Shimmerlace And The Boy From The Land Of Song

[Malkavia]

The following takes place in the summer of 2022.

It was 10pm. The moon was two-thirds full and hung over the hilly Ashikaga skyline like a yellow hole cut into the gray-black expanse of sky—perhaps a port-hole through which spirits might peer into the world below.

Below were the Ashikaga Flower Gardens, 22 acres of the finest Japanese landscaping and horticultural art. Light had been installed for the summer crowds. Electric bulbs hidden in soil or under wooden awnings made the stacked pyramids of wisteria, the rose hedges, and the patches of tulips glow in the night like the carriages and castles of a nighttime fairy parade.

By now the weekend crowds had thinned as tourists and local sightseers left for home and dinner, which suited Shimmerlace. She enjoyed the quiet, enjoyed the way she could hear the curtains of flowers around her rustle in the breeze, the sense that she could enjoy privacy in her flower-petal world. She sat beside a pond, in the middle of which was an island of platforms covered in green and pink and blue, much like she imagined the Hanging Gardens of Babylonia, and the smell of the flowers and the algae in the pond made her rock happily back and forth.

She was going to get shouted at. For lots of reasons. For one thing, her promo for Fight the LAW was only a week away, and after that it would be onto the cruise ship and another “big match,” so of course Ellie Gray would expect her to spend her evenings biking and lifting weights and jumping off of ropes—or at the very least to sleep long before before the 1am when the Feychild would be arriving via train back in Tokyo.

Mostly, however, she expected to get shouted at by the Garden’s security when she unwound her kite. Almost as wide as she was tall, the kite looked like a butterfly. Lightweight Plastic formed the delicate curve of veins in its wings, which glowed vibrant shades of pink, red, and yellow, while a glittering tail of green unfurled behind it.

Many were the rules broken this evening. But, as she was wont to say—fuck it. With her kite held over her head, she jogged down the length of the pond, felt the tug of the butterfly as its wings caught the air, and tossed it into the night sky, where it flew and rose until it was a hovering pink jewel illuminated by the golden lights below.

[The Incredulous Snow]

It had been a wonderful day.

Young Jasper Rhys had been given the week off from his AFW Duties and had subsequently been given a lot of free time, and on this fine Friday when the sun was at it's prettiest and the sky more blue than he'd ever seen in his native Wales or even the prettiest parts of England he'd been to, he decided to venture away from his usual Kyoto based dwellings, the young Welshman having left his beloved pet Jessie in the care of a recent new friend he'd made in the ring, trusting him to take good care of his little feline companion and preparing for a long daytrip.

"I'll be back either by Tonight or Tomorrow afternoon, don't you worry now." He softly reassured into the phone as he stepped out of the Taxi and walked towards the station.

With his cat in safe red-headed hands, the backpack toting Jasper currently making his way through the station had left early this morning to catch the 6:25 Shinkansen run to Tokyo, a city he'd often heard a lot about and had often been curious about visiting, but often was far too busy with matches, promotional material, signing autographs and just doing his daily routine to really pay any actual mind about visiting the bustling metropolis that was the capital of Japan... It was also his first time on the Shinkansen and while it was impressive, even as Jasper pressed his head against the window to watch the countryside roll by at speed, it failed to capture his imagination the way the old steam engines of yore from the great little narrow gauge engines of the Talyllyn Railway to grimy British Rail diesels of his father's childhood always managed to.

Still. Was mighty comfortable, so comfortable in fact he even got to enjoy a brief nap.

There, when he finally reached the thriving metropolis, well... Jasper had himself a fairly lovely time of it as he traversed the city streets, exploring everywhere from the many tourist-heavy sightseeing spots, to a handful of Cafés and restaurants around the city where on the odd occasion, someone would recognize him, and he'd politely sign autographs and give smiles for them, The young lad always happy to put a smile on the fans faces and for the most part, he'd had a pretty lovely day...

