Disclaimer: Do you ever dream that something was real, but then wake up to realize it wasn't? Well, I had a dream that I owned Death Note and then I woke up...apparently I'm only that talented in my dreams. -^^-

Story Arc 1: The Project

April 9th, 2004

Chapter 6

"I'll see you later, okay B?" Drew waved, flashing a polite smile as he left, his sandals snapping against his heels with a sharp noise.

My own smile slowly melted away when he turned the corner, and I sighed loudly. I leaned against the cool dark wood of my bedroom door, feeling overwhelmed. The weight that had risen from my soul in Roger's office suddenly slumped itself across my shoulders again. I wasn't tired, probably a consequence from my sudden, demented ability to sleep for an entire day, and I had no desire to sit around in my room waiting for sleep to drag me under its seemingly blissful folds.

So I pushed off from the door and walked down the hallway, suddenly content to just walk the hallways and explore.

The shadows and dim lights lent the corridor an inky, mysterious hue. The light seemed to pulsate with an indeterminable tempo, flickering against the wallpaper, casting ethereal shadows. With the curtains drawn, the moonlight was stifled, an additional light might have made the air less eerie.

I found my way to the grand staircase, the chandelier dimmed to an almost impossible level. The only real light was coming from wall fixtures mounted along the partitions tracing the lip of the second floor. I followed the path around, ignoring the stairs in favor of the trail across from the corridor opposite the landing. The hallway exactly mirrored the other previous one, the same dark wooden doors lined one side while the windows lined the opposite.

I crossed my arms slightly, thankful that I had on my hoodie. The hallway wasn't cooler—the entire mansion seemed to stay at a constant temperature, even with the windows open—but the backwards familiarity sent a wave of vertigo through my body and felt a headache itch at the nerve of my temple. My bare feet slapped against the chilly floor, the impact sounding much louder now that the mansion was silent.

I passed by a few more doors on my way down the hall, the corridor seemed much shorter than mine, and I quickly came to an entrance barred by large, double doors.

They seemed to be made from the same wood as all the other doors in mansion, but instead of the plain polish on flat grains, this door had an incredibly intricate set of carvings etched into it. I squinted through the shadows. The deepest lines were centered between the doors; the crack between the two doors separated the picture in half, providing a mirrored image. The lines beginning in the middle swooped outward, growing fainter before dissolving into the flatness of the door panel.

I reach up to trace an edge of the picture, its smooth coolness allowed my finger to glide along on its journey unhindered. Such care, I thought. It felt as if the lines were carved too beautifully for a machine to have shaved a designed from wood. No, someone had to have taken the time to sculpt these handsome doors.

I wondered what could lie behind such a beautifully detailed work. Surely this wasn't the entrance to a random hall or room. No, this room had to be important. No other door was this grand, not even the front doors of Wammy House seemed to have this grand an entrance.

I grinned at the thought, sliding my hands to the equally gorgeous metal handles, eager to see the room that these doors hid. I tugged hard, checking to see if the doors were locked, and I flew backwards. My grip slid from the handles, the force sending me to the floor a few paces away.

A narrow trim of light illuminated the ground before the doors, the trail slowly thinned as the doors slid closed. I pushed myself up, wincing at my own eagerness and felt a bit of embarrassment crawl across my cheeks, making them warm. Good thing no was here to see that! Shaking my head, I reached forward and pulled the doors open.

The extravagance of the doors was not misleading to the magic behind it. The wood from the hallway stopped at the entrance to the room, leading to a lush, soft carpet. I curled my toes in it as my gaze flitted through the massive room; it was incredible, certainly much larger than any other room in the entire mansion. Mounted on the carpet, lined up like soldiers, were rows and rows of bookcases. While none of them held the carefully intricate carving on the doors, they were still made with dark, polished wood.

I followed down one of the paths. Rows and rows of books were squeezed into every free space, every nook and cranny, every hole and crevice. The amount of books was prolific, and I found myself wondering just how many books were there in this room.

The path turned right, every so often an opening would appear to lead into a little study nook or another pathway lined with books. I followed along the path I took, staying true to my decision, allowing my curiosity to lead me forward. Eventually, the path abruptly ended, leading into a circular area. Several other path lead to this place and I contemplated on whether or not this was the center of this maze.

The room was certainly less dim than the hallway. Lamps sat in several nooks, illuminating separate spaces in soft light, while a large chandelier, similar to the one hanging in the foyer, rested from an inlaid dome. Across its expanse laid swirling masses of color, starting dark and then fading into light.

