I really don't think I'm going to update this, seeing as I'm supposed to be working on another chapter, for another story. The five lines are from the song "Destory" by Fixmer/McCarthy. The song mentioned in the car ride is "Crucify" by Grendel. Pay attention to the hazel colored eyes, the begining might make sense in the end.
Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne, or any of the items mentioned that make money.
Unfocused, petrified hazel eyes hazily stared up at Death itself. "You are weak," he muttered, "and worthy only of desecration."
"No, no, no…" pleaded the girl in a frightful whisper as she subconsciously stepped back with every advancing step of her assailant.
A smile spread across his pale lips, forming a sneer, and he brandished his sword with glee.
"Please don't—"
Her words were cut short as a blade found its home in her chest. She sputtered and tasted the blood trickling from her mouth faintly. With a rough jerk, the sword was dislodged from her, sending her stumbling back into the shallow shoreline of the foggy pond.
He stood there, watching her open eyes glaze over staring up at him. The girl's blood seeped into the murky green water, changing the water around her to black. Crickets chirped solemnly in a private symphony for the dying girl, the last sounds of life that she'd ever hear again.
"Must you do that, she did nothing to you?" cried a soft voice from the water.
Red eyes looked down disdainfully at his reflection to meet angelic blue.
"She's nothing to me." He growled, but before he could continue with his rant a force called him back suddenly.
"I'm so sick of that alarm clock! We bought that damn thing for you! So wake-up and turn it off, I'm not going to ask again!" yelled a woman on the opposite side of a locked wooden door.
Dilandau Albatou opened his eyes and stared up at the popcorn on his ceiling. His alarm clock was not ringing, what his foster mother heard was his stereo shuffling through a few industrial and electronica cd's he had fallen asleep to the previous night.
He sorely got out of his bed and looked at the digital numbers on his clock, Great, ten minutes to get ready. His fingers grasped the small plastic remote for his stereo and he switched to complete control over his cd's. He found the one song that was running through his head and turned up the volume. After which, he stumbled to the bathroom, desperately wishing he had slept more last night.
Destroy nothing
Destroy nothing
Destroy nothing
To me you're nothing
You're nothing
These dreams are starting to bother me…but they feel so right. He brushed his teeth with half effort, half sleep and combed out his white-silver locks which lovingly kissed his face and attempted to hide his demonic gaze.
He looked down at his semi-wrinkled clothing that he had forgotten to change out of last night. I don't have time to change. Dilandau switched off the light and grabbed his black backpack. Resting on his knees, he turned off his cd player which sat on the ground, with regret and headed into the brightly lit rooms of his home for the past five years.
His blurred vision searched for his foster mother. "Hello?" he called out across the small home.
A car honked from outside and Dilandau spun around, mildly pissed. She could have at least told me she would be outside.
With a heavy sigh that hinted that more troubles were to come that day, he walked outside, petting his dog Jajuka in the enclosed yard, then slipped into an awaiting old silver Toyota.
"What took you so long? Trying to make me late or something?" inquired the woman with brown hair, periodically starting on, how she could not get fired from this job, through their ride to his high school.
Dilandau half listened, finding a few cds he had trouble living without in his backpack. He placed one in the car's CD player, prepared for the entourage of insults that would be thrown at him. At one point he smiled openly. She hasn't bitched about it, I'm impressed.
His mother's silence was soon gone, "What did that guy just say? Is he screaming or whispering? What the hell Dilandau! We are not going to listen to any music about crucifying." She rudely smacked the eject button and tossed the CD out the window.
That act was more than enough to wake the boy from his sleepy state. A growl formed on his lips and he unrestrainedly twitched while turning towards the woman. He boiled with rage and his eyes morphed from their albino hue to a deep crimson.
"Imbecile!" he roared, thoroughly resisting the overwhelming urge to snap her neck.
"I am you're mother and you do not disrespect me like that!"
"Respect? You just threw my property out the window, woman!"
