6
Her heart was beating hard. All she could hear was the echo of its steady pumps sounding off in ominous silence.
Mirajane closed her eyes, taking in deep, quiet breaths. Despite her calm demeanor, her insides were a flurry of nerves like a cold winter storm. It was only half an hour. That's how long she had to wait when she arrived at the Rosa Nera before it was time for her performance; the men in striped suits had instructed her of what she was to do upon entering the fancy Italian restaurant. It was all simple, and she should've had plenty of time to rein in her nerves.
But for whatever reason, her blasted nerves were still out of control! Mirajane had done so many performances on stage that she figured she would be perfectly fine. It really shouldn't have been that nerve-wracking. But it was. This was the first time she'd be singing in front of an actual audience. This was the first time it actually really mattered how her performance went. This was the first time he would be seeing her. At least, that is, if Laxus was even in the crowd. What his first impression of her meant everything to her. In fact, if she couldn't pull this off the right way, she may just lose everything. Laxus wasn't someone who could be fooled so easily by glossy lips and an alluring body. He also wasn't someone who you could just waltz right up to, make friendly conversation with, and expect him to later care about your existence.
The Black Dragon had specific instructions on how Mirajane was to lure Laxus in: She wasn't to approach him, she wasn't to initiate conversation with him, and she wasn't even supposed to look at him. She was, however, supposed to capture his attention. In fact, she was supposed to do so in such an enchanting way that would make the great Laxus himselfbe the one who came and approached her, talked with her, and looked at her. He was supposed to come to her first. By accomplishing that, Mirajane would actually be able to have a chance at succeeding her job. If she didn't…well…
An image of a gun was all she could think of. And it wasn't in her hands.
Then she saw the painting down the eerie hallway. The one with the creepy skeletal hand outstretched towards you, welcoming you onto the boat.
"Miss?" a voice suddenly called out.
Mirajane looked up with large eyes. She found a middle-aged man with black hair and pale skin standing before her, who clearly worked at the Rosa Nera due to his classy, black formal uniform that matched every other staff members' dress attire.
"It's time."
Mirajane nodded her head, following the direction of the man's gloved hand, making her way out of the small, square lounge room full of red and lavish furniture, meant specifically for the guest performers to rest in before and after their time on stage. When she walked out to the dimly lit hallway, hands clutched tightly in fists, the well-groomed man short in stature stepped out from behind Mirajane and guided her down the hallway. They walked in dead silence. Once they made it to the end, they stopped walking, turning to face their left where an opening was, concealed by velvet, gold-hemmed heavy curtains draped down to the ground.
The short man finally looked to Mirajane and broke the silence, saying: "This is your first time here, right?"
Mirajane simply nodded her head. It was her first time doing a solo performance, too. But that wasn't necessary to say, so she kept her mouth shut.
The man nodded his head. "Okay, so what's going to happen is that I will be opening the curtains, and you'll just keep walking straight to the stage," he explained, making his slight accent become a little more obvious.
"That's it?" Mirajane questioned dumbly. Not that she was complaining, but at the same time...were they not going to do any introductions? Was it really that simple?
Having understood her silent questions quickly, the short man nodded his head. "They already announced you a couple minutes ago. Now you just have to make an entrance. Normally, the performers are already ready, standing here at the curtain—but I hadn't realized this was your first time here, so you must accept my apologies," he said, bowing his head a little.
"Oh, I see," Mirajane politely said with a hint of curtness tracing her words. She stopped to think for a little bit before continuing with: "It's okay. Maybe me missing that grand entrance is a good thing. You know, to be honest, I'm really nervous…and if I don't have as many eyes on me while heading up to the stage, I think it might make me feel less tense." She smiled blindly at the short man beside her before dropping her gaze. Then remembering she needed to be "radiating with confidence," as the Trimens' had told her to do, for that was a key step in capturing a man's heart, she looked up with bold eyes. She almost wished the Trimens could be here to escort her on stage instead. She could really use some of their encouragement now.
After a few moments of silenced passed, Mirajane looked back over to her right, still sensing the short man's presence beside her. He was looking at her with dark eyes full of bewilderment. Why?
After a few mere moments passed, he finally said: "They'll be watching you."
Then the stout man turned around, leaving through a brown, glossy door behind them. Mirajane simply blinked, staring at the door when she suddenly heard a small rustle. She hesitantly looked forward, seeing that the velvet curtain was now being raised.
