Perspicacious: Chapter Prologue
A/N : OC brainrot is real—
Warning : Nothing too serious, but there are some suffocation
Word count : 2.2k
Dividers by : @/saradika
He could feel the wind blowing his hair, sprawling on the curves of his face as he snorted irritably, eyes slowly fluttering open and immediately attracting the attention of a pair of eyes, he looked up to the person whose head hovers above him and saw their gaze full of adoration.
Who…?
They chuckled while brushing his locks of snowy white hair away from his face, their hands were calloused and fingers—not as long as those akin of piano fingers—but still long enough to leave wispy trails on his head. His eyelids would slowly shut itself once more and feel the gentle air lulling him to sleep.
Where are the colours…?
If it wasn't for the person to open it back up with force, they placed their thumb of their open hand against their forehead with a pouty face to which the young man sighed lightly and sat up, sitting eye to eye with them. He felt himself smiling as the younger one showed their messily braided hair.
“What is it, ████?”
What did I just say?
The younger one placed their fist with their thumb sticking upwards on the palm of their other hand, then dragged them to their chest. “Sure sure, c’mere” the tween sat on his lap and his calloused hands did the handiwork, the strands of hair he carefully weaved together would flail around by the wind, one by one he’d put them back in place, the serene atmosphere eased his muscles and he felt himself humming absentmindedly. But he’d be lying if he said that rearranging the slipping strands back into place didn’t piss him off, “kid, your hair is really slippery y’know that?”
Why am I doing this again?
The ‘kid’ shook with hands on their mouth, head turned to look up at him with mischievous glint in their eyes, he felt it despite not being able to see it clearly “don’t move, I’m gonna mess it up!” They just shook even more, giggling at his annoyance. The man sighed and rolled his eyes. This kid was clearly a piece of work, but he was amused nonetheless and made quick work with the braiding. Long silky two-tones of ██████ ███ █████, adorned with ribbons. His heart skipped a beat.
Pink.
H̸̙͚͐̋̆a̴͈̺͗̀̈́v̵͈͕́ę̴͍̙͖̃̇͊́̾ń̸̡͖̙͎̌̈́'̸͖̬̾̎̐ṫ̴̛̬̲̱͕͐͝ͅ ̵̠̩͕̏w̶̡̥͓̳͒̐ͅơ̵̢̬͕͈̎̑̍k̶̻̰̓̇͘ȩ̷̡͇͔̈́̈́̂ṋ̷̣̱̱͎̇͆ ̸͉̦̣̲̩̓͌̿̕u̴͈̒p̸̥͙͔͂̽ ̶̼̜͇̗̬̔̏̈́́͊s̷̰͛́̅͝i̷͕̽̎̍͌̕ņ̵͕̫̻͎͒̉c̷̼͚͇̯̘̿͘e̵͙̞̞̊̾̀̽.̵̹͖̙̙̟̉̉͗.̴̺̹͚͎̆̓͜.̴̭̉̿͋̐A̵͖̼̥͒͗͘ ̷̣͚͇̈ĺ̶̲̜̋̊ȯ̵̼̬̇́̽n̶͓̝͉͎̍̾̅̕ģ̵̖̻́͂̆̇̐ ̴̯̳̲̜̑̎̄͝ť̴̨̰̜̯͔i̸̜̖̭̐̈́m̶̢̜̠̙͉̔͆̉e̴̢̪̞̞͐͝͝
What was that…!
Tied into a four-knotted ribbon. He couldn’t see it clearly, but he could’ve sworn there was something on their face, an unreadable expression despite the blur of his vision…? Or…what is this? Something’s nagging at the back of his mind, groaning, massaging his temples as it keeps shivering at whatever’s bothering his mind. The kid stood up with what he could assume a worried expression, he could see the corners of their mouth made a downturned arch. Their hands reached out to his, “dear, it’s alright” ████’s not taking it, but their hands dropped to their sides at his assuring smile.
Who are you…?