"I'm your mother, Dilandau."
"No, you're just the fool-hardy bitch who believed that you could make some money off of me if I modeled. Well, guess what? That's not fucking happening!"
With a gasp and a sudden swerved brake that led them off the road abruptly, the driver screamed for him to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way.
"With pleasure." He muttered, slamming the door and heading in the direction of the school.
Dilandau trudged towards the school after seriously debating whether or not he should go and retrieve the cd. Missing another day of school might screw with my creds, better go. Anyway, the cd is probably broken…
He managed to make it to school a few minutes before the bell was to ring. For once I'm happy she tries to make me come to school half an hour early.
The hallways were a little more crowded than he liked, but he didn't have too much of a choice but to walk down the main hall. His locker was located there. He slightly stretched as he thumbed the correct combination in. His nimble fingers grabbed the latch to pull it up and open the gray colored locker. Only, it didn't open.
What the fuck? Why does this damn thing refuse to obey its rightful combination? He tried again, this time sloppily putting in the numbers. The locker opened with ease and held a few notebooks, binders, books, and many cd's. A Genitorturers and Otep cd cover was taped on the inside of the door, along with a few pictures of his dog.
He switched out the binders from his backpack, to his locker and was prepared to shut it, which was, before an uninvited guest decided to terrorize him.
"What is that thing?" a tall, blonde senior asked, his groups of idiots had been standing right in the middle of the hallway, like every other morning, laughing about nothing.
"A locker, I know they are quite amazing, aren't they?" The albino said with apparent sarcasm, once again trying to shut the door.
"No this," he extended his hand to reach for the magnet holding up the pictures.
In alarm, Dilandau's hand shot out and grabbed the other's wrist in a bruising grip, "Don't touch that."
"Damn, let go of me!"
"Never touch that." And with that malice-filled command, he gave the boy back possession of his hand and slammed the locker shut. He turned the dial a few times, to make sure it was unreachable.
The group of the blonde's friends had watched the scene and moved in, ready to taunt the boy. "So, what are you hiding in there?" asked a hazel-eyed beauty with short, stylish honey blonde hair.
"None of you're damn business." He growled out over his shoulder as he escaped from the crowded interior to the dark and abandoned grounds of the school. If he had found that little piece of paper behind the magnet…Dilandau physically shuddered, making a mental note to take that poem out from its hidden spot and into another soon. The poem was a love poem, addressed to his crush, Allen, just the boy who had been reaching for the crinkled paper.
He slowly came to his favorite spot, a railing behind an empty portable. A few blackened silhouettes of boys against a dark blue morning skygraced the area.
A teenager sitting contently on the ground was the first to notice his arrival, "Good morning."
After seeing the expression on his face, the boy mentally slapped himself.
With a sigh, Dilandau leaned against the beaten railing, sliding his backpack off, "I'm surprised the bell hasn't—"
A bell echoed through the school campus. "Shit." Murmured the albino, grabbing his bag and heading for his class without so much as a goodbye to his friends.
His combat boots echoed loudly as he took a solitary stairway to get upstairs. He slowly strolled down an emptied hallway; a whirring sound soon signified that he was not alone.
As he came closer to the intersection of hallways, the sound greatened. Dilandau walked in the middle of the hallway, about to take a right, when a scooter almost hit him. He jumped back in surprise, not expecting the small vehicle to have so much speed.
"Sorry, Mr. Dornkirk." Dilandau said as the old man jetted past him with oxygen tubes connected to his nose and a tank in the metal buggy in the front.
"Simply fate." The old man called breathlessly picking up speed as his raced down the hallway.
"Hn."
The teenaged boy sauntered into his first class and took his seat with visible contempt. The classroom's TV was playing the redundant music videos of MTV. A group of girls had assigned seats which surrounded him, so he tuned out their persistent screeching and rambling about attractive actors and musicians he had never heard of; he felt these singers and musicians were known by all but him.
