The World of Nryhan

The weather had been snowy all day. In the morning, children ran to their windows screaming at the white sheet covering the whole city. Mist hung about in the air for the early hours, before clearing and leaving space for the sun to show it's brightness. The snow glistened under the light as people ran about, making snowmen and throwing snowballs at each other in a vein attempt to forget that freezing cold feeling using fun.

The day carried on like this, people appearing and disappearing throughout the whole day. The sunset came and went, and finally, the moon had come out. It was a full moon, forcing the snow to glimmer under it's light. Dove Ryans was staring at a grave in front of him, one he'd never seen before in his whole life, but somehow felt he had. Thoughts whirled around his head as he looked at it, his mind going completely blank. He didn't know whether anyone was around him; he didn't even care.

He saw the name on the grave. The day had been tiresome, sure, but this was the biggest shock of the day by far. He'd been riding back on his bike, taking the tiresome trek (by trek, I mean the ten minute ride) back to his warm apartment so he could finally escape the children running around. Work had gone on way longer than he thought it would, and it was approaching midnight. As he passed the church, he saw the old priest trying to wipe the snow off the grave. Snow was still falling at that point, so Dove had no idea whatsoever why in God's name he was trying to do that, but he'd offered to help anyways. The priest had thanked him and scurried back into the warmth of the church, while Dove wiped away at the graves in vein.

Now, the old priest was standing in the doorway of the church, shouting his name and trying to get his attention, but Dove didn't respond. He just sat, in the freezing snow, and took his thermos out, sipping at the hot tea. No. This isn't real. he thought, before being brought back to reality when the tea scalded his tongue and lips. He dropped the thermos on the floor from pure shock of pain, and the contents began to spill out onto the floor. The snow turned a light brown colour before melting, and the white-haired boy stared at it. His eyes lingered on the liquid, before finally realising.

It's not a dream. He was dead.

He couldn't really think go why he knew he was dead. He just. . . did. As soon as his eyes landed on the gravestone, the realisation hit him, whether he ignored it or not. He didn't remember anything. He remembered he was dead, but not how, or why, or even his funeral. He must have had a funeral, if his grave was in the ground, right?

With a laugh, he lay back in the snow, staring up at the stars. This was insane. One day, he'd look back at this time and draw it. In fact, he sat up with a start and took his sketchbook out of his bag, opening it and sketching his grave. "Dove Ryans, loved by his family." he said out loud, quoting the stone. Family, eh? He'd always thought he'd had amnesia, since he woke up in a church and that's what he was told. Since then, he just carried on in his life, not really caring for much. He'd always had a sketchbook on him, but when he opened it, it was as empty as his memory. Ever since 'waking up', he'd just been able to draw. He had no idea how, but apparently, he'd applied to an art school. Of course he'd said he hadn't. He didn't even know what was going on.

The first month was hell. He had no idea what to do, and apparently he was in a city. Dove didn't even know what was going on. Once, a small girl near the graveyard ran towards him and started crying. Whatever was going on, it was not normal. So he smiled and rode away on his bike before they could have contact. He'd spent the next few weeks finding a job, and trying to work out who he was, but mostly which apartment his key fit in. Feeling something was missing, he began drawing. He knew that wasn't it, but it was key.

Dove laughed as he looked at the grave. Everything seemed so clear, even if mist was starting to infiltrate the graveyard. His thoughts were like a whirlwind, swaying and confusing him and he stood up again. His headphones were placed on his ears, blasting out some song by Red Hot Chili Peppers or something similar. His goggles were on his eyes, but he took them off and hung them loosely around his neck. His icy-blue eyes searched around, not seeing anything in the mist now, apart form maybe the glow of the church. The small boy's hand reached out, wanting to touch his grave. His hand was stretched, but he hesitated. How would he carry on living knowing this could all be a lie?

Breath ragged and uneven, a white cloud appeared as he breathed out. He felt he was going insane, and when his hand touched the grave, he was sure his thoughts were confirmed. The world swirled, he saw the priest running towards him, but his senses felt. . . numbed, somehow. The black of the sky and the stars became absolute as he closed his eyes, not having any idea what was going on.

Joss couldn't understand snow, why it fell or why it even bothered to go anywhere with itself. It just seemed to fall, casually or fast, towards the ground where he would step on it. Not much of a future, no sense of direction except down. His combat boots crunched that helpless snow as he walked down the road, not really sure where he was going anymore. The whole city looked dismal in white and grey, with nothing brightening up its day. He stopped and looked up, readjusting the strap that carried his gym bag, since he had been working out for about 5 hours just that day. He watched as one landed on his nose, and he did nothing as it slowly melted without him even looking at it. Each snowflake was different, but unrecognizable in the horde of snow on the ground, useless and completely without any sense of future.

But that was how Joss felt at the moment.

Sure, the guy probably didn't have much of a heading in life to start with, having an apparent case of serious amnesia after waking up in a run down apartment. This guy, weird looking thing named Robbie, was slapping his face awake until Joss awoke suddenly and nearly smacked the guy in the face. He was going on about how he was going to be late for work, that his gym pass was left in his car, and the guy kept rambling on and on and on. Joss didn't respond at first, until the guy was finished, to which Joss bluntly stated to the man: "I don't know what the hell your talking about." After about an hour or so of Robbie laughing at him, reasoning with him, and all that crap he finally agreed to take him to the hospital. Actually, agreed isn't the proper word. More like caved and told him they should, since it wasn't even Joss' idea in the first place. He just wanted to be left alone with a damn cig.

After going to the hospital, and being diagnosed with some form of serious amnesia, the guy Robbie went from being a totally normal roommate to a freaking parent, acting like Joss didn't know a damn thing to do. That pissed Azrael Joss off big time. He effing hated parents, even if he didn't know why. At least Robbie wasn't completely useless, and helped him to where he supposedly held a job, which was at a corner store. Joss had to be retrained almost everything once again, since apparently he was their best employee - that made no sense to Joss what so freaking ever. How could somebody who didn't even care about himself be the best employee of a store?!

However, after a while, he finally got into the groove of how this life of his was handled, and he quickly got up to speed with everything he 'forgot'. Joss was a little too skeptical about this whole amnesia business, and felt like he was a stranger being called by the same name. Nevertheless, he learned all the girls that were going after him, who he hung out with, where his gym pass got him into, where the good places to eat were. Some things just came naturally to him, like his cigarette addiction. The second thing that he said when he woke up was 'Now, where the hell is my lighter?' He still didn't understand much about himself, like why he hated parents, or the ocean. Or how the hell he could sit down at a piano and play The Moonlight Sonata by Bach by memory and somehow know it by name and the year it was composed. OR why he worked out so damn much and yet had a wardrobe of completely dressy outfits. He didn't know.

He let out a sigh, putting his left hand to his cigarette to pull it out of his mouth. Ever since he woke up, he always had one of those rolled pieces of paper in his mouth. He couldn't help himself, it just seemed natural. Joss started on the path that he had before, listening only to the crunching of the snow and the rest of the world as the city slept. He didn't want to listen to music, or text anybody on his phone - which he was slightly confused by, since he didnt really like it. He probably got convinced into it by some girl, if he was the same person right now as he was before. He vaguely knew where he was going, but as soon as he rounded the next corner, expecting to be on his street, the entire road looked different.

He paused on the sidewalk, confused. He was pretty sure that he should be back on that street he lived on, but he wasn't. Yet he didn't want to go back, as he chugged forward out of some instinct. Joss didn't understand why he would want to walk down a street that he shouldn't be on, until he turned into a cemetery. Now that was confusing. Why would he want to go to a place full of dead people? Depressing, boring, and completely stupid, yet his body didn't listen to his thoughts. It was as if he was drawn to the place, if there was any curiosity left in him. The snow was picking up, and he placed his left hand in front of his face to try to block out the snow from flying in his face and putting out his cig. He really didn't want to get another one out. It was right about then, however, that it wouldn't matter: He felt something catch his one foot, and before he could place his hands out in front of him he fell towards the frigid snow. Cold.

He quickly stood up, starting to brush himself off. Freakin freezing... Joss thought to himself as he wiped off his face. Now my cig was gone, the snow was melting and freezing onto my body, and all because of... Joss brushed away the snow from a small little grave. It wasn't even really a gravestone, only a little landmark saying 'Oh hey your standing on a dead guy!" He sighed, not really feeling the idea of getting himself even more wet and cold, until he finally felt the need to focus in on what it said. Azrael Joss Helbark, age 20 He paused, shook his head a little and reread it. That couldn't be right. That was his name, so said that Robbie guy

"Wait..." Must be a joke, he furrowed his brow and cursed. Somebody was playing some joke on him, yet the more he said that the more it sounded like he was just trying to convince himself. It started to make more and more sense. It would explain why he wasn't remembering, why he didn't understand everything. Joss reached out to touch it, no real concern or caution in his body language. It wasn't like anything should-

The moment his hand touched his grave, the world around him turned into shades, and everything started making sense. He was dead. Or was supposed to be. His blue grey eyes looked like they actually perked up a little, finally understanding what he hell was going on. The world was starting to tilt a little, like he was drunk or something, and he slowly fell to the ground, his senses going out of wack, feeling numb yet super charged. As Joss fell, he thought one last thing before the the night sky blurred into a grey mess was: "Damn, that's why I hate my family. Couldn't even get me a decent grave..."

The girl trudged up the hill, not sure where she was going or why. Those weren't the only things she didn't know. She had plenty of other questions - who she was, why she couldn't remember anything, and so on and so forth. Unfortunately, answers to these inquiries were not likely forthcoming, meaning she supposed she would just have to deal with her lack of knowledge and focus on the moment, and surviving.

About a month ago was when her memories began. She had woken up under a bridge somewhere, feeling like she'd been run over by all of demons in Hell. She couldn't remember a thing. All she knew was that her name was Aquaea, and that she was hungry. Those two facts remained constant through most of her recorded life, interspersed with the occasional states of being cold, being thirsty, being wet, and being miserable. She had managed to survive at first by mooching the occasional scrap of money from a passer-by, an occupation she was by no means skilled at due to her sour disposition. She knew that she would have died if she hadn't met them.

She had stumbled across them while begging outside a cemetery. The middle-aged rich couple had accosted her, called her by the name Aea - which, she knew, was not her name - and asked her how she was alive. She had been perplexed at this question, and answered "I don't know. I have no home, no food, no skills, and no past. You tell me how I'm alive." This had confused them in turn, but eventually the confusion was resolved. Apparently, she looked identical - two-toned hair and all - to their recently deceased daughter. She knew that this should not have been possible. In all her time alive, she had never seen another person with such an unusual and unique appearance as herself. At least, she never remembered seeing someone like that.

Long story short, those kind people had been nice enough to give her food and keep her alive. Deep down, she knew she shouldn't have troubled them with her own problems, but above being charitable and not being a burden upon her fellow Humans, she wanted to live. So she accepted their charity each day, and she survived. However, with each discussion, she had grown more and more disturbed by the similarities between herself and her benefactors' daughter. Her hair was the same, her eyes were the same, her face was the same, her build was the same, her voice was the same, and so on and so forth. As she spoke to them more and more, she realized that, from a certain point of view, she might have actually had the same name. After all, Aquaea ended in Aea, didn't it? And with no memories of her own, she couldn't disprove this theory.

