A blonde haired man wiped the sweat from his eyes as he was working the project that lay on table. Blood trickled down his brow, unattended as he continued to focus on the person in front of him.
As he gingerly raised the tweezers in his other hand and pulled out a shard of charred glass from the project. Carefully he set both the shard and the tool down in a small metal tray, finished with the arduous task he started.
The soft metal clink was the only companion he had for several minutes as he gripped the edges of the makeshift operating table. What was really a counter-top island in the middle of a room lay in tense silence as the doctor cautiously examined the wound ensuring that every piece of the glass had been removed.
With a sigh of content the doctor took off his bloody gloves and placed his hands over the wound, then he focused.
A soft glow emanated from his palms as he directed his aura into the wound. The skin slowly mending under the effort of the doctor. After a few silent moments he withdrew his hands allowing himself a slight smile as he saw the wound had healed. A scar had formed but that was a good sign, a sign of progress.
Then with a relieved chuckle he put his hand on the forehead of his patient. He took the extra second to finally admit she was now a patient not just a hopeless case he had picked up. A pause to allow for some semblance of hope.
She actually had a good chance of making it through, or so he thought. Holding that idea in his mind he concentrated one more time putting everything he had into the person in front of him. The dimly lit room gradually brightened until every corner was filled with a pale yellow light.
His eyes lost focus as he almost fell into despair. A full minute had almost passed and she wasn't responding. Grinding his teeth he was about to give up when he saw it, a deep red glow from the patient.
Their aura was responding!
With his spirits renewed he held the person with a firm grip as the red light slowly built luminescence. Continuing until it was as strong as the pale light coming off the doctor. A dancing conglomerate of yellow and scarlet painted the walls in a sea of mesmerizing color.
With a tired exhalation the doctor removed his hand letting the lights fade.
He paused once more as he noticed it took slightly longer for the patients aura emanations to fade. Turning from the person, metal tray in hand and he set the tool on the sink against the wall. With his back turned he missed the patient groan groggily as consciousness seeped into her mind.
Her eyes opened wildly, the green pupils betraying fear as they searched the dark room for something not there.
Soon she started thrashing around manically her medium-short scarlet colored hair obscuring her vision, panic setting in. Frightened and unfocused she tried to get up grabbing the edge of the counter for support.
Then with a sickly crack of bone against rock th patient lost her grip on some slick substance causing her to fall on the counter again. Confused and dazed the girl raised her hand to see what had been the origin of her trip. Her eyes widened in a slow burning shock as she discovered the dark substance that covered her hand, was blood. With renewed vigor the woman groped the edge of the counter again.
The doctor appeared next to her and decisively rapped his knuckles against the center her chest. Aiming intentionally to hit the closed wound in particular.
A loud thud of bone against bone could be heard making the doctor cringe mentally, wondering if he had hit too hard.
Silently he justified to himself that if the patient had kept up that behavior she would have done worse harm then he had repaired. Lost in that thought and small reassurance he went back to the sink to finish washing his hands, leaving the girl to recover.
Her wound roared in pain. The patient sluggishly squirmed on the table as the tightness in her chest slowly refused to cease. Her breathing was a tremendous task. Each lungful came between clenched teeth that were silently cursing the blonde haired sadist. Her pale slender hands clenched into fists turning her knuckles a stark white.
With an effort she managed to breathe steadily, inhaling the air despite the sickly smell of blood. The aroma made her stomach lurch in protest but as she lay there it gradually settled down as she grew accustomed to it. Finally knocking the sensation down to a low groan of hunger.
The waves of darkness that had threatened to knock her out receded as she took in the steel gray surroundings. Turning her head slowly she saw windows the were obscured by dirty white shades running along the entire wall on her left.
Other than the island counter she lay on, not much furniture lay in the room. Only the dingy maltreated sink on her right that the doctor was washing his hands in and a few wooden chairs were present to this theater of operation.
Despite the dull color the room was actually surprisingly clean, meticulously taken care of save for the island she lay on. Her eyes were then drawn to the surface she was on, denoting that there was quite a bit of blood covering the surface.
What happened? she thought to herself. Then her thoughts, and attention, inevitablely turned towards the one person who could provide the answer, the doctor.
Finally having seemed to clean his hands to a satisfactory level he turned to face the girl. He stared at her, the towel in his hands methodically drying each finger.
