A Bottle of Beginnings

part 1

She's a fool, she knew, for even biting the bait those morons had been trying to feed her. It was so damn annoying. Why in the world had she even snapped? She was the infamous 'ice queen' of their school, for Mercy's sake. Under normal circumstances, she would've just let insults like those pass by, but this was a different matter all together.

She shook her head, an attempt to take her mind off those things. It was proving to be impossible. The sun was far from setting (as it was only a little past the fifteenth hour) and the clouds were blearily fleeting by, as usual. The sand felt hot beneath her soles, but she didn't mind the heat. It was warm, almost comforting. Warmth she'd never received.

She was only looking beyond the horizon of the sparkling waters when something unusual caught her eye. Is that a human? What the hell's that guy doing, falling from the sky like that? Falling… Wait a minute! People shouldn't be falling from the sky like that!

Hastily removing the blue ribbon tying her hair in a loose ponytail and throwing it behind her, the ocean splashed against her marching feet as she quickly made her way to wherever that guy was mostly likely dropped into.

That guy's an idiot, she thought as she held her breath and looked beneath the waters. It was a good couple of dozen of meters away from the shore where she heard a loud splash. Dammit, now I don't only need to solve those problems, I also have to res—she was cut off short from her inner ramblings as she spotted what looked like hair from her distance. Taking a huge swim, she hoped that guy wasn't dead yet.

Sure enough, the guy was still struggling, if not a bit too weakly. And then he stopped moving altogether, bubbles forming from the breath that escaped from him, which made her jerk toward the drowning guy even more hurriedly than before.

"This guy better be not dead—" She gasped as she raised herself above the water and the guy's head with her. She dragged the limp body to the shore and ensured that the guy wasn't close to dying.

Glaring at the teen who she realized was rather good-looking now that she got a closer look, she rambled off, not caring at all that the guy wasn't even conscious, "Listen here, young man. You should know parachuting without a parachute just isn't safe. And if you were even thinking to do so, you should at least know the basics of swimming! And if you were thinking of committing suicide, at least do so where you're so sure no one would see and try to rescue you! And if you weren't, you should be a hell lot grateful to me for saving your sorry butt or else—"

"Alright, alright! Cut the speech, Madame. Seriously, you can bring back the dead with that technique."

She looked at him her eyes half-lidded with sarcasm. "You should know you didn't die, mister."

"But I'm dead, yeah," he said so casually like commenting on how good the weather was.

The girl's brow rose, still glaring at the 'dead' boy, before scoffing with her hand holding her bangs at bay. "As if I could talk to you if you're dead." Then after a second of contemplation, she added, "You know what? You're annoying."

The boy grinned as though he didn't hear the unveiled insult. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Jeral. Jeral Sanc. What's your name, Miss Grouchy?"

'Miss Grouchy' glared, still, as she bent to pick up her ribbon and freed it from all traces of sand. "No thank you, Mr. Arrogant. In your face, my name's Illana. Illana Hans."

And even though her tone was not on the slightest bit polite, she offered her hand.

Jeral stared at her hand like it was the most foreign thing topped with the second most. "What's that hand for?"

Taking back her hand and putting on her hip, she—guess what—glared at her newly made acquaintance. "Never mind, Mr. Alien." She sighed then continued, "I don't know what to do with you. I'm off."

Then she turned on her heels as she promptly tied her wet hair back into a ponytail.

"Hey, wait! Yani! Wait!"

She did stop and looked—glared—past her shoulder as she said, glowering, "What… did you just call me?"

"Your name, silly," he casually said as he placed his hand on her shoulder, which Illana instantly slapped away.

"I don't seem to recall telling you my name was Yani."

"Just an abbreviation, 'Hun."

A punch on his face, "Call me that again and—"

"I know, darling, I know."

An elbow jab at his abdomen, "What… did I tell you?"

"Not to call you 'Hun!" A fist was directed at his chin. "H-hey! I didn't call you that!"

"Yes I know," and then she pinched his cheek. Hard.

"And what was that for?" said Jeral as he cupped the offended cheek with his hand.

"Simple," Illana smirked. "For being annoying."

"Ouch," he dramatically put the other hand over his heart, "my darl—"

"You sure you want to say that?"

"Uhh… no."

"Then be a good boy."

Jeral then only watched her back as she walked away, her white tee shirt almost transparent due to its dampness. And then, this time, she caught his eye.

Illana Hans. Illana Hans. Illana Hans! Of course he knew that name! He knew her since the day she was born! How could he have forgotten his bearer? Miss Fate surely was playing with him! Beautiful locks of red, and orange, and brown hair (nice combination, he'd thought), the unique blue-rimmed pupils in her emerald orbs, the graceful frame of her rather petite form. Of course, he knew her biological parents, and of how she came to the land of Thraea. He knew it all.

"Illana Roi Hans, better known as Illana Hans," he whispered through the saline air of the Glani coast, "born on the sixth day of March, twelve years ago.

"Adopted by the great Fleet Admiral, and also the Headmaster of the Thraean MMA, you know you were only adopted but never bothered to look for your real family. You have a standing record of being Mia's rival, although neither of you doesn't really have the heart to put it up at home.

"You're quite a loner, although you do wish you had more friends and that people would stop stereotyping and see you as you are and not as the beloved adopted daughter of the strongest man on Thraea. You may have wished that but you really don't care, either. Such ironic—sarcastic personality you have, Yani. And don't you punch me," he added with a protective hand raised up.

Illana sighed as she put down her clenched fist, ready to have punched him anytime. "Not much people know about those things, Jeral."

"I believe I am one of those few."

She glared at him, again. "On top of being annoying, you're infuriating, you know that? You sick lowlife."

"I'm not a lowlife, for you information. I come from the high place." Seeing the confused look on his bearer's face, he quickly added, "And besides, don't the words mean the same thing?"

He had to jump to dodge a roundhouse kick, courtesy of yours truly.

This, Jeral thought, is truly interesting.

Any feedback will be appreciated. Thank you for reading and have a good day. :)