But how was that possible? The dead did not come back to life. She didn't understand how it could have possibly happened, and yet the theory still stood, gnawing at her every waking thought and filling her heart with dread. Her saviors came to the cemetery every day to visit and leave flowers at one of the graves. She had seen them do it many times, and knew the location by heart. Finally, she decided to put her worries to rest for good. She would go to the grave that lonely night, and see if what she feared was, in fact, the truth. And so, on that dark, snowy night, she trudged her way into the cemetery, moving quickly between the rows of gravestones. There it was, up ahead, settled beneath a large, snow-covered tree - the tomb. The stone was not particularly large or showy, but it stood out somehow, as though it were a precious jewel hidden amongst mere rocks. She didn't know why, but seeing the stone filled her with a longing that shook her to the very core. Before she realized it, she had broken into a run, knelt before the stone, and frantically begun to brush the snow off of it. Her worries multiplied as the first letters on the stone came into view. A, Q, U.

"No, no, no, no, no..." She murmured, slamming her hand into the stone's surface and ripping the snow away from it, as though she were raising the curtain on some tragic play. But what she read next, far from comforting her fears, merely proved them to be true.

Aquaea X. Hayashimizu, lovingly remembered. Rest in Peace, poor young soul.

Aquaea X. Hayashimizu.

Aquaea.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" Aquaea gasped, falling backward and staring, affixed by terrified realization. "It can't be me, it can't be me, it can't be me!" She repeated over and over again, shaking her head as though her denial would change the horrible reality and return her to being the innocent, unknowing street urchin she had once been. Surely that was preferable to this. She couldn't have been... She couldn't have been dead! She was right here, wasn't she? If she was dead, then what did that make her? A ghost? A memory? But she had no memory. Now that she knew she was dead, would she just disappear?

"Don't shit with meeeeeeeeee!" Aquaea roared, tears born from a terror she did not entirely understand flowing down her face. She clutched her skull, reeling backward as terrible thoughts began to flood into her mind. "The dead don't come back to life! There's absolutely no way something like that could happen!" Raising her fist, she entered a transport of grief and rage. Striking forward with all her might, blinded by anger as she was, she lashed out at the only tangible target for her despair - the stone itself. She struck it, and recoiled, clutching her now-agonized hand as the world began to shift under her. The sky seemed to turn inside out, the Earth opened up and dropped her down, down, down...

Am I dying again? Am I going to Hell? Why... Why did I look?

"Damn it..." She cursed, her tears streaming from her face and into the void of oblivion. "I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die...!"

"I DON'T WANNA DIE!"

The world had suddenly become a expanse of white as Relic gazed at one of many headstones that stood like weathered grey guardians, looking over their dead charges buried in the ground of Summer's Hill Graveyard. The paticular stone that stood before him was like any other, if not as weathered as some of the stones in the cemetary. The stone itself didn't matter. What was ingraved along its smooth surface, however, seemed to shatter Relic's existence.

No.

The cold, harsh air bit at Relic's cheeks, twisting and waving his hair wildly. His dark purple eyes raced back and forth, reading and rereading the name of the body that lay under the very earth he kneeled on. But it couldn't be! It wasn't possible!






No. No. It's not possible. I'm here. I'm here! I'm not...I'm not...

Dead.

Was this a dream? A nightmare? He was here, standing before his own grave! And if this twisted truth was real, then how did he die?! There lay the problem. He didn't remember dieing. He didn't remember the first eighteen years of his life. Why? Relic didn't know. It was because he didn't know why the shock of it was so deep. Then why was he here, still alive? What purpose did he have to cheat death?

"Why..." Gathering himself, Relic raised his eyes to the snow filled sky, a scream escaping his lips. "WHY AM I HERE!? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!?" Was he some sort of sick joke, a freak? Did someone, or something, bring him back to life? If so, why? There were too many whys to answer! Raising his fist to strike at the stone, he nearly brought his fist done on the hard surface until his eyes spotted another, uneven line of text engraved at the bottom of his tombstone. Snow covered most of it, but it looked crudly made.



Plea? What did that mean? Shakily, Relic raised his hand to wipe away the snow to view the whole line. Upon coming in contact with the stone, a great darkness suddenly decended upon him, no long having the strength to keep himself on his knees. His body hitting the frozen earth surrounding his grave and the darkness slowly turning the world to black, Relic sent one finally prayer.

Please, God, protect me....protect...me...

Snowflakes burnt Amora's lungs as they passed through her pale lips. Her face was flushed as she held onto some sort of pastry that crumbled a little bit with each hungry bite she took. A gold and white kitten, Cleopatra (although Amora just called her Cleo), sat proudly on her shoulder, fat from a healthy diet of rats, birds, and mice that where too slow to escape her claws. The young girl savored the taste of the lukewarm pastry that melted on her tounge. When she had woken up with no memory, and stumbled around on a street, following her nose to a homey-feeling bakery. She had no money so she couldn't buy any of the delicious-looking pastries so she ate three of the samples when the kind baker had her back turned. The woman noticed Amora just sitting there, alone at a table, trying to gather her thoughts. After about an hour ticked by and she was about to close up shop, she wrapped up three big, warm pastries and rested them on the table Amora was sitting at. Amora took them and slept in the alley behind the shop. This is where she found a stray kitten, the runt, abandoned by her mother. She shared her pastries with the little kitten until she could hunt for her own food. After about a week, the baker noticed a very skinny Amora sleeping in the alleyway. She made a deal with the young girl: if she came by every day from morning until night and cleaned, served, and baked with her then the baker would feed her and give her old clothing. The old clothing actually belonged to her daughter, Millie, who had died five years ago. Amora was always up early, cleaning and starting to bake early.

Today, though, was a sunday and the kind woman always allowed Amora to have the weekends off. She felt compelled to visit the graveyard today. Cleo meowed loudly from her shoulder and jumped down from her shoulder. The kitten was looking at what looked like a small rock. As she kneeled down, she realized it was a gravestone. The writing on it was very sloppy, almost like a two-year-old could have done a better job. She had to squint and lean in further to read it:



No poem, no 'you will be missed'. Amora was barley aware that her hands where shaking and all the blood had drained from her face. She collapsed on herself, curling up into a little ball. This had to be a joke. She must have read it wrong!



She read it over and over again, until she got a headache. Her head throbbed as she closed her eyes. She wished she could say Amoretta Rose was a common name, just like John Smith. But it wasn't. She knew at had to be her own grave. But how was this possible? Her heart was beating, just as strong as every other person's. Cleopatra sprawled herself across Amoretta's abdomen, as a tear slipped down the girl's cheek. This all had to be a lie. She would wake up, and all of this would be gone. It never happened. No noise escaped Amora's parted lips as another hot, angry tear slipped out. Who would play this sick joke on her? She didn't understand any of this.

A soft sort of frost formed every single time she allowed a breath to slip from her chapped and rosy lips. The cold was murder to her and her appearance—it made her nose raw and red, and her cheeks always became flushed while she was forced to talk in a nasal voice thanks to the temperature making her nose all runny. . . . She looked and sounded like she was suffering from a perpetual cold during the winter, which was just one of the reasons she had come to hate it. Maybe she had always hated it. . . . Had she? The fact of the matter was that she simply did not know.

Snow fell from the monochrome colored skies, clouds were covering the sun up like a thick blanket. The world was dim that day, unpleasant and all around just depressing to behold. But then . . . days during the winter were often like this, cloudy and just ick.

People walked down the streets, bundled up in coats and scarves as usual, the only noises filling the air were the ones of the ordinary, cars passing by the sidewalks on the streets, the occasional honk of a horn, footfalls softly crunching in the snow below. The day was a normal day, it was something that she had grown used to in the last months, the cold, and hating it, that is. But, there were a great deal many things she was simply not used to, and also, there were a lot of questions she held. Who was she really? Where did she come from? What had happened to her to make her memory vanish away as it had?

Those were a simple few questions she had regarding herself and her past. Even after months of raiding her mind for the truth, for the missing answers about herself and her past, she couldn’t come up with anything, not even a name. . . . Her own age even, that was a mystery to her as well. She knew she looked rather young, like a child, but if anything else, she was certain that she was not nearly as young as she appeared to be. Age was but one factor in the mystery that was she. She had no name, no age, no birth date, and not a single trace of an identity. Yet still, she could not help but maintain this sense of . . . superiority she felt that she had going for her, something she felt like she had to uphold—a certain face that showed strength despite her form and situation. It had always felt like she needed to be strong, to make everyone around her think of her as a powerful person who didn’t need any help, even if she truly did require aid.

And despite her situation, she maintained that show of power, of certainty even though she still had no clue to who she was. . . . She had woken up utterly alone months ago, her small and bony body curled up into a ball under a tree in the city’s park, her skin was marred with the markings of what seemed to be a struggle which was long ago, the once wounds were all but healed, and only traces of their true horrors remained as scars. Her head had hurt, and her body felt like it was too heavy for her to even move around in, in truth, the flesh and bones she settled in felt foreign to her, wrong. Then, there was the fact that she had no memory where it should have been. No matter how hard she tried to remember anything about herself, nothing came to her—it was like she hit some giant block. Her name, her situation, there was nothing there. Sure, she remembered things about everyday life, like how to read, write, and do math, and such things, but personal information had been utterly wiped from her mind.

The first thing she had done upon regaining full control over herself and coming to think clearly again was to go to the police, and report her situation—to see if she were perhaps a missing person. She thought that maybe she may’ve had a family who was looking for her, even if she couldn’t recall them, at least she might be able to find someone who knew her. However, going to them proved to be useless, as she did not fit the descriptions of anyone reported as missing. It seemed like no one was looking for her at all. From there, she was directed to a hospital, she evidently had amnesia after all.

Again, such an action was pointless, because other than the memory loss, she was a healthy thing despite being underweight. She had been interviewed by several psychologists while there, and differing techniques had been used to try to recover her memory, none of which had obviously even stirred anything up in her mind, because she still obviously did not remember anything at all. Eventually, she had resorted to just checking herself out of the place when she got annoyed with all of the failings—she felt like she could help herself out better than anyone else could at that point. Since she had no name and no identity, there was no way to charge her bills for her stay there.

So, if she didn’t remember anything from her past, not her name or even a birthday, how was it she had managed to continue on surviving in the last months?

As luck would have had it going for her, it appeared as if she retained skills from her unknown past . . . as, she found herself able to sing quite well despite not seeming as someone who would have a good voice. For the sake of her survival, she put this talent to use, and began to perform in the very same park she had found herself waking up in. Each day, she would wonder to it and sing her heart out for the people there, and many would often leave money for her as they passed on through. Time passed on, and the season began to change as she continued doing what she did. Eventually, she began to earn enough money from singing in order to rent out a cheap room in a nearby motel room, and to get enough food to survive off of.

This was how she had come to live, singing and acting as if she were a princess without a name. Even if her situation was not ideal, something always felt like it was pushing her forward. Without a name, she progressed onward, living no matter how hard things felt, even if a memory was something vital she lacked . . . life was still going on around her. And it was something she needed to take part in.

She sang all day, and slept at night after eating meager meals, she dressed in simple clothing she could barely afford. That was her life. She had no name and no clue about her age, so what else could she have done? Nothing, there was nothing else she could have done in order to get by in the world.

And it just so happened that she had finished up singing for the day. . . . All she intended on doing was going back to her motel room on that snowy day, she hadn’t been planning on doing anything else. She’d collected her money for the day, and it was as simple as that, she had what she needed to live on for the time being, with or without a memory, she was getting by in the world. So, she had managed to begin to come to terms with the notion of never knowing who she really was, or anything of the sort. As long as she could survive, then what did a memory matter? Whether or not she had amnesia, she had begun to not give a damn, in some ways, it was better to not have a past she could recall, after all, pasts could just weigh someone down, couldn’t they?