Each second passed by like an eternity in the near silence. Finally setting the damp cloth aside he nodded at her saying very neutrally "Does it still hurt?"
Slightly taken aback she didn't know how te respond.
After the surprise had faded she eventually understood his meaning, the spot he had cracked her in. Reaching towards her chest she felt only the minor twinge of weak muscles as her hand laid upon the scar. The feel of the wound finally reassuring her that yes, somehow, she had survived.
That thought made her pause. Survive? What danger had she been in? As she drew in her next measure of air she searched her mind for what prompted that tenuous relief. And more importantly why was it mixed with dread?
As hard as she thought though the reason eluded her. In fact she was having trouble remembering much at this point. Everything was just a dark blur, voices and faces without context and meaning. Something was nagging her, a question she couldn't put into words just yet...
After about a minute she abandoned the futile internal search.
Sitting up gingerly, cautious avoiding the slippery spots on the counter she nodded an affirmation at the doctor. The man in question was at the moment was granting her a bemused smile while watching her struggle.
Whoever he was he didn't feel the need to assist her in any way. In fact he seemed to get great satisfaction seeing her struggle on her own. Gritting her teeth she steadied herself on the edge of the counter, glaring at the blonde haired man.
Her blood boiled at his smirk.
"Now that you're feeling better..." He circled her idly twirling a scalpel in his hands. His stance was very relaxed despite the daggers she was shooting at him. Either he didn't care about his safety or he was certain he could take the injured girl.
'Probably the latter' the patient thought darkly as he approached her still deftly maneuvering the blade between his fingers, not once cutting himself. Though his stance seemed very lax there was a hint of discipline in how he chose his movements.
A training he was attempting to conceal from the uneducated eye.
As the doctor approached the table he slowly began to circle the patient examining patient felt an uneasiness, she thought she could feel the room chill. The silence seemed deafening as he stopped behind her.
"We can move on to more pressing issue" his voice spoke in an icy chill that ran up her spine. An incapacitating kind of cold that stopped even a shiver. She was so shocked by the new mood she didn't even respond as she heard the scream. Wait scream?
As she whipped her her back in the direction of the cry she was greeted by a curious sight.
The doctor was being tackled from behind by a cobalt blue haired girl.
Although his face was obscured by the girls arm, judging by the man's reaction he had been caught by surprise. He was teetering on one leg trying to support the sudden weight.
The cobalt girl on the other hand was laughing and smiling as she clung to the doctor who was still fighting to keep his footing. The rooms stark contrast with the people in front of her seemed so surreal, maybe even comical. The patient found herself staring at these people wondering, if perhaps, she had lost her mind.
The new arrival wore an ice blue parka that was completely unzipped. It was missing sleeves and had a pale white fur trim outlining the hood. Underneath that she had a navy blue long sleeve that clung tightly to her body. Her pants were a baggy light blue material that matched the hue of her eyes.
Those eyes that showed nothing but the gleam of someone having fun.
Like a little kid her ear to ear grin and laughter drained away most if not all of the tension the patient had felt since waking up. With a small sigh-like chuckle the patient shifted on the counter to fully face the odd pair.
Finally managing to regain his balance the infuriated man growled and flipped the new girl over his shoulder.
As the new arrival fell towards the floor the man shifted his grip and got hold of the new girl by the hood of her parka. Then he abruptly jerked her upright into a standing position and set her down in front of him.
The man started to rub his temples as the parka dressed girl bounced excitedly from foot to foot. After about a minute the man recomposed himself staring steely-eyed at the bewildered patient before him.
Slowly he asked the question that was cut off before "Who are you?"
The patient was still with confusion, she had heard the question but her tongue was lead, her mind like a rusty cog. The overwhelming feeling was once again filling her with a sense of foreboding, the uneasiness of the many unknowns. Who was she?
The cobalt-haired stood still for just a moment giving a reassuring and somewhat infectious smile allowing the patient to release the nervousness. Cobalt nodded at the patient as if to tell her it was okay.
Slowly but surely the patient found her voice, and after a few attempts that died in her throat she finally managed to speak.
Her voice was like the warm creak of of the wind on an oak tree in the fall. It was quiet yet filled the room when she spoke. Not exactly overtaking them but feeling as if a person was standing behind you, ready to lend you a hand and a smile.
"My name is Pyrrha, Pyrrha Nikkos."