"Dilandau, are you ok?" asked the teacher as she gathered her transparences on her desk.
"Why did you seat me here?" he asked, not caring about the sudden hush of the girls around him and their dirty looks. He sighed, Hm, maybe she asked me what's wrong because I look messed up. He grabbed a black compact from a small pouch in his bag. The mirror revealed to him that his red and black eyeliner was smudged from a night's sleep. He took the white powder and dabbed a little under his eyes to make him look a little less zombie-like.
The class eventually began and with only five or so interruptions from the annoying girls, they underwent the taking of notes and a discussion. He went through the rest of his classes, somewhat obedient, but thoroughly disinterested.
When lunch finally came around he headed to the multi-activity room. There, a line of snack and drink machines standing against a wall. There were also two counters selling food. He stepped into the line he found to be shorter.
A boy, a little shorter than him with unruly black hair stood alone in front of him. The pretty hazel-eyed girl stood in the neighboring line and leaned over, slapped the tan boys' ass, then returned back to her line.
Red-brown eyes glanced back confused, and all Dilandau could do was smile seductively. A frown crossed the violated boy's face as he inched closer to the front of the line. The girl laughed from her place in the unmoving line.
The boy smiled and turned towards her, "Oh, it was you! God, Hitomi, I thought some queer was behind me!"
"No, I would never let any fag near you." She giggled, stepping from her line, into Van's.
One person, that's ok, even if she is a homophob, Dilandau thought to himself.
They proceeded to chat nonchalantly about how terrible their teachers were and how this person was having a party on that day. A few more people that knew the two headed in front of Dilandau and the other waiting people behind him.
"I'm fucking sick of this." He growled under his breath, getting out of line to walk around the accumulating mass of people in front of him. Van was leaning forward, about to order when Dilandau showed up at the cash register and told the lunch lady what he wanted.
"That was so unbelievingly rude!" cried out a blonde girl with wavy, cascading hair.
"No, what was rude was for the seven of you shit heads to cut me." His red eyes dared them say something. Go on, today would be a perfect day for you all to die.
They remained silent until he paid and began to walk away. Gossiping dumbasses.
The albino boy stepped out onto the outside courtyard and headed for his shady corner, which was an outdoor hallway unused during lunch. The boys from earlier that morning were already sitting there, munching away and softly conversing about the innocent boy's precognition. Two additions were sitting with their backs to the brick wall.
Two girls, twins, with black eyeliner rimming their eyes like they were cats, sat beside each other. They were gazing down at a sketch journal with mild interest. "You need to sketch Mr. Fanel, he'd make such a perfect addition to your collection." purred the girl with deep gold hair.
"I'll do that Eriya." smiled the artist.
"No, sister, he should just draw him for us, both of us." stated the other girl with sterling silver hair.
"Dilandau, would you like to see my sketches too?" asked a boy sitting cross-legged with chin length brown hair and lavender eyes.
He shoved a few french fries into his mouth, "Yes." The paler of the two twins handed the book over to him with a hand containing five, long, sharp nails.
Dilandau flipped through the pictures of him and the rest of the boys. These are fairly good, but it's just art.
"What do you think?" asked the boy as he saw him near the end of the journal.
A loud and hypnotic ring tone sounded from the interior of Dilandau's backpack before he could give him any comments.He rummaged through the many pouches, finally finding the one holding his cell phone. He placed the small device to his ear without looking at the number. "Hello?"
"I want you to wash off that make-up and put on the clothes I have laid out on your bed when you get home. You have an appointment with St.Thomas Christian Academy at five, and you are wearing your blue eye contacts." His mother's voice droned on as Dilandau leaned against the wall in shock and dismay.
"Is that understood?" she asked after chattering on about how he needed more of God in his dark life.
He hung up.
He dropped the phone back into the open bag where he stood. Dilandau stared at the ground perplexed. That bitch, if there's one place that I don't like to be, it's church. He sighed. So of course, she wants to put in a hellhole controlled by a church.
