Chapter One: A New World
A single lit of a flame plunging into the vast darkness upon abrupt contact. From a sense of a single breeze bristling against transparent residue that once clung onto one's flesh.
One whom vowed eradication of a single race through vigorous determination.
The other born from two souls of the opposite poles, determined to end the other's life.
And the third and fourth whom's lives ended abruptly like a blockade, from rounds of two left with ebony residue.
All of this in the span of two years from Life Thread's call — yet a knot was tied upon the eruption of a Titanic-scale war. A single war that altered the perspective of peace.
Then there was this sensational torrent of the low, bristling against the knot. The Life Thread seemed to distort from the excessive force of this chilling sensation.
A significant amount of the low drenching against the residue floating above — and traces of a humanoid figure along with bundle-full miscellaneous.
Hudson River of New York City in a world of considerable trauma of this great war. Yet this... residue seemed to reside west of the Manhattan piers.
A single, cape perhaps crafted from silk accompanied with ebony robes with traces of magenta. One conical hat worn over the 'residue's head — thus significantly obscuring the facial features. And a blade that seemed exotic in shape along with enigmatic markings along with one, peculiar winged creature.
All of this shouldn't exist in this realm where war's nigh.
Witnessing this strange sighting by numbers, a single tugboat reluctantly approached this unconscious being floating on the frigid Hudson. Crew gazed in awe from their rather exotic appearance, as if they've witnessed the flight of the first aircraft.
And the one who'd toss the life ring across the two followed by abrupt distresses — yet the men seem to ignore that... orange creature despite having their ears all around the corner's ends.
"At last~!" And one emanation of relief from that orange creature.
Then a single haul towards the ebony tugboat — yet traces of awe were still glued onto faces of mixed ages.
But this residue didn't seem to flinch upon contact of the deck. Thus a single tug's horn pierced through this gloomy ambience — startling this little creature.
Whom its wings flapped in shrill dismay upon circular gazes.
"A gloomy day capt'n." One young sailor perhaps in his early twenties, stood by the wheelhouse at the bow.
"Indeed it is..." Replied a captain in his late sixties, "But with this war at globe's opposite end it is quite disconcerting.
And a sip of wine along with a single question, "And about these two?"
"That creature in exotic attire, he or she's unconscious from considerable amount of water in its lungs." But his first officer questioned further into the tunnel.
"And that orange creature?" He'd lit up a cigar in curiosity. "Conscious she is indeed, only to guard that exotic blade..." The captain lactated a chuckle.
Again, some remained traumatized from a single disaster before the beast's abrupt awakening from its slumber-full tertiary. Of a single vessel grandest of luxury and size — and only one sister, perishing beneath the frigid North Atlantic.
The Titanic. Her ebony hulls and quadruple smokestacks, etched onto countless minds. And at the left was her pier she was supposed to dock.
Why did she slipped beneath the waves? She was supposed to be unsinkable! Their minds shrouded in absolute disbelief at the disaster's aftermath. Some didn't want to acknowledge such peacetime calamity against an engineering marvel.
Now it's three years since and war is the current reign of terror, but the two didn't seem to notice. When a cardiopulmonary resuscitation was performed on unconscious one, the clock strikes fourteen hours — and close by lays a large, ebony vessel docked in silence...
The lone, orange creature now resting against the vessel's ebony smokestack, gazing in awe from this vessel's grand appearance. Alongside with the colossal skyscrapers constructed from ground-up.
It never witnessed anything so... gigantic. And then it flew into the room the unconscious one resides.
Upon entry of this nigh-ambient-less room it shook. And a voice of a female, at a pitch nigh peak.
"Dust...?"
Her name was Fidget, a single nimbat from this alternative dimension. Orange fur with rather large ears and wings, and emerald orbs along with her adorable appearance. Indeed she is something they don't want to mess with despite her dwarfed appearance.
And a torrent of sorrow permeating within the Nimbat from the condition of Dust. Just... a glance at this exotic blade, she was in the verge of tears.
Near pier's end upon dusk closing in nigh.
And a hospital building in Jersey's bank they arrive in. Pedestrians and automobiles passing by like armies of ants — along with playful children with top-hatted men.
Gaits that linked to this raging titan from Atlantic's east end to simply express varying amounts of trauma. Some in utter-full grief from the war's flame, and some whom protested such neutrality...
And the two were in this clinic of the Jersey bank, yards west from transparent boundaries.
Responses to exotic appearances the duet crafted were various. But Fidget remained on the warmblood's left.
She examined this small-yet packed room both housed in. It was rather semi-luxurious from the Nimbat's illuminating emeralds — along with a portable rack laminated with dangling headwear of varying fashion. All she glanced at the room's entrance left of Dust.
Their right stands an uncurtained window with a majestic view overlooking the Hudson and Manhattan skylines. Fidget never imagine the ability to construct something so tall, and heavenly. And her gaze fixated at the mammoth, towering structures as if she was soaring between transparent glass.
Fidget was daydreaming. She cannot resist this sensation any longer.
And Dust didn't seem to twitch from Fidget's rather-impatient behavior. His eyes locked shut like a hatch over steel corridors.
The blade rested against the wooden rack, whom is under Dust's possession. Along with his conical hat, hung at the rack's dusty peak.
As Fidget returned to the skyline's gaze, her eyes abruptly fixate at that very vessel encountered in earlier hours.
Her ebony hulls laminated with luxurious promenade decks, accompanied by her iconic quadruple smokestacks now painted in ebony. Altogether this vessel somewhat had a similarity from one, larger vessel Fidget eavesdropped from the passing crowd.
The Titanic she thought, but it sank three years ago!
Then there was an abrupt hymn of a creaking hinge. But before taking a glance, the Nimbat was startled from the vessel's emanating whistle. For a moment was utter silence in this room.
And Fidget makes a glance at one peculiar figure.
She had an appearance to those of a queen, along with a rather decent-sized skirt and apron worn around her waist. A nurse as she appears from overall appearance of stainless pale — topped out with a bald cap.
She was placing a cup of tea lactating with warmth.
And single twitch from the unconscious one laying against the bed. In return of the dead silence permeating this room.
Fidget felt disconcerted from this... ambience upon sipping the warm tea. And the orbs of cyan piercing through is semi-luxurious room overlooking the harbor.
Dust... is awake. And the Mithrarin's cyan orbs fixated at the cinnamon ceiling. Caught in the steady gaze of Fidget of the nurse's facial expression of relief.
And a sensation of joy overfilled Fidget.
End.
A/N: This fanfiction is based off from my dream two weeks earlier along with minor appearances of historical figures.
Dust: An Elysian Tail c Dean Dodrill, Humble Hearts
Fanfic: c SonicAndDeathNoteFan