A bright light was starting to slowly spill into the hallway, filling up to the top until it was drowning Mirajane in it. She stood all alone. And for a second, she was like a deer in headlights. But her hands suddenly loosened, and she took in a deep breath. All of her dark fears were released into in the bright light, vanishing, and as if those fears had never stomped all over her heart and flipped over her stomach abusively, she walked out into the light. Her steps were graceful, and her poise was elegant.
As Mirajane made her way up onto the small platform, completely oblivious of how large the crowd in the room actually was, she looked at the orchestra and band members. They were all changing their music sheets or repositioning their body in their seat. When they all appeared ready and were looking up at her, she nodded her head, and the familiar melody she had rehearsed with the Trimens earlier that day had begun to cascade throughout the room.
She inhaled deeply once again, and exhaling out, she calmly turned around. The room was massive.
Mirajane suddenly felt so small, but she made a fast recovery. All it took was the thought of her younger brother and sister, and she could erase all of her fears—in other words, she could shove all of her nerves into a closet and keep them inside until it was okay for her to give out and let everything crash over her. The interior of Rosa Nera was truly huge. There was a second floor with a balcony overview of everyone on the main floor and the stage. In the center hanging from the intricate flower carved ceiling was a grand chandelier that glittered like a thousand stars. Round tables covered in white tablecloths were spotted everywhere across the red-carpeted room, and the people…
They were all so glamorous.
It was such a different feel to Mirajane to be standing up on this black stage with classy-dressed men and women behind her, wearing satin dresses and black suits, playing a ballad so smooth and beautiful. The people that were scattered everywhere before her, sitting at tables with fragile glasses full of either clear or burgundy liquid, heading towards the lit-up bar or walking down the glossy staircase, laughing elegantly behind a gloved hand or wiping their face gently with a neatly folded napkin, wearing dresses that were modest and sophisticated or suits that fit well and exhibited power, sitting next to their loved ones or enjoying another's company—they all seemed to be living such paradisiacal lives. Everyone was so clean. There wasn't any smoke in the air, just the alluring fragrance of expensive perfume and musk. There weren't any dark secrets being passed along, just idle chatter. They were all really enjoying themselves.
And nobody was looking at her.
They were all residing up on cloud nine, probably too busy having the time of their lives. They all lived such sparkly lives after all…and here she was: A dull girl trying to be noticed down in the dirt. Would anyone bother to look down at her?
Yes. That's why Mirajane was standing where she stood. She was there to make them all fall from that cloud. She was there to announce her existence. She was there to—
The smooth ballad playing in the background suddenly took a different change in note—one that even the orchestra and band behind her seemed to be shocked by. She could hear their confused movements and hushed murmurs, as if wondering if they were playing the notes right. Oh, they were playing it right all right. The melody probably just wasn't the typical classic, suave tune the upper-class was familiar with. After all, it was a tune from a completely different world—the world she had been residing in and secretly still did. If only they could see the invisible chain locked around her neck. A small, dark smile curled up on her maroon-colored lips to conceal the grimness of it all, and she took hold of the microphone placed in front of her as she parted her lips, her words flowing out like dark honey:
You, you say it's just a bet
With money in your hand,
And power to demand
Red, red just like crimson blood
We don't have to fight,
If I play it right
Oh, if you only knew, the darkness that waits
Count to ten, and maybe it was all just a dream
Hey! Do you really know?
How the world's so obscure
Oh, please understand,
It's not what it seems
Just ignore the smoke,
I'm doing it all for love
During the process of writing her song, Mirajane had only four people in mind: The Black Dragon, Laxus, Elfman, and Lisanna. She wasn't essentially writing a love song. She was writing a plea. This song was her heart's cry, and if there was anything she had caught on about Laxus, it was that he took his work seriously. And what kind of work did he do? To help people when they cried for it.
Life, life's just a one-time deal,
So take it easy and slow,
But I've hit an all-time low
He, he says it's just like cake
I can have it too,
And enjoy it too
She'd never be able to make him fall for her. That was a simple fact Mirajane had realized after learning more about him from the Trimens. What the Black Dragon was asking her to do was ridiculously impossible, despite everything that was being done for her. Laxus wasn't like other men. But that didn't mean she wouldn't give it her all. She would try, despite knowing she wouldn't ever be able to capture his heart…but she knew she could capture his attention. And that would be enough to keep him around long enough for her to eventually pull the trigger. Hopefully.
Oh, if you could see, Love, just close your eyes
Count from three, and I'll have your lips to mine
Hey! Do you really know?
