Moving Pictures

Chapter 1 - Of Melon and TaiYoukai

Charlotte sighed heavily and let the drape slip through her fingers, extinguishing the lights of Los Angeles twinkling below her. Normally a reassuring sight, the endless stretch of humanity seemed to press on her shoulders like a dead weight. Robert Smith‘s voice sang her song mournfully from the speakers mounted on the ceiling of her apartment, “Sometimes I‘m dreaming, Charlotte sometimes“(1).

“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered under her breath and sloshed more wine into her glass. She’d always told herself that turning thirty was no big deal, especially to a creature who could potentially live hundreds of years. But here it was, her thirtieth birthday and all she wanted to do was punch something. Or, get stinking drunk.

She supposed that she should have gone out dancing with her friends. They’d found a guy for her who they promised was handsome, intelligent, wonderful, not at all the like the loser with whom they’d set her up last time. She’d bowed out, complaining of a headache and cramps, knowing they’d take the bait and leave her alone. She just didn’t feel like making small talk with some boring lout who’s only aspirations were getting in her pants.

She’d even taken a couple of weeks vacation off work. Tomorrow, she planned to drive up to her twin brother’s place near Yosemite, but today, she’d lounged around the apartment. She’d done some reading, dozed in front of a movie, and generally did absolutely nothing, all in a haze of self-pity. The highlight of her day had been the Fed-Ex package that had arrived in the afternoon. Answering the door in her bathrobe and a headscarf, she’d signed for the thin, flat parcel and carried it to her living room.

A girlfriend from Tokyo had sent it, someone she had met in college and hadn’t seen since graduation. They’d met in one of their programming classes and had quickly become the best of friends. Keiko had been in LA as an exchange student, studying English and Computer Science and Charlotte had been taking Japanese as a minor with her Computer Science major. Keiko had been the only human to whom she had revealed her true nature. She had been surprised but not horrified, and had told Charlotte stories about the ‘youkai’ that supposedly populated Japan. After finishing school, Keiko had moved back to Japan. They had drifted apart but stayed in contact, periodically emailing each other or sending cards.

The package still sat in the living room, unopened. Shortly after the Fed-Ex guy had left, the phone had rung. She’d set the thing down to answer it and it had slipped from her mind. Now, she eyed the white box curiously, wondering what on earth her friend had sent her. Setting the half-full (or is it half-empty, her mind supplied) glass of wine on the coffee table, she wandered over to the box leaning against the sofa.

Catching her reflection in the mirror in the mirror above the sofa, she paused. ‘Thirty’s nothing when you don’t age,’ she contemplated her unlined face. Her blonde hair was short and layered, framing her face, the longest layers curling against her tanned shoulders. Sun-kissed highlights on the top and dark blond underneath, the effect was three-dimensional and few people believed it was natural. Small, tufted, triangular ears poked out of her hair, a rich honey-gold that blended with her hair. ‘Then why are you so bummed?’

She flopped down on the couch and buried her face in the overstuffed cushions. “Because I’m BORED!” She sighed, ‘Now you’re talking to yourself.’ She raised herself to her elbows and grabbed the goblet, downing the contents. Leaning her body over the arm of the sofa, she located the “open here” tab on the side of the box. Without much hope that it would actually work, she tugged on the bit of cardboard. Sure enough, the tab tore off halfway through the top. “Fuck it,” she muttered and extended a sharp, talon-like claw from the tip of her finger. Wondering why she hadn’t that in the first place, she slid the claw through the rest of the top. She peered into the darkness inside the box, then gently tilted it. A piece of paper, carefully folded, fluttered out. Snatching it up and setting the box down, she unfolded it.

***

Kitty,

Happy Birthday! Hope you like this - the shopkeeper assured me that it had youkai origins and I had to get it for you. Even if it doesn’t, it’s right up your alley!

Come visit me sometime!!

