A/N: Here's the latest chapter of A Threnody of Sorrow. Woo. I'm working on characterization and angst mostly, so sorry if this.. uh... depresses you? XD Plus I've been getting zero sleep lately, but I quite like this chapter. I mean, it's 12:20 right now. Call Elli OOC, but I call you 'wrong' for thinking everything has to be canon at the beginning.
Thank you MyShadowsThorn, HarvestMoonGlows, and The Scarlet Sky for reviewing. This is my favourite story to date so… thanks. Bunches. Hah… bunches.
Disclaimer/ Warning: Don't own HM, yada yada. Languageish. Lots. And lots. Of angst. Been a bit obsessed with that lately…
Well, enjoy!
A Threnody of Sorrow
They say that when you meet a cat's glare, whoever is first to look away is last to die. Be it the feline were the first to break its gaze and you, the miserable latter, an ill fate was to be waiting in time's net.
Dia was asleep in a doctor's bed, and however familiar she was to them she could not rest peacefully. A sheen of sweat glimmered on her forehead and her ebony black hair grew damp and untamed with lack of care. Her green eyes, possibly the only feature of her that still showed signs of liveliness, were covered. An unevenly folded, cold white cloth lay covering half her face like a surgeon's mask, except upside down. You couldn't see her eyes and foretell her movements— all you could see were her paling lips. All you could hear were her dramatic whispers…
I don't want to go. Who are you to talk to me like that? …Shut up!
From the outer windowsill, a smoky grey cat stared at her. Its eyes, which resembled the dead blue of broken glass, seemed to puncture through the damp cloth and into Dia's green gaze. It stared at her with such deadly intent it seemed like it had been frozen in place— until footsteps sounded in the distance and the door swung open.
"Out! Get out!"
The cat stayed for a while, making forceful sounds. At first they seemed like meows, but they quickly evolved into violent hisses. The new presence marched up to the window and whacked the inner glass with a rolled up newspaper. Only then did the ominous creature scurry away, eyes flashing as they brushed with the person's.
The cat was gone… for now. The gaze, too, was broken.
And so, Dia awoke.
"Gina…?"
So she stirs…
"…Martha?"
The figure grew stony on their feet, uncomfortable as their patient's list of names grew longer.
"…Alex…"
They opened their mouth to speak, but Dia spared no opportunity for response.
"Please… it hurts…"
They stilled, and if possible, turned even colder.
"Everything hurts. I don't care if you stick fifty needles into me, Alex. I don't care if you sit by my bedside and read me all those scary newspaper articles I hate, Gina. I don't care if you nag me to death, Martha. Please… I just don't want to be alone."
There was a certain air of sentiment in her voice that made the figure falter. "Dia?" Their first word.
"Who are you?" Her reaction was agile— surprised yet demanding.
They faltered. "…Your medicine. It's in the other room. Wait here." Her words spoke uncertainty. Yet, she found nothing to say.
She knew nothing of this girl, yet she almost felt her pain. She could hear the crack in her voice that made vulnerable all the rage accumulated inside her. She heard the plea in her voice, that very desperate plea that separated her from every other sick girl in the world.
She wanted to be free. She wanted so, so badly…
But what would that change in the end?
She thought she heard Dia begin to say something again, and was quick to make her exit. As soon as the door shut mutely behind her, a sharp gaze met hers.
"Doctor," she breathed, met with his eyes, dark and weary from hours of non-stop work. She studied them… they spoke no nonsense.
"Elli." He seemed to be studying her plain brown eyes as well. No artifice could be found in them, no deceit; so he continued. "How is she?"
"Dia?"
"The patient."
The rule. How could I forget the rule? Never refer to a patient by their first name. "The patient has just awoken."
"Has she shown any symptoms of—"
"The patient has just awoken," Elli repeated emphatically.
The doctor looked at her. An infinite display of meaning shone in that one short gaze, one no words could piece into a phrase or picture. He simply nodded, scrawled something into the clipboard branded into his right hand, and left to attend more paperwork.
Elli lingered by the doorway for an extra second, just thinking. What has this girl endured? Dia's voice… her words… it wasn't what she said, but the way she said them. This girl has went through so much pain…
A vicious cough was heard from inside, followed by many, many more. The nurse ripped the door open at her first reaction and quickly tended to the hacking Dia, who was kneeling symbolically over the bed. Elli quickly retrieved a garbage can, supplying it to her patient just in the wink of time.
"G—r—y," she thought she heard the sick girl whisper through her suffering.
"Stop talking. Let your body dispose of its waste. Talking clogs your—"
"Gr—ay," she hissed again, shocking the nurse quite a bit with the forcefulness of her voice. A whitened knuckle clasping her side signified she was still weak. "Now…"
Despite her former reprimanding, Elli was piqued. "What?"
"Show me him…"
Funny, her tone is taking on a whole new form…
Elli pressed on, still as interested as ever. "What did you say?" she urged.
A shock trickled through her as Dia shot up, swaying at her feet. "GRAY! SHOW ME TO HIM!"
She waited a few moments before responding. Just standing, thinking. There's something about her voice…the emblem of absolute malice in them. She… needs to see him.
"WHAT ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE FOR? DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME? I TOLD YOU TO—"
"Understood. Gray will be escorted here shortly."
Someone grasped the latch at the other side of the door and opened it without knocking. A man stood in the narrow opening, showing no melodramatic emotion.
"Elli, what's going on—?"
She turned around, facing him with no restraint.
"Gray. She needs to see Gray."
xoxo
Dia panted. She was alone now. Alone in a little white clinic with glaring white walls, immaculately sterile enough to make her nutty. She curled smaller into her blanket, which was, luckily, pale blue, and closed her eyes.
