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TEEN: - Complete Nightshade

J

Jude

polyethylene
Joined
Feb 3, 2003
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Table of Contents

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen

---

Cast of Characters

Jirarudan (Jiri): The Collector from Revelation Lugia; of which I have forgotten his dub name.
Kenji: Tracey, of Orange Leage an d Watching fame.
Satoshi: Ash, the brat.
Kasumi: Misty, the bratess.
Takeshi: Brock.
Imite: Duplica
Shigeru: Gary

---

Comprehension is the only reason for which there is existence; if one cannot comprehend life, than one would not exist. If we don't learn how to comprehend life, and in that same breath comprehend death, life would sparkle like a shooting star and then fade.

:)

This is a story about sanity, the loss of, life, the loss of, and reincarnation. But never trust what reality tells you is true.

Part One: Nightshade

The City of Eternal rains lived up to its informal name; Tokiwa was green, as always, and the pendulous clouds swinging from the sky were black. It had already started raining again, and the water hadn't even dried from the last drenching a few minutes ago. The balcony was small and cramped, and Jirarudan was surprised that the little table and the two little chairs managed to fit onto it.

His legs were wet; the rain had been splashing the water already collated on the tiles up onto his bared legs, and it was slightly disconcerting. He put it out of his thoughts, however, and watched the setting sun drench the world in a mixture of green-tinted light and icy darkness. The green light came from the clouds, he supposed, and the icy darkness came from the rain. He was certain.

There was a flicker of lightning, and he could hair the rain pounding into the swimming pool of his apartment building. There was silence from the usually chatter-filled area, and then the occupants of the pool scattered. There had been a lightning strike a few months back, and several people had been executed by the shock. The clouds swung a single time more in the sky and then stopped.

Jiri laughed and sipped from his bottle of lemon Bacardi; he was well on the way to becoming drunk, and there were several empty and discarded bottles sitting in a pile near the railing. His green hair had long since become tangled, and it settled just above his shoulders; it was, however, full of knots, and probably needed a good brush. He hadn't cared for his appearance in a long time though.

Ever since he had been defeated and his collection had been broken by the Satoshi child, he had been laughed out of the collecting world and left desolate; he still had a lot of money though, inheritance and many other factors adding to the fact, and he would have been able to rebuild his collection; but they had found out about his problems, and he was just an idiot where he had been a master.

The balcony across from his had a small, paper booklet on it, and the water was pouring off it and he wondered whose it was. Then he caught sight of a small child staring mournfully at the booklet from behind the glass door, and he shook his head and let his thoughts wander once more. When he looked up again, the clock read midnight, where before it had only been seven o'clock.

Sighing, he got out of his chair and went inside.
 
Last edited:
Jiri! *glomps him*

More! More!

Jiri: I'm not a lush...
Me: *whaps him* You're also supposed to have a deep voice, but YOU don't. We all make variations on canon.
Jiri: ...actually, some rum sounds good around now *wanders off*
 
The next part, wherein I butcher the semi-colon to death; such a brilliant punctuation mark, though.

Part Two: Psychedelic

His muscles were bunched and he walked into his bedroom. The television in the lounge room had since ceased playing it's usual seven o'clock program, and there was nothing but a little bit of snow and the occasional flash of a testing image; the Tokiwa Broadcasting Company was one of the more popular channels, but hardly anyone watched it after nine o'clock.

The bed looked inviting, but the light was almost psychotic; it swung, psychedelically from the ceiling, and the flickering of the ceiling fan as it passed in front of it made him almost want to be sick. He supposed he should have turned the light off, or the fan off, but the bed was inviting and soft - he didn't like the softness, and he'd been so used to sleeping on the couch that his neck cramped when he slept on the bed.

"Hmm…" he muttered thoughtfully, his mind still spinning.

The pillow was pushed into the corner of the couch, and he was almost to tall to lie on it comfortably; it wasn't really for comfort that he slept, because he curled his legs up and sometimes he pulled the blanket over his body, but he cared not for any of the little comforts like sheets. Sleep was not comforting, but his Mother had told him how sleep was always important.

It brought dream, sometimes of the child, the one marked by Death; one of the children that had brought about his fall from fame, but Jiri held no grudges. He was marked by Death, one of the children of the Seven; Death would come for him, and he would see Death. Jiri wished he could seek Death as the Seven did, but there was nothing for him except darkness, hurting and angst.

Occasionally there was deus ex machina, in the form of alcohol, and the pain would go away for a little while; only it would return, sometimes in doubles of what it had been before, and he returned to his sleeping on the cramped little couch, in the room with the lights still on, and he dreamt of Death and the child in that order. The child was pretty, really, and he had an obsession too.

