#tainted and unable to be consumed. fires for burning these dead fish

[impossible-rat-babies]

what gets me sometimes w the idea of the calamity is that there are probably places in the deserts of thanalan where the fire of bahamut turned the sand to glass and it’s just. a few handfuls of sand there are layers of glass

[cryysiswritesthings]

Ash and Dust || A KogKag Oneshot

Series: Inuyasha Rating: Mature Warnings: Non-graphic description of rape, violence, burning victims Status: Complete Pairing: KogKag Summary:

All they could hear were screams.

The knights behind her cut the rope at her wrists, and the young woman fell to her knees. The open flesh of her back had drenched the snow with her blood. Now it soaked her woolen skirt, staining it forever.

She hadn’t stopped screaming.

Find it On: AO3

Tumblr Tags: #kogkag #inuyasha #oneshot

All they could hear were screams.

The knights behind her cut the rope at her wrists, and the young woman fell to her knees. The open flesh of her back had drenched the snow with her blood. Now it soaked her woolen skirt, staining it forever.

She hadn’t stopped screaming.

Above her, an elder woman stood bound to a stake upon the flaming pyre. Much of her skin had already been burnt away, turning the bone beneath it black. The air was drenched with the putrid smells of burning death: iron and sulfur, foul liver and cooked fat. Something musky, and sweet.

It hung so thickly in the air she could almost taste it. She would never be rid of the smell.

The tears she shed were dried before they formed, so close was she to the fire. Her poor mother had smiled as long as she could, until she was so consumed by pain she could not see her daughter’s weeping face.

The knights were silent behind her, but not their leader. He stood on stone not far from her, preaching the evils of magic and sorcery. Condemning her mother to hellfire and torment.

A calloused hand landed on her shoulder when her voice broke, unable to continue her cries. Dark gray eyes looked upon her with regret and sympathy.

“I’m so sorry, Kagome,” a kind voice says to her, mindful of her injured skin. “But you have to understand… it had to be done.”

The girl froze, her face turning pale as the snow. It hurt when she spoke. “I… I don’t… understand…”

The man becomes desperate, in a rush to explain. “Your mother, she… you were in so much pain, and she needed to answer for her crimes. She’d sold you to the Wolf, Kagome! I know how much you loved her, but I had to do what was best for you!”

Horror spread through her veins, warming her blood. She couldn’t look away from the flames. “You did this. You turned her in too these… these barbarians, these strangers to our ways, to our lands.”

The young man swallowed, and bowed his head. “I had to protect you.”

There was no sound beyond the leader’s preaches and the crackle of flame. Then there rose a lone howl, startling all but the young woman still drenched in blood.

“Hojo?”

The young man looked to her, hopeful and afraid. “Yes, Kagome?”

She clawed out his eyes.

A cow's disgruntled bray woke the sleeping woman from her memory-dream. Tired eyes blinked slowly to find the sky covered in clouds darkening into gray. But the sun shone beyond the large body of the bull next to her, a telling sign for those who knew to look. These clouds weren’t the start of a storm.

Visitors were coming. Dangerous ones.

In the distance, ravens cawed against the winds that had begun to churn. A large shadow flies over head, and circles around to see her.

The hag sat astride the branch of a dead tree, taller in length then she was in body. Her raven clutched at one of the antlers protruding from the fish-pale flesh of her head, its roots hidden by wild strands of hair.

The raven cawed once and dove from its perch until it landed on the woven handle of her basket. Around its neck hung a thin leather cord, it’s pendant a familiar claw.

Kagome smiled at the sight, taking the gift from around its neck and cradling it to her chest. “Will you give him my thanks for me? And tell him… tell him I look forward to the day of our meeting.”

The raven cawed and spread its wings, returning to its masters side. The hag stared at her a moment longer, before she and her companion disappeared into the forest.

The danger came not long after. And it burned to look upon it.

The zealot and his metallic knights. They gleamed in the light, the sun's reflection blinding all who saw them. But not her.

No. To her, their armor would forever be tarnished with soot and ash.

The men either did not notice her presence, or did not know who she was. But then perhaps they did and cared not. She didn't know. 

They made their intentions clear: through the courage of a member of their village, they had learned of a monster who plagued the forest. Their mission, the zealot told them, was to cleanse their land of evils taint once and for all.

No cheers greeted this news, only hushed whispers and uneasy glances in the witch-child's direction. But there was only one whose presence she focused on. 

Hojo sat in a wooden chair under the awning of his home, blind as the day she’d taken his eyes from him. Next to him stood Rose, the girl child who wished to call him her own. Her glare was a brush of cold wind, but Kagome held little care. Sympathy was all she was capable of for her now.

Poor Hojo. Even after she’d blinded him, he still held her close to his heart. His clan thought she'd cast a spell on his heart and bonded him to her life. But she had no use for a blind man, least of all one who meddled in affairs of which he didn’t belong. No, Hojo's only curse was to have been born with a terrible, innocent kind of love. The kind that forgave every imagined sin of whomever his heart was set upon, no matter the wickedness of their transgression.

He would love her until the stars fell from the sky.

Here, beyond the edge of the forest, the meadows grew wild with flowers and herbs she could find all manner of use for. There were no trees to guard her from the sun’s effervescent rays, and so no way for sound to travel. It was why she had not heard the encroaching metal men, but now they were close enough for even her weak ears to sense.

They passed her in pairs and groups of three, stomping carelessly over what had once been undisturbed ground. The smell of broken stems filled her nose, flowery and sweet. It only served to remind her of her mothers screams.

A shadow fell over her, a foolish knight who broke from his ranks to inspect her. She could not see his face, not even the color of his eyes. The slit in his helmet was too small for it.

“Girl, who are you? Your face stands out to me, though I do not recall ever knowing you.”

