The door suddenly burst open, a large emergence of unexpected entry. Wooden door slammed against orange plaster prowess, large portal widened, a hungry mouth of horror, eating away at emptiness, insatiable air. Flattened, dim ceiling lights lit up the room like morning, the wise nothingness of the square, orange prison blunt with the starchy, dull smell of stale air. The loud clatter brought Kokori Dylan to sit up, his eyes suddenly awoken from the cold-water fingers of slammed vibrations.
He gasped, breathing air, the innocent boy unable to catch his breath for a mere ten seconds. First instinct would have told him to stare at the door, to sleuth the intruder. Even this was lost. Gathering thoughts and pulling them back from the uplifting air with invisible, mental fingers, Dylan shook his head, blinking. He pulled the covers to his legs and slowly, brought his emerald gaze upon the door. How long he had slept, he did not know. All he knew was that it was a new day, and he was tired.
Beyond his eyeing caught the very familiar face of the Botanical Council, Kakori. A nostalgic smile was spread across the bottom of his face, lips curved in a too-happy stretch, a sickly joy. "What's going on?" he asked, examining him closely with suspicion deep in his eyes, twinkling faintly, distantly, invisibly. Kakori's dark-green, tied hair remained stiff. Eyes were acknowledgeable, friendly and noticed. A few steps told of his presence, whispers of soft clicks against hard, grumpy ground.
"Don't get so crazy," Kakori calmed as he walked, holding something in his hands. A thin, silver tray of food lay beautifully in his rested fingers, wide, flat bowl of a sweet, drifting aroma with tall cup of orange, silver utensil associates glimmering its petty concave and thorny smiles in light. It shook as he walked, rattling uneasily, balanced unsurely. "I figured you were hungry, so I made breakfast," Kakori said. Suspicion continued to twinkle. Clear vulnerability retorted from Kakori's expression.
"Really?" Dylan said, looking rather weird just up in the morning without his orange headband that lay comfortably on the nightstand table. The white-haired Minor seemed dumbfounded as he watched the silver mirage approach him.
"Yeah," Kakori answered, as if Dylan had asked an unintelligent question. "What?" Kakori asked as he approached slower and slower, getting closer and closer. "You sound so surprised."
Dylan took a while to adjust. "Oh, don't get me wrong; I really appreciate it. But…" His face turned solemn. Kakori wondered what was wrong, stopped. "Well, it's just that, you rarely find anyone that will just do you a favor out of the blue."
Kakori seemed to think about it, steps frozen. He looked up in thought, watching the flat ceiling lights dig fingers of light greedily into the food, wanting to take it all for itself, a hunger never satisfied for many lonely years. "Is that so?" he asked lightly. "Well then," he said without completing the sentence, resuming his walk towards the Minor. The white-haired boy seemed more confused than ever. Kakori walked and placed the tray on the nightstand table by Dylan's trustworthy headband. The silver tray clattered against the wood, utensils shaking, trembling with fear. Fragranced smell of fresh food lingered and replaced the sickly, stale air. Morning – morning for Dylan – became delightful. He couldn't help but spread a smile on his face, just like a peanut butter and jelly lunch scattered across soft, fragile bread. "Goodbye," Kakori waved a goodbye as he walked back towards the door. Soft clicks made concealed whispers as they whisked away from solemn shoes. "Don't stay in bed too long," he warned fatherly.
"Yeah," Dylan promised with a mutter, a confused a mutter, a mutter of puzzlement, suspicion, but happiness. "Thank you," he almost forgot to say as the door shut him back in. He felt like a prisoner, getting fed in silver, cleaned trays of food, locked up right after. He whiffed in a huge load of air into his nostrils, nurturing them with delicious taste, the wafting smell of hot, steamy syrup sending a crave through his nervous system. Then, having had enough, he took his orange, sun icon headband eagerly and put it on, making his appearance complete once again. It was cool against his skin, having had enough time to soften up and freeze during the night. It was refreshing, like a cold, heavy towel of awakening. He rubbed the sand out of his eyes and let them fall randomly, off of his mind, and then, wasting no time, brought his gluttony hands to the cool silver tray.
Outside, Kakori waited. He felt the doorknob under his adult hands and leaned against it for support. Worry replaced the friendship in his white, blanked out eyes. Don't get too comfortable, Dylan, he begged of the Minor, as if he could hear him. When Hibiyomi returns, you can't be sure whether he'll go after you first or not. Slowly, full of restraint, Kakori moved away, gliding, scraping the floor with unsure friction with his wooden slippers. His presence slowly faded.