Jiri's mother had said that all children needed a hobby;

She never said anything about obsessions…
 
Part Three: Nebula

The dream started of as normal as it could have been; the dark plane, full of lost souls that hung around pretending to be something else and telling the ones that contacted them half-truths and lies, was empty for a change; Jiri stood at one end of it, perhaps shrouded in a bright mist of light, and Death was standing in front of him, black cloak and empty eye-sockets peering out from behind the darkness.

There was a muttered sigh from some lost soul still lurking, curious enough to go near the light but not brave enough to show itself; Death muttered something, the muttered sigh was gone and he returned to the staring contest with the mortal. Jiri sometimes thought that Death knew something more than he let on, something more than Jiri himself knew, but he supposed it was only right for Death to have secrets.

The plane was suddenly filled with beautiful riches, images of many things that enthralled him beyond belief; places to which no human had ever traveled, places that none had seen before and Jiri breathed them all in. Sunsets on a world with two orbiting satellites, and then there was the underwater kingdom where the people so much like the legends of merpeople in his own world lived.

Death showed him all of these, and more; reality blurred, and everything was real and at the same time just a simple fantasy in the mind of a madman. Jiri didn't consider himself mad, because he was entirely certain he wasn't; people said that belief in something, extreme belief, makes it real for the believer, even if it doesn't exist in real life; if one believes something, a wise man had once said, does that give us the right to take it away?

"Greetings," Death's voice was like a final word before the person passed on.

Jiri remained silent, and his mind was filled with wonders.

"Look after my child," Death commanded, "the child of Seven. I will reward you, when your time arrives…"

There was nothing but the image, and Death was gone and the wonders that Jiri saw were unlike anything that had ever been viewed by terrestrial life; it was alien in every single way, and even though Jiri was so convinced that it was true, and that he was standing there, looking out on the alien world, he couldn't see Death, but he heard the voice as the final, parting words were whispered to him.

Awakening was bitter; but the rain had finally waned.
 
ooooh wow. There's that mysticisim I love so much...

and Jiri has two dub names. In the adaptation he's called Lawrence III, but in the movie itself he's called Gelarden *which is actually closer to the French name he's supposed to have...*
 
Four, wherein there are revelations.

Part Four: Heptagon

Death had existed ever since life had existed, even before that, he might have been; he remember everything, maybe once he had been human himself, and maybe he had taken over from his predecessor, but the memories in his head told a different story. He could remember everything, and he knew everything that had ever happened; sometimes he wondered if the memories had just been passed on.

There were Seven cycles of life, because Seven had always been a sacred number; Humans thought it lucky, and there were Seven days in one of their Weeks. There were four sides to a square, and three to a triangle; it was a prime number, and there were so many other things that were attributed to it that no human would ever know of. There were nine lives to a cat, so the folklore went.

But folklore was really messed up, because cats were the only creatures around who remembered each of their previous lives; they lived for Seven cycles, not nine, because there was none who had lived for more than Seven cycles. Then Death stopped, and pushed the thought out of his mind, because that was the most recent of the impossibilities made into real life flesh.

The first Eight, as far as anyone could remember, but if Death reached into the recesses of his dark and long forgotten past, there had been several Eights. Each of them had many years between them though, and the last one hadn't been for at least a millennium; none knew what would happen to an Eight, compared to the usual Sevens, the so-called children of Death.

The balance though… the very fabric of time itself had brought about such a thing.

He brought his mind to the most recent of the Seven, the children of Death as he reminded himself; he was forgetful sometimes, but that was only if he didn't search. The Eight would most likely seek him out, because the soul mate of both of them had passed a while ago into the realms of beyond; for the Eight, he would never have another soul mate… and for the Seven, he would have to wait until death.

The Eight was soul named Kagerou… but in his most recently lifetime, he had been dubbed Jirarudan. And the Seven, too, his soul name was the same as his lifetime name. It hardly ever happened that way, Death though in the recesses of being; he laughed, and it was an odd sound reverberating around the darkness of non-existence. He waited though, while a part of him slowly drew away.

Life was a heptagon they said; seven sides to the cycle, the rest said.

There was nothing beyond, and Death thought of his reward.
 
Yes. Probably; I like making alternate mythologies, and religions. Though I'd note this one is inspired a bit by Terry Pratchett's Discworld. Though only Death, as a presence, of course. ^^;

Seven sides to a heptagon, no?
 
Originally posted by Blackjack Gabbiani
but it could be Sept- as well...
Click to expand...

I thought so as well, as did my father, who is all into maths and who graduated from high school three years early and things like that. Then I checked it up... apparently, hepta, is greek epta or something like that.

^^;;

I like septagon more, though...
 
Wherein Kenji-chan ponders his decorator. :)

Part Five: Imberic

Hanada City, of beautiful beaches and calm, crystal clear waters, was quite the ideal place for one of the artistic profession to follow. Kenji was of the artistic profession, so it was definitely ideal for him, and he glanced over his apartment with a professional eye. It was vital for him to appear up to date with the fashions and the times, because he had developed quite a following in his many galleries across the Kanto and Johto areas.

