Note: This is in response to two of Sharra's challenges from a while back. It's um... an interesting little doozy I worked up in about half an hour when the challenge was first posted but never bothered (or remembered) to post. I think most of you'll like it. ^_^
It was a warm, sunny day in the forest. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and the whole place screamed - the most beautiful possible way - the news that Spring had sprung.
Sage strolled between the trees, taking it all in. The great weather had the Ronin of Spirit's spirit soaring, and he wasn't about to stay indoors. Not today. A bemused smile played at his lips as he watched White Blaze prance around nearby, sniffing the strange and new scents in the air. Looked like he wasn't either.
Spotting a large, crooked tree that stood nearly in two pieces, he moved off the beaten path and into the wild brush. The tree had been struck by lightning years ago, splitting it straight down the trunk, and it had always been one of Sage's favorite spots.
He climbed over a dead tree trunk about thirty yards past the lightning tree. On the other side there was a large, flat-topped boulder sitting between two gnarled grey trees. This was his favorite spot to meditate, where he went when his world was falling apart to pick up all the pieces and solve the puzzle again. Nothing so depressing drove him there today. Today was a day of peace and beauty; a day in which to envelope the senses completely and without apprehension or complication.
Sage sat indian-style on the rock, his eyes shut - but not so much so that no light slipped in - and his hands rested in his lap. His breathing was deep and slow, with a steady rhythm that soothed him right through to the soul. He was vaguely aware of White Blaze dozing next to the rock, as he was aware of the sun over his head and the wind caressing his cheek, but it was a passing familiarity next to the peace and clarity of his meditative state.
He could have been there for seconds or days when suddenly a shrill squawk pierced the sweetly-flowered air. "Oh, Saaagey dear! Oh, hello!" it called. "Whatever are you doing out here all alone on this fine spring day?"
Sage's one visible pale-violet eye snapped open and shot so far out of his skull that it had to use long distance to send signals to his brain.
In the middle of a grove of huge, pink sakura-filled trees, a big, ugly head bobbed toward him. The head was crowned with bright yellow, pink and white flowers and bore a humongous, toothy grin that had been outlined by the brightest, thickest red lipstick he'd ever seen. Two dark, rosy stop signs covered the head's cheeks.
"Talpa?!" Sage squeaked. No way, it couldn't be!
It giggled. Talpa giggled. A high-pitched, girlish giggle. "Why, of course it's me, you siwwy wiwwy Wonin, you! Hehhehe," he laughed, veerry Elmer Fudd-like as he skipped over to him and pinched his cheek.
"Bu... bu... but... you can't be! What the heck happened to you?!"
It giggled again, sitting on the stone, right next to Sage - that is, if big ugly heads slaughtered with make-up can sit. "Now that doesn't really matter, does it?"
Sage was just about to say that it did, but he missed his chance due to the large bouquet of wildflowers that were flung into his face. "These are for you, Sagey Wagey!"
"F-for me?" Sage gulped.
"Mm hmm," Talpa nodded.
"Um... what for?"
"Oh, come now! I think we both know the answer to that!" Talpa chastized, leaning in close to Sage as if to say "Kiss me, I'm Talpa!" Like a diabolical button-maker's best scheme...
Sage's immediate reaction was to hide, run for cover. But instead, he found himself oddly hypnotized. That bold smile... those gorgeous eyes... that... pocket full of posies!
Despite himself, Sage, too, leaned in - close, oh, so very close - and when they locked lips, it was the most beautiful and exhilerating experience of his life. Could it be? Was it...
LOVE?!
"Nooooooooooo!! No! No! No!" Sekhmet screamed in terror, jumping straight up in his bed and standing on it, his head whipping around to check that he was alone in the room.
Panting and wide-eyed, he slid down to an awkward sitting position. Whipping open a bedside drawer, Sekhmet tentatively drew a bushy object from it.
"He loves me... he loves me not... he loves me... he loves me not... he loves me... he loves me NOT! God da-argh! Damn you, Halo! Damn you with your cursed good looks... Dang it! Shoot! GR!"
A few seconds later, "He loves me... he loves me not..."