"That's the galaxy." A gentle voice lilted behind me, and I turned. He sat, knee pushed up against his chest, transforming a plethora of multicolored Lego pieces into buildings, several of which seemed to be finished. The Legos were stacked into impossibly tall skyscrapers, reaching much higher than he could possibly stand, even with a chair. This impossibility left me slightly baffled, so I waved my hand to grab his attention from his Legos.

"I can see you just fine," He didn't glance up, he continued to stack the miniature building blocks. "So, please continue."

"How did you manage to get these so tall?" I signed, feeling a bit foolish gesturing to him when I wasn't quite sure he was actually watching.

But, true to his word, he answered, "With a ladder."

Perplexed, I looked around the room in search of the object, but the only objects were he, his Legos, and a few arm chairs surrounded by books. "There isn't a ladder here."

"I had the maid take it approximately twenty minutes ago, I had no further use for it." Click. Click. Click.

Ah. I stood for a while, watching the building grow until it looked as if it were an expansive warehouse or department store. "What is that one supposed to be?"

He was silent for a moment before answering, obviously caught up in his own revelations. "It's an airport."

An airport? He would have to expand that particular building much larger than he was already doing, so I told him as much, but he replied with, "This is the Kansas City International Airport, one of the most efficient in the world."

I blinked, taking in the information before he continued. "The airport consists of four different area for flight: International, Eastern, Western, and Non-public. I am trying to complete the Eastern Building."

Such a tremendous goal, and the buildings were so detailed, pillars and windows and doors and all. "Would you like help? I'm pretty good at following instru—"

"It's not necessary," He interrupted me.

I nodded, feeling a little bit uncomfortable now that I was plainly unneeded. Awkwardly, I watched as the albino stacked block after block, his porcelain hands working with such surety it never faltered from its path, moving fluidly. His other hand was gracefully raised, twirling a thin amount of white hair around his fingers.

Why am I staring at him? I felt my body tense with the amount of awkwardness I felt from standing and watching him build. So, I turned away to take a random path back into the maze, the bookcases quickly encasing me into their embrace.

So many books—titles in various types of writing. Some were evident to the contents, such as The Multi-Theories of the Universe and Their Mothers, while some were much more obscure: The Color of Emotion. I traced the edges of the shelves as I walked, the polished wood cool against my fingertips, until one caught my eye: The Beauty of the Woods. I pulled the book from the shelf, a layer of dust laid on the upper edges of the binding, where the book had been exposed to air instead of sitting against the other books.

I wiped off the dust with the sleeve of my hoodie, finding the binding of the book to be beautiful. Its dark navy suede was texture against my fingers as I pulled them down the spin, leaving a thin, dark trail.

Intrigued, I opened the book to a random page and found a poem, describing the intelligence of wildlife. I flicked farther in, turning to an abstract poem about the life of a tree. I read several more before I replaced the book back on the shelf.

The next book I pulled was bound by a hard, yellow cardboard with frayed corners and titled Me Amour. I flipped through the pages, finding several of them dog-eared and torn. The book was filled with page after page of poems about romance, and I silently scoffed a bit—no wonder that book was so over used!

I laughed and replaced the book on the shelf and continued on my way, following where the corridor of books led me. After a few moments the path spat me out into a small area, again, surrounded by bookcases. The bookcases arched out in a semicircle before coming to contact with a wall holding a red curtain covered window. However, instead of books in the bookcases there were rows and rows of CDs, tapes, records and sheet music. Along the edges of the "room" sat a couple of record players, on the lone table held a small pile of CDs and tape players. Along with the table, several plush chairs sat randomly throughout the space, each covered with its own blanket.

The room's music selection seemed expansive, and, as I analyzed and searched through the massive collection, I found it was rather diverse as well. The time periods seemed to span from medieval to present day, and were categorized from earliest time period to most recent. Intrigued, I picked out a CD from the earlier time periods titled A Collection of Gregorian Chants by Hildeburg von Bilden, then another further down that mentioned something about a tribute to Beethoven.

Taking one of the CD players from the table, I slid the Gregorian CD into the chamber. I walked over to one of the larger chairs, pulled the blanket from where it was draped over the back and pulled it over myself as I sat down in the seat. Reclining, I shuffled to make myself comfortable before placing the headphones over my ears and pressing play.

Edited 2/1/2015: gamergirl07 has edited this chapter for all of you...I owe her so much already I've only just started on this journey...so much thanks.

Edited 7/5/2015: InkstainedHands1177 is amazing and edited the chapter additionally!

A/N:

What do you guys think? I know it's a bit boring, but these chapters need to be written for the sake of character development and setting up the first story arc.

Stay with me and hopefully it will be worth it.

AAnnR