-Keiko

***

Charlotte chuckled, the wine pleasantly buzzing in her head. “Keiko, I’m not a demon. I’m a werelion.” Her friend’s voice echoed in her head, supplying the reply to the old argument, “Same difference”

She reached into the box and pulled out the brightly wrapped package, laying it in her lap. Using her still-extended claw, she eased the tape from the paper until Keiko’s present had been freed from its colorful bindings. “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make you feel like I am free again,”(2) The Cure crooned in the background.

She stared down at the painted landscape. “Keiko, you know me too well,” she thought as she traced the delicate branches of the blooming cherry tree in the foreground. Behind, a snowcapped mountain kissed the blushing sky, it’s base haloed in fog. Almost shrouded by the mist, a mansion was barely visible, defined only by tiny brushstrokes. Charlotte had always loved this kind of painting, whimsical, magical and graceful. ‘I want to go there,’ she had told Keiko on the occasions they had seen this style of artwork. ‘Everything would be so perfect and beautiful.’ Keiko had laughed at her, ‘It would be like anywhere else. It’s probably a real place.’

She sighed and set it down, leaning it against the couch. Applying the logic of mildly intoxicated people the world over, she decided it was time for another drink. Wending her way back to the bottle, she filled her glass and began to set the bottle back down. She thought better of it and meandered back to the couch, bottle in tow. She dropped into a cross-legged sit in front of the painting and took a long sip. There was something unusually fascinating about this painting - was it the way the fog seemed to roll around the mountain? It didn’t move but it didn’t seem to stay in the same place, either. Or was it the cherry blossoms that almost shivered in the breeze?

She stretched out on the floor and propped herself up on her elbows, her brain too hazy to keep her sitting upright. The painting took up her entire field of view but lost no detail. Reaching a hand to the end table by the sofa, she found her reading glasses by feel. Usually using them to protect her eyes from the light of the computer screen, they were also handy for focusing on small print. Concentrating for moment, she transformed into her most human form and slipped them onto her face, the arms hooking behind her slightly pointed ears, now in the position of a human‘s ears. Blinking through the light plastic lenses, she examined it again. ‘Fascinating, it’s like I can zoom in…’ She giggled suddenly and inched forward until her nose was only inches from the thin wood. ‘I can almost touch that tree…’ she brushed her fingers, the nails short and blunt, through the air over the paint. A warm tingle traveled from her fingertips up her arm, filling her head with a sudden vertigo. She blinked, too groggy to really react and analyze the situation.

Squinting, she pressed her nose against the wood. A dot of yellow paint now touched the mansion, as if there were a light shining from a window. She was positive it hadn’t been there a second ago. The floor suddenly tilted and Charlotte tumbled into black oblivion.

*****

Her head pounded steadily and her mouth felt stuffed with cotton. It wasn’t fair - she didn’t remember having drunk enough to get a hangover, and if you didn’t remember it, it didn’t count, right? And it was chilly - had she left the balcony door open? She shouldn’t have taken that robe off…why was she laying in grass?

Charlotte’s eyes popped open. Cherry blossoms rustled above her, petals falling like snow. Blades of grass tickled her cheek and the twilit air was filled with the song of crickets. Rubbing her temples with her knuckles, she groaned and sat up. ‘I must have passed out in front of that painting…since when have dreams included headaches? And wet jammies?’ Her pink flannel pajama pants were damp and clammy where she had laid in the grass, sticking to her tops of her thighs. The front of her camisole top was also wet and grass stains now marred “Hello Kitty’s” pretty white fur. She sighed resignedly, “I hope the cleaning lady doesn’t trip over me when she comes in tomorrow morning.”

As far as dreams went, this one was truly amazing. The scents alone that hit her nose were overwhelming and she could hardly name any of them. Conspicuously absent were the odors of car exhaust, rotting garbage and human sweat that seemed to permeate the city. She was accustomed to them so hadn’t really noticed them in years. A scattering of stars twinkled down at her thought the purple sky and she blinked back up at them, trying to remember the last time she’d seen real stars. The chorus of crickets rose in a sweeping crescendo as more stars winked into the sky. Awestruck, she sat in the wet grass, hands resting limply in her lap, and watched the blossoming night, unaware of the quiet footsteps that approached from behind.

