Feeling Reborn

'You want silence, right?'

Forced God of Destruction concept by harrish6
Nothing belongs to me apart from my little ideas :3
Please check out harrish6's story "Healing What has Been Broken", it's a really good story and is what this book is based on -___-

*spoiler alert*

*jazz hands*
It's always nice to check out the original.
If you've already read it, well, enjoy (even if you haven't). I tend to leave out some important details too, so please read it!
This is the result of me being awake at 1 AM for a week or so with 'fancy' vocabulary on
Cringe alert?
I'm not editing this >:3
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White.

A blinding white stretches on in an infinite void for miles on end.

Numb.

Heat never existed here, nor has cold.

Pain.

In the middle of it all sits a dark-boned skeleton, made of broken bones, an unstable mind, glitches, and pain.

This particular skeleton's physical features is one of the reasons why he's set apart from the others. Dark bones, forever glitching, mismatching eyesockets, the colours, and size don't pair up, tattered clothes, too broken to piece together, just like his state of mind. Bright blue tear-like lines are visible on his cheeks, starting from his eyesockets down to his chin, not unlike those used for stitching and sewing his clothes and SOUL. The latter is his most private possession, made up of different colours, perhaps beautiful once, but cracked beyond saving and barely held together by glowing blue strings. It pounds softly inside his rib cage, the beat much slower than what the rhythm is supposed to be. His scarf, his most prized possession, is torn into ragged bits at the end, however, the blue and red gradient is as vibrant as ever.

This broken skeleton is none other than the famous destroyer, Error. The monster of the Multiverse. The Destroyer of universes. The Puppeteer. The Soulless freak. The true monster. Abomination. Glitch.

Many names are assigned to him, but he prefers being called by Error, even though it means 'mistake'. Technically, it described him. A Monster without an AU of his own, thought to be driven mad by loneliness and rage.

What was he doing here?

Fixing his scarf and tending to his numerous wounds as well as possible. Wounds such as snapped bones, large gashes, fractures, welts, etc. The list never ended. Perhaps attempting yet another way to kill himself. Of course, that was futile, since Fate prevented him from obtaining the sweet relief of death.

He gave up a couple of minutes ago on settling himself into a more comfortable position and just sat in a crossed-legged fashion. His round red-rimmed glasses are perched on the tip of his nose, while his eyes are forced into a squint.

"DaMn... CaN thEsE neEdlES gEt aNy SmaLlEr?"

His scarred hands gripped two razor-sharp knitting needles. The project was a midnight blue scarf, fading to black at the end and purple at the front, with small white stars scattered around. At the tail, he embroidered a large silvery crescent moon.

He sighs, putting down the needles for just a second.

"ThIs fEeLS sO NiCe... CoMplETe sIlEnCE," he murmured, closing his eyes.

'Hey, you piece of shit!'

'What are you doing here?'

'YOU HAVE A JOB, SO DO IT!'

'Why are you sitting here twiddling your thumbs? Worthless.'

Error let out a groan of frustration. "AlMosT coMpLeTe SiLEncE."