❝ 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘵? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘑𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭. ❞
~
Fate is odd; I know from experience.
I find myself retracing back to the journey I underwent. So finally, I decided to put it into word...
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✿
Piece by piece, my conscience returned, and I slowly awakened into the warm desert night and the sound of rippling water.
When my eyes came back, I found myself perched on a white stone ledge, my feet dangling over a familiar expanse of a man-made lake. The fountains were quiet, having finished their nightly shows.
The city that never sleeps appeared to be asleep around us. The golden lights blinked silently.
I looked to the right and didn't expect anyone. Hisoka was there, playing with something on his right side.
"Hisoka?" I said hoarsely.
The man dressed in blue looked at me and smiled.
"What a surprise," He said and focused his eyes to the street lamp lights ahead.
"I could see you right there, yet I cannot sense you? How does that work?"
I glanced to the side he was doing something on. To his side there was a card pyramid which he promptly knocked over. His hand went through his bright red-pink hair and he let out a sigh. More than four dozen cards drifted from his palm over his fingertips, riding a wind that I couldn't feel. I watched as the cards floated up to a box and inserted themselves.
"There is so much for you to learn, Passiflora," Hisoka said softly. He glided his tongue over his teeth that unintentionally made me look away for a moment. The water under his feet rippled as he swayed them.
His sleeve was covered in red splatters.
The memories from the evening came rushing back. A sickening feeling worked its way up from my stomach. I stared at Hisoka, the deep wet stains on his sleeves shifting as he moved.
"Hisoka," I said again. "Tell me what happened."
He looked to me, and then where I was looking. Without a word, he leaned forward and reached down, dipping his sleeve into the water. When he pulled it back out, it was clean. The water that dripped from it was dyed red, swirling into the fountain like ink.
The night was silent. The police sirens were gone. I was sure that I had missed some final pleas, cries for help that went unanswered.
