Amaranth  

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character.

Author's Note: Well, here we go. I bitch and moan and complain and read fanfics like they are goin' out of style and write a million more in my head, but I've never actually reached THIS stage before: The first fanfiction that I ever post. And glory be, it's a frelling outside-character crossover. But it seemed to go over well with my beta, and I intend to do this without having to go way back into the history of the character or the story that she arrived from. I don't want that to be the focus of this story. The main idea is that she is almost as much of a mystery to you lovely readers as she is to poor ol' Fluffy, whom we can never really tell if he is under the influence of a spell or his own repressed hormones. Probably both, if you really sit down and think about it. Anyways, feel free to skip the A.N.'s at the tops and bottoms of my chapters, in my opinion any good story should read just as well without footnotes. They're there just for fun.     

Chapter One:  Cracks in a Stone

The wind was rustling the leaves overhead as Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, walked the perimeter of his holdings. It swirled into little eddies of dust and fallen leaves that seemed to dance at the hem of the youkai lord's robes. However, the quiet beauty of the forest around him did not stir Sesshoumaru from his task. Something had breached the edge of his lands, something smelling of magic¾heavy and alien. Leaving the wind-borne leaves in his wake, he made his way to the caves along the eastern borders. Somewhere inside of the twisted passages was a thing that thrummed and pulsed, drawing his youkai blood to it with insistent purpose. What that purpose might be, Sesshoumaru could not guess.

He had to hurry, for other youkai would sense the thrumming thing and come to investigate. As the Lord of the Western Lands, it was his right, and his alone to possess or discard that which finds its way onto his lands. 

Right, then left he turned in the darkness. The darkness was so complete that even his youkai senses were hard put to compensate. He almost did not believe his eyes when the darkness began to take on a soft lavender hue. It lightened and lightened until the shadows were no longer shadows, until it was bright as day within the cavern he finally found himself in. 

Whatever Sesshoumaru had been expecting, it was nothing like what he found. For the source of the power that called to him was a large amethyst, and encased inside was a graceful mass of feathers and skin and hair. A woman, fine-boned and petit, seemed almost to float within her crystal casing. A pair of wings as large as her body jutted from her shoulder blades, and her hair was a fall of shadow, with fire-bright feathers peeking through along its length.

Moments passed into moments as Sesshoumaru lost himself in curiosity. Little things began to jump out and puzzle him, small things that took his notice. For as fair as the woman was (and she was very fair,) he could see soft scars marring her translucent skin. Her feathers were tattered and torn, her small hands stained by what he could only guess was blood. And her face… her expression was one of profound sadness, such that he, (normally a remote and passionless being) could not comprehend.

            Whether the pulsing power came from the woman, or the crystal, he could not tell. They were as one. And almost as if it had always been there, the desire to free the woman came to dominate his mind. When he would normally question such a single-minded devotion, this time he did not. All that he saw in that blinding moment was hued in purple. All that he heard was the rushing past his ears of some ancient magic, older and more foreign to him than ever he knew.

            Within the familiar amaranthine she dreamed. Here within her last remaining refuge she drifted, her body frozen, her spirit lingering somewhere between the deep hollows of the shadow–world and the too-bright sharpness of consciousness. Between the dreams that would be nightmares, awareness would come upon her like a shy creature. In those brief lucid moments she could see they who came to the crystal's calling. She would watch their futile attempts to free her from her prison. Never were they successful, and never did she expect them to be. Her bindings were the final wish of a dying goddess, and no mortal man or mage could hope to break them.

            And so she watched as this new contender began his battle with the last shard of a great castle. She watched dispassionately as he threw his might and strength against its sides, watched as he brought forth sword and talon to overtake her prison, and turned away as once again the crystal held fast. Perhaps soon she might dream again: dream her dreams of oblivion until she would awaken once more, a new land and a new time surrounding her. Very little touched her in her suspended world. It was far too much effort to drum up emotion for anything when all she had left was the mourning of her shattered world, the last few shreds of her universe drawn up around her to reside in the amaranthine at the wish of her Lady. She closed her mind's eye as the beautiful white-haired man spent his anger against the crystal shard.

