Disclaimers: Don't own, don't sue.
There was dust everywhere, but that was to be expected since people have refused to enter
this place in several centuries. The reason was a bit silly if you asked Duo; there is no such
things as ghosts or phantoms, so therefore there wasn't a phantom lurking in the old opera house
that they were currently using as a safe-house.
But looking over at his best friend Duo couldn't help but worry. Quatre's brow was
furrowed in frustration, 'probably trying to ignore psychic residue only he can sense,' Duo
thought to himself. Out loud he bounced up to his friend and swung an arm around his shoulder
and said "Quat ol' buddy ol' pal; if you keep your face like that it'll freeze that way."
"Sorry Duo, it's just that something happened here." With a sigh he continued, "there's
so much pain, anger, and sorrow still here it's almost oppressive."
"That's just the dust Q-ball."
A sneeze behind them alerted them to the presence of the silent three. Wufei was
glowering 'probably at the injustice of all the dust,' Duo thought with a smirk. His thought
were confirmed when Wufei muttered "there is no justice in all this dust" under his breath.
"Hey Hee-chan, who picked out this shit hole anyway?" Duo asked very loudly.
"H."
"That's odd. Isn't it usually J who locates these places?"
"J approved it, but mentioned H was very insistent about all of us staying here."
"Give the man a cookie he said a complete sentence."
Duo's boisterous voice bounced off the walls and started to wake up the sleeping
phantom. 'Who dares disturb my slumber?' the dark shadow thought. He looked through his
scrying mirror and saw the five boys exploring his domain. 'Who would be so foolish to enter
my sanctuary?'
The longer he stared at the five he started to sense something. 'She's here! She's
been reborn into one of these boys! She will be mine, once and for all. The form she carries
is of no difference to me, but which one is she?'
He formed his solid body and sank into his oversized thinking chair to watch. They
were an odd bunch of fellows, the loud one with a swinging braid was yelling and running all
over the place. The other four were quiet, possibly because they couldn't get a word in
edgewise. That is until the silent one with unruly brown hair and piercing blue eyes grabbed
his braid and shoved it in his ever moving mouth.
"What'd you do that for Heero?"
"Hn."
"Oh man, and I thought we had a breakthrough earlier. But I guess that sentence used
up your word allotment for the day."
The phantom shifted his gaze to the other two in his mirror, the fifth had wandered
off. 'No matter, I shall find him later.' The tall one had an unusual hairstyle that covered
half his face and leaving one expressionless green eye in view. He was leaning back against
the wall, as stoic as a statue. The other one was smaller, but not by much. His black hair was
pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Everything about him showed his
oriental heritage, from his facial features, to his white clothes of mourning, to the sword he
was polishing.
'If only I could tell which one she is . . .'
There was dust everywhere, but that was to be expected since people have refused to enter
this place in several centuries. The reason was a bit silly if you asked Duo; there is no such
things as ghosts or phantoms, so therefore there wasn't a phantom lurking in the old opera house
that they were currently using as a safe-house.
But looking over at his best friend Duo couldn't help but worry. Quatre's brow was
furrowed in frustration, 'probably trying to ignore psychic residue only he can sense,' Duo
thought to himself. Out loud he bounced up to his friend and swung an arm around his shoulder
and said "Quat ol' buddy ol' pal; if you keep your face like that it'll freeze that way."
"Sorry Duo, it's just that something happened here." With a sigh he continued, "there's
so much pain, anger, and sorrow still here it's almost oppressive."
"That's just the dust Q-ball."
A sneeze behind them alerted them to the presence of the silent three. Wufei was
glowering 'probably at the injustice of all the dust,' Duo thought with a smirk. His thought
were confirmed when Wufei muttered "there is no justice in all this dust" under his breath.
"Hey Hee-chan, who picked out this shit hole anyway?" Duo asked very loudly.
"H."
"That's odd. Isn't it usually J who locates these places?"
"J approved it, but mentioned H was very insistent about all of us staying here."
"Give the man a cookie he said a complete sentence."
Duo's boisterous voice bounced off the walls and started to wake up the sleeping
phantom. 'Who dares disturb my slumber?' the dark shadow thought. He looked through his
scrying mirror and saw the five boys exploring his domain. 'Who would be so foolish to enter
my sanctuary?'
The longer he stared at the five he started to sense something. 'She's here! She's
been reborn into one of these boys! She will be mine, once and for all. The form she carries
is of no difference to me, but which one is she?'
He formed his solid body and sank into his oversized thinking chair to watch. They
were an odd bunch of fellows, the loud one with a swinging braid was yelling and running all
over the place. The other four were quiet, possibly because they couldn't get a word in
edgewise. That is until the silent one with unruly brown hair and piercing blue eyes grabbed
his braid and shoved it in his ever moving mouth.
"What'd you do that for Heero?"
"Hn."
"Oh man, and I thought we had a breakthrough earlier. But I guess that sentence used
up your word allotment for the day."
The phantom shifted his gaze to the other two in his mirror, the fifth had wandered
off. 'No matter, I shall find him later.' The tall one had an unusual hairstyle that covered
half his face and leaving one expressionless green eye in view. He was leaning back against
the wall, as stoic as a statue. The other one was smaller, but not by much. His black hair was
pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Everything about him showed his
oriental heritage, from his facial features, to his white clothes of mourning, to the sword he
was polishing.
'If only I could tell which one she is . . .'