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NOTES
The only warning is a fair amount of angst. I think.
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That night she dreamed again.
The rushing river had drained. The wind had returned to a slight breeze that carried an edge of cold; the seasons had changed. Leaves went from green to grey and began to fall, and they swirled in small circles across the ground. The sun was especially dark.
The dark-haired man was standing there, arms at his sides. Trees loomed behind him, tall as mountains. The exciting and frightening emotions were gone. He wore a mask of serenity, but every fiber of his body was wrapped in sorrow.
In front of him, ignoring him, sat the other man, talking to a small boy. They did not seem to notice him, nor did they seem to care. It was a scene of reject.
Why am I seeing this?
The figures melted grotesquely like candle wax.
The clock tolled one.
-----
Ririn woke at the sound of the bell. Her body was fevered, dripping with sweat, and her mouth was dry. She tried to get up but each of her bones screamed in protest, shooting splinters of pain through her muscles.
Against her body's will, she staggered onto the floor, and aimed for the exit. Her dizzy head was making her nauseous. The lurching walls spun around her and she stumbled out of the room, only to find herself hitting the hard tile of the hallway's ground.
She resisted the urge to cry out - for her brother, for Yaone, for her mother, for anyone to help her. Instead, she curled herself into a ball and wept.
-----
It was far too quiet when Ririn woke up again. She was lying in her bed, a wet cloth draped across her forehead. Her blurred vision did not allow her to see the clock, but she could tell it was late in the afternoon by the way the orange sunlight slanted through her windows.
Sliding a hand under her pillows, she brushed against the papery surface of the Sutra, and squinted her eyes shut again.
What will I do when they find out it was me?
She sat up a bit, and slowly pushed her pillows aside. The Sutra looked hardly digified, just another well-used scroll. The writing on it, from what Ririn could read, seemed nonsenical, and she shouldn't help but think to herself, Useless.
There was a knock on the door. Ririn nearly passed out with fright. Frantically she shoved the Sutra under her blankets, making a face as it crumpled between her knees. Yaone was already coming in the door.
"Oh, are you already awake? I thought I should bring you some dinner."
Ririn smiled a toothy smile and nodded, hoping Yaone wouldn't notice its superficiality. The woman was carrying a tray with cups of soup and juice and rice. She placed it on a table to the side, and then sat gently by the foot of the bed. Ririn watched with nervous intensity.
"You know... you should have told us you were sick." Yaone was looking at her hands while they creased and re-creased the hem of her skirt. Her voice was filled with concern, but Ririn could hear the accusation clearly, as if it was her fault for making them worry, and it stung.
Two thoughts collided in her brain in an onslaught of fear and anger: I didn't ask them to worry about me, and Why do they even care about me?
"Don't...." Her voice shook and she kept her head down so she wouldn't see Yaone's face. "Don't...." She could feel tears on her cheeks, cool against her hot face. "Don't treat me like a child!"
With an angry kick she thrust back the covers and leapt from the bed. She snatched the rumpled Sutra in a fist and sprinted out the door, leaving the startled Yaone behind. Ririn took off down the hallway with as much speed as she could muster, and headed for the laboratory.