A/N
I own nothing but the stuff I made up.
Chapter 1
Autumn breeze softly blows through the almost-empty house in the Abandoned District, crawling inside the old burnt bricks and coming out like a cough from a smoker's lungs. The city of Ergastulum itself has always looked like a cancer patient hanging for dear life. Everything in that building looks like a war-sight memorial, from old or broken furniture to the wounded walls filled with cracks. Biserka is sitting on a wooden rocking chair that's, by far, the fanciest item in that building after the telephone. Her long ash brown hair hangs from the back of the chair as she swings back and forth, playing with dagger around her fingers. Closing her pale eyes and feeling the cold blade at tip of her finger, she reminisces over every time that she chose the cold and sharp metal, as the voices from everywhere play in her head like a broken cassette.
Ya know sis, if you stay in this city for too long, you'll never be able to leave, kinda like us. I think you should get out before you get caught up here, words of wisdom from that perverted eye-patch. He's ended up being right. She's stuck in this place that's like a person with a malign tumour; and it's spasming all over its body. And when the body is barely breathing, she'll never be able to ask for her answer. Not from this place. The question she's been trying to answer for so long. The promise she swore to keep. But you can't expect much from a cancerous patient, all she can do is to watch.
Even with all that, she yet has to admit that she appreciates every wounded wall and every burnt brick in this district. Solemnly standing after being stabbed times and times again; because that's all they know: to stand and continue, just like her.
But peace is never everlasting. Just as she's enjoying her philosophical maze, she feels a familiar presence approaching. Seeing the same colours that she's seen times and times again, hearing the footsteps that always follow the same rhythm. Footsteps of an acquittance.
As the footsteps reached the second floor, passing the living room and walking toward the room, she twirls the dagger between her fingers, counting the second without turning to look at the room entrance.
"YO, Beri-chan! Wassu–" the tall blonde man freezes, letting out a little gasp as the dagger passes his healthy eye, making a loud clank hitting the wall, sticking there like a dart. "Eek, c'mon sis you could've hurt me! At least look back when you throw it," Worick dramatically shakes his head.
"How many years?" she asks coldly.
"Huh?"
"I said, how many times has this happened?" she repeats herself, rocking her chair.
"Heh, too many to count...too many to count darlin'," he shrugs nonchalantly, raising his hand and pulling the dagger out of the wall.
"Then quite being a crybaby. I never miss."
"But then it's no fun like that!" he fakes a pout, "plus, even Doug and Nick miss at times. I'm just lucky I got my head on the place."
"I told you to knock."
"Oh...? And may I ask mademoiselle, would you be kind to show me," he bows dramatically, pointing at the empty doorframe, "which door exactly? Is it invisible by chance?"
She lets out an annoyed huff but can't really argue with facts.
"Plus, you can already recognize my footstep or anyone else's."
"Why are you here, Worick?" she sighs, wanting to be done with his request so she can go back at rocking her chair in silence.
"C'MON MAN, maybe I just wanted to say hi to my friend."
YOU ARE READING
The Worl of I & F: Invisible Colours
Fiksi Penggemar"Chad wants you to watch this new guy, Levi, at the PD," that's what Worick tells her, but all she hears is "another outcast to decode." And there he stands, a short man with raven bangs shadowing his eyes. He looks like any other Normal person, but...
