power and stuff is really messed up."
"What does that mean?"
"That if you tried you might be able to use it to set a gate up. It would only go to the last place it was triggered though, and you'd have to use a lot of your own strength to get it up. Davis, stop snickering you know I didn't mean it like that. The spell would probably only work one, maybe two times."
"Okay, okay. That means you can use it to go back to wherever the spell was last done, right?"
"Yes."
"Can you show me how?"
For the first time in six years, Davis had a way to go home. Back to Japan and the life that he had known for most of his life. There were problems with going home though. People in his world still thought he was crazy. Maybe in some ways, he still was. That was sure not to go over well.
Then there was the problem of explaining where he'd been for the past six years. "Hi, everyone. I've been living in another world for the past five years tending a lighthouse on a semi-tropical island. I assume I was living in that world for the first year as well but that's all a little foggy to me," Davis said to himself. The words echoed around the lantern room.
"Somehow I don't think so," he muttered. If he showed up after being gone for so long, there would be questions. Too many questions. It didn't take a genius to figure out it was better if he didn't go home.
But... he missed his old life. He missed eating ramen in the shops near his home. Davis missed soccer and television and radio and movies and going out with friends until curfew came and he was forced to go home. He missed fighting with his sister over little things, hugs from his mom, lectures and the good hearted jokes from his dad. Davis even missed school sometimes.
It wasn't any of those things that haunted Davis's thoughts during the night. Ichijouji Ken was the real driving force behind Davis wanting to go home. He shifted slightly as his butt went numb from the hard wooden floor. His eyes slid shut and he could see his best friend like it was yesterday.
"He had skin that was lighter than mine. His hair was blue-black and his eyes were sometimes gray, sometimes blue, sometimes almost violet. They turned more violet when I kissed him." Davis shivered a little at the memory, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Pretty. Too pretty. But he was nice and kind and had the most hesitant hands when he touched me. I miss him. I want to go back."
And really, that was all the reason Davis needed. He wanted to see Ken. He wanted to be rid of the restlessness that had plagued him for weeks. He wanted to once more remember his old life.
Davis was going home.
>_<
Date: 8/18/03 08:37 am (UTC)then i see how SHORT it is and i nearly cry--because this is good....*shakes tsai* more g'dammit! *whimper* more!
*poke* write! stop reading this and write!
Re: >_<
Date: 8/18/03 11:17 am (UTC)^_^
I am writing more as we speak. Of course, it's on my campus account but I'll just email what I get done to myself. Then I'll probably do an edit of the first part and send it to the list. Gah, I think this is the fastest I've ever put anything out.
(no subject)
Date: 8/18/03 04:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 8/19/03 06:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 8/19/03 01:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 8/19/03 06:19 am (UTC)Because Ken is so pretty when he suffers.