Author note: If you haven't read the "Reader alert" in the description, you should.
And thank you for reading!! although there's only a prologue right now! And it may or may not update!! even so!!
Edit 1: some key changes in prologue, but doesnt effect overall plot.
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Prologue: Saviour
"Aren't you afraid do death?"
"Why would I?"
"It's natural, all mortals fear death."
"Perhaps I'm just an exception."
"How unusual,"
"Is that so?"
"Well unusual one, are you fearless?"
"Why would I?"
"Is it not a common perception amongst you mortals? Those who do not fear death are fearless."
"Stupid, there's no such thing as a fearless person, only shallow people."
"Then what do you fear?"
"Anything really, like if I might drop my money, or if a bird snatches my food, or when a good series gets axed... typical stuff."
"..... Da hell's wrong wit' ya,"
"Da hells wrong wit' YA?"
"Ahem* apologies"
"Apology accepted"
"...well then, fearful one."
(Back to that tone now, huh?)
"I heard that, brat."
"Well, who'd figured, the voice in my head can apparently read my mind."
"Shut up. I ain't just a voice in your head."
"That's good to hear, I thought I had gained the split personality syndrome and created a separate personality in my head. Though I think you may be bipolar."
"Great, now I'm treated like a lunatic by a crazy kid."
"Isn't it wonderful?"
"Well anyways, kid... Want a chance at reincarnation?"
"...no... no thank you"
"Why not? Your dying anyways."
"Perhaps."
Then she reasoned herself
Her weakened body laid on the hard hospital bed, complexion pale, despite the unhealthy colour she already had before, now it even sank in her cheeks and skin stuck on her bones. Not unsurprising she told her self, her appetite had fallen like a meteorite that broke through earths barriers, everything she ate, she just threw up, not that hospital food was all that appetizing. She missed the days when she could move around properly and cook for herself, even those days were scarce.
Her glazed eyes looked ahead of the ceiling, blank and white, as if nothing was reflected against her wistful grey eyes, absorbing the streaking of lights and the pureness in her iris, a silver sea without end. Only that they were reflecting nothing, accepted nothing, rejected nothing, like what exists in the world held little reason upon her own.
Nonetheless, the whimpering of sadness drifted into her ears, momentarily disregarding the bipolar existing in her mind, she willed her rotting head to turn, an angle small enough to be acute. Lighting through her silver lens, was the figure of a teen boy, a head of blond, his originally bright brown eyes, darkened, distorted through the rainfall of tears.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry" his continuous mutterings and beggings, pulsates through his uneven breaths.
Looking at the boy, as if he may drown, she didn't even have the energy to waver her stare, not that she would.
As if the stare pierced his body, the boy shuddered and brought his lowered face to a sudden rise, his distorted sight perceived the girls image. Yet it only brought him to wail more mournfully.
"It's my fault! All my fault! If only I didn't run at that time! I...I abandoned you!"
He sobbed loudly, so loud that it echoed through the dreading halls. Usually such a institution for those resting for life and death wouldn't allow such mindless noise, but perhaps, today was an exception.
He wailed so tearfully, so mournfully, so guiltily. His mind was in such pain to look at the girl laying on her deathbed, yet he couldn't look away, not away from the girls grey stare.
He wanted his uncleansable sin to lighten, as if looking for salvation, that what he had done hadn't poisoned her silver world and changed its colour.
The girls grey eyes didn't move, still lying against the wailing mess before her.
Her mouth moved, slightly, and her voice box quivered, yet no sound came out. She laughed at herself in her mind, maybe she held some hope, that what those white adorned Devils said about selective muteness will hold true to its name. Selective.
Perhaps her body has already forgotten how to talk altogether she mused herself in her thoughts.
But seeing the despairing boy before her, she desired to speak, desired to stop his tears, even though both parties knew that the ones who wail are those looking for self redemption not self punishment.
A typical nature of humans. Good old ego.
Even so, she didn't feel disgusted, being disgusting was a part of being human. Or a person at the very least.
Feeling her weakened body, and seeing the rain drops falling away from the boy. She tried to get his attention, pulling her hand from the chains of gravity, in all her attempts trying to defy the moment that fate as cast upon her.
Though she can't defy the end, the goal, just for this moment... she want to create a piece of her own world, which is made by herself, not by others.
She forced her hand to raise. The boy was startled, and reflexively grabbed her hand with his own quivering hold.
"....Iris!" His voice squeaked, yet that squeak echoed, reverberating the room in his pained words.
Iris, didn't hold back onto the boys hold, simply lacking the energy to. The image where his hand held hers, caused a memory to flash in her mind. With a brush in his hand, and his hand in hers.
That warm piece of memory, caused her to unknowingly smile.
"Perhaps this will be the last time I'll ever smile."
She amused herself.
