He forgot all he was, and fell deep into the loving abandonment of knowing you will die.
Anna looked curiously around the room. It was three, maybe four times the size of her own room. Two benches squatted by the door on either side, like loyal guards. In the far left corner were four large, wooden crates. Across from them in the right corner were three buckets, accompanied by three newspaper.
She wandered to the boxes, reluctant to read the script still clutched in her hair. The lids looked heavy, but not beyond Annas' strength; the magic holding them shut was, however. "The Angel must have locked them..." Anna whispered, hesitant to raise her voice, as if it might bounce off the walls and attack her from all sides.
The room lacked any sort of diversion, though Anna knew it would be that way. The Angel had not chosen a room at random for her to practice in; she had designed this room for the exact purpose. She would have thought built it for that purpose as well, but she couldn't wrap her mind around the thought of the walls not being eternal; hadn't they been there always? This was her universe. It knew no end.
With an air of defeat, she sat in the corner by the boxes and began to read of Inuiria and Parfait, one in the same and yet so different. The script was spellbinding, holding even the most restless June bug in its grasp; that wasn't why it held Anna, though, and she knew it. Pretend all she liked - and she wanted to pretend, oh so badly - that she didn't know each word before she read it, she did. She knew the characters, she knew the plot, and she knew the ending ... because it was her own.
Kyle starred at his scar - if you would call it that, for to him it was part of his body, like the wrinkles on his palm. It seemed, though it had been completed less then a minute ago, that it has always been there. It was meant to be there. He was naked without it ... but he would never, ever be without it again.
he sat up and starred at the Angel; her beauty was unbeatable. Long, silky hair the color of wheat, pulled back into a tight, twisting bun at the center of her skull. Aqua eyes that could lighten to azure or darken to navy, set apart at a perfect distance. Pale skin, as if it were powder brushed to perfection. Dainty features; small hands that held so much power, thin legs that Kyle knew without knowing how he knew could kick a hole in his abdomen, small head held high to top off her height at exactly 5'9''. She seemed both large and small to Kyle. her limbs were, it seemed, intertwined with electrical cords and springs so that they could strike out, fast and hard and deadly.
She was dazzling, striking, everything that inspired poets to write love songs and musicians to play their instruments all the more. As a baby she would have given angels the reason to play their harps, with her round blue eyes and a smile that could be astonishing if she was only pleased ... except, except for the long, slanted scar. It started at her right temple, traveled across her nose, and ended against her jaw. It was as if someone had attempted to slice her head in two and succeeded only in scarring her.
"Lets go." She said calmly. "Home is waiting." In her outstretched hands lay the comfortably treated cotton pants and shirt. He pulled them on, her slender hands adjusting them carefully, as if to perfect him.
He followed her out of the room and down another flight of stairs, soft and plush carpeting rubbing against his bare feet. When they came to the bottom of the step she unlocked a door, pushing him forward into a hall. The hall was barely six feet long, but he could not see a door at the end of it. She held her hands up to the wall and it opened, revealing another flight of stairs. Down her followed her, past another door that they did not go through, finally down another flight of stairs, one more hidden door and finally ... the door outside.
Before she opened it, she slipped laced boots onto his feet, which did little against the cold air, striking his lungs like blocks of ice, making him cower. The black night sky would have been brilliant with stars, but the laterns that hung from every building blocked them out. He looked around; the buildings were both small and large, shaped irregularly in some places, with little to no windows. The shadows cast from the lanterns seemed to dance and jump at Kyle, taunting him.
He walked fast to keep up with the Angels striding steps, stumbling besides her as if the shadows themselves tripped him. She grit her teeth in annoyance as he clung to her arm, quickly pulling herself from his grasp and away from the germs his fingers held. Her steps slowed slightly as she came to a large, square building. After four keys, the door opened and she waited calmly until he walked in, the door closing behind her with a thud.
All Kyle could see were boxes, but she gestured him to follow as she walked straight into the piles. Instead of smashing into them, she walked directly through them. Nor did Kyle hit them, but, as if the boxes weren't there, walked through them to the dimly lit corner that held nothing but a door.
She glared at the door. "Open." It, like everything else in Kyle's existence, obeyed. He contemplated this as he followed her down steep, marble stairs. The boxes, the doors ... it was as if even the light danced at her command. Before he could think much more, he was sitting in a small room in a cold, metal chair.