"Dilandau?" asked the boy with the flaxen, bowl cut hair.
"Shesta, don't talk to him right now." Dallet said, grabbing his sketchbook from the ground.
"But" began Shesta.
"Shut up!" screamed Dilandau, his face contorting harshly with his cry. He began to walk towards the boy with lethal steps, intending to do some real harm. His blue eyes widened as he was shoved against the brick wall with a muscular hand placed firmly over his face.
His red eyes narrowed in satisfaction and he laughed from his sudden explosion of emotions, which filled the courtyard. The shrill cackle alerted administrators from their designated areas across the outdoor lunch area.
With that fact in mind, the sophomore let the boy go and grabbed his back pack. He zipped it up as he stormed away, heading to the library to wait for his next class, Chemistry.
Another buzz of the bell prevented Dilandau from reaching his destination. He detoured from his original route to take a quicker course. He reached the empty classroom and placed his bag next to his science table. His red-pink eyes scanned the room and found no one watching. Quickly, he took a hold of a gas spout and turned it on to allow the smallest amount of gas to seep and diffuse into the room.
More and more people began to slowly come in and the teacher made his way to the front of the classroom. Hm, so far no one's noticed that I'm going to kill them all.
The same group of girls that unluckily graced his first class, were scattered around in this class, doing the same thing, talking.
"Girls, the bell has rung, now get out your worksheets everybody and prepare to turn them in." said the tall and unorthodox looking teacher.
The girls continued to chatter endlessly while reaching into their large bags for little folders with cute kittens printed on them. "Yeah, believe me Millerna, you'll love contacts! Oh, and if you want you can get them in different colors like mine!" said the honey blond girl.
"Hitomi, is it just me, or is someone wearing really bad perfume?
"Ew, I don't know, but it smells bad."
The two girls turned around to the tan teenager sitting behind them. "Van, are you wearing shitty perfume again?" asked Hitomi.
"What?" he smiled, joyous to be involved in another random act of stupidity.
Millerna giggled sweetly, "Is that your cheap perfume we smell?"
"Oh no, but hey, it could be our teachers'." He whispered and the three looked at their instructor laughing quietly.
The tall, pale man was walking around, picking up papers and unknowingly giving students a chance to laugh about his obscure makeup and his constantly hidden right arm.
"Or better yet," laughed Van, "it's his." He pointed in Dilandau's direction.
The fuming boy caught the glances back and smiled evilly with his hand resting beside the spout, considering yanking the gas knob a little harsher so he could hear the reassuring hiss of gas.
"I think there's something wrong with that kid." Hitomi said smugly.
"Think? I know." Van stated.
Hitomi poked Van, "Hey, is Mr. Fanel related to you?"
"No! Oh God no," he said disgustedly, "I don't have a brother." Or not one around…
"Do you guys have you're papers?" their Chemistry teacher asked with his outstretched left hand.
"I'm getting it out!" cried Hitomi girlishly as her and Millerna pulled out a couple worksheets that were barely completed.
"I gave you girls three days to complete this assignment. Why is it not complete? Was it too hard?" he asked coldly in a condescending tone.
"Oh, no, we just didn't arrange out time properly." Millerna smiled.
"I hope to see some improvement from you girls or I'll be moving your seats." He said, walking away.
"That was a good one Millerna, where did you hear it?" Hitomi wondered out loud.
"Mrs. Tatern told me that would be more of an acceptable excuse than what I said."
"What did you say?"
"I dunno, I forgot." She laughed, pulling a bottleof strong perfume out from her purse. She squirted the substance five times in the air.
"Millerna, what are you doing?" asked Mr. Fanel.
"I'm just covering up that bad smell."
"This is a Chemistry lab. You cannot contaminate it with that perfume. Millerna, get out of my class room now." He monotonously demanded.
Dilandau smiled while he fingered the box of matches in his pocket and smelled the mix of gas and sick-sweet perfume. It's almost time.