That sort of thing was a weakness after all, and weak was something she was not. She couldn’t be weak.

Still, there was a part of her which nagged at her, and asked the question of why it was she always had to be so strong, to make herself seem so perfect to others. . . . What reason was there for her to act as she did? Deep inside of herself, she could not at all deny the fact that it felt like she weren’t doing it for herself, but for someone else, a person she did not of course remember or know. It almost felt like there was someone there . . . a figure locked deep within her memory that was more important to her than anything else, but like everything, that person was nothing more than something she had forgotten.

Even if she had begun to be contented with the idea of never knowing who she once was, she couldn’t deny the notion of wanting to know who this person she felt as if she moved forward for. . . . Maybe because she was lost in her thoughts, that was why she wandered into the cemetery when she was simply aiming to head back to the motel to sleep and to recover from the cold she had so come to hate. Really, the cemetery was the last place she wanted to be on a dreary, winter eve.

It took her more than a moment to actively realize where she was, or how deep it was that she had managed to get herself into the place. Against the snowy backdrop, she stood out like a sore thumb with that orangey hair of hers . . . she began to panic upon realizing she had no idea where she was exactly, or how she could get out of the place. The idea of cemeteries had always freaked her out, ever since she’d woken up under that tree. Though that wasn’t something she wanted to admit to anyone at all.

With a rather flighty look upon her face, she had turned on her heel and attempted to followed the snow covered pathway back to any entrance, or exit. Getting out of there, not matter the way was something she would have liked very much, with her heart beating frantically in her chest, she tried to maintain a sense of calm upon her face, though the attempt resulted in her looking like she was just frustrated. She took no one direct route, as she didn’t know her way around the grounds, so, she couldn’t have meant to wind up where she had. . . .

Her breath still formed mist as it exited her lips, feeling entranced for some strange reason by a particular site before her—a rather intricately carved marble angel stood in a desolate part of the grounds. Flowers were scattered about it, some dead, some still brightly alive, they were freshly placed. Uncertain of even why it was she suddenly felt so calm, so collected upon seeing the grave, she compelled herself forward in the cold. Halting before the statue, she simply gazed at it for a time, not thinking anything, not understanding why.

After a time, she moved her odd eyes down to view the inscription upon the stone, though, she found it covered by snow. As if acting against her natural will, she knelt down into the cold snow and brushed away the white fluff which had gathered over the stone to see whose grave she was now at. However, as soon as her hand made contact with that freezing stone, it all came to her, an influx of memories, of knowledge. . . . It was almost painful, being made to remember so much at a time when her mind had been nothing but blank beforehand. She remembered everything, her name, her age, her life . . . and her death.

Upon this realization, and remembering her name was Lusine Fiala, Lulu quickly retracted her hand in horror, breath taken from her lungs as she could only gaze upon her own gravestone and half-covered name upon it. Understanding she was dead, Lulu began to breathe rapidly, eyes wide as tears began to form in them, her heart raced in her chest as she could only begin to hear blood pounding in her ears from the horror. Her body quivered and she broke down from the knowing and the confusion of it all, she didn’t understand any of this now. How could she be . . . dead when she was sitting there in front of her own grave, breathing, and crying—her own tears falling from her eyes and freezing onto her headstone?

Part of her didn’t believe it, but she had to, because she could remember dying, but coming back to life, living again. . . ? It was too much to try and understand. There was just too much confusion, too much to take in all at once. Breathing quickly to the point of nearly hyperventilating, Lulu looked up at the angel statue that stood as a guardian over her grave, and found her vision blurring in and out. Her body suddenly felt so heavy, like it was again too much for her to handle as she was. Tears still falling from her eyes, Lulu’s small form lolled a bit to the side before tipping back to the opposite side, her eyes still transfixed upon the angel as her mind blanked and everything just faded away.

With her eyes shutting, heart sinking into her stomach, Lulu tipped to the side, and fell into the clutches of unconsciousness there in the cold snow, the last thought in her mind being, I’m tired, I’m just too tired. . . .

Why was it that she was here today? It had been months now, months since she had woken up alone, and without a memory. So long had passed since that time, and not once had she wandered into a cemetery before, no, she had made sure to avoid the place. Even without a memory regarding her personal life or her identity, she knew enough to recall what the place was, and why it was somewhere she did not want to be. It was where people were lain to rest after they took their final breaths—it was a place of death, of unnerving silence. And for months, she knew why it was she did not want to step foot in such a place.

She’d been alone upon waking up, in solitude and without a memory. As her eyes had fluttered open, she came to find herself sitting up, back against a building in a lonely alleyway as it was raining. The world was quiet then, at least, it seemed so. There had been a certain sort of heaviness to her form as she regained awareness of herself and her surroundings, her mind had been utterly thoughtless as all she understood to do was to breathe in and out, and to blink. It took her sometime to begin moving again, or to even find the will to do so. Feeling, seeing, hearing and every sensation within her body felt foreign almost, as if the whole of the experience was nothing but alien.

After awakening and finding the strength to move herself, she had managed herself up to her feet and wandered out from the alleyway she’d found herself in. There were no memories in that mind of hers, who she was, how she had gotten there, her life . . . she didn’t even remember her own age. Alone and ridden with amnesia, she wandered and wandered and just wandered. . . . She kept herself going, moving forward until finally she held no more will in her body, and she simply collapsed where she was.

Her existence since then had been a fleeting one. Despite the exhaustion she had felt, she’d woken up again, strong enough to get back up to her feet. She had made her survival living off of scraps, though her life had been anything but glamorous, she knew no other way to get by—without an identity, there was no way for her to even get a job or to find a place to live.

In that time the questions of who she was and what had happened to her continued to plague her mind. Never once did anything bubble to the surface for her, not a single answer came to her at all. And in those months, she had maintained distance from the city’s graveyard, never once daring to wander near or into it . . . until today. It was snowing, and she had become transfixed by it, and began to simply wander, aimlessly. In doing so, she found herself in the cemetery, in front of a grave—one she found herself unable to leave. Since setting eyes upon it, she had come to lay before it, just staring.

With her mind vacant, she allowed her eyes to glance over the face of a grave. There was a name etched into the surface of it, as most headstones carried.

Zyanya Jessamine Lakshmi.

The name seemed a familiar one, it felt like she…knew it. Did she?

Thoughtlessly, she brushed her fingers through her long, plum black hair. Was it someone she knew? Someone close to her? Yes… It was… It was someone very close to her. She was this girl… Zyanya. It was her name. She turned to stare at the dirt above where her body was supposed to be buried. For a moment, she laid on the frost bitten soil. She looked up at the cloudy sky and shivered from the cold. The smell of dirt and chemicals filled her nostrils as her mind wondered. Who is Zyanya? I am, but… What did I do? Do I have any family? Friends? She was so lost as to who she was… Who Zyanya was.
The curious girl sat up. Turning around to read the grave stone, she sighed. What is the reason I don’t remember? Is something driving me onto recalling my past? She leaned closer to her gravestone… About to trace the words written, she placed her finger on it before a rush came.

Her parents never cared about her… Eventually they left both she and her brother! Zyanya took care of her brother when they would not. She protected him and fed him. She was so young… She barely remembered it… She didn’t remember her parents well at all. And when they left her, their grandparents took them in. They were wonderful… They took care of her little brother and she. They even took them places… Carnivals, amusement parks… They had such a wonderful time with them. But they were old and eventually passed on… Her grandmother went blind in one eye due to a mutation that had plagued their family for many generations. Zyanya would have too, in the future.

After the passing of their grandparents, Zyanya and her brother were taken into foster care… It was just like their parents. They were ignored and the children at school bullied Zyanya and her brother. Zyanya took up the role of mother… Until she and her brother were hit by the car… Then she died… Was she a spirit? How could she feel then? Was she… really dead? Was it all over?
Feeling nothing but panic, Zyanya felt her heart flutter within her chest, her vision grew spotty, a sense of dizziness set in upon her and the world swayed. For the umpteenth time in the day, Zyanya found herself against the frozen ground, her arms and legs limp as everything began to slip away….

Jack's eyes drifted from the knight to his former students slowly appearing on the floor. As far as he was concerned, angels around the city had informed him that they shouldn't remember anything about either their past lives or what happened afterwards. Hopefully, they'd be able to recall their training if anything. The 'humans' sort of appeared out of nowhere, materialising into the white floor in front of him. They were still out.

The first to arrive was little Dove. He still remembered his reckless personality, and how he would squeal when someone touched his hair. Second was Joss, the hard worker who never gave up his training, rarely resting and exceeding Jack's expectations. After that was Aquaea, who'd been a despaired soul when he first met her. She'd trained, believing she had to save the humans even if it killed her. Then it was Relic, his cute little priest. He'd been trying to save someone when he died, and even when he did, he felt no hate for her. Amoretta got there next. She'd always been full of kindness, but seemed to have some sort of father problem. Lusine, or rather, Lulu. The girl who was against going until he finally explained he was going to train her to fight. That took some effort. The last there was Zyanya, the girl who really loved her brother. Jack had always admired them all, despite their quirks and tantrums, especially Dove and Lulu who both seemed adamant in getting the last say. The others just stood up for things they felt for strongly.

"Are you never gonna tell me your name then?" Jack asked, a happy grin on his face.

The knight turned to look at him, her blonde hair swooshing. "Get behind that pillar, angel." she said, finally tired of his attempts to get to know her. He'd been visiting her every now and then, and she still hadn't told him her name. What the hell did he expect?

Jack sighed as he trudged over behind the pillar, not one inch of him visible. Well, that's what he thought.



Dove sat up quickly. His eyes darted around the place as he found himself trembling a bit. It was cold as hell here. Was he really dead? The place he was in seemed unreal, never-ending stretches of white, not stopping. Even the floor he was standing on was that perfect shade of white. There was an array of pillars, stood in the ground and ending at a random space. Maybe it was a ceiling? This could just be one giant prank. No, he doubted it. Though he could still remember none of his past, he remembered he was dead. He didn't remember how though, and what happened afterwards which made him wake up out of nowhere and think he had amnesia.

Weapons were halfway through the ground, like a graveyard of weaponry. Graveyard. . . he thought, his eyes looking around. The boy saw a staff, white marble, and it drew his attention in. Suddenly, he blanked everything else out, ignoring all the other weapons. That one was his. He just knew it. How, Dove did not know. But he recognised it, he was sure he knew how to use it. He stood up, his whole body aching. Probably because his true body was still lying in the freezing snow. He felt numb. He should have worn more clothes that day, but he never expected any of this to happen.

His goggles hung loosely around his neck, he moved them so they were on top of his head. The white-haired boy was about to touch the staff, when his hand hesitated. The last time he'd reached out and touched something without thinking, he'd tumbled to the ground. His body was getting warmer now. The elderly priest had probably carried him inside the church or something. The instant warmth relieved him, as well as shocking him. He looked around more, deciding to pick up the white staff later.

It was then he saw the knight, her blonde hair covering her eyes. She sat with her golden sword, and even though he couldn't see her eyes, he was sure she was looking at him. She sat on a coffin, surrounded by the weapons dug into the ground. Dove wandered who was in the coffin, but that wasn't his primary concern. The thing which intrigued him most was the coat from behind one of the pillars. He couldn't see it before, but being at this angle, he could see the edge of a coat. There wouldn't be a coat stand here, surely? His curiosity led him towards the pillar, seeing a person.