PoVS
"Okay, first, before we begin, I need to tell you something," Minoa said as Teresa trailed her back. They walked into a large room from the dark hallway, brightly lit up in spirits and area. The walls were painted a happy, confident orange, spread out for space, space used for who knows what. No furniture lay in the room, a barren nothingness stuffed inside, and no matter how much nothingness you stuffed and stuffed, the room still never overflowed. It was an unlimited supply, unlimited register of money, greedy, greedy money of green envy and sin.
Together, they walked to the center of the room, and then Minoa turned facing the shorter girl who was just a head smaller than she. She gave her a daring look. Teresa didn't reply, eyes wondering just why she had called her here. Minoa seemed tense, nervous, more nervous than usual. "What is it?" Teresa asked, forcing herself to talk and end the lingering suspense.
"Inside you, you know there is a Half Spirit, correct?" Minoa became all serious, all business. Faces crossed. Teresa followed. The purple haired girl would not let herself become the weaker one of the two, no matter how true this fact was. Nothing would stop her.
"Yes," Teresa answered, willful.
"However, there are certain things that combine and connect your powers to your body, giving them sources of power," Minoa began to explain. Ceiling lights flickered, scared, alert. Walls seemed to crumble in reality, twisting, churning, whirling out of control in a downward spiral of spirit, unseen to the naked eye, melted. Minoa continued. "These things, the things that connect from your main source of Half Spirit energy storage to your body parts, are called 'links.'"
Teresa nodded, letting her Council know that she was following along, that she was paying full attention to her best ability. "Each Free Spirit power, in fact, all kinds of powers, whether it is White Cloak's or yours, has a special combination and location for each linked part. You have to know these in order for me to teach you what I promised." Once again, Teresa nodded once more, taking it all in. Minoa went on, glad to see that her Minor was being so cooperative. "Let me tell you yours. Remember these wisely. If any of your links become damaged, power control may become unstable, and your body will most likely outburst out of control." The violet-hair listened, and gulped. She was sure to make extra meticulousness into this. "Usually, the more gates you have, the more powerful one is. In your case, you have seven. There is one at your left hand, and another inside your forehead, connecting to your brain's mental systems."
"One at my left hand…" Teresa muttered to herself, bringing that same hand to her face, examining it, comparing it with her right. There seemed to be no difference, but in fact, there was. How hard it was to figure out where gates were! Teresa was amazing, and continued to listen.
"Your linked profile is very special, Teresa," Minoa smiled, suspicious. Teresa blinked, unsure of what Minoa was really saying. Her eyes pleaded an explanation from the council's lips. "This meaning that the other five other than the one at your mind and the other one at your left hand are constantly moving throughout your body." Teresa was shocked. Could links really do that? Wouldn't they need to stay in one place to operate? "I know what you're thinking," Minoa joked. "And yes, usually, they do need to stay in one place to operate; however, this is also another reason why yours is special. The other five, which are usually based at your two legs, your front torso, your back, and one at your stomach, will usually and constantly move around by command of your mind's gate, releasing constant Half Spirit energy throughout your blood stream, which eventually float upwards towards the layers of your skin, and emerge in harder-than-diamond crystals which you can mold together in telekinesis, creating one thing you know as –"
Minoa used her hand to explain the rest. "Force field," she completed, holding her hand up and releasing a constantly flowing wisp of the purple stuff. It was like a slowed flame, slowly cracking at the air, wisps of it flying and escaping, dissolving, finally knowing it was unable to live on its own, unable to survive at its own cost. The energy crackled, and Teresa was wowed by the entire thing. She had never known that the Half Spirit had done this to her. "Now, I need you to keep this information in mind. You may need to use this later on. It is your decision on how you use it. Now, this is the task I need you to complete," Minoa began.
Teresa locked the information deep into the corners of her mind, replaying the words like a broken tape inside her head a million times over just so she could remember it. "I want you to somehow figure out a move that will help you regularly by using these gates. We have no time to waste, so I suggest we start now. Let's go!" Minoa insisted, begged, pleaded, rushed.
Teresa wordlessly accepted. Or- it was more like she had no choice but to – since she was suddenly whacked against the cheek with an invisible force, something totally unseen to her. She tilted on her feet, falling backward as she slowly brought herself back in confidence, feeling the hurt and pain sear through her left face. She lifted her eyes, and with them, came mean, cross eyes, pale with a white snowy color, scribbled with a dark pentacle. "So you were able to figure out I was using spirits. Good," Minoa muttered in compliment. The Council closed and reopened her eyes, and emerged her own set of pale, scribbled eyes. People had to wonder. Which one was better? The orange of the bright room became dark. Readying her stance, Teresa waited. The broad room was full of space, and finally, she figured out the reason why Minoa had brought her here. "Now, let's begin!" Minoa declared, sending a green-lit sphere arsenal of will-o-wisps at her, darkening the area.
