Silver Lining | Book #1

-Seeing the Invisible-

───────⊹⊱✙⊰⊹───────━
'Breathe in.'

Air circulated into their lungs, expanding the organ as it released its counterpart throughout the body. As soon as air reached the nostrils, it closed. Congested, air was sucked through the mouth, only to swallow dirt that slid down the throat.  Small, excessively and dangerously closed the windpipe, nothing left except for gurgling noise that escaped from the being.  In an attempt to breathe, the being consumed the soil whole. A blackish taste invaded their system, critters snuck through teeth and flew out the tonsils. Her limbs couldn't claw them out, their legs were pressed under the ground, and their eyes were shut tight in a failing attempt to avoid the pain of losing their sight. The being felt squished - it was too tight to move anywhere except for staying in one place.  Nothing was heard, and only their suffering gave them comfort as her consciousness slipped.

'Breathe out.'

She gasped. Her breaths came out raspy and uneven,  eyes widened boldly to see where she was.  The sun only blurred her vision, reminding her of where she was. She decided against glaring at the big star in the sky and adjusted her body on the clay titles instead. Sage focuses on her breathing once more.  She wrapped her light-shaded green-yellow letter jacket, she tossed her tousle hair to the side.

'Breathe in'

She just coughed aggressively and sputtered any mucus that arose. Sitting up straight, she pounded her chest to somehow fix her respiratory system.  Fortunately enough, she became steady enough to not hack every second.

"When will it end?" she groans in frustration.

Sage fiddled with her hands.  Her warm beige skin glimmered against the sun before she cracked her knuckles in boredom. Yanking the rubber band on her wrist to tighten her loose black hair, her heart slowly settled when she fixed her hair into a ponytail, observing the gradual chaos of the territory below.

The buildings were topped with clay titles and makeshift houses. Connected by thick wires extending to each other, small bridges layered the depths before reaching the ground.  Sage always counted 7 bridges, individually they were like sidewalks in the skies.  Just less cement, and more wood - at least they weren't flimsy enough to rock the entire thing.  She could still see the bottom, a few gens gathering around unloading trolleys from trucks that came from the Oz. They all wore identical striped uniforms and an image of a cow's skull logoed to their back. 

All except for her.

Her letter jacket was stripped from any logo and decorated with stripes on each sleeve. She wore denim shorts and black leggings, matching with her knee-length rubber boots that were tied tightly with the laces around her limbs.  Scratches embodied her clothes, but mostly her tank top hidden underneath her jacket.

Sage crossed her legs and let her head settle on her palm. Taking a deep breath before dramatically sighing, she closely watched to distract her mind. Taking deep, shuddering breaths just to avoid the memories that were strapped to her soul.

Ironically of what they were, Sage was always baffled by fear. The emotion they were the embodiment of can be reflected in their past and present selves. She always thought that was the human side of her chirping in her ear, chaining her to the very mistake she made long ago. Otherwise, if she was the 1st gen, she believed nothing would've plagued her thoughts for eternity, but only one can wish to do so. She found it even more humorous when she reflected on the Copies - how they were nothing more than mortals with stolen paranoias, but held such an amount of power... it felt very contradicting to her, but it did make sense. Since gens did come from humans, now they are expecting them to copy their very lifestyle while they do the same to them? The irony of coining names.