This person looked familiar, but Dove couldn't work out who he was. "Hey! What's your-" he said loudly, and the person pulled Dove towards him, covering his mouth.

"Shush," he said, pausing. ", the others aren't awake yet." Dove looked, seeing other people lying on the floor. This was the first time he'd noticed them. He got weird feeling again, as he felt like he recognised them. Maybe he knew them before his amnesia kicked in? But wouldn't it be a coincidence if people he knew from before were all in the void of white around him. He looked at them, remembering nothing. But when he looked up at the person practically hugging him with a goofy smile on his face, he remembered things. His little sister, his bullying older sisters, his nickname 'The Snow Queen', and being stepped on by this person at his funeral. Funeral?! What the heck? Why would I be at my own funeral? he thought, his elbow going forwards and back in one quick motion, whacking the person behind him.

The thing which shocked him most was what he said next. "Get off me, Jack!" he shouted, pulling away. 'Jack' smiled as his eyes twinkled, happy about being remembered. Dove, however, became even more confused as his hands flew up to his head, grabbing his snowy white hair tightly. Who is this person? Why? Why do I know his name?! Why am I here? Argh! His icy glare got shot in the direction of this Jack person, who raised one eyebrow.

"I see the Snow Queen still had that look which could freeze hearts?" he asked rhetorically. Dove glared even more at hearing his annoying nickname, and he stomped off in the direction of his staff when he heard the person laugh at him, covering his mouth to stay quiet behind the pillar. Dove looked at the people there, arranged on the floor. He knew their names, but he couldn't remember them at all. Let's see. Joss, Aquaea, that's Relic, Amoretta, Lulu the shortie, and Zyanya. he thought, his eyes looking over them.

His feet next took him to the knight. "Why am I here?" he asked, and the knight shrugged, a smile on her face.

"I don't know Dove. Why are you here?" the knight said, tilting her head.

Dove sighed. "Everyone knows me, but I don't know everyone. It's slightly annoying." he said, sitting on the floor with a sigh. It seems the others were waking up anyways. Maybe then, everything would be explained and the puzzle will be solved. Probably not. . .

Aquaea groaned. She felt like she had fallen hard on something. She was lying down somewhere, and the first thing she could say for sure was that it was not a waking experience she wanted to have repeated. She was crudely propped against something hard and cold as a sort of pillow, and she was lying on something harder and colder. Still, discomfort was something the girl was long since used to, and it hardly mattered anyway. Slowly, she sat up, opening her eyes and glancing around.

White. Everything was white. Above her? White. Below her? White. Around her? White. This absolute hue stretched onward, out into infinity, interrupted only by the occasional pillar or article of weaponry jutting up from the ground. It looked like some kind of graveyard.

A graveyard... Oh, that's right, I'd almost forgotten. I'm dead. Thanks, purgatory, or wherever the hell I am. That was something I'd really rather have not had shoved in my face two seconds after waking up. It's not exactly the most pleasant thing to realize immediately after regaining consciousness, you see. There's this nice little thing called subtlety, and I'd really rather whoever designed this place learned it! Aquaea thought bitterly, her sapphire gaze scanning the endless horizons around her. Just then, however, a radiant blue light from the edge of her vision attracted her attention. Glancing down, she found a most unusual sight awaiting her.

The sword was about five feet in length, and remarkably simple. Its hilt was made of a translucent blue crystal, and had a practical circular crossguard. The blade, however, was what was truly remarkable. Ever so slightly curved, it was made entirely out of what looked like water, pulsating up and down from the start of the blade's single edge all the way down to the point it tapered to, where it was stuck tip first in the ground. Aquaea, blessed of a pragmatic disposition, realized immediately that the dead coming back to life and her sudden arrival in what appeared to be an entirely different world were much stranger than a sword made of water, and instead focused on the more pressing matter placed upon her thoughts - namely, the sword's calling to her. Normally, she might have just dismissed this as curiosity, but there was something different about it. It was like she had wielded that sword before. She knew exactly how to fight with it. Extend the blade, loosen the bonds... Swing, whip the blade around a target to confuse them... No, what was she thinking? She knew she had never used such a weapon before. Such weapons did not exist in the world she had been living in. But, then again, neither did the dead coming back to life... Damnit! What was going on?! In her frustration, she raised her hand to rip the blade out of the ground, but was cut off by some words she heard spoke a short distance behind her. Something about someone named Jack... Why was that name familiar to her?

Spinning around, she realized immediately that she had not been alone. There was a short, rather unusual looking - hah, like she had any right to call anyone else strange looking, given her two toned hair - boy, speaking to what looked like an armored knight. Behind him, she saw a form just beginning to retreat behind a pillar. There were also several other people lying around her, all unconscious like she had been. She raised a hand and pointed to the boy, about to call him out. However, just then, she realized that she was not wearing the same clothing she had been clad in before. Her new attire was much more unusual and complicated, yet it felt so familiar on her that she hadn't even noticed. Her new ensemble consisted of a white blouse and skirt, a black vest, and black tights topping off the ensemble. While she wasn't exactly eager to strut around with her lower quarters so adequately framed, these were the only clothes she had. Still, she had to wonder... had someone stolen her clothes while she was out? Now things were just getting creepy.

"Hey, you!" She called, gazing coldly at the boy. "Where am I? What's going on? And who exactly is it watching me from behind that pillar over there?"

Slowly, as if to relent its hold on him, the darkness surrounding Relic's mind slowly cleared, sight, sound and smell returning to him. Raising a hand to his temple, the dazed priest groaned audiobly, bringing himself to a sitting position. He didn't stay there long however, as a sharp pain burst from his backside as he came in contact with the ground, yelling out and jumping to his feet. This almost sent him tumbling forward, still unsteady from his blackout. Rubbing his hindquarters, Relic turned to see what had caused such pain and was rewarded with the sight of what looked like a crystal, barely above the pure white ground. Grabbing it, he managed to pull it free, Staring at it with curiousity.

It actually was very simple looking, the crystal weaving its way around itself in a complex pattern, a simple silver chain lopping itself inside of the pattern to hang around someone's neck. His neck. Without thinking, Relic slipped it on, hanging it along the chain that kept his robe...robe? Taking another look at himself, he found that he now wore a light brown layered robe, two red crosses on either side of the chain on the top layer. Underneath, he had on a simple tunic and cloth pants, but it was mostly hidden due to his large robe.

Taking his eyes off of his mysterious change of clothing, Relic found himself amid a absolute expanse of white, besides the stone pillars and array of weapons stuck in the ground like a graveyard.

Graveyard...wait. It all came back to him in a rush. His grave, the name, remembering. If it hadn't been for the sudden voice, then Relic probably would have broke down.

"Hey, you!" Nearby, a strange looking girl shouted at, well, a strange looking boy. "Where am I? What's going on? And who exactly is it watching me from behind that pillar over there?"

Breathing deeply, Relic approuched them calmly, tapping the girl on the soulder,"Excuse me, but yelling at the poor child won't help. Calm yourself and tell us who you are before you go about demanding an explaination." With that, he raised his hand to shake the boy's, smiling kindly,"I'm Relic."

The darkness turned into a bright white light, his eyes still closed. He didn't want to move, since he was supposed to be dead. Yet he could tell that he wasn't outside anymore. Perhaps he had been moved by a homeless person into a creep room. With his luck, he would. He cracked open his eyes and immediately regretted it, the bright white light flooding his eyes faster than they could adjust. He quickly shut them and groaned. What a terrible way to start a... Joss frowned, his eyes still closed. He wasn't sure what day it was, something that slightly annoyed him. When he fell, it was almost midnight, if he recalled correctly. White light usually wasn't around in the dark, so he was either at the doctors office or in the middle of the next day. Both of those scenarios sounded terrible to him.

He finally decided to open his eyes once more, and they adjusted a little more to the complete whiteness of the area. He finally snapped them wide open, and instantly swung his hand out to smack whatever may be in front of him, like it was an instinct. When he discovered nothing was around him, he slowly sat up, lazily grabbing his head. It was then that he noticed two things about himself: For once in a long time - at least, he thought so - he didn't have a cig in his mouth and he was awake and/or sober. That was something else. The second fact was that as soon as he grabbed his own head, his hair getting tangled in his fingers, he instantly retreated as if his hands were too cool to the touch. As if he were scared of his own hands doing something to his body. While he grabbed a new cig from his back pocket (they weren't squished somehow... YAYAY!) he started thinking about this new found realization. Why the hell do I have the urge to keep my hands away from myself? It's not like they are diseased or something, are they? He lit a new cigarette and puffed annoyed, tired of thinking in such a stupid way. He cracked his neck and sighed, turning his neck to get a better glimpse as to where the hell he was.

White and foggy. Looks like not much has changed... It was still white out, but not with snow, and a heavy fog was settling down on the area. Yet, even with such a fog that covered the area, he could make out people around him. Were they victims of some psycho as well, or were they just unfortunate to be in the same place as he was? He narrowed his eyes to get a better idea of who was around him, and something hit him. Not physically, but emotionally and psychologically. He could instantly recognize each and every one of those poor chaps surrounding him, and yet he still didn't know who the hell they were. There was a guy standing near a one of few pillars, and he was instantly known: Little Dovey, Joss smirked, the kid with the goggles. Then came a girl, Aqua as he called her, since her name was completely ridiculous and stupidly hard to pronounce. A kid was tapping her on the shoulder, and Joss once again smirked. The little Priest, the nickname that Joss new Relic by. Of course these people had their normal nicknames, but some of them didn't always fit, like Relic was 'Light' or Aqua was 'Typhoon.' Utterly silly.

After that, there were people on the ground that Joss new as well for some reason. There was that little annoying Lulu, the odd Amoretta - he called her Rose sometimes - and then Zy. Zyay. Ef it, just call her Zana.. His mind grumbled to himself after struggling once again with weird names. What is up with people naming their children incomprehensible and damn annoying names?! Sure, my name is supposed to be Azrael, but I tell people my name is Joss. One syllable, not annoyingly confusing.. The longer words that he needed to describe the situation were starting to get to him, and he cussed under his breath. Now that he was on a rant, he might as well not stop. It came to him that also everybody around him looked like a child, yet he knew differently. They were mostly 1 to 3 years younger than him, but he stood about a foot taller than almost all of them. What was up with that?!

His head swiveled once more, and caught sight of something. While Aqua and Snow kid Dovey were grabbing weapons of some form, he noticed that nothing around him seemed to click with him. Until he saw two gloves, the right once white and the left one black. They caught the light, giving off a dull shine, as if they had been used but still gave the impression of newness. He also noticed that when he looked back once more, both of them were black. He slowly stood up and paced his way there, taking slow strides of laziness. Even after all that had happened, he didn't need to get all excited or hurried. When he finally reached the gloves, he knelt down and picked them up without much thought. Sure, the last time he touched something he fell into oblivion, found out things about his past and yada yada, but honestly, he couldn't care less if he did fall into another coma. Probably get him out of the blinding whiteness of this place.