Before long however finally as the sun began setting, with his day trip nearing its end Jasper decided upon visiting one final location he'd heard much about with the lad taking a local train from Tokyo directly to it, arriving finally at the famous Ashikaga Flower Park for what he considered to be the last part of his trip to the big city from the very beginning he stepped into the botanical haven, it failed to disappoint the Welsh country boy as he explored it to and from, enjoying the cool night breeze as he wandered around before finally as he came upon a large pond, A smile formed on the boy's face as he grabbed his backpack and checked around for... "Ah! ...Yes, This'll do nicely." He murmured as he set up a kite his cousin Elsie back home in Britain had sent him with an unusual kite soon taking to the sky, it's shape baring a resemblance to the iconic shape of the Supermarine Spitfire in classic RAF Camo, floating about in the wind as Jasper laid back to relax and enjoy the peace and quiet, watching the Spitfire kite dance in the wind as he held the bridle.

"It's so quiet... Almost reminds me of home." the Welsh boy sighed softly with a content smile as he lazily let the Spitfire kite dance about in the wind, oblivious to anyone else around him.

[Malkavia]

The kite went up, caught its wind, and—nothing from the folks in charge. No figure emerged from the weeds to insist she pull that down. What few people passed by seemed to pay Shimmerlace little mind, save a couple teenagers. It was a bouquet of them, boys dressed in suits, who strolled by, stopped. Glanced at her. One of them stared, which was very rude, so of course she approved. Well, but wearing one's elaborate pink and fey-touched ring gear did draw the public eye.

Even those kids didn't work up the courage to say anything though and soon passed on, and she was left in peace. It was almost disappointing. Still, it meant she could lay back in the grass, hold her pink spool with cotton string, and breathe in the warm night air. It was lovely to relax. She let her mind slip outward and practice untargeted imagination. Her minded wandered over past tricks and past matches, imagined alternative paths through and outcomes, toyed with new ideas and then discarded them. Gremlins and goblins grew in the surrounding plantlife and lived elaborate lives.

Then, she blinked. There was another dot in her sky alongside her pink butterfly — a gray one. She looked closer. It had...airplane wings and—sure enough—here was a string illuminated by the garden lights, arcing gently down to...a boy. Well, how about that. Seemed she was not the only one with this plan in mind.

There was nothing for it but to say hello, so she stretched like a cat, feet splayed out and hands in the air. A shiver ran from shoulders to feet. Then she stood, kite reel behind her back. She strolled over. Plopped down beside him. "Howdy hoo friendo." Without looking at him, she held her spool out in front of her and sighed happily. "Wanna...see which of us can cut the other outta the sky?"

[The Incredulous Snow]

Lazily lying back with legs crossed and hands folded behind his head in a relaxed position, the Welsh lad simply enjoyed the view of the night sky, looking up at the sky at the little Spitfire shaped kite climbing higher and higher with his imagination filling with dramatic images of Spitfire and Hurricanes over the Cliffs of Dover chasing Messerschmitts, Junkers and Heinkels over the clear blue skies of England in 1940, the RAF and Luftwaffe locked in a duel for the fate of the world with the fate of the free world at stake with the theme from that one film... What was it again? Oh, Yes! Battle Of Britain from 1968 or something, It was one of those old war movies he fondly remembered watching with his grandparents when he was a boy back in the Valleys, huddled together in the farm cottage around the Telly on a rainy miserable day with Hot Tea and watching the Allies and Axis battle it out in technicolour spectacles.

Slowly but surely as his mind wandered to the glories of old war films, his grandparents and his childhood, the boy began to slowly doze off with a soft yawn and eyes shutting slowly as he began to nap away dreaming of being a gallant Spitfire Pilot and leading his own squadron...

...z Z z Z z Z z

Z z Z z Z z Z...

Wing Commander Arthur Rhys was just about to get his sixth kill of the day, a lone Junkers Ju-88 that broke formation and fled now flying over London in an attack vector for King's Cross, when a voice suddenly broke his concentration and frankly, broke him from his dream as he opened his eyes looking around, mildly disappointed that such a cool dream was being interrupted when he suddenly saw something that wasn't there before, right next to him sat was a girl he'd never seen before, a pink haired gal who as he could tell from the spool in her hands had her own kite up in the air... A Butterfly looking thing, quite pretty, flying alongside his Spitfire.

"Cut out of the sky...?" He said with a yawn as he sat upright, stretching from his little nap as he processed what she said next and grabbed his Kite's spool, mostly oblivious to what she said, the silly boy.