There's an underworld
Oh, please understand
There's only so much time
Just ignore your fears,
For I'm doing it all for love…
Mirajane moved her face away from the microphone, feeling as her own heavy words sunk inside of her. Her dark sapphire eyes then peered back up and wandered across the room in a haze as the dark melody played on like a rushing black river flowing into the bridge of her song. She hadn't caught sight of him at all as she sang her song. She knew she wasn't supposed to purposefully make any sort of contact with Laxus, but she really just wanted to know. To see what he actually looked like in human…so she could properly get a feel of who she was trying to lure in. Her hands subtly gripped tighter onto the black microphone before her as she heard the music hauling her back in—
Pain, oh it isn't worth the shot
Her eyes carefully flowed over each figure donning a suit.
Death,
That's when she saw him.
it's not a right to reclaim,
Her heart pounded and the nerves in her stomach churned.
But please,
His eyes had locked with hers.
give me your all
He halted mid-way on the staircase…
Money, nor a thousand stars, will ever compare,
…or maybe time just seemed to slow down. Immensely.
To the worth of your heart
She tore her eyes away, and closed them to hide the shadows that she knew always dulled her eyes when she thought of the only two people left in her family, whom she had left to hurt all by themselves…
But she's dying,
He's crying,
I'm drowning
I'm sorry
But he's calling me back…
You, you'll wish you'd never met…
A girl can work it right,
If she has her sights
Love, love is just a game
You can take me whole,
If I get your soul
Oh, if you only knew…
I'm doing it all for you…
The music abruptly ended the same time she cut off her note, leaving the ghost of its sound resonating throughout the room. Mirajane took in deep breaths to help her swelling throat and chest. It was over. Her song was over. Her hands gripped tighter onto the microphone as she controlled her emotions. It hurt. It really did hurt.
That's when the slow rolling sound of applauding began.
Immediately, Mirajane's gaze went straight to the staircase, completely oblivious to the claps of appreciation meant for her. Laxus was gone. She exhaled deeply.
Mirajane then let go of the black microphone and stared at her audience. Everyone was looking at her now. And they were clapping. She instantly acknowledged that there were a lot of different facial expressions looking her way—not all were congenial. The world wasn't always so accepting after all. Sighing, she graced the audience with a close-lipped smile before parting ways from the stage. She made sure to thank the band and orchestra for playing her song before leaving, and in a fog, found herself back at the entrance she had come from. There, that same stout man from earlier stood, awaiting her presence.
After thirty-five minutes had passed, Mirajane finally found her will and took up the offer of the stout man who had escorted her back to the waiting room. He had mentioned that drinks were always on the house for performers and that the bar was a pretty nice place to relax. He had also given her a peculiar look and seemed like he was about to ask her something, but then kept it to himself and walked away, leaving her all alone.
With one last glimpse in the mirror of the red velvet-filled room, Mirajane tucked in some loose strands of starlight-white hair behind her ear, momentarily caught in a trance with her own reflection before she quickly departed from the room. The stout man from earlier had also told her that there was a hallway that looped behind the stage and led straight to the drink bar, all for the convenience of not having to make another huge entrance to the main ballroom dining hall, so she followed down that hallway with her gaze on the ground. Her sapphire blue eyes watched each step she took the entire time to the drink bar, staring as the high slit in her long, elegant, navy blue dress parted, revealing porcelain skin, and fluttered close, only to whoosh open once again and follow that same pattern over and over again.
Mirajane's dress was silky and smooth, and revealed quite a bit of skin—at least, compared to every other female's dress she had spotted in Rosa Nera. But she didn't mind. She preferred this style of dress. To her, it was elegant and free. With slim straps and a form-fitting bodice, as well as a high slit, she wouldn't mind wearing this every day. It wasn't too low in the front, like the costumes she was used to wearing at the Roxanne La Sanguine, and she felt comfortable. She felt confident.
The shoes Mirajane wore, she also liked, too. They were fairly high heels, but they weren't uncomfortable, and just like her dress, they matched in color and had slim straps that wrapped around her ankles and the front near her toes. Along with her delicate yet bold makeup and nicely done nails painted with French tips, and simple but classy jewelry of a slim diamond banded ring, a couple of simply silver bands on her left wrist, and diamond stud earrings and Marcel wave-curled hairstyle with her bangs swept up into the curl to make it look like she didn't even have any, she really did feel beautiful. She had to give credit to the Trimens, for despite their strange personalities, they really did know their beauty.
Just thinking about the four men made Mirajane smile. She hoped she would be able to meet them at least one more time during this short life she would live in their world.