He slipped them on and they both turned black, fitting snuggly around his hands. He touched his arm this time, slightly shocked at how easily they moved with his hands and even felt like they weren't even there most of the time. He finally turned his attention to the woman in all white, who wasn't that far away from where the gloves had been sitting. He made no noise, no sound towards her, just nodded his welcome and turned to the real reason why he was here: He knew that the person behind the pillar (he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding...) held some form of knowledge on him. His past was in fragments instead of blank now, remembering weird ceremonies, terrible parenting and piano recitals. And his scars, oh damn them. They were the most awkward thing to show somebody by accident when he rolled up his sleeves (which he did mostly every day.) So many of them, making him look like a damn emo, and even along his legs! They were ribbons of scarring, not one or two but dozens of them, freaking people out all the time. Didn't help his 'try not to attract attention' attitude.

He slowly approached the pillar, ignoring the lady with the big-ass sword now, giving Dovey kid a blank, uninterested look. The only reason that he called almost everybody around him a kid was that most of them looked not a day older than 13. How was he supposed to take them seriously when they didn't even look their age?! Worst part was that Dovey was probably the next oldest of the group of them besides himself. "Hey. You, Dovey kid." He said, completely bored now with the situation. He just wanted to leave, and he probably couldn't until after getting his life straight, which was a slight pain. He continued his walking until he was about 6 feet away, to which he stopped. He seemed to tower over the dude, even if he was only 6'3''. Okay, maybe saying only was a slight understatement. He motioned with his head towards the guy behind the pillar, whom he was instantly known as Jack. Joss knew only 2 things about him: Respected, yet slightly creepy weird.

"Mind getting dude behind you to explain?" Joss mumbled with a cigarette in his mouth, which he took out and puffed while he waited Dovey's response.

She still felt really cold, while she did indeed feel warmer than she had before, a persisting chill gnawed away at her bones as she lay there. In response to the coolness, Lulu attempted to form her small body into a tight little ball, trying to force her legs against her chest with as much pressure as she could—she wanted to be warm, she desired simple warmth. Her mind still lost to the clutches of unconsciousness and the confusion which came with it, the reality of her existence, the learned truth which had shocked her into fainting before was forgotten for a moment as all she remembered before was the life she led with her parents. It was because of this, thinking she was still living with her mom and dad, that Lulu allowed a soft moan to slip from her throat before she murmured a simple request, “Mm, mom, could you turn the heat up please. . . ? I’m cold. . . .”

Lulu didn’t stir for another moment, her body remained curled up in the fetal position, her expression a peaceful one as she attempted to return to the clutches of sweet sleep. However, when there was no response to her request, the girl moved, shaking her head just a bit as she allowed her eyes to slowly open, confusion glinting within them, “Mom. . . ?” Lulu’s voice slipped from her throat, cracking just a bit as fear seemed to seep into that one word. As those strange eyes of hers opened to the world around her, they widened as Lulu’s heart fluttered to life in her chest. Letting a sudden rush of air escape from her lips, Lulu abruptly forced herself to sit up, the upper half of her body supported by her toothpick thin arms.

Dizziness set in upon her senses from her suddenly sitting up so fast, but the utter shock at finding herself not in her bed, but lying in a world of white, surrounded by an odd assortment of . . . things, it was enough to circumvent the lightheadedness. Bewilderment attacked at her brain as she struggled to make sense of everything, to remember. The matter of finding her own grave was temporarily wiped from her mind as sleep had drawn it away. I-I, she started, trying to form a coherent thought. Even stuttering in her own head, Lulu sighed harshly and set a hand to her forehead as she shook her cranium back and forth. An expression of annoyance happened over her features, What the hell happened to me, and where am I? she silently questioned, drawing her hand down over her eyes as she brought them to shut, thinking back, trying to draw some answer from the murky depths of her memory.

For the moment, things were silent; the only sound Lulu could make out was the uneven sound of her own heart fluttering away in her chest, urging her form to quiver from a sentiment of fear at not knowing where she was. Even though she did indeed feel the poison known as terror trying to creep in upon her, Lulu refused to let it show against her outside. No, being scared and showing such a thing was a weakness, something that would make her look feeble. She wasn’t anything of the sort, no, she was a strong girl who didn’t suffer from such things.

After a moment or two more of struggling with her haphazard memory, it came back to her. Well, enough of it did to make sense of things . . . sort of.

It came crashing back to her, what had happened, in front of her . . . grave, she had fainted. “M-My grave. . . ?” she whispered to herself, the hand she had over her eyes dropped to gravity’s pull all of a sudden, revealing the wide and shocked expression laying over the face of one Lusine Fiala. Her life, everything, it played back through her mind, and she could recall it all. She was dead, or, she was suppose to have been.

But, she wasn’t, she’d been living for the last odd number of months without a memory. In those amnesia ridden months, she had been breathing, feeling, sleeping, singing, living. There was no way she was dead but. . . . If I’m really suppose to be alive right now, why can I remember my own funeral?

Drawing her lips back together, Lulu bit down upon the both of them, drawing them inward to form her mouth into a thin line as her flesh turned pallor from the puzzlement and utter shock she felt. She blinked and allowed a shaky exhale to come from her nose as she attempted to relax her tense body, and to keep herself from shaking. Even if she really was feeling afraid for the simple fact she could remember her own funeral, that didn’t mean she wanted to show it. Tilting her head skyward, Lulu turned her head to each side slowly, scanning her odd surroundings with her eyes, taking it all in, and trying to understand it.

A world of white littered with broken pillars, rusted and newer weapons emerging from the firm fog-covered ground . . . as well as figures off a short distance away, close enough for her to make them out, yet far enough for her to not figure out any details. So, she wasn’t alone? There were people in this strange place. . . ? No matter what my memories might tell me, even if I seem to remember dying and my own funeral, I’m not dead right now. And I haven’t been dead for the last few months! Lulu told herself, bringing herself to pout as her face flushed a bit, Maybe I’m not the only person experiencing this weirdness. . . .

Uncertain of what else she was suppose to do, Lulu placed her small hands upon the ground carefully, and used her arms to push herself upward, getting to her feet in a somewhat clunky manner. As she steadied herself, Lulu’s gaze caught upon her attire for the first time, and an expression of disgust passed over it. Ugh, what was she wearing exactly. . . ? Black flats, black leggings underneath denim shorts and a white tee-shirt that looked like it was unisex, and was way too big for her body. Whenever I figure out what the hell is going on, I am SO going to try to find something better to wear than this mess. she huffed while shaking her head back and forth.

Crossing her arms over her diaphragm, a terse expression played over Lulu’s face as she quietly moved forward ready to demand some answers from whoever else was in this freaky place. As she traipsed on ahead, her eyes happened along the forms of a couple of other people who were collapsed into heaps against the murky ground below them . . . and despite the memories associated with them being utter blanks, Lulu realized something quite disturbing, though it was not as disturbing as supposedly remembering her own funeral. The redhead realized that they seemed familiar to her—she felt like she knew them for some reason when she was utterly certain of her memories telling her otherwise.

Shaking the doubt from her mind, and the unsettling feelings she was experiencing, Lulu wrenched her gaze away from their sleeping faces and looked ahead, a tinge of insecurity remained upon her features however. I know that I haven’t met those people before, but I feel like I ought to know them, if anything else, I should at least know their names.

Lost in her own mind, Lulu brought herself to a sudden halt when she realized that she was now standing before several other people who left that same sense of doubt within her heart upon seeing their faces. Like she needed to know their names, but for the life of her she couldn’t pull them from her memories again. Mmph! Is it amnesia again?! she thought to herself, face reddening from the very notion that she was suffering from something again.

Blinking, Lulu looked to the people around her, at a loss for their names . . . doing her best to ignore the urge to freak out at seeing a woman dressed in armor, wielding a short that was probably larger than Lulu herself.

These people, all of them, why do I feel like I should know who they are?! Why can’t I remember simple names? Trying to look at her feet through the thick white fog which covered the ground, Lulu shut her eyes, feeling embarrassment and utter annoyance gnawing away at her innards for forgetting names. With a red face she forced it away, refusing to show any more weakness to these people she felt like she was suppose to know.

Tightening her small hands up into bony little fists at her sides, Lulu turned her gaze back upward before she opened her mouth to speak, to try to garner some information about this situation from the lot of these familiar strangers when something sort of felt like it snapped inside her mind. The expression upon Lulu’s face changed in an instant as her eyes went wide and she went still. I-I remember their names. . . . she realized, I don’t know who any of these people are, but I know their names.

A rather innocent expression lit Lulu’s face up as the normal terse look she kept left for the time being, remembering everyone’s names she turned her head back and forth with her mouth slightly agape, looking at them all, matching the name to the face. Remaining quiet for a moment, forgetting about the things she intended on questioning them about before, Lulu lifted an arm upward, and curled a few of her fingers up on her hand as she formed it to point.

“All of you . . . I know all of your names. . . .” she said quietly, voice shaking a bit. Slowly enough, Lulu moved her arm to point at the first person she matched a name with, “You’re Dove, and you are Aquaea, your name’s Relic . . . then, you’re Joss. And the two girls who are still out cold back there are Amoretta and Zyanya. . . .” she said rather quietly, letting her hand drop back to her side. “Wh-Why do I know everyone’s names. . . ? And where am I?”

"Well excuse me if I seem to be forgetting my manners, Relic," Aquaea said coldly, turning to stare icily at the boy who had accosted her. "But it's a bit hard to remember such things when memories of strange people in priest's robes, of magical and impossible swords, and of being dead are being forced violently into one's head."

Things had been strange before, but now there were getting even more bizarre. She somehow recognized all of these people, somehow knew what this weapon was, and was somehow alive and dead at the same time. Clearly, reality had decided to go on vacation for a indefinite amount of time, which left her high and dry in this bizarre dreamscape of madness and magic.

"I thought so before, but now I'm sure of it," The hero - so that was what she was! - said, firmly taking hold of her sword and wrenching it from the ground, causing the blade to shatter and break outward, the various droplets that had once comprised its form spinning into the mists and vanishing. This didn't worry her, however. The blade could be reformed any time she needed it. She knew that from experience, having trained for years in the bizarre weapon's use. "I know all of you, and we all know each other. I don't know how, but it seems we're all in this same bloody mess together. Lovely." Turning, the hero glared at the corner of fabric poking noticeably out from behind a pillar a short distance away, as though she would freeze it with her icy stare.

"Jack!" She called with noticeable irritation. "Why don't you get out here and explain what's going on before I go insane? It's bad enough being stuck here in a den of lunacy, but you waiting until you can be all dramatic about your reappearance really doesn't help anything."

"Hey, you!" Dove turned his head to see some girl with weird hair (like he was one to talk) shouting at him. He cocked his eyebrow at her. Oi. Since when was my name 'you'? "Where am I? What's going on? And who exactly is it watching me from behind that pillar over there?" He looked to the pillar, hearing a giggle come from behind it. Was there even any point in trying to answer? He felt he'd respected this person at some point, but he could remember or even work out why. He saw the priest guy, Relic, make his way over to the girl who was giving him cold looks.

"Excuse me, but yelling at the poor child won't help. Calm yourself and tell us who you are before you go about demanding an explanation." Dove started glaring at him. Poor child? Poor child?! The priest-like boy lifted his hand, and Dove stared at him, shaking his hand. He didn't want to, but his instinct kicked in before he could think. "I'm Relic."

Okay, sure, he was the shortest boy there. And yeah, the only one who appeared shorter than him was Lusine. But calling him a poor child was just really unfair. For god's sake, he somehow felt he'd had this conversation before, and his eyes locked with the other boy's, staying silent and trying to compose himself. The knight looked at him, before almost laughing at his nonchalant face, knowing his anger was probably bubbling up inside. Dove just stared at Joss, who'd now gotten up too.

