viii. white roses for blue girls
***
white roses for blue girls. grey days for the detectives.
***
Hard, sun-baked asphalt. Air that shimmered from the misty clouds of dust that rose up from the orange-brown ground.
Right foot first. Good. Now, the left follows that, and repeat. Walking. Good, good.
Cracked leather suitcase with well-worn handles placed uncomfortably in soft, white hands. City girl's hands.
Not a girl.
Skirt on, though, and long hair. Crossdresser?
Not a boy, either.
The sun beats down, threatens to give her (that's what we'll call it for now) heat stroke. The stench of sweat, and nicotine from the cigarettes she inexplicably found in the unfamiliar suitcase and, on a whim, decided to try out. No sunglasses, though. Is nothing sacred?
She glances down at the ground, sees nothing, than looks up, sighing at the stretch of dry road that met her squinting eyes. It's hopeless, her sagging heart tells her.
"You're not going to give up, are you?"
Her head darts back to the prim, demanding voice, and her eyes are met with one of the strangest girls she's ever seen. Raspberry colored hair, long, with two buns (...this hairstyle is suddenly familiar), and neon-green-yellow skirts and drawers and petticoats and tube top. And strapped on fairy wings. And scrunchy bracelets on both wrists and ankles, which are also met with ballet shoes the same color.
"Are you me?" Nakuru asks tiredly. She's familiar with the drill.
"No," the thing snaps. "I'm the tooth fairy." She sighs, rolling her eyes to the sky, flipping her hair. "I'm your conscience."
Doubtful, Nakuru asks, "I thought it was a cricket...?"
"Nevermind," her conscience snaps, turning away from Nakuru (who notices that the strange girl is floating a good inch of two above the ground). "I see you don't need me."
"Wait!" Nakuru calls. "Help me...please?"
***
and all we want is for you girls to come home soon.
***
"So, what you're saying," Nakuru says, tapping her knees, "is that this is some mystical road that I need to take to get somewhere where I need to do something."
"Yes."
"Well, that sure explains it all."
***
Left alone, now, Nakuru watches the silver pale moon rise in the inky sky. She was scared. She had no idea where the hell she was, she had a suitcase full of weird crap, and she was supposed to walk towards certain death.
What the hell was going on?
***
on her bed she left a letter. asked her friends to never forget her.
told her friends that she wouldn't be coming home soon.
***
She set her suitcase down, staring at the barren landscape, squinting from the sun and darting her head around. "I think," she began, "I think I'm lost."
The lands were dry, unfriendly and wary to strangers. No water for miles, no shade, no trees, no people, no life...that kind. Instead of being frightened, though, Nakuru just felt nauseous, and a little dizzy.
If she got hopelessly lost, and never found her way out, these lands would be unrelenting. Grabbing the cracked, heavy suitcase from the side of the road she had placed it, she hurried along, head down as if she was walking through a room crowded with strangers.
Which, in a way, she was.
***
CONVENIENT (adjective)
1. Suited to personal comfort or ease.
2. Placed near at hand.
-CONVENIENTLY (adverb)
***
The woman pursed her poison-cherry red lips and snapped the enamel case shut with her pale, bony ostrich fingers. Next to her, lounging on a plastic fold-up chair was the Superego.
"It really isn't fair, is it?" the Superego said dryly, her voice a desert. Bored, she examined her blood red nails, licking her cracked and blistered lips with a wormlike tongue.
"You don't even know what that means," the woman said, turning away from the video camera. "And you have no place to talk, after completely failing your job."
The woman was tall, with hair that was a garish red color that was obviously cheaply dyed. Bony, she was dressed in a scientist's lab coat, its pristine whiteness matching her skin. Black, boxy glasses rested lightly on her pert nose, and her height was added to even more by the bright crimson high heels she was precariously balanced on.
"Oh, it wasn't a complete disaster," the Superego lazily responded.
"Yes, it was," the woman said. "Thanks to you, Hope got to her, and led her to the Babel Road." She flicked a few switches on the large gray equipment that hummed around the room. "If she makes it to the Mountain, then who knows what will happen..."
"You've forgotten," the Superego said, "she lost Tomoyo and Sakura."
The woman leaned against the computer, thinking for a minute. Slowly, she said, "But Tomoyo doesn't matter; all we needed her for was to spur on Sakura. And if Sakura has contact with the artifact, then our plans won't be needed and we shall be saved."
"But..."
"Yes, if she finds Sakura, and connects with her, then everything will be ruined. If she and Sakura commune, and the artifact finds its way into Akizuki's hands, then mankind will be destroyed."
***
and all we want is for you girls to come home soon.
no one, no one, no one, no one will ever grow up again.
***
Well, this chapter is kind transition: it's still the same story, but I'm going to be showing more of the big picture from now on. First, this story was all "Nakuru is being inexplicably haunted!". And now I'm going to show why she's being "haunted". And hopefully it won't turn out to be crap.
This story *might* take a bit of a backround if I start this one Evangelion story that the plot bunnies have decided to foist on me. Hopefully not, but just warning you guys. But, I can promise you that I will NEVER abandon this story until it's finished, no matter how many FLCL drabbles I am sidetracked with! I will prevail! *cue disco music*
As always--REVIEW! *__*