Chapter one: Rise and Shine
Abstract. Abstruse. Hypothetical. Philosophical. Phrase it all you want. It won't change the fact that my vision is kaleidoscopic. Prismatic even. I'm seeing through a kaleidoscope right now. Instead of colors, I see faces. Dominic. His face so different from mine and yet so similar : pale, dark haired, green eyed, screaming in pain. Victor : eyes narrowed, blood on his hands, pounding me into the ground. My biological mother : tears running from her eyes, curled up in a ball, beautifully delicate both on the inside and outside. My biological father : his voice screaming behind closed doors, ugly on the inside, beautiful on the outside. People I have never known and will never know simply walking down the street, living their lives. People I have known and will never see again screaming, saying their last words. All this I watch in my usual manner which is comparable to a blank canvas. Seriously. I am that emotionless. The most I have is some dignity ; some mercy even. But, I am largely cynical. The only love I feel and have ever felt is for Dominic.
I'm standing on a hill. The expanse of grass I'm standing on is fluid, continuous, and, above all, green. I'm watching the faces in my kaleidoscopic vision. Abruptly, everything starts shaking. The emerald sea I'm standing on is quivering, trembling, and my eyes fly open, forcing me out of my dream.
The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the room I'm staying in. White walls. Basic furniture. Wood floor. Small window. Very military. Reminds me of home. Then I see Goldie.
Goldie is the guy that was assigned to take care of my "house arrest". I forget the term the Clave used. His real name is Jace Lightwood and apparently he is the best shadowhunter of his age as per the grape vine. He is handsome, but handsome in the way my biological father was : too handsome. The fact he is ridiculously arrogant doesn't help either.
"Get up, Red. Rise and shine!," Yup, that's Goldie. Sarcastic to the end.
"Mmph," A fact you should know: I'm not a morning person.
"You. Up. Now. "
"Mmph." I throw a pillow at Goldie, unable to enunciate as the ability seems to evade me.
I see a hanging fluffy mass in my left peripheral vision, "Now you have no pillow, mmph."
"Mmph."
"Mmph you too. Now get up."
The ability to enunciate finally comes back with a vengeance, "No"
"Marwik up. The Inquisitor and the Consul will not wait for the people who like sleeping in."
"Well, they can go to -," I buried my face in the pillow.
At this point in the conjecture, I told Goldie that the Inquisitor and the Consul could go to hell. For younger ears, its the place where Hades lives.
"Glad to see you haven't lost your charm."
"You know it," I flip Goldie the bird.
"Get up."
"Since when I have I ever listened to you, Sweetheart," Goldie snorts; in return, I give him a gift: a rude gesture not appropriate for children. A Papo Furado for those who are interested. (Google it) What can I say? I'm really not a morning person.
"Since now."
I just snorted in response.
