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31_days2011-08-15 05:15 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2011-08-15 05:15 pm
[August 15] [Crossover: PMMM x Suikoden III] The Kindest Heart, the Cruelest Heart
Title: The Kindest Heart, the Cruelest Heart
Day/Theme: Aug. 15, 2011 "your heart is made of steel"
Series: Crossover- Puella Magi Madoka Magica x Suikoden III (heavier Suikoden slant to this one)
Character/Pairing: Madoka & Sasarai, Homura
Rating: PG
Author's comment: Trying to get the last few of these out of my system before the next round of No True Pair. This is many years post-Suikoden III and features a sort of cold Sasarai.
The pig-tailed novice watched Bishop Sasarai silently from her position at his side. When one sat in on the bishop's meetings and appointments, one was to keep one's mouth shut, his chief of staff had explained to her. ...It wasn't as if Madoka had made that kind of mistake in the past, but another of Sasarai's recent students had a gained a bad reputation for having a big mouth. Apparently there had been some incidents the bishop and his staff didn't care to repeat.
Madoka was certain she was too nervous to speak her mind anyway, even if it were allowed. Bishop Sasarai was always very kind to her. He had a good reputation with trainee clerics (he explained away his extreme kindness as related to his having been unhappy with his own chief instructor for the majority of his priestly educations). Everyone said Madoka was lucky to be attached to his entourage. As for what Madoka herself thought... The youthful-looking bishop, surrounded by the gray-haired staff he had retained from his young days, was secretly more than a little scary.
"It's important, Your Excellency," the long-haired girl kneeling before him said. In this sort of situation, most Third Class Citizens (and from her attire it was clear she numbered among them) would be begging now, after the bishop had dismissed her plea as impractical, but this girl held firm with unbending pride in her voice and posture. She was...kind of beautiful. It wasn't just those purple eyes and that dark hair. It was something that came from inside. She wasn't one of those subject people who would weep and whimper. Madoka could tell even from just this much interaction that she was strong.
...Bishop Sasarai was strong too, in his own way, even if that strength was more like frozen steel than any other mixture of substances. Madoka had heard rumors that after enduring a certain amount of pain over the years, the bishop had made a special deal with the His Holiness the Chief Priest that involved giving up his heart. Certainly, the Sasarai she saw in old pictures had a warm quality to his expression that was no longer present. "Once," Miss Nika had said over a basket of sun-warmed laundry, "He was the most compassionate person I had ever known." She was wistful. She believed those days were long gone, even though she wouldn't go far as to say so.
It made Madoka feel uncomfortable, listening to the visiting girl's entreaties. She had worked so hard to receive special permission from her local bishop to gain the necessary travel permits to come this far and make her petition before Sasarai in the first place...and now it was going to be for naught. No matter what Homura said, Madoka could tell that Sasarai would not bend. Once, she had heard, there had been those among the Third Class population who believed that Sasarai might be poised to step up as their savior. He was, after all, one of very few with the power start a successful movement to save them. ...But despair had overtaken him. The moment had passed.
Madoka watched as her bishop wielded his hardened heart like the weapon it was. "I won't hear anymore," he said and with a wave of his hand, he sent Homura away, back to whatever parched and pathetic tract of land she came from.
Perhaps even then it wasn't wise to speak, but alone with the bishop, the rules stated she could say what she liked. They would have to talk, wouldn't they, for her to learn? "You never want to hear their stories," she murmured, gathering up all her courage and throwing it into making her voice come out as something more than a scratchy whisper, "The Third Class Citizens who come here."
"If I don't feel their sadness along with them, there is no chance that I will feel compassion." It was funny. He acted as though he no longer felt any sorrow, but the expression on his face was incredibly pained. He kept his gaze away from Madoka's wide-eyed expression, focusing vaguely on some papers scattered across his desk. "I have no interest in wasting their time. They should petition someone who might be moved by tales. I'm only sending them on to try and convince someone else."
"You used to be," she trembled, afraid to actually broach the subject, "I heard that lots of people thought you used to be the kindest person in Harmonia."
"Yes, that was said, but I doubt it was ever true. It was merely the hyperbole of my devoted friends spreading rumor-like on the wind." He ventured a daring gaze into her eyes. What Madoka had thought she desired she immediately regretted. He was so cold, so hard, so devoid of hope that she feared that his green eyes alone could break her. "You're young, so it makes sense that you would feel that way, but remain in the government hierarchy long enough and you too will feel the way I do. Oh, Madoka," he sighed, "You remind me so much of myself when I was young."
"And Y-Your Excellency, do you miss that time? Do you have a lot of regrets?"
"More than I can tell," he admitted. "And, really, there's only one piece of advice I can give you. No matter how much pain your heart gives you, you must retain it. Never surrender it to anyone."
They were ominous words, and they only served to make her more uncomfortable. "Then can I do what I think is right, Your Excellency? What you, in the past, might have done?"
"Do as you like, Madoka," he granted her whatever freedom was his to give.
"I'm going after her." She bowed her head respectfully and rushed out of the room, hoping there was still a chance to catch Homura before she disappeared into the rush of the crowded capital. She might not be able to do anything legally or politically for the other girl, like Sasarai could, but she had a heart overflowing with compassion. The least she could do was listen.