            Sesshoumaru sagged against the crystal's unmarred face. Nothing he had tried had worked; the poison from his claws no proof against the smooth facets of the magic-strengthened amethyst. At one point he would have to concede. Not even his will could break the woman from her encasement. Unbidden he turned to look at the ethereal features one last time, and his hand came up as if to brush away the hair from her face. As his palm slid softly across the crystal, something unexpected happened. Nearly imperceptible it was, but there under the pads of his fingers was a crack. It seemed to travel slowly from his fingers, splitting into many tributaries along the faceted surface. Deep the cracks began to run, until the entire crystal was veined with them. And then, as he backed away in surprise, the crystal shattered, a million little shards flying outward from the woman. No longer suspended within, the winged woman fell boneless to the ground.

            Not fast enough to catch her, Sesshoumaru reached her side as her body settled onto the floor of the cave. They were both covered in winking purple dust, the crystal seeming to disintegrate before his eyes. Never had the Lord seen such a thing; the magic that operated here in the cavern was not like that of his world. 

            The winged girl did not move, and he realized that she wasn't breathing. He reached forward, unsure in that moment whether he intended to pick her up or simply nudge her body. As his fingertips brushed against the pale, cool skin of her shoulder and down her ribcage, he felt the smallest of movements. A long, low breath, so soft and shallow that it mightn't have even happened swelled slowly against his hand. Another breath, then another followed it, until the woman's body warmed to the touch. Gently he rolled her over so that he might see her face.

            Such a shock it was to feel again. She could feel the air on her skin, feel the ground against her side, feel the gentle touch brush her ribs. Long moments passed, and then her heart, still for so long, took one mighty leap inside her chest. Blood moved slowly in veins and arteries, her lungs expanded and filled and emptied again. All those little things that were life to a mortal body resumed their flow, one last miracle as her body resurrected itself under the waning magic of the amaranthine dust. She lay there, too weak yet to move, drinking in the feeling of living again.

            Perhaps she had lain there a moment, or perhaps an hour when she felt herself being moved. Gently she was rolled so that her face was no longer grinding into the rough ground. Her eyes fluttered open, her vision swam and then cleared into the achingly beautiful face of her liberator.

            Gold met gold as the girl's eyes came open. Sesshoumaru was taken aback by the intensity of them. Even confused and half-dead as she surely was, her eyes held something… indescribable. Now Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, was a demon who chose his words carefully. He was unused to the feeling of utter speechlessness that had settled across his shoulders and clung to him like spider-silk with every passing moment in the presence of this strange winged woman.

Out of pure instinct he brought his face close to her neck and sniffed, taking in her scent. He only faintly heard her draw her breath in as he did, so entranced was he by this new mystery. He had never before smelled anything quite like her. She was not of youkai-blood; he knew that in an instant. Nor was she human, although he thought she might have been at one time. Amidst the slightly spicy odor of her skin (like burning incense from a room away,) was the scent of blood and feathers and dragon-hide leather (creatures long since wiped from the face of his world.) In that instant he knew, he realized with the force almost like a blow that he intended to keep her. He would take her back to his fortress as his prize, this exotic bird of a woman, and she would give up her foreign secrets to him. His mind flew at great speeds, speculating what terrible secrets she might hold, what the nature of her magic might give him, what her skin smelled like when clean and perfumed, what her blood would taste like when she was angry or…

So deep was he that he nearly jumped at the soft sound of her voice. So close was he that her breath tickled his ear.

"It's not like I'm not grateful, but is there any particular reason why you are licking my neck?"

You know the drill. Read and Review. (Please.)

A.N.:   Oops. Dear Fluffy, whatever are you doing? Don't you know that it's in poor taste to neck on the first date? Also, let's not forget the fact that all but a few seconds ago, she was DEAD. Tsk.

            Also, before you trump off and flame me for this, let me say that Fluffy is NOT being OOC. Once again, Mr. Lord of the Western Dogpile is not out of character. He is bespelled. Trust me. I swear!  If you still feel the need to flame me, understand that if you say something like "Fix it! It sucks!" then I will not answer you. Be specific in your criticism, please, or it does none of us any damn good. The rest you who for some odd reason like to give nice reviews, thank you.

            Important note… An amaranth is a purple flower that in Greek Mythology never fades. It represents immortality and eternal beauty. Nifty, ne? Thesauruses and dictionaries are beautiful things. Can you imagine how boring it would be for me to write the word `purple' over and over? Yuck.

Next Chapter: Gee, no matter how depressed our resurrecting heroine is, she still has her razor wit. And no matter how bespelled our dear Fluffy may be, he's still Fluffy. See these two world champions go at it! Fluffy's Fortress of Solitude will never be the same…