Prologue: Withering Melodies
At his piano, Eyes Rutherford peered down at the black and white keys, his blue eyes slowly moving from side to side. Looking at each key as he gently played it.
The musical notes flowing from his finger tips like magic. Yet, instead of wearing a smile upon his lips, he wore a frown.
Usually he was half-way happy with the songs that he composed on the spot, today, however, he just couldn't bring himself to put all of his heart into his music.
Lifting his gaze from his work, he stared up at the white ceiling of his studio apartment. The repeatitive raised pattern was somewhat calming. His silver-white hair falling neatly onto his shouders, and softly caressed both sides of his beautiful face.
"What is it about today, that makes me unable to put my heart, my soul and myself in general, into the sweet lulling sounds that is music?" Eyes whispered to himself as he looked at the top of the piano, at the small vase full of freshly picked purple and blue irises.
Though the floweres had only been picked early in the morning, just a mere few hours earlier, they were already beginning to wilt. The petals drooping to one side, some even on the verge of falling off.
With a slight touch, he slid his fingers across one of the flowers, his frown deepening, "So brief is life. Yet while things live, they are so beautiful...a fleeting beauty that fades before my eyes...To know and understand life, only means that you know death, but to know death, is to know pain..."
He removed his finger from the wasted flower petal, and replaced them gingerly to his side, wincing as he counted the ribs.
One, two, three, four, five, six...but the seventh rib was missing entirely, and sighing, he dropped his hands, letting them rest at his sides. "Yet only too few know what true pain is...To be a cursed child...now that is real pain!"
Thinking of his missing rib, forced him to question about who he was. "Why are there some who are forced to be born as I have? With a label imprinted upon their foreheads, a label that reads, "Forever cursed!", "Forever unlucky!", "Blade Children!", to bring pain and misfortune upon any and all who try to show us love, and compassion...despite all that we are..."
Eyes closed both lids, blocking his vision as a twinge of pain over took his torso. The ghost of what had never been there, showing itself. Over the years, he had grown used to the now familiar pain.
But when it did start up from time to time, he couldn't help but to be reminded of the past that was just as painful, but still not enough to make him shed tears.
As the pain continued to rage, he softly whispered under his breath, "I wonder how the others are doing? Has the pain picked back up for them, as well? And if so, they'll eventually make their way back to me..."