The 12-hour Retribution [Various!BNHA/MHA x OP!reader]

Prolouge 2: The Constellation.

Edited

"Hi" = Speaking
'Italic' = Thinking

Warnings: None

___________.•.____________

The soft murmurs of wind rush near your ears—a strange sensation. Your body feels lighter than usual, a ghost of the weight you carried in that dark alleyway. I must be dead, you think, this is what it feels like. But then, you feel the tickle of blades against your skin. Grass?

You shoot your eyes open, a mistake that leaves you squinting against a blinding, ethereal glow. "Hngh...huh?.." You rub your eyes, trying to force the world into focus. You are lying in a field of pure white lilies that stretches as far as the eye can see.

You stand up, brushing the dust from your clothes, and freeze. Wait a minute, what the heck am i wearing?!

You know you died in a ragged, blood-stained school uniform, but that's gone now. Instead, you're dressed in a white, flowy sundress that feels far too clean for a girl who just crawled out of a war zone. It has delicate eyelet lace ruffling across the chest and thin straps tied into dainty bows at your shoulders. A simple rope belt cinches the waist, and the skirt flares out, ending in a wide, ruffled hem that brushes your calves. It's innocent. It's soft. It's everything you aren't anymore (not after what has happened).

Did someone change me? Is this a handout outfit for the dead?

Pushing the confusion aside, you begin to walk. The grass tickles your bare feet as you navigate the sea of lilies toward a blurry figure in the distance.

As you approach, the figure resolves into a woman. She sits at a round tea table, sipping from a porcelain cup with an air of effortless grace. Her beauty is haunting—long, snow-white hair and eyes like melted gold. Her skin is so smooth it practically glows. She wears a flowing, light blue gown and a dark blue shawl, gold bracelets clinking softly on her arms as she moves.

However, there's something about her that you can't put a word on. There's something about her that screams, inhumane. She radiates power and control, someone of higher standings. You have read some books about the Greek Gods before, and this woman here has uncanny resemblance to how the gods were described in those books. Almost like, she's one of them herself.

"Are you going to stand there forever? Why don't you come and take a seat, dear? I have tea." Her voice snaps you out of your trance. You blush, feeling like a gasping fish. Even the way she talks is full of grace, you think, sitting timidly in the empty chair across from her.

You notice how a cup is already prepared for you, it's like she has anticipated your arrival. The woman, who you still do not know the name of, gently pours the tea into your cup. You take a sniff. A floral, slightly sweet scent fills your nostrils, and you can smell a hint of lavender in it. You mutter a small 'thank you', and bring the cup up to your mouth. Ah yes, water (or tea in this case). It's been long since you had a drop of water down your throat.