Tack tack tack tack tack tack tack…
The scent of boiled vegetables wafting in the kitchen, only silence enveloped the living quarter aside from the knife making contact with the cutting board, same could be said for the soft scratching coming from the other side of the living space. ████ was probably carving something again. He raised the cutting board and let the vegetables fall into the boiling water, accompanied by the ingredients he had put in before.
What am I doing here?
His head tilted and his hands were frozen in position. The sound of the boiling water bubbles rose and popped in a matter of seconds, crashing the metallic walls with its contents bouncing with the waves. Are those carrots? Are those radishes? Potatoes? Slowly softening its texture alongside the grays… or greens of whatever leaves he put in there starting to lose its density and become more limp.
Y̴͉̜͇͔̥͂̂̅̑͋́̓o̴͔͂̌̈́u̶̇̆̊͜ ̷̢̱̯̟̗̣̺̣̈̎c̵͇̬̩͋͑̉̋͝ͅa̴̓̀͋̕͠͝ͅņ̸̧͛̅̌̽̅̓͂͠ ̴̛͍͔̳͍̖̞̞͆͛́̿̆̋͝u̶̲̣̓̓͐s̴͖̞̜̼̗̀͐̓̍́̂̕͝ͅę̶̧̛̪͚̬̠̩͍̏ ̶̼̀̔̊̓̈̓͝͝m̶̧̘̹̜̈̈́̂͗̎͝ę̴̢̛͉̬̪̳̲̈̔͐̊͜ ̷͚̭̠̞̹̹̖́̆̈́̂ͅä̵̡̧̠̹͉́͊̌͑̕͝͝s̶̛̙̈́͒̇̓̎ ̶̘̖͈̠̤͙̜͈̾̓̆̑͋͠á̷̀̚ͅ ̷̙̥̭̤̆̋͑͂̂͐͜͝c̸̛̪̟̝̺̩̹̓͐̉̀̊́͝ṙ̸̨̫̭̾̀̈̐́ụ̷̲̠̝͍͒̆͠t̶͉̣̋͜͠c̵͗̌͋͛̏ͅh̷̢̢̝̗̗͎̥̊͘̚
There’s that voice again…
Attention went elsewhere, instead of expecting the familiar gust of wind he only saw walls, doors, tables, potted plants on shelves with vines running along the wall, garlands and lamps hanging off the ceiling, carved statues from wood sat on the windowsills. ████ would change the garlands every so often when its colours began to fade or when it started to cripple, he always thought how cute that was. For living in ████████████, a world untouched by ███ █████, this life wasn’t too lonely with all these.
How did I…
A tug on his shirt brought him back from his trance. The younger one, the kid, it’s evident that they’re afraid of…whatever’s wrong with him. The man jumped upon contact, looking down and gazed into their eyes and their hands, one still had its grip on his shirt while the other was kept close to their chest. Putting down the kitchenware before kneeling down to their eye level, “hey hey I’m alright don’t worry” he motioned to his whole body, assuring with a gentle squeeze on their shoulder.
He could sense the hesitation when they nodded, “nothing to be worried of” that uncertainty still lingers and he just got a hug from ███ ████████, his heart clenched and swelled at the gesture but hugged back, hand on their shoulder and hair, caressing it lightly. There’s nothing wrong with him, they don’t need to worry about anything, he’s here.
Then why does it hurt?
There was something new in the area—green—a carved wooden statue sat on the table painted in green. ████ looked at the direction his attention went to, spotting their handmade statue and a smile made its way to their face, releasing from the hug and took the small statue for him to see.
Like any other of ████’s creations it was made of wood, inspecting the bumps and corners of the handiwork a tug of his lips would turn up. It is no work of a professional or a master carver, the carves were still rough, the shape maybe evident and the painting was quite messy to put it lightly, but he loved it.
“This is really pretty” It’s definitely something he hasn't seen before, it looks like a serpent yet it has the characteristics of a lion, cute, then he took notice of two wings on its back.