When Mirajane looked up, noticing the silence of the hallway had begun to fill with sound, she found herself exiting the long hallway and out into the main area again. Classic music was playing, and the sounds of light talk and laughter filled her head. Her eyes momentarily roamed the room before she pursed her lips and slowly walked over to the rainbow-lit up drink bar. She could sit on one of the black cushioned stools, but she didn't want to. In fact, she didn't really want to be there. She wanted to leave. But she knew she couldn't—not without giving some space and time for the one and only desired man to come approach her. If he would.
Mirajane rested her forearms on the cool black, silver-specked marble countertop before her and a bartender came to take her order.
"Water," Mirajane curtly said, flashing the smallest of smiles.
The bartender gave her a questioning look for a second, but turned away to get her request. It was then when her first enthusiast from the upper-class world approached her. He was tall and handsome, adorned with a charming smile, and an air of arrogance she would probably be able to spot from a thousand miles away.
Wonderful.
"You're the mysterious beauty who just sang on stage moments ago, right?" he asked in a smooth voice, ordering a glass of his own.
"'Mysterious beauty?'" Mirajane echoed. A slight twitch in her smile. "Oh please, you haven't properly viewed this room yet, now have you?"
Their drinks came at the same time. Plus one extra one.
"What's this?" Mirajane asked as she grabbed at her glass of slightly bubbling water.
"My appeasement to you," he responded.
She eyed the two bright orange drinks in front of them, taking a blind sip from her own glass, and then looked at her unwanted guest. This man dressed in a black suit beside her had dark brown hair slicked all the way back and very pale skin. He had dark, very defined eyebrows, and was fairly tall and slim. He was clean and visibly very well-kempt. Probably a tease with the ladies.
And wasting her time.
"I won't drink it," Mirajane stated, taking a bigger sip from her own glass again. Her throat was slightly dry from singing.
"Oh? And can I get a name with that?" the invader beside her easily responded.
Shut up. "Yeah, do you need me to spell it out for you?" Mirajane asked, smiling her sweetest smile. Oh, she was becoming so irritated.
"Feisty. I like it. Okay. Let's hear it," he challenged.
Mirajane clenched her teeth while the words of the Black Dragon came flooding back into her mind of how she must conduct herself when in the presence of the other upper-class men. "You must be nice and charming," the Black Dragon had warned her that night. "You can't give off any bad impressions, or else... It'll be dangerous if you do." Ugh. What about the Trimens? What had they told her to do? She couldn't think.
She was just going to have to bite her tongue on this one, wasn't she?
"Shy?" came a low voice too close to her comfort, and just when Mirajane was about to face this imposter—because she already knew he was just like all of those in the underworld—he was a monster— a cold hand brushed her starlight-white hair out of the way, sweeping away the small barrier she had allowed to form to separate his vision from her face. She froze stiff, her heart beginning to slowly race in her chest. This monster's hand was now casually placed on her right shoulder-blade.
No…
Her insides began to drown in disgust as his touch shifted.
Stop…
She could feel his fingertips causing the shift in her dress' shoulder strap, making it slip a little.
Don't…
She was petrified. What could she do? Was she supposed to grin and bear it? She couldn't mess this up. Was slapping his hand away too much? She obviously couldn't create a scene by shoving him to the ground or punching him in the face and kicking him in the gut or else she would lose it all just like that!—but she didn't want him touching her. His touch wasn't even close to her little brother's. It wasn't even similar to the Trimens'. It had bad intent seeping out of his skin, and that put her on edge. It felt too similar to that one time—her first time unwanted hands had grabbed her. How did this appear to other people? Did it look as lewd and foul as it felt?
What if Laxus was watching? What would he think? What if this stupid tiny little interaction ruined her chances? All of her efforts would go straight down the drain—
Suddenly the pressure from this monster's hand became stronger, and her mind when numb with panic.
Please…
"Rupus Matchinski," abruptly sounded a new male voice further to the right, past Mirajane's assaulter. "Can't you tell you're making her feel uncomfortable?" He sounded bored, but his voice was laced with annoyance.
Mirajane leaned forward curiously to peer at her rescuer with her heart full of hope and anxiety. When she spotted a royal blue-haired man with slightly shaggy hair and an unimpressed look plastered on his face, eyeing them while resting his chin lazily on the palm of his right hand, sitting a few seats away, her heart dropped a little. Of course it wouldn't be him. She was such a fool. To think that she already had this much hope in Laxus… But disregarding the cynicism she felt inside, that didn't mean she was ungrateful for this new stranger's interception.
"You know, you're beginning to make me feel uncomfortable over here, too," this mysterious blue-haired man said with a dull sigh. "Go back to sitting with your parents, Matchinski…before I tell your dad to come get you."