Her stare was blank, telling nothing with her silence. The knight seemed not to care, only raised the sword in his hand, it’s point catching the leather cord around her throat.

"Speak, woman, or I will slit your throat and feed these plants with your life's blood."

Surprisingly, her lips twitched in a smile. They would probably thank him for it.

The sword rose higher, ready to swing down. If she did not answer him, she would pay for it with her life.

In the back of her mind, she could sense him, reacting to the unspoken threat. He had never revealed himself, keeping to his promise. But to defend her life, he would interfere. She needed only to speak, and the knight before her would be dead in moments.

He had no idea who it was he threatened. She wanted to keep it that way.

“I am no one, sir,” she told him finally. His sword lowered by an inch. “Only a simple village girl. I have never traveled beyond our forest, but if you have passed through before, you might have come upon me.”

The sword fell to his side. “You’re lying, somehow. I do not know in what way, but what you speak is falsehood.”

If only he knew. 

“Will you take me then?” Her stare bored into him, piercing through armor. “Will you drag me back to the village, listen to me beg for my release?”

His smile turned vile, though she could not see it. “Learn some respect, or I will not give you the chance.”

She hummed her understanding and bowed her head. “As you say, sir. I will do so.”

The hulking metal turned from her to rejoin his rank. But he stopped, and before she knew what happened, he had turned once more and backhanded her across the face.

Her gasp of pain was silent, but her thud against the ground was not. Her fingers hovered over the bloody welts on her cheek, and the other men of his regiment laughed.

Pleased with himself, the knight left her there, sealing his fate.

Kagome stepped into the tavern, its usual soft chatter replaced with the roar of laughter found in the drunkest of men. The knights, it seemed, had taken over the majority of their tables, leaving the amassed villagers to huddle in darker corners. 

Ayumi, a sweet thing married to the village apothecary, brought a warm mug of cider to her table. She promised to return with a warm plate of dinner, and Kagome offered her a quiet thanks before she walked away. 

She paid little attention to the going ons around her, focused more on the drink warming her hands. Normally, one or two of the villagers would join her, asking about the things only she could see. Now she sat alone, though it was with little surprise.

The zealot’s eyes flicked back and forth between her and his men. She knew he was trying to place her, much the same as the knight from earlier. Should he recognize her, the scars on her back would be joined with newer marks.

But it was not the zealot she needed to be concerned with. No, it was Rose. Rose and her desire to break Hojo of his heart’s bond.

Rose was the one to whisper in a knights ear who she was. The same knight, conveniently, with whom she’d had her altercation earlier. It was this knight who eyed her now, though she did not recognize him. He knew her history, her reputation, what she was said to be capable of.

A slow smile spread across his face.

It seemed he had a reason to teach her respect after all.

He found her later that night, after following her from the tavern.

Beneath his fists, fresh bruises bloomed on her skin. His hands pulled at her hair, pain singing across her scalp. Rock and debris carved new patterns into her clothes. His teeth cut her lips and his thighs danced between hers, tinting her skin red and white and red.

She did not cry. She did not scream. She did not beg.

But she remembered.

Not a sound was heard through the village that night.

At sunrise, they found him in pieces. Rose’s head lay beside him.

The knights ravaged the forest, and Kagome’s body healed. She drank the tea her mother used to give to the girls who wanted to enjoy pleasure without the risk of childbirth. Nothing changed, save for the thick pelts of soft fur that found their way to her doorstep. A reminder that even if she did not see him, he still was with her always.

Summer turned to fall, and the passing of the season brought with it winter’s snow. Still, the knights occupied their small village, though fewer and fewer now remained.

Slowly, the men had started to disappear. The zealot had cursed them as deserters, condemning them in their afterlives and this one. One by one, this continued, until only a handful remained. More knights had been sent for, but none so far had reached them.

Then the bodies turned up, corpses rotting in their metal encasements, piled high in the village center.

The zealot became a mad man. He ordered his men to drag every woman and child from their home, intending to use them as bait. But the villagers would not stand for this mintreatment, and drove he and his knighted remnants to the edge of the forest.

They were not heard from again.

Days turned to weeks, and life settled in the village. Kagome took up practice as the village healer, and would often spend her afternoons foraging in the woods.

It was at the end of such an excursion that she came upon the zealot and the last of his knights. They cowered behind a tent of hay; skin, bone, and rusted armor all that remained of once proud men.

Their eyes met hers, and in them she saw a terrible kind of need burn its way forward. In moments they would be upon her, and she would die beneath their hands.

A scatter of birds frightened calls preceded his presence. His deep, dark rumble stilled them in their tracks.

Beyond the tents he stood, a furred beast on two legs. His muzzle was long and filled with fangs, and he towered over the snowy plains.

It was the first time she’d ever seen him, and she had not the words to describe his beauty.

Shaking metal drew her eyes from him, her gaze landing on the hidden men. The zealot desperately shook his head, holding a finger to his lips. If the Wolf caught them, they would die as the rest of their scattered forces had.

But they would leave her to die in an instant if he attacked her, though she knew he never would.

Kagome shifted her basket from one hand to the other, letting one hang free. Without a word, she mimicked the actions of the knight who once attacked her, raising her arm and pointing to the cowards hidden in the haystacks.

She watched the long muzzle pull back, fangs dripping with saliva. It was a beasts smile. The Wolf’s smile.

Good girl.

The zealot screamed and cursed her existence as he died. Witch, he called her. Devil’s whore. Consort of beasts and monsters.

The Wolf’s muzzle was wet with warm blood, the now dead bodies steaming in the fallen snow. Slowly it stalked forward, intent upon her.

Her smile was beatific, and when he fell to all fours in front of her, she reached out to card her fingers through his fur.

“Hello, Kouga.”