Oh god, please, no more. . . "Hey. You, Dovey kid." Joss said, walking over to him. Dove felt incredibly short compared to him. He was more than a foot shorter. That was not reassuring him at all. Considering the state she was already in, he just got angrier. "Mind getting dude behind you to explain?"

What were these people thinking? Did he look like the sort of person who'd have all the answers? Sure, he was first up, and looked calm at first. He managed to keep his mask on, somehow, and just stared at them. What the heck? He looked down at himself, noticing his clothes. A gradient from white to blue shirt. And capris. Why the hell would he wear capris in the winter? The capris had this strange attachment, as if they were dungarees, and were held up by bright blue straps. His headphones were on his ears, and his goggles were dangling around his neck. He carefully adjusted them so they were on his head. And blue boots. The clothes really would never had suited anyone taller, but they were practically perfect for this little Snow Queen.

"All of you . . . I know all of your names. . . .” Now Lusine, or Lulu, was talking and Dove felt like screaming. Or just giving up completely and retreating back to be behind a pillar so he could hide himself from these people. “You’re Dove, and you are Aquaea, your name’s Relic . . . then, you’re Joss. And the two girls who are still out cold back there are Amoretta and Zyanya. . . ." His mind blanked out the rest of what Aquaea was saying, trying to concentrate on staying quiet.

Finally, Dove snapped, making an "Argh!" sound. He snatched his staff out of the ground, he knew it was his, and started pointing it at people with it. To be honest, he was putting it dangerously close to their faces, but even if he didn't know it, he was a master of the weapon. He knew how to use it. Even angry, he maintained his overall grace. It went to Aquaea first. "Oi! What the hell? It that how you start a conversation? By shouting? God, do you have no manners?" He shouted, his yelling voice echoing in the white space. The knight was slightly shocked, since he seemed to be doing so well with keeping his thoughts in. "And Relic, for God's sakes, I'm bloody older than you! Yeah, sure, I'm shorter, But calling me a 'poor child' is just going way over the line! We've had this conversation, even if I'm not sure where. If you have questions, ask Knight!"

Knight was slightly surprised. He hadn't added a 'the', so did that mean he'd guessed that was her name? She didn't really have a name, to be honest. . .

"And my name isn't Dovey!" he finished, slamming the bottom or his staff on the floor. It made a sound that wind would make when it was really fast, and he looked down, seeing ice growing around the base. But for some reason, that seemed normal. Maybe a bit too normal. When he looked down again, he saw the ice was now melted, but there was ice crawling up his hand. He wasn't even scared, it felt like it happened everyday. He was already used to this weapon, so everything was fine. Fine. . .

Dove looked up toward the white void, taking a deep breath and somewhat calming down. He still looked like he'd blow a fuse if someone else approached him with dumb questions. "Jack!" That Aquaea girl said it, and Dove sighed. He missed the momentary silent which followed his outburst. It didn't last very long. "Why don't you get out here and explain what's going on before I go insane? It's bad enough being stuck here in a den of lunacy, but you waiting until you can be all dramatic about your reappearance really doesn't help anything."

He suddenly turned so he was facing the pillar. "You're fooling no one, you goon." he said clearly, swinging his staff round. His volume was normal, but there was a angry tone hidden in his voice. A head peeked out from behind the pillar, looking slightly upset.

Jack came out from behind the pillar, not at all shocked by Dove's outburst. He sat on the grave, next to the knight and put his arm around her. However, it was taken away when the golden sword was right at his neck, and he made a "D'accord, d'accord!" out of nowhere. Where the french came from, Dove and Knight did not know. He crossed his legs. "I am Jack!" he said, smiling. The Pumpkin King he thought, a grin coming over his face as he basically spaced out, remembering the whole of the song for a moment, before returning to the conversation.

"Dove, you never change, sweetheart." He said, chuckling. He saw Dove's grip on his staff tighten at the word 'sweetheart', but he carried on. "Ah~! My little priest is awake!" he said, stretching his arms out. "And hello Joss! Seems you're awake too, honey." Yes. Jack had a tendency to add in 'sweetheart' and 'honey', like the kind elderly people in the town when you were younger. "Still asking as many questions, Lulu? Well, I can't blame you, sweetheart. We're very questionable." he pointed to him and Knight, before realising something.

"Hey, hey, is your name actually Knight?"

"I don't know. Ask Dove. I think it's. . . what's it called. . . A nickname?" she said, tilting he head. Even so, her blonde hair continued covering her face. Jack shrugged.

"So! Questions? Any?" Jack said, looking at Amoretta and Zyanya. Poor dears, still out cold.

"I believe I just explained my lack of manners a moment ago, so if you don't mind, could you stifle yourself for a moment?" The hero said sarcastically. "My head hurts, and I'm really in no mood for your tantrums. Being dead and all, you could say my inhibitions on, say, gagging you with this wonderful sword of mine, are much less than they otherwise would be."

The hero turned away after saying this and, striding a short distance over to a small pillar, leaned against it with a look of vague distaste on her face. Why get involved with other people? Her death - ah, that's right, she remembered now! - had taught her that anyone could betray you, at any time. Not even the ones you loved most were exempt from that. In fact, they were the ones most likely to place the knife in your back themselves.

So she crossed her arms, and stared icily at the bizarre world around her, sizing up the various goons she'd found herself lying amongst. She could remember all of their names, and connect them with their faces... She even knew some things about them. Her memories weren't complete, but, she realized, Jack was behind everything. He was the reason that they were all here right now. These weapons around them... each of them knew how to use one. If Jack was the mastermind of all this, and he had collected them in this place so they could find those weapons...

It was all clear to her now. He wanted them to fight.

"Yes, yes, we all know who you are, Jack," Aquaea snarked impatiently. "While I'm sure we're all eager to join Jack Dysfunctional and the Superfriends, there are a few more pressing issues, such as 'Why us?' 'What are we supposed to be doing?' and 'What's in this for me?' I'm guessing you know enough about me to realize why I'd help you in the first place, but you also have to know that I'm not exactly the 'Yay team!' type."

After speaking, Joss remained silent throughout the entire ordeal. It usually wasn't his thing to say more than a few words every so often, and they all knew it. Joss would rather other people decide his actions for him, and then take the blame for their terrible planning. It was either that or he got the credit for plowing through things. However, as Dovey seemed to be bombarded with questions by the others, Joss simply kept his face passive and his mind slighty amused by all that was going on. So far, people seemed to go to Dovey for information - Joss just wanted him to get Jack to talk, since he kinda was the closest... - and he didn't seem to be enjoying all the company at once. He heard Lulu as she pointed her little index finger at him, and he puffed smoke when she did, just because he could.

When Aqua started talking, he instantly felt a little bit of annoyance in his temper. Maybe it was the way she spoke, or presented herself, or simply by the tone she used: it didn't matter, Joss was still tinged with annoyance. It passed quickly, however, when Relic spoke as well. For a kid that looked even more child-like than Dove (who didn't look childish when they wore mini robes?) he seemed to talk big. Then again, Joss was in an annoyed mood to begin with, even if nobody could really tell the difference by his facial expression. It was usually just laziness.

What made his day, however, was Dovey snapping out like a beast, pointing that stick of a weapon of his at everybody. Granted it looked fearsome, but Joss never really took weapons seriously, since he just used his hands to win fights. Wait, fights? Since when do I even feel the need to argue? Joss raised an eyebrow at himself, then listened in on Dovey's ranting, and to be honest, Joss agreed with the rant for the most part - he seemed to recall doing this quite often actually. Dove pointed out that Aqua seemed to have no good conversational skills, and Relic was quite belittling with that last comment, and they had probably had this conversation before sometime earlier. He even had to scream out that his name wasn't Dovey, to which Joss simply shrugged and gave a little smirk. "Whatever, Dovey..." he mumbled to himself. This conversation was starting to get old, and he probably had something better to do.

Jack spoke up then, finally. Pissing off Knight person, and calling Dove sweetheart. Joss a slightly chuckle, but stayed quiet. And hello Joss! Seems you're awake too, honey." He raised an eyebrow slightly at this comment, but shrugged it off and gave a little nod. That sounded so normal, like nothing different than what he was used to. Honestly, Joss usually didn't care if you gave him different names, as long as they weren't in the form of a nickname, since he already had a few of those and didn't need any more to worry about. When Jack and Knight were done their little comedy skit, Jack wrapped it up with his usual "So! Questions? Any? Joss really didn't have any. Everything seemed to solve itself slowly, and that was alright for him. But of course, Aqua-girl here was unsatisfied and started ranting like a friggin child. He wasn't sure who looked the youngest anymore, as everybody around him was at least a foot shorter than him, except for Aqua maybe. And Jack.

When Aquaea finally finished her extremely temperamental and highly lame speech, Joss tilted his head back and gave a heavy sigh. He knew it. He was going to be speaking again, as much as he rather disliked having to, so with his head still tilted upwards, he gave his 2 cents to the entire situation: "Aqua, shut up and grow up. Nobody cares if you have a headache. People, we are all kinda effing dead, and everybody needs to just deal with it... Dammnit... " He muttered the final part to himself, taking a puff of his almost gone cigarette. Now that was saddening. He walked over to the pillar that Jack had been hiding behind and leaned against it, a look of total boredom and uninterest on his face. After his speech, he really didn't need to say much more.

All of these people, how the blasted hell did she know the names of people like them?! Just as soon as innocence seemed to overtake Lulu’s face, it was gone, quickly replaced by an expression of utter aggravation. Okay, so like it wasn’t bad enough that she was confused as could be about everything that was happening to her, about apparently dying, winding up in some godforsaken place with a lot of people whose names she knew, but whom she did not recall knowing. . . . It just had to turn out that they were all weird and jerky too?! Seriously, could this get any damn worse for me? All I want is to know what the freaking hell is going on! she thought to herself, the expression on her face harshening as Lulu shakily allowed her head to tilt downward, her bangs hiding the look upon her features.

Something between a hiss and a huff slipped from between the girl’s teeth as she tried to quell her fluttering heart, which was beating quickly in her chest from the creeping anger she felt consuming her.

But it felt like too much, all of these people and their attitudes. . . . God, it was pissing her off. Yes, she felt like complaining her head off too about whatever was going on with herself and everyone, but she wasn’t was she? No, no, she wasn’t, but she had every right to do so didn’t she? So then, why was it that she wasn’t going ahead and just letting her jaws flap? Lulu knew that at any other point in her life she would have just gone ahead and done so, and kvetched on and on about everything until someone blatantly told her to shut up or something.

But, even as spoiled and easily irked as she was, Lulu wasn’t stupid enough to go and just gripe about the situation at the moment, no, what mattered most right now was getting some straight answers . . . not being a whiny thing. After she got some certainty about everything around her, then she’d go ahead and return to her regularly scheduled bouts of complaint. All she wanted were answers, not more of people’s . . . problems. Everyone was complaining or in a bad mood—or it seemed. Isn’t that normally my thing? Lulu sarcastically remarked to herself.