Teresa spotted each one, and they came at her slowly and expertly like bullets. Thinking of something quick, Teresa jumped from a few, blasted a few with her left arm, sending out a wave of force-field energy. "No!" Minoa denied that technique. "Too easily pierced!" The spirits zoom and cut straight through the energy and made direct hits to her. Pain spread out everywhere in her limbs. She fell to the floor, weakened and finally getting a sense of how hard this would be. She got right back up, her hair flustered, arms weak, heart not ready to give up. This is going to be hard, Teresa thought, standing straight back up again. But, I'm not giving up. Never! She prepared herself for the next round, all ready breathing heavily like an elephant.
PoVS
Derek whistled a tuneless melody as he strolled down the dark, empty hallways of never ending path. Darkness surrounded him, but he didn't care. He was used to the dark. The dark was his home. His straight black hair felt smooth, cool, ignored as his impatient feet walked down the hall even further. Darkness awaited him, crawling shadows of nothingness blocking his view. He would not know when the path would end, when the next corner would be met.
Then, suddenly, hearing echoing, faraway footsteps other than his, dark eyes widened. The clicking of faraway shoes were almost so near, so close, he could almost feel them, touch them, smell them. Darkness whisked the presence faster, quicker, closer. Derek froze. His feet were able to move, but his suspicion kept them still. His arms carelessly stuffed into his pockets, he easily waited, waited because there was no place to hide, waited because there was nothing else he could do. The footsteps neared. They clicked nearer and nearer, a warning of some sort, a churning, grinding noise of hell that emerged from its shell, a piercing sound of an evil, devious flute that swam through the air. Someone's coming, Derek pointed out in obviousness. He need not tell such a thing to himself. He all ready knew, and there was no one around him to tell it to. Darkness erupted everywhere. Everywhere and every place. It gave suspense. It gave a lingering suspense that kept Derek waiting, kept him waiting patiently and time-wastefully; however, he didn't care. Derek was one of the most patient people in the world, and he waited, just waited.
"Oh? Well, if it isn't Derek-kun!" a cheery, happy voice called out. No, this was not Zack's, nor was it Dylan's. It was one just as annoying thought, and reopening his eyes in ignorant bliss, Derek met eyes with a council member.
"Kakori-sama?" Derek spat out, as if not expecting someone like him to appear out of the blue. He found the green-dark haired Council standing suddenly before him, unexpectedly close. Half his face was eroded in shadow, eaten away by darkness, hateful darkness.
"May I help you?" Kakori asked, a cheery, jubilant smile wide on his face, unable to be wiped off. Derek disregarded the idiocy that appealed to him and just went on, stating his problem. His eyes wandered carelessly to the unseen corners of the room as he spoke, wearily. His hands continued to be stuffed in their respective side pockets of his long shorts.
"Yeah," Derek said in a long tone. "Do you know where Hibiyomi is? I've been searching for him everywhere and -" Derek was cut off, his voice elongated in boredom, deep in maturity and coolness. He was surprised, yet not as surprised as one could be when he was suddenly interrupted.
"No," Kakori answered bluntly, not letting Derek finish. "Haven't seen him anywhere. Sorry," Kakori muttered finally, starting past Derek. The Shadow Minor made suspicious looks as he watched the Botanical Council walk straight past him in an unacknowledged way. His voice was blunt, dull as a number two pencil used for an hour straight. "I don't think you should very well search for him, either," Kakori spat out with a monotone voice as he froze his feet, putting his steps on pause. The clicking of his shoes stopped. Time seemed to freeze. "He's doing some work for the Council."
Derek, now filled with suspicion, answered, "I see," as dully as one could get, even duller than Kakori. His eyes were fixed on the taller man's back as the footsteps resumed themselves in a certain automaticity. "Thanks," he blankly spoke. Kakori did not answer. Soon, the man was out of sight, and soon, Derek was back alone, left in a solitaire of thoughts, a prison of interior monologue. He began to start for the end of the hall, nearing it, hearing the darkness whisper to him, beckon him, taint him with temptation, temptation that would soon poison him. However, he refused as he went on, pushing the darkness backward, pushing it, bullying it, shoving it back and back and back until it finally crumbled into tiny bits, no place to move anymore, bullied by just Derek's calm-headed, cross stare.