"Dia?"
That voice. She was hearing that voice again… it was real this time. The voice was coming from someone directly beside her. Should I scream?
"Dia?"
She kept quiet, hoping whoever was saying her name would give up and leave. But alas, they were stubborn.
"I know you're awake."
"… Just shut up, damn it…"
"See? I told you I knew you were awake."
She felt a demon roar inside her, grazing her skin with a cold wave of despair. Practically huddling now, she lost her edgy strength and whispered, "What do you want now?"
The reply was practically automatic. It sounded as though it had been through dozens of preparations, put on tests and charts to make sure it was said with one hundred percent exactness, accurate time precision, tone precision, word precision…
The reply, though, was simply this: "I want to talk."
Dia, caught a bit by surprise, left herself silent. "Then talk," she stated simply. "If you want to talk, talk. What's stopping you?"
There was a small pause at the other three-foot line. "Pardon me. I meant I would like to talk… to you."
The 'Pardon me' was said with no pardon. She could have sworn at her with the same tone. Prissy was the word that best suited it.
A snort. "Talk? To me? Why would you want that, now?"
"Oh, you could say I have a few questions."
"And who says it's required that I have to answer them?" Dia asked, with a condescending tone she hoped would overpower the receiver. She wanted to sound strong, to sound superior. But lying in a bed, hospitalized, and eternally weak due to no 'recent' cause, she wasn't sure anymore if such an act could even be pulled anymore.
She just wasn't sure.
"First things first," the voice pounded on, ignoring her completely, "why do you want to see Gray? As far as I knew, he was just a quiet blacksmith. No one cares about Gray. I'd be surprised if you even know Gray. So that's what I want to know… why do you want to talk to Gray?"
A little wire sparking inside her, Dia then remembered her abrupt outburst. She couldn't recall her exact words, but she could hear 'Gray' among her shrieks. Have I been talking absently again? she pondered. Damn it…
"Have you died, or do you really need to think about how you feel?"
Little trembles of hate and anger wavered through her limbs. Even through their first introduction, Dia felt as though she hated someone new already… but hate was a strong word.
Never could hate mean so much.
Silently, she answered the girl's questions. What makes you think I know why the hell I want what I want? What makes you think I even know if I know Gray? For some reason, she managed to hiss her last sentence, "How the hell would I know?"
There was a sceptical silence, long enough to make eeriness creep in. "Because you're you, and you should know yourself more than anyone."
Her statement was so… matter-of-fact. Like Dia was such an imbecile for not knowing. Like every word the girl said was pure as the fragrance of perfume. Every word would be a drink for a wanderer burdened with eternal thirst.
"News flash, sister: I don't." Unbeknownst to where and how she'd suddenly caught on to this sort of slang, the smitten silence was enough to make Dia proud of herself.
"You're one really screwed up patient, aren't you?"
The smile was slapped off.
"First you start screaming like a little, tantrum-throwing baby. Then you start barfing over the bedside, weak as a rag doll. Now you're denying, defying, whatever you want to call it, all the rules of existence. What do you think you are, some metaphysical being? Some psychedelic superhuman?"
More rage thrummed up her chest. She knew she should at least make an attempt to hold this violent emotion in— but something inside her wanted to release it. Test me, she wanted to scream. Try me. See what I can do to you.
And so, the final gasoline was provided.
"Freak."
Dia didn't need to hear anymore. Her eyes wrenched open and without even thinking— literally— her hand billowed forward and latched tightly against one unsuspecting neck.
xoxo
The large mansion's hallways were lined with bright, beautiful designs. Not practical and cheap like crepe paper, but royal and genuine like real, glittering gold. The interior design of the walls blended perfectly with the ground carpeting— everything was, in short, perfect.
"Hey… hello? You there?"
A young girl, with bright eyes and dark contrasting hair, tried hard to be hidden and unseen. Alas, the boy found her shrinking against a wall.
"What are you doing? The banquet's starting soon! Everyone's waiting for you"
"What do you mean, what am I doing? What does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped.
He blinked, annoyed and a bit surprised. "The banquet—"
"Oh, screw the banquet! Since when have I cared about any banquet, moron?!"
"Well, apparently this one was really important so I suggest you—"
"You know what? Just save it. I'm staying put."
He didn't even bother protesting this time. Rolling his eyes, he muttered darkly and sarcastically, "Well if you don't want to go to the banquet…"
She seemed aware of his answer. "My room? Snacks?"
"…How did you know?"
They grinned and started off, elbow-to-elbow, when a snap sounded behind them. They both looked over their shoulders at the exact same time, a bit older girl hurrying to catch up with them.
"You guys! Where are you going? Don't you know? The banquet's in—" She stopped in her tracks when she saw what the dark-haired girl was wearing. "You're not even dressed yet!!"
"Of course I'm dressed. I'm wearing my perfectly pretty green pyjamas. Are you insinuating you don't like my pyjamas?"
"No, but that's not my point. The banquet is in—"
The two sighed simultaneously. "Come with us."
"Where are we going?"
They took her by the arm. "Just come. And loosen up a bit, okay? Stop getting so worked up. It's bad for your facial features."
"What—?"
"Smile, alright?"
She blinked, unsmiling.
"You'll see… one day you'll grow up cranky. Not a smile on those pretty pink lips of yours."
"…Oh, shut your mouth…"
Laughter suddenly rang through the halls as the three continued down their way, oblivious to the growingly angry hosts just beyond the walls at their sides.
A man, dressed in an authoritative red, began to grow erect. An opposing women in all pink rose quicker however, sparing him.
"Save it. I'll get them."
With a disapproving scrunch of her rose-red lips, she got up from the table and headed toward the corridors.