Even if these people did indeed feel familiar to her, the redhead couldn’t deny the fact that . . . well, they all were nothing but tedious to her! Putting it bluntly, she didn’t care for any single one of them. People like this were of the sort she held loathing in herself for, in a word, they were nothing but sheer nuisances who just got in the way when events took a turn for the worse in her mind. Lulu didn’t know what was going on, why she was where she was, or how she’d even gotten to be wherever this strange place was. She didn’t understand how it seemed she had died a time ago, but was now standing about, breathing and speaking as if there were nothing at all wrong with her. No matter what her memories told her, she knew that she was at least alive for the time being, the angry, fluttering heart in her chest told her as much.

Getting the answers to her questions, about where she was and about how she’d even gotten there in the first place, well, they just weren’t worth this headache or nightmare. Y’know what? Just forget all of this, forget all of it, even if I want my answers, all of this junk is annoying and completely a waste of my valuable time. No matter what my memories are telling me, I’m not dead, I couldn’t have died because I’m breathing right now and I can feel, and hear. . . . I’m not dead and I never died.

Without a warning, Lulu turned her gaze back up, the irritation she felt was clearly displayed upon that young face of hers. “All of you are just . . . ugh!” she started, “No matter what the hell happened to me, no matter why I know the names of people I know I haven’t met, and even if they know my name, getting answers to it all just is not worth the headache I know all of this is going to be!”

Lulu promptly huffed after this, her cheeks a touch red as she released a breath, looking around at everyone, “I’m confused as can be, all I wanted were answers and instead of that, I wind up wasting my good time by encountering a load of people who are of horrid temperaments and moods, and are doing nothing but sniping about everything. Well, I’ve had my share of this all.” With those words, Lulu spun on the heel of her shoes and turned around completely before beginning to walk away. Even if she didn’t know where she was, she figured she’d be better off wandering around lost than stuck with people who were just going to be nothing more than complaints and bad moods . . . even if she weren’t in a much better mindset herself.

When Joss snapped at her, Aquaea only laughed, giving a slight smirk at him. Her previous comments had been perfectly collected and calm, making them all the more biting, and she wasn't about to change that over a little insult. Actually, instead of making her feel bad, it was kind of funny, in a sick way. It gave her a feeling of triumph, for it meant that she had obviously succeeded in isolating herself from them. On top of that, seeing the usually mellow Joss - she wasn't sure how she knew that - snap at her like that was quite satisfying.

"Struck a nerve, did I?" The hero said mockingly, sizing up Joss with confident, icy blue eyes. There was glaring daggers, and then there was Aquaea's usual apathetic glance of distaste, which somehow managed to be both terrifying in its threatening nature and completely composed. "I think you'll find you need to relax more than I do. Actually, it's because we're all dead that I'm hurrying things along so quickly. Are you too lazy to wonder exactly how we're all still here, or are you too stupid to care? Well, it hardly matters either way, because it's as you've said, dear Joss. We're dead. If it's the former, then your slacking isn't likely to have much of an effect on things anyway, and if it's the latter, well, then maybe there's a reason you're here with us instead of alive and doing whatever it is a chain smoking bum like you does to eke out a miserable existence among his fellow bits of trash." Throughout what by all rights should have been called a tirade, Aquaea did not once raise her voice, letting her emphasis on certain words and her cool indifference carry the insulting message she desired to send, rather than getting worked up at all. Coming across as angry would have just been a sign of weakness, and would make her seem impulsive and easily manipulated. On the contrary, she spoke with an insulting condescension that bespoke of great pride and dignity, as though she were queen of all she beheld and those to whom she deigned to speak were nothing more than impudent fools crawling in the mud at her feet. While this might have seemed a bit immature, any fool could see that there was always a reason for pride, and it just might have been a good one. It made her seem dangerous apart from making her unapproachable, thereby killing two birds with one stone. And besides, Aquaea had to admit. There was something so very satisfying about dealing one's damage through wit rather than blind rage and pointless anger. It put one on the intellectual high ground, and allowed them to stomp upon their object's worthless opinions with absolute impunity. And in the hero's opinion, that was much more fulfilling than dealing a blind smack across the face, like a spoiled brat.

Dove sighed at Aquaea. "Can you just shut up already? We know we're dead, and if you think you're higher than any of us, in any way, I have to say you are one conceited human being." Dove said calmly, sitting on the floor and pulling out a mini-sketchbook, drawing the outline of the place and drawing Lulu walking off, before actually noticing she was leaving. His eyes rested on her, before he rolled them, returning to his drawing of the place. Some people never change. he thought, sighing. But, wouldn't it be hilarious if this 'world' had walls and she walked right into it. He suppressed a giggle when he thought of her walking flat out into a wall.

But Jack decided he was going to speak up about this. "Sweetheart, walking off somewhere in this dimension means you'll either end up in the afterlife, or lost for centuries. This is the Between, so I suggest you don't wander around too much. Even I don't really know much about this place. Unless, of course, you'd rather die than get another chance at life, sweetheart. But I'll tell you now, you probably won't get a high chance of becoming an Angel with that attitude. Right, when Amoretta and Zyanya wake up, I'll tell you why you're here."

Dove looked at Jack, before looking away, his 'sketch' (it looked like a full drawing) was completed and he moved on to observing his staff quietly. He looked at the part floating slightly above the weapon, a blue glow in the centre of a prism made of ice. How bizarre. He looked at Aquaea, who looked oddly proud of herself and her little speech, and he burst out laughing with that thought and the one of Lulu walking into a wall. He stopped himself halfway through, but his shoulders still shook as he looked down, his hair covering his face as he tried not to laugh. His small body still shook, even as he tried to draw but his hand kept trembling.

"Oh, Aquaea." He said breathily and slowly, drawing out her name patronisingly with a wide grin on his face. She seemed to think she was the most important person there. To be honest, he didn't care. He wanted to get home and eat those instant noodles with his roommate. They'd promised they'd eat together tonight, since they'd both get home earlier that night. Seems that wasn't going to happen. There was a silence, and Jack sighed.

"You guys never change." he said, a small smile on his face, and Dove just began laughing more. Jack seemed to be happy that Dove was enjoying this, drawing all kinds of things with his bright blue goggles now on his eyes. On his page, he already had a sketch of Joss smoking, Aquaea looking proud with stars flying around her, Jack peering out from behind the pillar, Knight with her sword at Jack's neck, Amoretta and Zyanya sleeping, and Lulu stomping off. They were all small and on the same page, but you could tell the difference between them. He also drew a cartoony sketch of Aquaea with everyone there kneeling around her in a worshipping pose. It was ridiculous how quick he'd sketched them, and his hand only paused when he looked to see if Amoretta and Zyanya were awake yet. He stashed the sketchbook back in his pocket, when Jack decided he might as well answer Aquaea's questions.

"Well, you because I spent years training you, and I'm not starting that all over again. Plus, at first, it was your choice. Nothing's in this for you, apart from another chance at life. If you decline, off to the afterlife! And you, like Lulu, won't be able to come back to Earth without becoming an angel. And I'm not dysfunctional, I just have a happier grasp on life than. . . some people." Jack stood up, stretching. "Dove, do you have candy~?" he asked, and Dove looked at him.

He brought a pack of turquoise sweets, ones he hadn't eaten in ages. They had this weird substance in the middle which tasted like banana ice-cream. It was cold too. Jack took one and grinned. "Merci~!" he laughed, and Dove raised his eyebrow, eating one himself. He missed the sweets his sister used to make. Oh well. He'd just have to savour these ones.

"Good answer," Aquaea noted, giving a half smirk to Jack. She had already remembered, now. She had chosen this. She had wanted to be a hero, and, consequently, had become something even she would have never believed possible. Did that make her a monster? A god? Well, it didn't matter. She wasn't Human anymore. "As for being conceited, well, I don't really care if I am, so long as I don't have to deal with certain imbeciles and fools any more than I absolutely must. But don't stop on my account! If you want to keep trying to insult me, go ahead! It'll be a good source of laughs hearing all of you getting worked up over a few words." The hero chuckled, brushing a strand of silvery hair from her eyes and giving another of her trademark glances across the entire room. Dorky kid with goggles who seemed to find laughing at nothing to be an amusing pastime? Check. Chain smoking hobo who had probably never worked a day in his life? Check. Little priest with the condescending attitude - funny for her to call someone else condescending, given the proud facade she usually presented to the world in general - of a man 7 times his age? Check, although Aquaea did recall him to be one of the more useful members of the group, so she refrained from insulting him further on that count, even if he couldn't hear her. Then there were the others, namely the real spoiled brat, the incredibly naive nice girl - Aquaea was certain she'd get betrayed by someone she'd been fool enough to trust, and would probably die again - and the shy one, who Aquaea did not really care about anyway.

Oh, what a wonderfully dysfunctional ensemble they comprised. Aquaea was not looking forward to the days ahead of her. Teamwork was overrated, their boss was insane, and they were all so mutually bizarre that she doubted they'd last a day before they started getting at each other's throats. Well, that didn't really matter. As long as she could see them coming, she could cut them down. Even if it made her more enemies on the path ahead, she walked alone. There would never be someone by her side again. She would not be betrayed, ever, ever again.

Struck a nerve, did I? Aqua seemed to be in a rather snotty mood today, which made Joss sigh in discontent. This would be a long meeting, he could tell that for sure. What he really wanted to say straight out loud and in her face was a NOOO... but he really didn't have the time because, like Aqua, she just steamrolled over him like she ususally did to most others. Joss never understood why she felt like she had to be the top dog all the time, or why she felt the need to run her mouth off like that, but at this point Joss' cig was finished and he stomped it out. While she continued her snide remarks at his expense, he flicked his lighter open, then closed it causing a clinking sound. He was simply that bored with the situation already.

I think you'll find you need to relax more than I do. Joss couldn't help but nearly laugh at her remark. Him? Relax?! If he relaxed anymore, he probably wouldn't be conscious. Actually, it's because we're all dead that I'm hurrying things along so quickly. Are you too lazy to wonder exactly how we're all still here, or are you too stupid to care? If you made me choose... I would pick the first one thanks. Joss thought to himself, not really wanting to hear the rest of her retort to his simple and blunt statement. He really needed to stop speaking in general, it made people like Aqua believe it was their right to babble with their 'wit' and make fun of others.

Well, it hardly matters either way, because it's as you've said, dear Joss. We're dead. If it's the former, then your slacking isn't likely to have much of an effect on things anyway, and if it's the latter, well, then maybe there's a reason you're here with us instead of alive and doing whatever it is a chain smoking bum like you does to eke out a miserable existence among his fellow bits of trash He gave a grunt of disapproval at that last comment. Sure, he could handle being called a bum, chain smoker, miserable, anything you threw at him. But it totally wasn't cool that she was bring in his friends and such just to make herself feel better. He could feel a retort slowly forming, and he cooled it down just as fast as it started to heat up. What got you into this mess was thinking that she would respond in a civilized manner dude. Speaking again isn't going to help the situation.

He ignored her the rest of the time that the bantering continued. He could sense that their team was based on shakey foundations, that much was clear. He usually wasn't very good at this whole 'perception thing' and usually refrained from subtly and that sort of bullshit, however he was picking up something that if he could understand, so should everybody else. For one, Dovey was good in Joss' book. He didn't need to be rude to get his point across, so Joss would put his faith in him. Aqua, on the other hand, wanted to be a loner, thought she was better than everybody else - hell, he would pick Lulu over her anyday - and had a misguided sense of pride. Then we moved to Relic, who wasn't bad - not much to say - and Lulu was just herself. He could forgive basically everybody.