The kid pointed at the serpent, held both fists up—palm facing downwards—then moved them down, then their right hand tucked in their middle and ring fingers before moving their arms diagonally across their body and face. “Really? That’s awesome” they gave him a closed eyed smile as they bounced lightly, giving this winged lion serpent another inspection he noticed something.
Green.
…̴̧̦̗̹̮͍̏D̷͔̪̭̤̞̖͓͋͂͂̈̃o̴̬̗̫͛͋̿̆͌͜͝o̶̯̬̒̚m̸̯͎͔̃s̷͓͙̀̌d̴̨̬̹͎̓͐̿ä̸̧̟́̂͜y̴̧̨̭̹͍̓̀̈́͘ ̵̧̢̜̟͉̙́B̴̝͖̰̦̱̖̳̆̋͋e̵̩͈͙̝̓͂͆a̷̳͂̄s̶̡̭̯̍ẗ̵̡̼̞͉͇̫́ͅ,̸̙̮̟͇̠̲̔̅ ̷̡̧͖̼̭̼̿t̴̘͚̝̅̉̂̉͛͆̚h̴͉̳͎͇̍̓͂̂̍͘͝ė̴̻̰͇͓̈́̕ ̷̡̢̦͙̓́͂͒͌̏̚L̸̰͈͍͙̊͒̀̀̽̅e̵̢̖͉͗́̆́ǵ̷̺̗̞͘ì̷̤̣͖͈ö̵͖́͆͊͗̐̋n̴̩͚͐̉̆́̓̕'̷̞̟̦̂̌s̸̨̛͙͖̖̅̇͆̉̃ ̶̙̥͚̮͍̀̊́̓͝p̵̱̼̈́̇l̶̗̳̆a̴̮̽̃͆̄̉̌̀ṅ̵̨͕͎͔̳̌͑̋̀̋e̸̡̟̹̤̦̿̈́͗̈́̚͝ͅt̴̢̧̞̤̹͉͛̐͂̍̏͜ ̴͉̹̐́͊d̷̨̙͕̣̉̍͛͒̃e̴̅͛͜s̷͔͓̣̙͔̳̋̀͒̏̆̿͠t̷͈͓͕̰̟͈̿̍̄̊̾̈́ŗ̵̟̟̘̆́̿͝o̸̢̖͌͐͝y̷̧̺̪͇̅̋̾è̶͈̹̲̮ṛ̷͕͖͈͎̎͛͆̌́͛͘.̶̳͍̖̘̭͆̑͠
There it is again!
Heart skipped a beat, inhaling a sharp breath, it felt like his lungs didn’t get any air for one millisecond. Sweat ran down his temples as he breathed out air, trembling slightly. “Ugh…” he really needed to keep it together, clapping and massaging his head with newfound fatigue coming in slowly.
Eyes shot open for his attention to be directed to ████’s craftsmanship once again, as familiarity washed over his senses. The young man had a craving for reading all of the sudden.
“I’ll…finish dinner in a bit, we can do something after. Waddya say?”
They didn’t sign anything as a response, just a nod as they retreated to where they were once made their winged-lion-serpent, he’ll take that. He turned off the stove and the bubbles slowly stopped appearing, the warmth was gone and it’s colder than ever.
When the ripples dissipated, the surface cleared and entered a still state. The man who's spent his time standing—staring—dozing on the kitchen counter, saw a glimpse of light coloured eyes in the reflection, silky snow white hair framing his scar-littered face. Without moving an inch from his side, the reflection moved and donned a mask. His arms ejected his body backwards, hitting the counter with bated breath.
What was that?!
Mind occupied with haze, his eyes couldn’t see where he was going—where his feet were taking him—each step felt the same, an advance forward was all just a blur of black and white and colours he couldn’t describe or comprehend. His feet moved with quick steady steps, one step after another, maintaining its speed for…he didn’t know how long he’d been walking.