What was that just now? Derek thought in notion, disbelief falling into chunks into him. He cleared his throat, nervous. Then, with a sudden rush of energy, ran off.
"You're showing too much emotion," and unfamiliar voice called out to him as he began to run. Derek froze. That voice was so unfamiliar, so strange, so untrustworthy, that it scared him half to death. His eyes broadened and froze, unable to go any further. His black eyes shuddered in their tight, closed space as he slowly turned his head back, finding nothing but darkness waving a deceiving hello to him. Then, slowly, assuming it was nothing, turned back, and resumed his running, keeping his eyes peeled more than ever. No way… Derek thought.
PoVS
Rick sat in a lonely corner of an unknown, lost room, a room unable to be found, off the charts. He didn't even know where he was. The Inner World was so confusing, no one could figure out where they were once they took a look around. Every room, every hallway looked the same. They were all just different sizes. Was this some kind of security for the Council? The blonde boy thought. Then, crumbled into a tiny ball, Rick thought about Marissa. About what she said to him, and about what he thought of it. She's wrong, he thought in certainty.
"Where does that leave me, Rick? What have I done in the past that has made me so important, so valuable to guard, to protect like a valuable treasure unwanted to get lost. What am I? Where does all this leave me? Why am I so…so… useless to you!?"
He remembered her many cries of uncertainty, many cries of desperation, doubt, hesitation, moans of tediousness filling her with tears, with retching, retching tears. When she shed tears, Rick felt like shedding tears as well. She's wrong when she said that, Rick repeated in his mind again, half his face hidden in a wrapping of arms. He sat like Teresa had sat at the last day of Swamp of Mystery. It seemed that this pose would remain the mysterious, thoughtful pose for the rest of the series.
The truth is, he began. She doesn't even know how much she's contributed… to me. Marissa, he pleaded, begged, did everything he could to get her to listen. He got up on his feet before he finished the sentence, heading for the door just so nearby and convenient. Open your eyes. What's the point of having all this power with no purpose to use it for? Rick thought in honest truth, pulling open the door with a creak. Even the wooden portal made a sinful groan of despair, depression, doubtfulness. He felt the cool air brush against his face from the dark corners of the hallway. Nothing but black lay before him, but he was not scared to face it. He did not care for those swirling wisps of hate, whirling grudges, blinding folds of sin.
The doorknob remained cold in his hands, cold with thoughts, thoughts pouring into his mind that he so didn't notice, that he so did not care for right now. Then, suddenly a presence emerged from the shadows. He was shocked, scared, maybe, even a little. Then, the figure came clear to him. Raikettei, the Lightning Council. He seemed to ask his mind's question with an optical communication. His hand remained on the doorknob, ready to shut it; he didn't know why. Was he becoming paranoid?
"Rick," Raikettei called his name. Why did hearing his name change him so? It was like a call to him while he was faraway, a call to bring him back to earth, back to reality and realization so he could see things for what they really were, and what they really meant, and not what other people perceived it to be, mistakes of the past lead to mistakes of the future, after all. The blonde boy froze and stared at the bald-headed shape of his council's face. It took his mind off things. It trapped his thoughts, took them away, brought them to solitary confinement and imprisonment for safekeeping. Rick did not need such thoughts in his mind, lingering around like a dreaded assignment waiting to happen, a nervous test inside his mind. "Now's not the time to be fooling around," Raikettei explained. Rick seemed confused.
"What're you talking about?" Rick said, staring deep into Raikettei's green, jade eyes. They seemed to hide something, hide something of knowledge, envy, belittlement. They hid Rick's secret and Rick's problems behind them, solid, emerald doors of solitaire, a good thing to have in a moment like this. A good thing to have indeed, Rick. Not even this blonde teenager could understand. He seemed to want his problems back. He seemed to want them completely, unnaturally, like they completed him or something of the sort. How abnormal.
"Come," Raikettei demanded without explanation. He turned and began walking down the hall. Rick forgot about the hand on the doorknob and released the hold, poking his head out the threshold of the door and watching Raikettei's back slowly begin to get farther and farther away. "I have something to teach you," Raikettei muttered without eye contact.
"Teaching?" Rick muttered unsurely, doubt filling his mind. What did he mean, teaching? Since when did there become something worth teaching at this point? Just what? It made no sense to Rick.
"Yes," Raikettei answered, turning around ever so slightly. His right shoulder faced the Lightning Minor as his face turned completely. His eyes were narrow, cross yet friendly with a smirked, faked smile. "About your links," he answered. Rick blinked, wondering just what was about to happen. Soon, he found himself following the Council.