The slick brown-haired man, Rupus Matchinski, snickered. He took a step towards Mirajane's newfound hero, and his hand slipped off of her shoulder. Finally. Rupus stopped in front of the royal blue-haired man, seething: "Fernandes. Still as prudent as ever, I see. Well. You may have done a huge deal to my poor little sister, Renalda's, heart, but in the end, I'm glad she didn't end up with someone like you. Someone who's still chasing after an imaginary girl. If anything, this Scarlet-girl you told my dear, sweet little sister about is all a lie. If not that, probably a long dead girl."
The royal blue-haired man's face remained like a tranquil lake, so unmoving and untouched by his surroundings. But the tightening of his left hand that rested on the black, star-speckled countertop near his drink didn't go unnoticed by Mirajane's eyes. "You're making a bad first impression, Matchinski," he then said coolly, causing Rupus to huff, readjust his suit coat, and walk away with his nose held high, not even bothering to look back at Mirajane.
Monster. Manners were like one, too.
Mirajane sighed and closed her eyes, finally taking her seat on the black stool tucked beneath the counter. She really needed to sit down now. She already felt so much better and cleaner, but it didn't take away the contaminated feeling she felt prickling on her right shoulder-blade.
"Don't mind him," the royal blue-haired man said, recomposing his posture. "I'm sorry I didn't intervene sooner," he apologized with a weak smile.
Mirajane blinked at him. Then she mirrored his smile, saying: "No, you helped me, and I'm grateful for just that. Thank you." She clutched onto her slim arms, sliding her cold hands up her bare skin and having her left hand readjust the thin strap that was now sliding off her shoulder a little more back into place. It felt so much better to have that back in proper place on her shoulder. Even though it was such a tiny little strap, having it slip off her shoulder or move in any way that would make it seem like it would slip off, it made her feel incredibly vulnerable.
"No…I shouldn't have let him go as far as to touching you," the royal blue-haired man said softly before taking a sip of his drink.
Mirajane could only stare at him.
"Oh, by the way, I wanted to tell you: Your song was beautiful. I really liked it. It was different…and I felt like I could resonate with the sound and lyrics more than any other song I've heard," he went on to say after setting his drink down. He then looked over at the mystified starlight white-haired girl with dark night blue eyes and smiled gently. "I'm Jellal Fernandes by the way," he said, and that's when Mirajane saw the dark maroon mark over his right eye.
"Mirajane," Mirajane replied, smiling. There was something so reassuring about Jellal…and there was something about him that was familiar. She'd never met him before, had she? No…but she did know him from somewhere. Had she seen him in the news before? Did the Trimens introduce about him to her? She may have been dazing out thinking about other things when or if they did now that she thought about it.
"Pretty," Jellal complimented casually. "So, Mirajane," he began, "I haven't ever seen you in these parts of Magnolia before. Are you traveling to sing?"
"No…" Mirajane said, thinking back to the words the Black Dragon had told her to say when people asked her who she was and what she was doing with her life. He didn't really give her anything specific to say, other than to keep their deal a secret and, rather jokingly: "Just tell them you're there because your parents want you to find a nice husband." She pursed her lips. "I'm…well, you see, my uncle…he lives in these parts of Magnolia…" Jellal nodded his head in understanding "…and…he really wants me to find a nice husband to marry…but because I've been so sheltered my whole life, he wanted me to try and meet new people by making myself debut in places like this," she said with a shrug. Lame.
Mirajane couldn't believe her skills with casual conversation lately. Maybe it was because she still wasn't sure how to comprehend all of it yet. She absentmindedly twirled her soft locks around her left fingers.
"Ahh, I see," Jellal said, finishing off his drink. His eyes rested on his empty glass, seeming a little distant.
Mirajane had been staring at Jellal for a while now. His style of dress seemed a little more regal compared to most young men she had spotted while on stage; his long navy blue coat was embellished with gold chains on the shoulders and pockets, with one linking the front hems of his coat together near the collar; there were also official pins above the left breast pocket. He definitely had a cool air about him, and he was handsome—he probably had a lot of admirers, such as Rupus Matchinski's little sister, if she had presumed correctly. He seemed like he would be someone well-respected and quite prosperous in the upper-class world, too—he definitely had to have made the newspapers at some point. But she couldn't pinpoint his image anywhere within her memories. For whatever reason, she couldn't break the urge and need to know more about him and his affiliations.
"Hey, Jellal, earlier that man had mentioned, 'Scarlet-girl,'" Mirajane began to say. She caught the subtle flex of muscle in his jaw the second she had said "Scarlet-girl." Past lover? Suddenly the image of a certain scarlet-haired friend came to mind. She pursed her lips and gripped at her elbows, leaning forward on the black countertop a little so she could see more of Jellal's face. The deep maroon mark around his right eye was hardly visible, but she could see a little of it. "If…if you wouldn't mind, could you tell me a little about her? Maybe I can help," she said.