******

The high-pitched voiced of a child spoke behind her. Startled, Charlotte snapped her head around toward the source of the voice, pulling off her glasses and stuffing them in a pocket in her pants. A young girl, a lock of black hair gathered into a pigtail, stared down at her patiently. She shifted from one foot to the other, a large melon clutched against her orange and white checkered kimono.

Charlotte stared stupidly back, “Huh?”

The girl repeated the question and it took a moment for Charlotte’s brain to register the fact that she was speaking Japanese.

“Uhhh, I don’t think I’m lost…” Charlotte responded slowly. It had been a while since she had spoken the language and the words felt awkward and stilted on her tongue. She also didn’t know the answer to the question. Could one get lost in one’s dream?

Her pretty face breaking into a sunny smile , the girl laughed, “You talk funny.” She sat across from her in the wet grass, the melon resting in her lap. “My name‘s Rin, what‘s yours?”

“Charlotte. Aren‘t you a little young to be out by yourself?”

“Nah, Jakken’s around somewhere.” Using a small knife she had hidden in her kimono, Rin sliced into the melon, cutting a fat wedge and holding it out to her. “Want some? It‘s good.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte took the proffered slice, biting into it. Sweet and soft, the fruit was the best she’d ever had. “Mmm, yummy,“ she mumbled between mouthfuls. Rin nodded enthusiastically and cut the rest of the melon into pieces. Juice ran down their fingers and chins in sticky rivulets by the time they’d finished.

Licking the nectar from her fingers, Charlotte regarded her young companion. “You know, it’s a beautiful night and all, but shouldn’t we get you home?”

The girl shook her head and wiped her hands in the damp grass. “I told you, Jakken…”

A small man, no more than a couple of feet tall, was rushing across the grassy field, his cheeks puffed with effort. “Rin! Where are you, you confounded child? Rin! Answer me!”

“Over here,” Rin waved a small hand in the air.

Charlotte leaned over to Rin and whispered behind her hand, “Who’s the frog?” The unlikely green creature wore a brown jumpsuit of some sort and carried an ugly, two-headed staff that was at least twice his height. His beady eyes flashed with indignation as he remonstrated Rin in a high, grating voice. He reminded her of a Muppet, the way his beaky mouth flapped away. Charlotte didn’t catch all of what he said but she was sure it wasn’t very nice. ‘This dream is getting really fucking weird.’

“That’s Jakken. He’s Lord Sesshomaru’s vassal and he watches over me when Lord Sesshomaru’s not around,”

“Does he sing about rainbows?” Charlotte wondered aloud.

Rin frowned up at her, “Rainbows?”

“Never mind.”

“Rin, who’s this you’re with?” Jakken stopped next to the females, breathing hard and planting the staff in the ground and a small green fist on his hip. The suspicious light in which the creature eyed her put her on edge and she stood, drawing herself up to her full height, and glared down at him.

“This is Char-lot,” the girl stumbled over the unfamiliar pronunciation.

“You can call me Kitty,” Charlotte said quickly. Keiko had given her the nickname after she had revealed her true nature. Keiko had gasped and clapped her hands, ‘You’re a big kitty cat!’ Pushing her lip out, Charlotte had mock-pouted, ‘A mountain lion.’ But, the name had stuck and was now used by most of her friends.

“What manner of youkai are you?” the little green man squinted up at her.

“I’m not a demon.”

“No human is as tall and fair as you are,” he jabbed a stubby green finger at her.

“Well, I’m not a demon,” she crossed her arms and scowled at him. She was a werelion - demons had horns and breathed fire and stuff.

He snorted and directed his attention to the child. “Come along Rin. We’ve kept Lord Sesshomaru waiting long enough.” He turned his back and stomped away in the direction he had come.

Rin scrambled to her feet and brushed off her kimono, “I’m ready.” She skipped off behind the imp, then stopped suddenly and turned. “Wanna come with us, Kitty?”

“Rin! You can’t just invite someone along like that!” outrage shone in his beady black eyes.

