Prolouge
10:07 p.m 31/7/2014
Amity
Dotted symbols-laughter accompanying in the background- were drawn on the muddy surface of a piece of land. A field, she presumed. Leafs scattered around the bottom of the large tree, giving shelter to –she squinted. There were two figures-both smiling while one of them placed a coat on the other while smacking his or her back, eliciting a half groan in the midst of the windy land.
Contrast to the peaceful setting, a figure abruptly jumped down from the top of the tree, slamming into the hazily glimpsed squawking characters. Now she could somewhat decipher that they were two men and one waist-length auburn haired female, who slammed a suitcase into the jumper's head.
"Violent much, woman?!" A small grumble-later muffled by the hugs thrown by the two, the male held him in a headlock, smothering his cheeks while the woman hugged his waist.
More laughter.
A grand piano, unclosed. Two pairs of hands danced through the keys in a duet. Puffs of warm breath moisten the back of her neck, a chin propped up onto the crown of her head.
An uncharacteristic moan rang throughout the room, breaking the suspenseful melody they once played.
A scarlet face looked straight to the unavoidable smirk which held an amused glance at the corner of an eye.
"Heh." Gloved hands pinched a cheek, leaving it red and slightly swollen.
"That was completely unnecessary, bastard."
A pause.
"Hey-"
A great mansion, secured by vines.
Screams of agony echoed through the halls, frantic requests for hot water.
A hand ruffling the hair of a child who slept onto a lap.
A continuous melody.
The whole alleyway reeked of moist moss, its surroundings dark.
Cold.
She inhaled sharply, thoughts molded.
A carriage passed through her body as it were permeable-her body or the carriage, she didn't know- and with the crying pain of a whipped horse, the transport leaved her sight in a blurred flash.
"I will get you." His voice was like the scent of rust, slippery as blood. Standing elegantly under the shadows, a mere silhouette with the etiquette of a 19th century common gentleman, he tipped his hat and momentarily extended a "come hither" gesture.
"Do not forget me."
A green flash.
"I beg of you."
-this is not real
WAKE UP
Her chest heaved up and down repeatedly, lungs gasping for air while her hands extended in the dark. Her hair was matted onto the pillow her back, sweat trickling down the nape of her neck-the shoulder length navy blue colored hair forming a halo around her face.
Sweat was still dripping from the top of her forehead. She squinted out the salty liquid that stung her eyes. Shaking her head, inhaling, looking at the bright lights that diffused through the heavy curtains, she started rubbing her eyes.
She halted her actions.
"Light…"
No. She was not a vampire-no fangs, no bloodlust, rest assured. She had been given glances by passer-byes by her ….exotic hair. In her defense, she had seen a tall man with red waist length hair flirting with her neighbor three years back.
Ahhh. Back to the topic.
"Oh."
Three.
She swept her legs that bolted to the washroom.
Two.
The buzzer rang from the counter below.
One.
"Hello, I am Elle, your server for the whole day. How can I help you?" She sent a mega-watt shit eating grin to her current customers-a couple, from the looks of it. Both of her customers, both dressed in light brown garb, seemed to be immersed in the fact that a bluenette (or navynette. What, preposterously) really existed.
"…um." HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII HOW CAN I HELP YOU-"It's natural."
"Dreadfully sorry, miss." The wife lightly smacked her husband's cheek.
Cue to shit eating grin.
"Do you have supplies for a full camping trip?" The man, in his mid-30's requested, regaining his senses. "We lost them a while back when we were hitting the road."
"Sure thing! Do wait for a moment." She gestured them to rest at the bench, walking to the back of the store to get the supplies needed by the couple. Somehow the Boss and the other workers had taken a day off. ("I have utter faith in you, Ms. Damian.) ("We're counting on ya!")
But then there was the extra pay, so what was she to complain about?
Gah.
Needless to say, Elle's life was booooooooo-ring.
It was probably karma.
She suddenly heard the sounds of growling-sounds of grinding against bones.
Wolves?
At that very moment, she heard the yells.
"Akuma!"
"Karma." She repeated under her breath. Elle, of all people. Grabbing a pitchfork that was somehow stored in the storeroom, she went out to the counter.
And was sorely amazed.