If Mirajane remembered everything Erza had told her correctly about this blue-haired childhood friend of hers, then this person who now sat a few mere inches away from her…
Jellal remained silent for a while, but Mirajane had patience. And it paid off once he started to speak.
"You know, normally I don't like to talk about her with other people, but…something about you reminds me of her. There's a fire within you. One that feels similar to hers," Jellal said with a small smile breaking his serene features; his eyes were still distant.
Mirajane pursed her lips and frowned a little. There was a certain sadness about him, molded in a lonesome mold, filled with longing and a broken hope that just wouldn't seem to keep together. It was similar to Erza, but slightly different…yet the strong feelings of desire were on the same level. He wanted to meet Erza just as much as she wanted to meet him…because they were in love. Yet somehow, they had become separated and lost contact.
Mirajane had it down to an art at this point. She could immediately tell the difference between corrupted lust and pure love, no matter the form. She'd been in a place full of girls with lustful desires and the every now-and-then mishap of falling in love with a monster only to have their pathetic heart be broken for such a long time that the moment Erza had mentioned this "blue-haired boy," Mirajane knew. That was the first time her heart cried for someone else other than those that shared her own blood. And now looking at this royal blue-haired boy whom she just so happened to have the fate of meeting…
"Just like the color of her hair, she had a bright red fire burning within her. She was always so strong, physically and mentally, and she stood up for those around her," Jellal went on. "We were only kids, but…" He snickered. "I wonder what she would think if she saw me now," he said darkly, grabbing at his empty glass and peering at its empty contents. "I'm so weak…she probably doesn't even need my help now…but I still want to protect her. Yet just as Matchinski said, she could be a long dead girl by now."
"You don't know that…" Mirajane involuntarily mumbled.
Jellal went quiet, but as he set his glass down again, another gentle smile broke across his solemn features and he said: "You're right. I don't know that for sure. But you know, we grew up in an orphanage, and I was fortunate enough to be adopted by a kind, loving couple who was barren, yet not even a few years later, the orphanage we had grown up in had caught on fire…and they couldn't save it. A lot of deaths were confirmed that day, and I guess you could say I was one of them. But I found a little bit of hope after running into a past friend whom resided there just before the incident had happened. However, in the end, I never could find a true confirmation about what happened to her."
Now that Mirajane thought about it, the Trimens had gone over a case about the Orphanage of Eden. That was the same place Erza had mentioned once. How the fire started was ambiguous, just like every other case that seemed to make a starring spot in Fiore history.
"You don't have to look that sad for me," Jellal suddenly said with a light empty laugh.
Mirajane wasn't even sure how to respond to that. It was sad. Jellal was looking for someone whom he wasn't even sure was alive or not, and he was on the brink of giving up. The only thing holding him together was a thin string of hope and probably the desires to see Erza's smiling face again. Would he be able to find her before that string broke, though? Indefinite. Would he go to the underworld to look for her? Yes. But would he find her in time? That was the part Mirajane was concerned about. She had to do something…but how? How could she help not just him, but Erza as well, without giving away her true identity and background? She still needed so much more time in this upper-class world before she could let it shatter, yet Erza…she shouldn't have to spend more time in the underworld than she already has had to...
"Mirajane," Jellal called out to said-girl, suddenly standing up and locking eyes with her. "Thank you," he said. And he meant it. "You're the first to listen sincerely to me and actually believe she exists," he said. "It gives me a little more hope."
Mirajane shook her head, unsure of how to cope with her inner turmoil. If only he knew…
Jellal gave Mirajane one last smile. "Well, I must be going now, but if you ever need any help, just let me know. The men in this world aren't always what they seem on the outside…" he said quietly, eyeing the three glasses in front of Mirajane. "Are you staying for the grand dance?—oh, actually…here's my number and address," he said, pulling out a rectangular case from his pocket and slipping out a small business card to give to Mirajane. "I really mean what I said. If you need anything, it's safe to come to me," he said gently, and when Mirajane locked eyes with his, catching the slightest softening of his expression, she found his sincerity and trusted his words. His night blue eyes soon wandered their way back to the drinks, however.
"Well, it really was a pleasure meeting you, Mirajane. I hope we can talk soon," he said, turning to walk away, but abruptly stopped in place. He craned his head to look back at the three drinks with a solemn face. "Also, don't drink from any of those glasses," he added, his dark eyes meeting with hers once more before he saluted a small goodbye and resumed his departure.