Charlotte inventoried her options: she could stay where she was and watch the moon rise, or she could follow the kid and meet this ‘Lord Sesshomaru’ person. ‘As much as I like sitting in the cold, wet grass,’ she thought with a shudder, ‘I have to check this guy out.’ And hadn’t she been bored in the first place? “OK,” she agreed and caught up to the girl, pointedly ignoring the sputtering imp.

*****

Sesshomaru lounged on a low boulder in a forest clearing, one knee raised with his armed propped on it, and stared off into space. He was content to simply sit, letting his thoughts drift, as he waited for Jakken and Rin to return. Regal and aloof, he could have been carved of alabaster, if not for his long silver hair billowing in the mild evening breeze. His golden eyes barely shifted as the sounds of voices filtered through the trees. As Rin chattered inanely, the image of her broken body rose in his mind. She had tried to help him after he had been badly wounded in a fight with his brother and she had been savaged by wolves shortly after. He had brought her back to life with Tenseiga, the Sword of Life, forged from his father’s fang, and she had been with him ever since.

The slightest of frowns flitted across his features as an unknown laughter joined that of Rin’s. Warm and rich, it seemed to bubble out of its owner and fill the air. The stranger responded to Rin’s question, but the accent, not the answer caught his attention. Altogether unfamiliar, it twanged and lengthened vowels; not unpleasant but very different.

Jakken stormed into the clearing, obviously fuming, the Staff of Two Heads pressed against his shoulder. Deep in conversation, Rin and a strange human woman followed close behind. Oddly dressed and unnaturally tall for a human female, she seemed to shine like a candle in the moonlight. She tossed her short hair, sending a cascade of gold over her shoulder and shaking free cherry blossoms that taken up residence there. Rin looked up and a delighted grin lit up her face, “My Lord Sesshomaru!”

Charlotte glanced in the direction the girl was looking and her jaw dropped. “Stop the press, who is that…” she murmured to herself in English. He was achingly beautiful and would have been effeminate if not for his commanding presence. He wore his crests proudly: a blue moon on his forehead and stripes on his cheeks. She felt a pang of jealousy; she had always kept hers hidden. Was he another were-creature? Horned armor protected his chest and shoulders and covered a white outfit detailed with a red design. Charlotte cast around her memory for the name of his garment, ‘Keiko told me years ago…hakama, haori.’ One of his full sleeves was empty, suggesting a missing limb. A yellow sash and an enormous white fur boa completed the ensemble. She couldn’t help but feel she had ended up at the West Hollywood Halloween parade. Despite the odd getup, her gaze was always drawn back to his eyes, golden and piercing, they seemed to strip her flesh from the bone.

Jakken bowed low, trembling, “My Lord, that child invited her and she followed us here! I tried to stop her…”

Rin took her hand and cut him off, “This is my new friend, Char-lot from…”

“Charlotte,” she corrected the pronunciation.

“How dare you address the tai-youkai in such a manner!“

“Tai? What?” So, this was a demon? She really had expected horns. ‘I bet he could grow one,’ she thought lasciviously as her eyes traveled over his voluminous pants. ‘You never know what those hakama could be hiding.’

“Tai-youkai, the Dog General, Lord of the Western Lands!” the little imp was working himself into a fever of indignation.

“She’s from Los Angeles,” Rin piped up.

“Utter nonsense, who’s ever heard of such a place?” Jakken snorted and crossed his arms.

Sighing, Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Just because you haven’t heard of it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“Insolent wench!” Jakken shook his fist at her, outrage boiling in his black eyes.

“Ignorant buffoon.”

“Filthy human!”

“Scum-sucking cretin.”

“Enough,” Sesshomaru’s quiet word cut the name calling short. “You may stay with us tonight but tomorrow, you must leave.” He dismissed her with a turn of his head. “Jakken, light a fire.”

Rin looked up at her sadly, “I’m sorry, Kitty.”

Grinning down at her, Charlotte shook her head. “No biggie. You’re all figments of my imagination anyway. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up on my apartment floor and all of this,” she gestured vaguely at the woods surrounding them, “will be the memory of a dream.”

