whimsical
melodies
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°
deux.
miasmic
n i g h t m a r e s ;
squolette
squalleon
x olette
¤
He had to save her.
He couldn't let her die. He couldn't fail her. Not like last time.
Not like what had happened at Hollow Bastion.
No. He had to save her.
Before it was too late.
h u r r y ...
He could still see them; the images that haunted his nightmares played through his mind over and over again, like an old-fashioned record looping infinitely in the phonograph of his consciousness. Images of her, lying on the floor, a portrait of shock painted upon her features, her widened chartreuse orbs staring lifelessly at the ceiling; of a simplistic china teacup, filled to the brim with steaming amber liquid, and a gloved hand stirring in a teaspoonful of strange white powder; of the very same cup, now dangling by the handle from her pale, unmoving fingers, its once-warm contents now pooling around her body like saffron-colored blood.
they h a u n t e d his n i g h t m a r e s ...
He quickened his pace. He had to hurry; he couldn't afford to waste time, couldn't afford to dawdle. He had to get there. Before it was too late.
He had to save her.
h u r r y, Leon ...
He had to save Olette.
×
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.
His footsteps echoed loudly in the empty halls of the hotel. He was close now; he could see his destination: a wooden door at the end of the hall, painted a brilliant vermillion, patterned with latticed streaks of gold.
he was so c l o s e ...
Almost there. He could see the doorknob now, gleaming from the sparse moonlight that peeked through the curtains on the other side of the hall. And now he could grasp it, encircle it with his hand, turn it. Now he could break down the final barrier between him and his nightmares.
He prayed that they hadn't come true.
he took the barrier d o w n ...
The door flew open, ricocheting off the polished wood of the wall with a bang, leaving a dent in the otherwise flawless varnish. Several picture frames in the vicinity wobbled violently before tipping over, their glass shattering into a million pieces on the floor.
Just like Leon's heart.
a m i l l i o n pieces ...
His cobalt eyes widened, pupils dilating until they were merely pinpoints of darkness against his sapphirine irises. He blinked several times, as though it would change what he saw in front of him into something else, something more pleasant.
But it didn't. Everything was still the same, even when he opened his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time.
e v e r y t h i n g was the s a m e ...
Everything was there, exactly the way he had seen it in his nightmares. Strands of burnt mahogany hung limp from her bare shoulders, their ends skimming the surface of the ginger puddle that was staining her tangerine shirt a dark terracotta. Unseeing orbs of glazed malachite stared up at the heavens; her pallid fingers were curled loosely around the porcelain chalice, the morbid vessel that had caused all of this to happen.
she stared up at the h e a v e n s ...
And in that instant, he knew.
His nightmares had come true, despite his prayer.
He was too late.
too l a t e ...
He was too late to save her.
just like l a s t time ...
"OLETTE!"
x
x
x
end
¤
Disclaimer: I'm not even old enough to work for Tetsuya Nomura.
A/N: Muahaha. More angst. Which will probably be rewritten.
No,
I don't know where this couple came from.
And yes, I know I was
supposed to put up a Roxette.
But then this idea popped into my
head.
The next one is a Roxette for sure.
dedicated
to r i k a .
for getting me into crack 1 0 0 .
reviewzomg
s'il vous plaît