He couldn’t feel his body going to finish anytime soon, one scenery seemed the same with any other he went past. He didn’t feel any fatigue. At all. Walking mindlessly in…nowhere.
What am I doing…?
He could feel the humidity, and the soil, and the tree branches that hit his face, and the shivers running down his body. ████ must be cold right now…
Who again…?
It’s silent. Too silent. Walking around in circles, with a clouded mind, and no destination. He could feel himself screaming for something—for someone—but even his voice was drowned by the downpour, joining the harmony of white noises that have been echoing in his ears. Like a zombie wandering around with nothing in mind, and just the body and muscle and nerves to move around.
It’s been too long he’s been in this state. Walking. Wandering. Searching.
It’s suffocating, to see the same murky shades of colours in black and white, to have little to no control over your body. What was he doing? Why did he do this? What was this for? For his power over his own body to be stripped off. Right then and there, he felt a sharp sensation—biting cold—on his wrist, ankles, and torso. After a long time—just wasting his time, wasting his energy, wasting his efforts looking for something—his body finally jolted from the constant cycle, inhaling and exhaling shallow breaths.
He looked down, hands trembling—whole body trembling—with shaky breath, he took another step and there’s pounding in his chest, he winced before bringing his hand to his heart. No doubt he’s been tiring himself out, what was he thinking? Foolish. Breathing wouldn’t be this difficult if it wasn’t for his aching chest, and where did the air go, he could’ve sworn it was so humid it drenched him head to toe.
Taking a step, his feet staggered. Taking another, he wobbled. Another, his body went limp on the ground.
There in the middle of nowhere, with blurry vision, and a weakened body. His head turned and saw yellow, with the form he could make out as a small flower.
A memory flashed. Yellow eyes stared down at him.
C̸̡̠̱̒o̶̢̮̗͙̞̝̜̹̘͎͚̯͍͗͑́̃̐̂̍͌͝͝͝͝c̵͖͍̦̩̲̥̤̺̩̫͉̀̾̓̈́́̆̅̎͛̕̚o̸̧̫̠̥̮͎̱̕͘͠ļ̶͓̤̞͙̽̽̆͊ị̵̡̫̤̬̙̱̙̹̩͔̰̳̀̔ä̷̟̣͙͙̺̲͒̄͝.̶̧̧̛̳̥̤̱̗̮̲͇̞̙̉͂̃̂͊̇́͒̄͜͠͝.̵̱̬̬̭̻̙͔̥̱̫̩͉̇͋͒̈́̍̔͠͠.̴̱̪͙̲͌͝C̷̡̫̞͖̟̲̒͒̓̔̓́͠o̶̺̙̦͖̣̍̀̒̅̅͆c̷̡͖̙͇͇͍̲͉͍̈́̓̅o̷̹͇̠̮͉̞͗̽͑̃̄̅͐͗̋͊̏̌͋͊͘l̷̨̧̡̛̬̖̞͉͇̘̤̥͕͙̈́̉̋͂̽̎̋̑͋̋͗͛̆͂͜i̴̢̡͎̰͙̞̣̰̬̥͙̞͖̙̿̎̌̐ä̵̻̒̎̾̌͘̕͠.̴̧͚̜͖̺̺̙̤̩͖̻͈̝̼̎̊̓̀̄̾̾́͝.̴̖̠͎͚̩͕̮̺͔̖̞̩̻͔̔̃͛̏̅̎̔̔̈́̃.̶̞̮̈́̋̈́̉̈͆̔͗͋͒́͑̈́
His heart skipped many beats, it ached, he groaned as he curled up with his hand clutching the fabric on his chest. He let out a choked groan. He tried to breathe, he tried to move, but he could only feel his chest burning and his hand felt the heat it radiated. Breathing haphazardly, on the ground, alone.
Why can’t I breathe?!
Mouth gaped as a broken scream came out from it, his tears burning his eyelids, dry throat triggered a painful cough. He tried to get up, arms shaking like crazy, then saw yellow droplets on the ground. Bringing his hand up to touch his…tears…fingertips made contact with the liquid, only to retract when he felt his finger burn on contact.
