Title: The Bamboo Oroborus
Characters: Shiranui Genma
Notes: I’m not real fucking happy with this one, but I haven’t written these in a while. I should back down and write a few that don’t matter, first, then maybe I’ll do a second cut of this one.
swift and fluid, but turns at the faintest hint of opposition, not to flee but to deflect, blades sliding off the curves … flexible and slick … razor sharp when split open, but able to heal its own wounds with time and patience… the lurking calm of the too-still pond that becomes a serene stillness as it bears the reflection of the moon… a complex coil that swallows its own roots as it grows, seeming to have risen from and returned to itself — a never-ending spiral of self-consumption — a need to swallow the memories down into the lake of static from the shores of which the improbable vegetation rises and falls, destined to repeat… deny, do again, learn nothing until the sun fades away… it is only in the moonlight that the bamboo oroborus releases its tail, vomiting up years of swallowed dreams and hidden secrets, and absorbing the essence, at last, no longer too full of itself to contain any more… it finally comes to understand and to truly know knowing and not knowing, just in time for the sun to rise again…