The apartment was on the outskirts, just overlooking the water, and it was only two stories tall; it was really only just a split house, because the only other person staying in it was the landlady. She allowed him free reign, but that was expected, because, even though she didn't know, he owned the entire complex; he had enjoyed the decorations and the splashes of colours rushed around the square rooms.

The balcony looked out on the lighthouse owned by a crazy man whose name Kenji had forgotten; the doors were painted white, and they looked north from the green wall that had small squares of canvas with kanji characters written on them. He prided himself with all types of art, and calligraphy was one of them; the south wall was pale lavender, while the east was dark red and the west was light yellow.

His bedroom was a yellow orange, and there were other splashes of rainbow colours floating around it; his pride and joy, however, was an extremely large copy of Monet's Woman with Parasol, pasted onto a thick block and hung from the south wall. The other walls were blank, and the floor was polished wood; his sofa curved around the corners from the lavender wall onto the red wall, and was totally black.

While in the middle of the room his stylish stereo system, in silver and mahogany wood, rested next to the television and a few other assorted objects. He really loved his decorating, but the kitchen and dining room, which led off from the red wall opposite his bedroom behind the yellow, was his favourite place of all; it also overlooked the ocean, and it was almost totally glass.

It would always be tidy, if he had his way on things; people had called him obsessive about tidying, and compulsive about painting, but he thought himself nothing of those. He was just a brilliant artist stuck in a body that was suitable for the work he was sent to earth to do; there was a knocking sound at the dor on the lavender wall, and he turned to watch as an envelope slid through the slot.

"Mail," the landlady called out.

Then he was alone again, and he picked up the letter.
 
I'm entirely uncertain... I've got a general idea of where this is going; I'm thinking it might even stem off as an AU from Mandragora.

Who knows?
 
*grin*

Part Six: Pantomime

The music was an old take on a 70s song, Kenji noted thoughtfully; he had always liked the tune of it though, even if he couldn't remember who had sung it in the first place. The large gallery was full of everyone that people could possibly think of, and then a few more that they probably wouldn't have done; he had been surprised to get an invitation with it, but had decided he might as well go.

The owner of the gallery was Sakaki, who was the ex-gym leader of Tokiwa City, ever since his twin brother, Sakari, had been murdered by Rokett-Dan agents. He was a nice enough man, Kenji surmised, but he seemed to have a very tedious grip upon reality; it was a nice enough gallery, and the pictures on the walls were nice enough. Some of the colours, though, he was quite certain could have been changed.

For example, the vomit green didn't mix with the pasty, almost flaky yellow like that; in some situations, it would have been perfect, but with that mix… it just made him shudder, and he made a note never to buy anything by the artist who had made it. And then, it was to his surprise, when he walked to the next painting and he saw one of his own staring back at him. He was about to gasp.

Then he realised his stupidity, and brought his thoughts back to his agent, who had said a few weeks ago that she'd found another gallery to showcase a work of his in it; said she'd find him an invitation to the opening of it too, and he laughed and would have kicked himself had it not have looked so stupid.

"Kenji," a voice said to him.

"Satoshi!" he turned quickly, and smiled.

"Fancy meeting you here," Satoshi replied, and his fiancée hummed her response from his arm.

"Congratulations are in order, I see;" Kenji said, and nodded to the girl; "Kasumi,"

She nodded back in reply, and then detached herself; "I'm off to look at those paintings… one of Nanami's,"

She was gone within a few seconds, and in the distant parts of Tokiwa it began to rain a single time more. Jiri supposed he should have been totally pissed off by the weather's lack of respect, but he didn't give a damn any more, and he returned once more to his binge of drinking on his water splattering balcony with a blank look out at the weather, and his hair tangled once more.

He hadn't eaten breakfast, or lunch; but he only felt drunk.
 
Twin? I suppose that's the only story people would believe...but they switched identities? Or did you mean to say that Sakaki had...eeh, never mind, I have a headache...

successful Kenji, with Jiri in ruins...I wanna see more! I wanna see the dichotomy! (doesn't think she spelled that right)
 
The theory of alternality (I think that's right...) is for every choice made, there are infinite possiblities. For example, a choice made by the egg during the fertilization process of wether to split or not, there are at least three choices: Sakaki is born insane/with mpd, as in Mandragora; Sakaki is born normally, with no mpd; and Sakaki and Sakari being born.

Make a bit of sense? In this reality, the latter is what occured. :)
 
Please note: The thread is from 23 years ago.
Please take the age of this thread into consideration in writing your reply. Depending on what exactly you wanted to say, you may want to consider if it would be better to post a new thread instead.
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