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Art Imitates... Fanfiction? by Sp@ceMonkey

WarDog

WarDog

 

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As the morning sun began to climb, burning off the sun with it’s golden rays, a long pale figure yawned and stretched languidly in the new light. From his bed of solid gold the elegant, dangerous war god lifted himself to his feet. A wide yawn displayed two long fangs and a wicked set of demi fangs to the growing morn.

 

Silver hair brushed across the vibrant marks on his hips as the god took a step froward; slitted golden eyes flicked open and then closed again, absorbing the lines of the graceful alabaster room.

With a casual hand he brushed his silver locks over one shoulder and with the other he reached for his pale gold tunic. A flick of one marked hand twisted the cloth around his loin cloth-clad hips and pulled the excess fabric over one shoulder where it hung like a cape. The half-naked war god picked up the circlet of gold resting beside his bed and fastened it under his bangs. Forged in his father's undersea smith the circlet was harder than any metal on earth and twice as valuable-- a simple but wondrous adornment which suited him perfectly.

Just like his rooms. Situated in the highest shelf of the largest mountain in all of Greece the fancy, understated apartments gave the solitary god plenty of room and affluence to dwell in his disdain for the crowded top of Olympus with it's politicking and affairs. He rarely even ventured off the mountain to visit his mother and father, much less his supposed "brother"-- the weakling demi-god his father had produced all those years ago. No, Sesshomaru only saw warriors; the men he protected and blessed on the battlefield, and that was the way he liked it.

There was no need for anything else.

In the corner farthest from the dais on which his bed stood, the only entrance to his largest temple was concealed behind a curtain. It was behind this drapery that the god knew his retainer would be waiting. The human was unpleasant at best, and his shameless groveling was offensive to the great wardog’s sensitive ears, but the man was an excellent caretaker of his temple and therefor he had not been dispatched to his cousins in the underworld...

 

...yet.

 

This particular morning however, the deity found himself turning towards the rich red curtain much earlier than usual, abandoning the battle plans which lay unfurled across his stone workplace in favor of perusing a bright new scent-- on he was positive had not been floating through his chambers before.

 

No... this was a scent he would remember.

 

Tilting his head back and taking a good wiff of the delicate fragrance, the god reached out with a clawed hand and pulled aside the crushed velvet drapery with one sharp movement; no warning was given to those behind.

 

“M-My lord!” Jaken-- the worthless toad who managed all of the war god’s interactions with mortal men-- jumped a foot in the air at his master’s sudden appearance and pressed his forehead to the floor desperately. “Oh great one! Oh master of the battle field, oh king of the sword--” But the god was already ignoring him.

 

Crouched beside his retainer was a slim, quaking human woman. Her face was thin and heart shaped, her lips full and pouty. She was obviously not a worshiper at his temple; her hands were bound, for one thing, and her dress was shapeless and of poor quality-- nothing like the delicate draperies worn by the wives and daughters of the successful generals who blossomed under his patronage. 

 

The god snarled softly at the sight of corse ropes reddening the pale wrists-- it seemed profane that anything should be allowed to mar such a delicate creature.

 

Hearing the sound of his master’s displeasure Jaken immediately stopped rambling and focused on the object of the god’s intent study.

 

“Ah, my lord, she displeases you?”

 

The god ignored him. “Who is she, Jaken?”

 

The man scrambled to his feet and pulled the girl up a long with him. “She is a gift, my lord, to your mighty temple. A slave, bought in Thessaly.”

 

The god nodded. “What is she called?”

 

The toady man shrugged. “Her last master called her Kagome... she was sold by her parents as a child and has no other names.”

 

The god reached down and tipped the girl’s face up with his claws, delighting in the fear in her deep, cobalt eyes. The girl’s rose petal lips fell apart in shock as the god’s devilishly handsome face split into a grin that promised evil, wonderful things.

 

“Well hello there, little Kagome. I am Sesshomaru. Welcome to your new home.”

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http://www.dokuga.com/gallery?func=detail&id=3400

 

Not too sure why I made him Greek... he looks sort of Greek here... doesn't he??

 

This is fitting for the first chapter because it is the picture that inspired the first drabble and consequently got me thinking about the whole project in the first place.

 

I’m not sure what did it for me about this drawing-- I think it was the fact that a) I have a general obsession with all things even slightly historical and b) there is SOMETHING THERE... it’s just unfinished. It made me want to give this guy a few words-- a small AU for him to live in.

 

This whole idea seems backwards to me-- so many artists do fanart for fics, now this is fanfic for art... but I like it. As we know, I am teh fangirl of the art makers.

 

INUYASHA © Rumiko Takahashi/Shogakukan • Yomiuri TV • Sunrise 2000
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