Not sure that she understood, Rin nodded anyway.

Sesshomaru discreetly watched the woman through the thick fringe of his silver bangs. He had not spent much time with women, human or youkai, because they hadn’t really captured his interest. Human women were lower than insects, therefore not worth consideration. The human that tailed his half-breed brother was one of the more annoying examples of the species. The youkai females he had encountered had been simpering idiots after his title and lands, or enemies, also trying to acquire his territory. The few that he bothered to bed had left him unsatisfied and bored.

This female was intriguing, though mad or deluded. Convinced that she was dreaming but curious about her young companion, Charlotte had plied Rin with questions about her life, goals, and dreams until they were both nodding sleepily. Now they were curled up next to each other, sleeping quietly.

The more he tried to ignore her, the more his eyes were drawn back to her. Grey-green eyes sparkling with humor and intelligence, her face and body were constantly animated. She spoke with her hands as much as her mouth and she laughed easily. Aside from her outlandish appearance and accent, there was something decidedly peculiar about her scent. Underneath acrid, metallic smells that seemed to stick to her clothing and a chemical sweetness that rose in a cloud from her hair, her scent was human…but not quite. Almost generic in its blandness, the human smell seemed more like a mask, covering something else. Everything about her was mysterious and fascinating. Even the flash of her throat as she breathed entranced him. Irritated that a human could distract him, he closed his eyes.

*****

Charlotte woke up on the ground for the second time in twelve hours. It was simply too lumpy to be her living room carpet. Afraid to open her eyes, she groaned softly as she tried to grapple with the idea that she had not been dreaming after all, and that she was in a foreign land accompanied by demons. Coffee, that’s what she needed. A hot cup of coffee and a cross-word puzzle, followed by an equally hot shower. She seriously doubted that she’d get any of them.

A sharp object nudged the small of her back and she cracked an eye open. “Get up, human. Time for you to go,” the little green imp poked her again with the bottom tip of his staff.

“Knock it off, Kermit,” she grumbled as she sat up and rubbed her hands over her face. Early morning sun sparkled off the dew gathered in the cups of leaves. Rin was inspecting a spider web decorated with the glittering droplets, occasionally touching a sticky strand and giggling as the spider in the center bounced and spun.

“Shit.” Not only was she still in this here, wherever ‘here’ was, she was going to be deserted by the only people she had met. She had to find out where she was and, more importantly, how to get back. Suddenly, a eight-hour day of hacking out code didn’t seem so bad.

That demon was staring at her again, she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. She’d ignored it last night, hell if she wasn’t good at ignoring ogling men, but it was starting to annoy her. She twisted around and met his eyes. “So, Sesshomaru…where am I, exactly?”

He regarded her silently, disgust in his cold eyes.

“Ooookay, never mind,” she untwisted and raked a hand through her hair. Gathering her thoughts, she traced her steps over the last day. As impossible as it seemed, the only thing that could account for her predicament was the painting Keiko had sent her. There certainly had been something odd about it, but the details were clouded in a haze of inebriation. “Rin, do remember seeing anything in that field before you found me?”

The girl abandoned the web and skipped over to her. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, another person, a painting, a flash of light, a door to another dimension…?” The little girl shook her head solemnly, her eyes wide. “Nothing?” Charlotte sighed and absently chewed on a thumbnail.

“Does this mean you’re not dreaming?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” She stood and rolled the kinks out of her shoulders. The smells of the forest were still very much overwhelming but she was sure she could make her way back to the field where she had awoken. More disturbing was the lack of sounds to which she had become inured but now sorely missed: the drone of airplanes high above, the constant hum of cars rushing by, human voices talking, laughing, shouting, crying, but always surrounding her. Shaking the wrinkles out of her pajama pants, she forced a smile as she started back up the path they had come. “Goodbye, Rin. It was nice to meet you.”

“Where are you going?” Rin called after her.

“Back to where this mess started.”

A/N:
(1) “Charlotte Sometimes”, written and performed by The Cure
(2) “Love Song”, written and performed by The Cure