Yet a sound in her head interrupted her moment,
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"Oh, how about this?"
Her lips that seemed to stick to together, parted. As she forced her music box to sound out, it simply did not move.
"If you agree to reincarnate," the voice continued.
Still she kept trying, moving her lips to draw out words.
The boys eyes intently watched her pain, her movements. A sound was not made, he simply read her words, knowing that he needed to return her efforts.
"I wake up your little sister from her coma?" The voice suggested.
"I- di-ot" was the first word he read. Stunned, his round brown eyes turned rounder.
Iris, seeing his expression, wanted to laugh, but all that resulted was a quivering pain in her body. Her smile turned like a child's mischief. she looked to her side, a low table. On top was her usual sketch book, the boy saw her glance and hurriedly bright her sketch book to her side.
the girl held the sketchbook, and looked questionably at the young boy. The boy looked at her blankly, then it suddenly dawned on him, her turned around and quickly fumbled for a writing utensil before grabbing a thick marker pen to the side.
The girl held the pen; her hands quivered, she could barely lift the thin book, her strokes were light and uneven, her usual beautiful handwriting turned into a child's mess.
"You saved my life" she carved, before she took another useless breath, causing a fog to wrap around her lips, inside the transparent oxygen mask.
Her smile lingered in her eyes, along with tears she couldn't control.
The boy gripped her hand, as if holding onto his dear life. The blank whites of his eyes reddened, and his voice squeaked.
"I... I didn't... I!" He couldn't contain, this feeling of regret, of guilt, of...
The girl started to breath more heavily, but still forced her hand, this may be the last time, but her vision fuzzled and a white haze buzzed in her ears. Pencil feel form her loose grip. and she slumped onto her bed, taking in more breaths.
"Iris?! Iris! Iris!"
Something was wrong, that was how he felt, he tried help the girl, read her words, knowing that it may be her last words, whilst desperately trying to deny it. He cried out for the salvation.
"D-Doctor! Iris is- Doctor!"
The pain in their chests, in their throats, in their minds.
She, despite her clouded vision, saw his wavering figure turn. He was going to leave, and go.
"No," She alerted herself.
"No," again she repeated.
And... She grabbed onto his arm. Even with all her strength, the grip of her hand barely held on.
But it was enough, because he turned, seeing the girl pushing herself up from the weight of fatigue and death. He stilled.
Her cheeks loosened form the confines of the mask.
She took a breath, picking up the fallen pen from the sheets, she wrote on her blanket.
"when my Sis wakes up,"
Her eyes hazed and blurred but she persevered.
"Save her too." she smiled, under her mask, her lips were covered, but there was definitely a joy emerging from her gray eyes.
"what?"
He was suddenly confused, lost.
Save? Who? Him? At that moment he could only stare at the girl, weighing down like a weight, breathing heavy but fruitful breaths on the tough structure.
He still held her hand. He didn't know what to do, he called for the doctor, but he has yet to come. Not even knowing if the white clad figures will bring salvation or suffering. A feeling of desperation and helplessness played in his mind, turning it into a chaotic mess.
Her expression was hazy, but she could imagine how the boy looked liked, his dark brown eyes, was so vivid against the whiteness. It was easy to see the unmasked expression drawn as it shaped.
She wanted to laugh, but her lungs denied.
The only thing seeming to work was her tear glands.
Even so, she looked at the boy, took a deep look at his deep eyes.
"I want to draw it," she thought.
"To answer those eyes," she wished.
"I want to convey it to you."
She held her pen and drew on his hand, it was a flower, a clumsily drawn rose.
The boy looked at his hand, his heart overflowed, yet his mind couldn't process, he traced the black outlines forming into that familiar shape, he knew what this meant, and seeing the girl smiled, his heart was filled with a warmth. She conveyed it well, a conveyance even well carried than the sounds of the green blights of a machine, or the disappearing effort of heart beats. He could hear it, loud and clear, like the ringing of a bell.
But fate was cruel, he didn't have the time to relish the moment she drew those emotions onto his own canvas.
Her heartbeat lowered, and the beeping of the machine turned red.
"Iris! Iris!" He shrieked and wailed, for her to come back to earth, for her grey gleam to return.
"Iris! no!"
His voice travelled into her ears, only to sink into the depths of the grey grey sea.
Every other sound, whether it was the conveyance of love, the frantic emergence for help, the clattering of metal and ground.
All drowned into her own deep sea.
A comfortable quietness washed over her, every piece of flesh and speck of sense, everything felt so close, yet faraway.
Her mind drifted, sinking into a dream.
The last thing she felt from the hell of reality was...
"Oh... This scent... it's..."
Was his scent. That still lingered in her soul, when he embraced her warm... warm corpse.
In tears
In sadness.
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"It's a deal, Iris."
These words were never heard, only spoken.