Ŵ̶̳̯͖̰̗̣a̸͎̳̰̠̥̔̿͛̅́̈̈̆̆̂ͅk̵̥̦̯̦͕̥͋̐̈́̀̈̅͗͗̅e̶̢̦̘͇̗͒͐̍̽̾ ̴̖̓̉͒́͋́͜͝͝u̴͕̼͙͖̪̕p̴͎̦͛̾̈́…̷̧̦͚̰͔̩̬̻̒̆̾̌̔͝͝w̸̧̨̧̖͍̬̫̓͌̍̓͊́͘͜ȃ̵͈͓͔͎̈̂͂̄̂̽́͠k̸͚̯̈́̋̄̐̂̽̂̀͊̚e̶̯͙͑͋̋ ̶̛̣̅͋̽̍̉̾̕͝u̷̡̦̰̟̯̱͈̱̥̥͗̐̃p̴̱̈́̽̾́͌̆̍̐̽̕…̷͈̇̀̓̚
Grunting as he clutched his head, his grips tight, a headache forming and eyes shut tight. Not paying attention to the footsteps coming his way while he had his head hanging low. A hand grabbed his wrist, stopping what he did and loosening his grip on his hair. All of the sudden everything is silent. No more of the echoing, low, high-pitched ringing in his ears.
His breath hitched when he looked up, he let out a shaky sigh at the sight. A mask, concealing a man with snow white hair, the masked one rubbed the tears off his cheek without minding the burning heat. Taking off his mask he could see someone painfully familiar, he recoiled but a firm hand prevented him from backing away even further.
It’s him. Light coloured eyes, silky snow white hair framing his scar-littered face.
His mask was brought up to his face instead, he could hear his words among the silence.
K̷̖͙̾́̿ē̶̉͑̈́́͐ͅé̸͓̘̂̉̽p̷̦̀̂͛ ̷̨̐́̎̃̕y̸̛͈̭͋̔ọ̶̈́͝ư̷͓͚̌̏͗r̴̘͇̱̻͈̒̀͜s̶̹͒̎̔̆͛̎ë̵͔́̅l̸̛͔͌͋̉͂͑f̵͕̳͋ ̸̢̖̠͔̲̏t̸̡̨̤̪̻͑͂̏͝o̷̡̓̌̀̚g̵̟̯̺̩̞̔̅̇͋͑ẹ̶̈́̑̈́ṯ̷͊͘͝h̶̢̩͉̫̣̆̂͘e̷̮̊̌r̷̩̍͝…̴̨̟͔̬̫͛̐
The other released his grip as the mask concealed his face, his tears were now dry and he can only see from the holes of the mask. His hand touched his dimly glowing chest, his heart skipped a beat, the gentle hold suddenly pushed him to the ground.
…̴̱̯̀S̶̡̤̏̚ÿ̴̫͍́b̷̘̍̅i̴̞̅l̵̰̽ͅl̷̗̃y̵̰̽̿n̵̥̆͝
The ground where he sat shattered as he made contact with a body of water, slowly drowning…shades of blue and purple engulfed him. Each heartbeat pulsating his life throughout his body, a dim yellow lit up each beat.
And he could feel himself dropping.
He jumps off his bed in urgency with a loud scream, hair messily sprawling all over his face, the young man puts his hand on his chest—his heart beating rapidly—and he can feel his cheeks starting to wet, “tears…” he hesitates but touches the liquid and bring it to his vision. It’s clear and warm. A sigh escapes his lips, looking at his bedside there’s a mask lying on the drawer.
His door slides open with a loud slam as he yelps and darts his attention to his side, when he sees no one his eyes look down. Lo and behold the conductor has their ear on his door frame and stares at the awakened young man with cute wide blue eyes of theirs. Pom-Pom literally jumps.
“Sybillyn, you’re finally awake!”