Manipulation by Pendragon

Manipulation

            “Kagome?” Sesshomaru prompted, looking across the table at his mate who was half focused on a game of solitaire.

            “Yes, Sesshomaru?” She answered back, dropping down the Queen of Hearts.

            “Have you….never mind. The thought is ludicrous.”

            “No, no. I’m listening, go ahead.” She bit at her cheek as she surveyed the cards before her.

            “Well, have you ever had the feeling that,” He fiddled with his collar, tugging at it tightly. “Have you ever felt like there’s someone out there,” He gesticulated wildly with his hands. “Someone who plays out our lives like we’re pawns? Makes us out to be nothing more but small pieces of an even bigger concept?”

            She peered up at him. “You mean like God?”

            He breathed deeply. “No, not like that…like someone who uses us to fulfill there own imagination. Sometimes I feel like my life is nothing more but the whim of some sadistic playwright, parading us through day after day like puppets on marionette strings.”

            Kagome laughed then, smacking down the Three of Clubs. “That’s a depressing way of looking at life, Sesshomaru. You think too much.”

            His hands came to rest on the fiber wood table and he leaned toward her. “I’m serious, Kagome. Sometimes I don’t even feel like myself. It’s like my free will is being manipulated by some sick person or society that uses me for their own dark pleasures.”

            “I repeat, you think too much.”

            “Kagome,” Sesshomaru sighed. “Explain this then. Yesterday, I had the insane urge to buy a tutu and run around the mall in a leotard singing ‘I Feel Pretty’” He looked down at the table in his own self-proclaimed shame.

            Kagome looked at him worriedly. “You’re not gay, are you?”

            Sesshomaru looked up at her with shock plastered across his face. “No! God, no! Of course not,” then he mumbled something to himself like, “The higher powers would never allow that.”

            Kagome gave a poorly disguised sigh of relief. “Well, what did you decide to do about these urges?”

            Now his shocked expression melted away to pain. “I did it, Kagome! I danced in front of everyone in a pink leotard!”

            Kagome nodded very slowly. “Did you sing?”

            Sesshomaru swallowed and nodded once.

            Kagome’s mouth twisted to the side. “And you’re sure you’re not gay?”

            “Positive,” Sesshomaru said, letting his head hit the table with a dull thump.

            “So that was you I saw on the news last night?” He nodded again, his nose rubbing against the fiber wood.

            Kagome rose from her seat suddenly. “We’ll talk about this later, Sesshomaru.” She grabbed at the leather jacket on the back of her chair.

            “Where are you going?” He asked, raising his head.

            “Kikyo’s. I have the sudden compulsion to smash a clay pot. I’ll be back in time to start dinner.” And with that she walked out the door.

            Sesshomaru smashed his face into the table again, grumbling, “I hate my life.”