Day/Theme: Aug. 15, 2011 "your heart is made of steel"
Series: Crossover- Puella Magi Madoka Magica x Suikoden III (heavier Suikoden slant to this one)
Character/Pairing: Madoka & Sasarai, Homura
Rating: PG
Author's comment: Trying to get the last few of these out of my system before the next round of No True Pair. This is many years post-Suikoden III and features a sort of cold Sasarai.
The pig-tailed novice watched Bishop Sasarai silently from her position at his side. When one sat in on the bishop's meetings and appointments, one was to keep one's mouth shut, his chief of staff had explained to her. ...It wasn't as if Madoka had made that kind of mistake in the past, but another of Sasarai's recent students had a gained a bad reputation for having a big mouth. Apparently there had been some incidents the bishop and his staff didn't care to repeat.
Madoka was certain she was too nervous to speak her mind anyway, even if it were allowed. Bishop Sasarai was always very kind to her. He had a good reputation with trainee clerics (he explained away his extreme kindness as related to his having been unhappy with his own chief instructor for the majority of his priestly educations). Everyone said Madoka was lucky to be attached to his entourage. As for what Madoka herself thought... The youthful-looking bishop, surrounded by the gray-haired staff he had retained from his young days, was secretly more than a little scary.
"It's important, Your Excellency," the long-haired girl kneeling before him said. In this sort of situation, most Third Class Citizens (and from her attire it was clear she numbered among them) would be begging now, after the bishop had dismissed her plea as impractical, but this girl held firm with unbending pride in her voice and posture. She was...kind of beautiful. It wasn't just those purple eyes and that dark hair. It was something that came from inside. She wasn't one of those subject people who would weep and whimper. Madoka could tell even from just this much interaction that she was strong.
...Bishop Sasarai was strong too, in his own way, even if that strength was more like frozen steel than any other mixture of substances. Madoka had heard rumors that after enduring a certain amount of pain over the years, the bishop had made a special deal with the His Holiness the Chief Priest that involved giving up his heart. Certainly, the Sasarai she saw in old pictures had a warm quality to his expression that was no longer present. "Once," Miss Nika had said over a basket of sun-warmed laundry, "He was the most compassionate person I had ever known." She was wistful. She believed those days were long gone, even though she wouldn't go far as to say so.
It made Madoka feel uncomfortable, listening to the visiting girl's entreaties. She had worked so hard to receive special permission from her local bishop to gain the necessary travel permits to come this far and make her petition before Sasarai in the first place...and now it was going to be for naught. No matter what Homura said, Madoka could tell that Sasarai would not bend. Once, she had heard, there had been those among the Third Class population who believed that Sasarai might be poised to step up as their savior. He was, after all, one of very few with the power start a successful movement to save them. ...But despair had overtaken him. The moment had passed.
Madoka watched as her bishop wielded his hardened heart like the weapon it was. "I won't hear anymore," he said and with a wave of his hand, he sent Homura away, back to whatever parched and pathetic tract of land she came from.
Perhaps even then it wasn't wise to speak, but alone with the bishop, the rules stated she could say what she liked. They would have to talk, wouldn't they, for her to learn? "You never want to hear their stories," she murmured, gathering up all her courage and throwing it into making her voice come out as something more than a scratchy whisper, "The Third Class Citizens who come here."
"If I don't feel their sadness along with them, there is no chance that I will feel compassion." It was funny. He acted as though he no longer felt any sorrow, but the expression on his face was incredibly pained. He kept his gaze away from Madoka's wide-eyed expression, focusing vaguely on some papers scattered across his desk. "I have no interest in wasting their time. They should petition someone who might be moved by tales. I'm only sending them on to try and convince someone else."
"You used to be," she trembled, afraid to actually broach the subject, "I heard that lots of people thought you used to be the kindest person in Harmonia."
"Yes, that was said, but I doubt it was ever true. It was merely the hyperbole of my devoted friends spreading rumor-like on the wind." He ventured a daring gaze into her eyes. What Madoka had thought she desired she immediately regretted. He was so cold, so hard, so devoid of hope that she feared that his green eyes alone could break her. "You're young, so it makes sense that you would feel that way, but remain in the government hierarchy long enough and you too will feel the way I do. Oh, Madoka," he sighed, "You remind me so much of myself when I was young."
"And Y-Your Excellency, do you miss that time? Do you have a lot of regrets?"
"More than I can tell," he admitted. "And, really, there's only one piece of advice I can give you. No matter how much pain your heart gives you, you must retain it. Never surrender it to anyone."
They were ominous words, and they only served to make her more uncomfortable. "Then can I do what I think is right, Your Excellency? What you, in the past, might have done?"
"Do as you like, Madoka," he granted her whatever freedom was his to give.
"I'm going after her." She bowed her head respectfully and rushed out of the room, hoping there was still a chance to catch Homura before she disappeared into the rush of the crowded capital. She might not be able to do anything legally or politically for the other girl, like Sasarai could, but she had a heart overflowing with compassion. The least she could do was listen.