While Jack was speaking about how he trained them - Joss remembered that already - and Aqua was being all 'I'm better than you just because my name is stupidly hard to say' Joss groaned in slight annoyance. "Is it alright if we leave her here for a year or two?" Joss mumbled his usual, monotone voice in Jack's direction, which Dovey was also in the same area as well. Today was supposed to be a normal friggin day, and he was probably missing his workout session just to listen to ranting of other people. So not cool.

Darkness had engulfed her consciousness. She felt the dizziness flow within her as she fell through an endless hole. As she fell, she watched her memories fly by… All the precious moments with her brother… Them playing together, being normal children at their grandparents… Being loved and loving each other as a family should. Zana also saw the sad moments… She and her brother trying to obtain their parents and foster parents attention… Seemingly destine to be alone together and longing for other people, aside from each other. For, even though they loved each other, they weren’t enough. And when they weren’t at home, they were being picked on at school… Life could be so cruel. If Zana hadn’t died, perhaps and happy future was awaiting her. However, she left the world far too soon to see.

The memories seemed to flow like faded TV screens as she fell passed each and every one of them. There was so much pain… So much agony… And so much joy. Zana smiled, considering herself lucky to have her brother. If he wasn’t there, she would have lived the majority of her life alone. The only time she would have had anyone by her said was when her grandparents were alive. Her life would have been empty before and after that. Ther5e would have been no reason for her existence, for she would have been born alone to die alone. Her brother gave her a reason to exist… To protect him and guide him. With her gone, would he be lost? Zana sighed… there was no way for her to tell.

The recordings of her past ceased as she watched herself die. After that, she continued to fall through a seemingly endless darkness. Was this the afterlife? Was it her punishment for the sins of her life and the almost pointless one she lived? The girl closed her eyes as she fell, but after a moment… It seemed more like she began floating. Her energy began traveling upward as opposed to down… Opening her eyes, she saw a light. Unsure if it was the afterlife calling to her or this odd dream… Zana approached the light.

Was death just an endless dream? She wondered… So far, it seemed like it. She could piece anything together. Everything seemed to be rushing by… Her memory loss and sudden recovery of memories. Fainting and then watching them pass her by r passing by them herself… And now this light. Why was everything moving so quickly. Zana rubber her eyes with her petite hands as she continued toward the light. However, because she seemed to be floating, her travel seemed relentlessly slow. It would take years to reach that light. Was there something Zana had to do before reaching the light? Did she not accept it or did it now accept her? Zana felt sorrow seep in through her chest.

“Soon, you will awaken to a familiar place” A very tender voice engulfed her. Zana turned, but she saw nothing… Spinning, Zana looked for her, but the source… She could not find. “You cannot see me for I am not with you.” The voice seemed to respond to her movements. Confused, Zana let the floating take over her. “Everything will be okay.” The voice told her. “Relax.” Zana responded by obeying and the light engulfed her… As it did, Zana opened her eyes… What she saw was blurry… Like fog engulfed the entire area. She saw some pillars… And snow… Was it snow? And she could make out the shapes of people there… But she didn’t recognize anyone. Had they died too? Did everyone who was buried in the same graveyard as Zana live here?

"Is it alright if we leave her here for a year or two?" She heard one of them speak. Slowly, she stood up. Nervously, she grabbed her arm. She was so curous… As to what was going on and what she should do… But she dared not speak for she knew no one who was around her. She squeezed her arm and hung her head low as she slouched. What could she do? Surely she should ask them, but… She couldn’t do it. The fear of speaking up was too strong, She could only speak when spoken to and she was not spoken to. The shy girl shuffled her feet and sighed. This would be one situation where it would be good not to be so shy. Usually, Zana didn’t mind. It was good when no one knew she was there, because then people wouldn’t pick on her. Ah well, can’t be both shy and outgoing at the same time… Only about different things…

Distance, she needed some distance. Being around people was not something she wanted right now, not at all. No matter what she wanted to believe, even if she wished to deny it with her whole being, Lulu was beginning to grasp upon the fact that she really remembered her own funeral, her own death—plummeting ten stories out of a broken window thanks to some ass with a temper problem who couldn’t handle being shot down. It can’t be true . . . all of this can’t. . . . she thought to herself as she continued to walk away from the group, even hearing Jack’s words about not being able to return to Earth, or how she might wander for centuries if she wasn’t careful. Lulu just continued walking repeating the statement of, ‘None of this can be true.’ to herself.

Sincerely, she didn’t want to believe it, she didn’t want to believe she really had died, though so much weighed against it not being true, Lulu wanted it to be a lie. The months of amnesia, finding her own headstone in a graveyard, waking up and finding people who seemed to be in a situation much like her own. . . . It was just too much for her. The breaths the redhead was taking in were heavy ones, strained and quick, the reflected the hasty beatings of the small girl’s heart as her form began to quiver from anxiety.

Memories played back through her mind, causing her to halt where she was, her neck limply going forward. She could remember it. The moment she so wanted to deny as being nothing more than a dream . . . the moment she had died. The sound of shattering glass, her body feeling weightless for but a moment as she tipped over the edge; the utter confusion she felt while her body seemed to go numb. A sharp ringing played through her head as all she was able to see were buildings stretching up toward the blue-blue sky, before. . . . Before the weight returned to her body in a sudden instant that is, the ringing in her head stopped as pain took its place all too quickly. It shot through her as quick as an arrow, sharp and well aimed, and with that ache came the heaviness. The whole world seemed to go silent, as she’d lost sensation in her whole being, the pain was gone as her vision had flittered in and out, finally submerging her in what seemed like perpetual darkness.

The heaviness of her body was gone, and she returned to being weightless again . . . it was from there things blurred, memories were little better than fragmented dreams, yet she could remember things that she shouldn’t have, there was a latent knowledge lodged within that mind of hers that she shouldn’t have possessed if she really had not died. And that was something she could not deny, no matter how much she wanted to. Lulu knew, deep down . . . she knew she was dead.

The confusion, the questions, and the realization weighed upon that small girl’s shoulders as her heart felt like it was sinking into the deep depths of her stomach. The girl’s odd eyes seemed to go vacant as tears began to spill over their rims. There was so much she didn’t understand still. She felt . . . isolated again. The façade she carried, the one of strength faded from her being for the moment as her true emotions revealed themselves in those tears of hers. No matter what I wanted to say to anyone, I was always alone wasn’t I? I always tried to show I was strong until he would return for me, but, it looks like there’s no point in that anymore. I-I’m a dead girl.

That was it, she was dead. It was as simple as that, Lusine Fiala was dead! The whole reason for her mannerisms, for her acting strong and like she was ahead of others, she wasn’t going to be seeing him again, so there was no point in it. A shiver ran up Lulu’s spine without warning, and she lifted her head up and looked up to the blank white sky, a forlorn expression upon her young features. She wasn’t alone in this situation, those other people, the ones she knew the names of. . . . They seemed to be in the same boat as her, dead and here for some reason, gathered for a purpose some seemed to understand while others did not. But, did she really even care? Her whole reason for being in the first place was for the sake of the promise that had been made to her years ago, the one that ensured to her that she would never have to be alone again at some point in the distant future.

Yet, that promise was severed by death itself, and that was something there was no overcoming. Even if Jack had said there was a chance for her to return to Earth . . . what was the point? Upon that planet, she was dead to the world. To all she knew, to her parents, and to the boy she had made the promise too. . . . To them, Lusine Fiala was dead.

It doesn’t matter, if I got lost here forever, then . . . it wouldn’t make a difference. she thought to herself, a deep sigh coming from her lips while she sniffled, finding that her nose had begun to run from her silent crying. Lulu shut her eyes and let her head drop forward, heart heavy. Why was she here. . . ? Without making a single noise, the redhead allowed her odd eyes to open slightly, to gaze at the mist covered ground without a single thought. However, as she allowed her eyes to just come open a touch, she spotted something before her feet that she had not seen there before.

Partly consumed by the white fog that obscured the ground, laying face up, was something that quite surprised Lulu. Sniffling again, she merely looked upon it as one of the remaining tears rolled down the remnants of her face, and fell to land upon the black, beaded eye of a strange stuffed animal. What a stuffed animal of any sort would be doing in a world such as this, Lulu didn’t know, but seeing it gave her feelings of nostalgia. It brought her back to the days of her childhood, of when her only friends were her toys and dolls. In a way, the memories were sweet, but also bitter—because she was reminded of how utterly alone she was, even in those early days. For a moment more, she stared at it before finding herself sighing heavily and bearing a rather melancholy smile upon her lips, “. . . .I guess old habits die hard, don’t they? Even though I’m eighteen, I can’t go and leave a stuffed animal lying around because I feel like it’d be lonesome otherwise.” She murmured to herself quietly, stooping down before the toy. “C’mon, I don’t know where I’m going or what’s ahead of me now Mr. Penguin, but at least with me you won’t be alone. . . .”

And without hesitating a single bit, Lulu reach her small arms out, and took hold of the toy by its sides before it all came back to her. A sharp gasp resounded from her as her body tensed up, eyes going wide as she remained knelt down. . . . .I remember. she thought, beginning to shake, Everything, it-it, I-I. . . .

“. . . .with everyone, I remember being with everyone, how I know them.” She murmured, blinking suddenly before she looked back down to the toy she had a light grasp upon. “And I remember you, Pepen.” A look of sorrow happened over Lulu’s face as she quickly brought the toy off up the ground and brought it to her chest, embracing it to her tightly. “I’m so sorry I left you all alone.”

Relic raised his eyes to the white expanse above him, releasing a sigh filled with stress and the need for peace. It was unusually calming to stare at such a seemingly endless color, helping to detach himself from the arguements of those who had been brought to this strange place. Memories from the graveyard still lingered in the back of his mind: the discovery of his grave, the realization, the darkness that had decended upon him. Though he still felt shocked from discovering the truth of why there was such a large hole in his memory, something far more important had taken priority of his thoughts.

He was still alive.

That brief moment of hopelessness upon touching his grave reminded him of how lucky he was to still be standing. Because of Jack, he still was able to walk the earth in his own flesh. Yes, he may have gave each of them life in order for them to fulfill a purpose, whatever it was, but that only made Relic feel even more blessed to have been choosen by the angel. He had died. His original body was still rotting in the ground. Relic had done everything in his power to complete the purpose he had given himself in life, to bring those walking the road of darkness back to the light. Now, here he was, after Death, given a new meaning to his existence.

Without meaning to, his left hand came up and rapped its fingers around the necklace he had found when he awoke, drawing his eyes to the pristine crystal. This crystal- this was his new purpose. It embodied it. Without it, Relic's new goal was lost. Somehow, his resolve was centered on this.

Whatever this necklace is- or does, I know for a fact that it shall help me achieve my new goal and to help whoever got dragged into this with me.

Taking in a small breath, Relic coughed in his throat to make himself known once again. "Pardon for interupting, but firing off insults between eachother won't change one simple fact, which I'm sure that everyone is aware of by now. We have died. we are alive again, and it was through the good grace of Jack that we all stand here at this moment instead of having our souls trapped in the Afterlife and our bodies rotting in the ground." Stopping for a brief moment, Relic turned to Jack, smiled, bowed his head slightly, then returned to his "speech". "Sure, the later is still true, but we're all stille alive. I don't know whats in store for us, but we should all act a little more greatful instead of complaining. Let us wait for anyone else to come and then we can let Jack explain. I'm surprised he's still all smiles, because he's been put up with you're cold remarks." At his last comment, Relic let his eyes rest on Aquaea, disapproval radiating from his deep purple eyes.