"Your name" she explained calmly, in that voice that shaped out the very walls of Kyle's existence "is B."
"B?" He asked.
"B. Now repeat it."
"B" He hissed. "B... B..." He watched her twist her fingers and the small parts of his mind that still held to mom and dad and Jessica and her long, brown hair were burning, literally burning and he was screaming, screaming "B!" for all he could...
B blinked dully, and Kyle knew no more.
Anna frowned at the play. She didn't understand how she knew it; she just did. Her thoughts were interrupted by footsteps; she could hear muffled voices and, by pressing her ear to the thick oak door, just barely it out.
"This is B." The Angel sounded nearly giddy. "Introduce yourselves."
"I'm C." A quiet voice; he knew something, and he would tell Anna.
"I'm D." Mature ... wise ... traitor.
A door closing, and then another. Footsteps. Anna flung herself away from the door, sitting in the center of the room with the script. The Angel entered, followed by three boys. They looked similar, but to Anna they couldn't be more different. B, his childlike eyes dulled with the pain of endless centuries; he hurt the most, she knew, and he always would. C, trying so hard to prove himself to an unpleasable force inside his head. And D, corrupted by wisdom and knowledge that he could not handle.
"You will introduce yourselves, and then you will learn your lions. Anna will be playing Inuria. B, you will be Ferratilis. C, you will be Maledictio. D, you will be Lawrence. Is that understood?" She noted their demure nods and walked out.
Quiet, unsure introductions followed, in which C starred at Anna as if to communicate something he couldn't think of, wouldn't allow himself to think of. It seemed as if they shared the same plateau of non-thought that the Angel couldn't delve into.
It would be years before they understood that she couldn't delve in at all.
They practiced the lines like any normal actors; as if there was nothing odd about a supernatural being forcing them to perform a play that was, to say the least, disturbing. B clung to Annas arm like her smaller brother because, in the process of reading the lines, he had become her younger brother. D, with his compassionate eyes, was the trustworthy, adopted father. And C... no, despite his role, C was still C to Anna.
The Angel, pleased with their progress hours later, entered with a smile on her face. She looked from B to C to Anna to D. D did not nod did not smile, but his eyes flickered if only for a moment and the Angel - knowing - made a mental note. "I hope things went very well today." She said in an almost motherly tone that grated down Annas spine. "B, C, D, you will line up in front of me. Anna, against that wall. Come." She led the three boys out, leaving Anna to wonder what she was thinking.
C followed obediently, falling on to his bed as B crawled in to the bottom bunk, previously unused. He smiled nervously at C, who felt too mixed up to smile back at him. He lay in bed, listening to D tell B about daily readings and what they did every day. He felt a dulled pang of hunger and ignored it, ignoring his own thoughts as well, knowing he had to.
"Food." D announced, handing C his bowl. It was filled with dry chunks of meat that C always needed water to wash down, long, thin strips of a nearly carrot like substance, exactly four grapes - every time, no matter how much of the other food there was, there would always be four grapes. It was topped off with a thick slice of bread, doughy and perhaps the only part of the meal C really felt filled him up.
He ate slowly; prolonging simple tasks kept him occupied. He had to keep occupied, or the thoughts began to seep into his head...
-She's drowning oh God she's drowning I love her and she's drowning and how will I live without her Aidia Aidia-
C squeezed his eyes shut and refused to think. He picked up the small, plastic cup containing too many tablets to count; blue pills, green pills, purple pills, white pills, slightly mauve pills ... he swallowed them one by one, idling wondering if they were the cause of his unhappiness.
The thoughts had snatched at him, taking control of his body and mind, and involuntarily he moaned "Dolls are forever."
Anna spent the day much like C, struggling to keep her mind on the play and when it would be completed. She knew there was something she was not thinking, but it held the secret to her secrets and they themselves must remain a secret, if she was ever to...
"To what?" Anna wondered aloud, though she knew the answer.
To live. To know. To escape.
"Aidia!" A soft, helpless voice screamed hours after Anna had passed out on the bed. "I want to let you out! Get out! Get out before its forever! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"
Anna woke up, knowing before she could reject the knowledge into the plateau of non-thought, that someday soon she would awaken as someone else.