King's huge frickin' book of randomness galore:The ultimate

The boy

"Hic...snif...hic"

Why? Why was I here?

Why is this happening?

I.....

"I just want to go home...I want to...."

"You can't."

"....Huh...?"

Clear as day, their voice rang out, strange yet....familiar.

So, so familiar.....

Almost as if-

"MMMPH!?"

Suddenly, pale white skin clapped over my lips, covered in the oddest of creases....

Creases like....

scars?

Yes....

I could feel them....

Three short, one long across the palm....

Just like-

"Stop crying! They're going to hear you, dammit!"

The voice barked, pulling me toward it, into a chest flat and smooth, my face tickled by silk and my nostrils invaded by lavender.

Lavender.....

Mother liked it when I wore lavender.

Others did too.

However.....

it simply made me feel.....

sad.

As if I hadn't even the right to my own scent.

However, smelling it on someone else, drudged up bittersweet comfort of a home I longed for, but had condemned at least once, even once I had found myself here, in this hellish void.

"Hm..."

I relaxed, finding myself leaning against this stranger, taking in their scent and releasing the stiffness from my ridged body. I knew how dangerous a choice this was, but the act of relaxing had began to unwind such a tangled knot so quickly I couldn't bring myself to care.

"What? Hey! You aren't falling asleep on me, are you? Get up, dumbass! You're going to get us /both/ killed!"

They snapped, forcing me from my comforting daze with a harsh shake, like an earthquake disrupting a serene field. 

"Uh...?"

The grip on my shoulders forced me to look the stranger in their eyes, slightly difficult since they were taller than me, and behold them.

They had messy, dusty hair, unruly and dancing in thickets across their head and down their neck, disheveled in a way only a nightmare could encourage. 

An eye patch covered the top quarter of their face which an orb would normally over, the other cut and glassy, withdrawn and blanketed in a shadow of fatigue. 

Their face was visibly rather soft and pretty, with an amount of scuffs that seemed far from fitting, yet familiar in a way that sent an indescribable chill down my spine.

Finally, I noticed their clothes: torn and rugged, a rather nice coat with dark design and embroidery covering a loose hanging blouse, complimenting the black, torn tights, revealing the most inklings of slight, milky flesh. 

Ultimately, looking at the stranger made my voice catch in my throat. Despite their feminine dress and soft look, my eyes knew much better. 

I was staring at someone who was one in the same as myself.

"Take a picture," they said suddenly, blowing a strand of hair from their face as they crossed their arms. "It'll last longer."

"S-sorry!" I quickly corrected myself, my eyes darting to the ground, eliciting a sigh from the alternate party. "You really are hopeless...." They muttered, pinching the bridge of their nose. "Listen. I'm going to make this quick, so listen carefully." They said, fixing their coat. "Call me Dutch, don't ask questions, follow me, and shut up; we don't have time to waste, given neither of us knows what's crawling around already because of you." They glared, forcing my eyes back to the floor as they strolled ahead, wedge heels sponging softly against the floor. My words failed me as a searched for something, anything to say, my feet already in motion on their own. Finally, i occurred to me I didn't know the name of the person who I'd suddenly began to follow on their command. I might as well correct that.

"Who-"

"Dutch." They answered, without even a glance backward.

Let's try again...

"I'm-"

"Lydia."

Uttering that single word, they stopped, single eye training right on me.

"I know."