All the while, Mirajane had distractedly glanced to the three drinks before her then back to the given small piece of paper in her hand. "Jellal, wait—!" she had started to say, finally looking up, only to see the royal blue-haired man already too far away. "She…Erza's still alive…" she quietly ended in a whisper.
For the next few minutes, Mirajane sat alone at the bar, staring down at the small business card given from Fate himself in her manicured hands. She looked up at her glass of water and reached out for it, only to freeze still. Didn't Jellal just warn her about the drinks minutes ago? Her stomach suddenly dropped and she stared at her glass of water. Hard. Now that she thought about it, it had been fizzing a little when it first arrived…and its color now wasn't as clear as normal water typically was. And she had drunk at least a third of its contents.
Mirajane abruptly stood up, heart pounding, taking her leave just as another young man had walked up beside her and ordered a drink. She ignored his eyes and all other forms of interactions designated towards her to come. She was walking briskly with her eyes solely on way to the exit and only one goal in mind: to get out of this place as fast as possible and get home even faster.
"Ah—!"
Mirajane had brutally collided shoulders with someone of fairly decent stature, and that sent the balance in her head spiraling like a slow push-off on a merry-go-round. "Oh, no…" she whispered with her right hand that still gripped onto Jellal's business card pressing up against her forehead. So, her glass of water really had been drugged…
"Oh, my—I'm so sorry!" the man she had collided with was saying. He was slightly older with round golden-framed glasses resting on an aquiline nose, clad in a three piece tweed suit, had salt and pepper hair neatly slicked back, and a clean, well-kempt Van Dyke beard to frame his face.
"No, no, it was my fault—are you okay?" Mirajane began to say, trying her best to regain poise and normalcy.
"Oh, I'm fine, my dear, but what about you?" the older gentleman went on to say.
"Thank you, no, I'm fine—I'm sorry, I really must be leaving now," Mirajane said briskly, yet as politely as possible. Her head... She wasn't feeling too good anymore.
When Mirajane made it outside in front of the large grand Italian restaurant, a few glossy cars passed by on the red brick streets in front of her; other than that, however, it left her standing all alone on the dimly lit roads. The sky was dark with dark lolling clouds, and there was a slight chill to the air. It smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but there was no one standing outside. How was she supposed to get home? Where were the men in striped suits? Now that she thought about it, her ride back home was never discussed.
Mirajane looked to her right and left. It seemed like everyone was either at home already or all inside Rosa Nera; it did seem like a full house, now that she thought about it, and it was incredibly enormous inside. When she looked up at Rosa Nera behind her, its massiveness seemed to engulf her vision, causing her to stumble a little to the side. She suddenly was beginning to feel a stronger sense of nauseous swell within her tongue. She could go back inside Rosa Nera…but she chose not to. If she passed out, it would create a scene, and she just wanted to get away from the place at this point. So, with that determination in mind, she continued walking down along the street, suddenly feeling an urgency to get away…but from what?
As Mirajane went further on, perceiving her breathing becoming a little shorter and the feeling in her legs becoming weird, she then noticed two figures coming towards her. Her gut dropped at the sight, so she turned around, only to find three more figures coming towards her. She had a terrible feeling about them.
"No…" Mirajane groaned, turning back to look at the other two figures. That's when she saw an opening—an alleyway between Rosa Nera and its neighboring building a few steps from where she stood. She clenched her teeth and headed towards the dark passageway. Be strong, be strong, be strong were the words in the chant she had reverberating inside her spinning head. She could still walk fairly well according to her standards, and she had good control over her limbs still. It was still okay, it would be all right.
When Mirajane got mid-way down the dark pathway, finding it was a dead-end, as expected, she put the slightly bent business card she had received earlier and tucked it down her bodice. It was slightly ironic to think she had been given a number she could call for help, yet she had no way of calling that person when she needed it. A grim smile twisted her lips. She supposed that was just the game of life. In the process of her adjusting the front of her dress, she kicked a few half-burned out cigarettes lying on the ground nearby away with the tip of her right heel.
If anything, however, Mirajane couldn't lose this business card. She pursed her lips, and then craned her head to look behind her, finding the five slightly large figures all beginning to enter the alleyway, so she turned around. She took in deep breaths and stared them on with tightly clenched hands. It was okay because she wasn't knocked out yet. The drug hadn't quite taken over, and she wasn't like her fifteen-year-old self anymore. She could win this fight without a weapon. And drugged.
