A/N: This is based off of a style in the game "Blue Lacuna," which has a section connected by one word like this. It is also written as one long sentence (at least, per scene) on purpose, so it's not a grammar fail. It's like, as Tumania put it, a "stream of conciousness."

Also, sorry if either characters or any of the scenes (especially the later ones) seem OOC at all, I tried to keep them at least somewhat canon, but it's harder than it seems. So this would be sort of AU past the Opera, I guess.

Blue

You watch with grotesque fascination as the color blue fills the small syringe as you creep through the land of corpses, still gathering for someone else at this point and you see her for the first time and she's still pure and unchanged and beautiful, knelt in front of her mother's grave with dirty blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as brown eyes gazed down at the tombstone, a small hand resting on the dirty ground along with her dress, a bright blue

glow from the vial clutched in your pale hands, held tenaciously above your head as her shorter arm reaches out for it as her other hand clutches at your long, dirty coat in frustration and you just smirk at her, but a small voice in the back of your head wonders why you keep doing this to her as her focus lies only on the blue

hair, her most outrageous choice of color yet, and you can barely stand look at it because you know that it's not really part of her, that it can't be, and can't even pretend that it is like you could with all the other colors before, but not with the dark blue

shadows cast by the bright, invading moon as you lay next to her on the small bed, watching her still, scarred form curled in on itself as her breathing slows and you cover her with the tangled, pale sheets and it doesn't seem to register that you're trying to protect an already corrupted girl, running a hand through her dark hair as you glance out the dark window at the blue

and red lighting of the large, cold stage as you watch the opera from the giant screens hovering above, splashed with bloody crimson and it almost hurts you to watch as she is bitterly rejected by her father in his dying moments, and you wish that you could bring the bastard back from the beyond to kill him again - only this time in a way he deserves, not the way that seemed so painless compared to the other deaths as his white face slowly turns blue

eyes flash as she yells and screams at you in fury, and the tight feeling builds up into your chest with each ringing word until you finally can't take it anymore and you snap at her and she stops mid-word, taking a nervous step backwards before fleeing the small room and you wonder if this is why you stayed with her, to see the glistening tears welling up in her once rich chocolate brown, but now unnatural, prosthetic icy blue

-green gell covering her swelling stomach and she nervously fidgets as she lays with a gentle doctor hovering above her, and you can tell that she's nervous and upset and scared, a word you rarely can associate with her and you gently squeeze her hand, giving her the privacy she needs and glancing away at the walls painted a baby blue

blanket that the the tiny baby boy is swathed in, and it doesn't seem to register as she cradles him against her breast that he's actually hers, actually yours, that he was even an accident in the first place (and once again you are forced to thank the little glass vial), that you could actually ever be a father and he looks at you with tired and curious eyes, that while they will probably fade to brown as he grows, are still innocent and wide and blue.