Mirajane closed her eyes to help soothe the spinning in her head. Once she heard the scrape of shoes on the brick ground bounce back to her ears louder than her own comfort could bear, her eyes snapped open. The first challenger was a couple steps away and reaching out for her. He rested a hand on her shoulder—she punched him straight on in the face. A grunt of pain escaped his lips, and she proceeded to knee him in the stomach. He fell to the ground.
The next two challengers to approach her seemed smarter than the last and opted to work together, but a hard swing of her leg and stab of her elbow, she had kicked away one and made the other release her neck from his arm that had been suffocating her. Her head was starting to spin with more pressure from the toxins in her system and lack of oxygen, and she could sense the strength leaving her limbs—but no—she wasn't going to let them give out on her—not yet! Please, not yet!
She swung her arm, and her target ducked, throwing a jab her way, but she barely side-stepped out of reach, swiftly returning another hit. Her tongue was beginning to burn with an even more intense feeling of nausea, so she clenched her teeth even harder, shoving, huffing, punching, puffing, ducking, gasping, blocking, grunting, kicking, heaving, tripping, panting—giving it her all, doing everything she was capable of, doing everything she had brawled off with Elfman and Erza in the past to prepare for these seemingly inevitable moments. Now that she thought about it, it was through the start of these trainings that her younger brother felt inspired to bulk up quite a bit. She wondered how Elfman was doing now…
She missed being held in his warm arms.
A strong wave of emotions welled up within Mirajane's chest, reaching her fogging eyes. There were so many things going on—internally and externally. The stress was getting to her mind and body, and her limbs were beginning to really feel unstable, but the adrenaline in her veins were enough to help her ignore all the dizziness, pain, and stinging and force energy into her hits—then there was a flash of bright green—what? She furrowed her eyebrows momentarily, but with an overly energy-exerting hard swing of her leg after being shoved and pinned up by her wrists against the brick wall and a high-pitched yelp from whomever she had just knocked to the ground and an even stronger pull on the imbalance within her head, she forgot about it, stumbling forward into the brick wall to the left side of the alleyway across from her. Upon looking up, that's when she spotted yet another masculine figure coming her way, and this one…he was colossal.
"You're kidding," Mirajane puffed out weakly, vaguely aware of how wet her cheeks had become from the overflow of tears while this large shadow neared her, stepping over two bodies on the ground. He really was huge. Or was it the drug? Either way, she was reaching her limits.
Her heart was pounding in her ears, she truly was out of breath, and her entire body was burning furiously, yet Mirajane shoved herself off of the wall and balanced herself on her shaking limbs. She could feel her legs were about to give out soon, and the fact that she was still wearing heels only magnified the frail feeling. As the seemingly herculean figure neared her, she was given a little bit of fire when she realized this hulk was actually similar sized to her younger brother, meaning she had a chance at taking him out…if only she wasn't so worn out and drugged.
Mirajane attempted to hide fatigue as she stepped forward boldly and threw hits at this approaching goliath, whom she quickly realized may not even be from the same group the first few men she had fought with were from. Something about him was different, and he didn't smell like cigarette smoke. He smelled intoxicatingly like musk—someone from the upper-class world—but he wasn't wearing a suit coat nor tie and had his white dress shirt unbuttoned a little at the collar and all on the sleeves so they could be folded up to his elbows. He was dressed with the expectation to fight.
Yet…he didn't give off an ominous vibe.
And this whole time, he had only been blocking her hits.
Now, why was that?
As Mirajane continued with her weakening attacks and cloudy vision, drowsiness suddenly began to weigh down and mix in with the spiraling of her head and heaviness of her body, and frustration ultimately breached the top of her confusion. Why couldn't she even get in one proper punch on this guy?! Suddenly, in one swift movement, the palm of her hand slapped hard across his cheek, echoing loudly down the dark alleyway. She could've sworn she heard a far too dramatic gasp behind her, soon followed by the unmistakable "Laxus!" crying out from behind her, but before she could look up and take it all in, her body had finally given out and the fog took over her mind.
The last thing Mirajane felt and would remember was the catch and embrace similar to her younger brother's around her shattered body, and a warm hand just like her younger brother's shifting her head and gently wiping away the tears that painted her delicate face just before she would ultimately once again spiral down another dark rabbit hole.
It's been a long time coming. ;) And this chapter took me a thousand years to write, and is very long. I'm not gonna lie, I'm quite proud of the song I wrote, though (but the more I read it, the more I cringe, so I don't know, aha). Main sounds and inspirations come from Lana Del Rey, music from The Great Gatsby (2013), and this other song. :)
Anyways. Thanks so much for reading! :D