Description

‡ Fiammetta Roselle Thorne ‡

‡I wish people would stop saying, “I know how you feel.” How could anyone know how I feel . . . ? ‡

Lost | Within Temptation

Turn Loose the Mermaids | Nightwish

Falling Awake | Tarja Turunen

‡ More Than Just A Name ‡

| Nickname | "I’ve been called by a number of names before, and for the most part, I don’t care about them. . . ."
Perhaps the most obvious of the bunch, Fiammetta has been called ‘Fia’ by many people, with few actually using her full name in favor of this shorter version. In line with the nicknames too, due to her middle name, she has also been known to answer to ‘Rose,’ and has also gone by the names of, ‘Thorne,’ ‘Briar,’ and ‘Ammetta.’ As far as other sorts of names go, Fia’s also had one other, notable name applied to her . . . and this is one name that she does not want anyone to use, because it drudges up memories rather painful for her to experience again. If ever someone might wind up calling her by this nickname, it’d crack her shell and likely reduce her to near tears, if not actual ones. This nickname would be “Fifi.’

| Gender | ". . . .I’d have figured that at least this much was obvious."
Female

| Age | "Old enough to smoke, too young to drink. I can kill myself with cigarettes but not alcohol, yet, makes sense."
Nineteen

| Sexuality | "To be frank with you, I don’t give a damn whether or not someone’s straight, gay, bi or whatever."
Pansexual/Asexual

| Soul Element | "It would figure . . . the thing I hate the most would curse me for eternity."
Fire

| Face Claim | "I really don’t get what the hell this is supposed to mean."
Saber – Arutia Pendragon from Fate/stay night

‡It’s funny isn’t it? That those people who deserve to be alive aren’t, and those of us who’ve merited death, are. ‡

‡ Hiding Behind the Mask ‡

| Eye Color | "Brown, green, blue—what does it matter as long as I can see?"
Sage Green

| Hair Color | "It’s hair, red, blonde or pink, it’s still just hair."
Ash Blonde

| Height | "Tch, I’m however tall I am, it’s not like I could control how much I grew as a kid."
5 ft 6 ins (168 cm)

| Weight | "People say I’m as thin as a rail."
110 lbs (50 kg)

| Measurements | "Why does this matter? People fuss too much over these sorts of things."
32-24-36 (81-61-91)

| Skin Tone | "Like everything else; skin’s skin, so long as you have it keeping everything on the inside from going out, it doesn’t matter."
Pale Ivory

| Body Markings | "Hmph, there are certain things that even I don’t much care to talk about y’know. . . ."
There’s no denying it, Fia is a woman who has her fair share of scars, scattered along her body. Even though she’s only nineteen, it looks like she’s seen war. Underneath the suit she can usually be found wearing, her arms and legs are littered with a montage of scars; their kinds, sizes, types and severity all vary in degree, some are more noticeable than others, while some had clearly faded with time. It’d be easy to find yourself stunned by seeing her skin, given how marred up she is.

There are a number of scars present all over her body, but many have begun fading with time and as such, they are not nearly as notable as they would have been when they were fresh. Regardless of this however, Fia’s body is not entirely free of fading scars, there are marks upon her flesh which will never leave her nor will they ever fade in the slightest. They are burn scars, terrible marring discolorations upon her skin that are nearly impossible to ignore if left in plain sight.

There are burn scars scattered all over her body, ranging from the small to the large; the worst of this batch of scars would have to be the one located on the left side of her ribcage. Under her left breast, consuming the front of her ribcage, a scar mars her there; her skin is twisted and melded into an unnatural manner, forever dyed colors that one should never see upon flesh; seeing it tells you that Fia has been through something terrible. The skin upon her ribcage is shriveled, indented, and of an unnatural texture than the rest of her body, the colors range from a sick maroon to a deep shade of red and the skin holds a sheen to it. There are similar marks upon her right hand/arm/shoulder as well. . . .

As far as tattoos go, Fia has none at all, it’d be pointless for her to dish out the money for one when she’s bound to probably get it messed up with whatever antics she manages to get herself into that gets her so injured all the time.

| Physical Description | "I look like what I look like, I can’t exactly control that either."
With her fairly average height, and her rather normal weight, Fia is a woman whose body is thin, small and petite. Born with a slender figure, she’s a normal young lady who honestly, does not have much of a remarkable body. She kind of looks like she weighs less than what she really does thanks to her weight being more focused around her hips than other sections of her body, and thanks to this little fact—Fia has more of a slender pear shaped figure than anything else. The fact that more of her weight is centered around her hips means one thing. . . . she’s more flat-chested than anything else. Because her body formed like this, Fia’s figure is mainly only notable thanks to the transition from her thin waist to her hips. Thanks to her weight being more focused upon her hips, Fia looks a bit on the bony side. Her ribcage seems to stick out of her skin, while her collarbones are very prominent. In addition, her wrists are rather thin while her hands are bony.

Due to the manner in which she grew up, and a certain incident within her past, Fia’s pallor skin is riddled with scars. . . . Because of how she dresses, the scars upon her body are not as notable as one would think, and it leads people to see her as an unmarked young woman who happens to have very fair, very delicate skin. It almost gives her a look of innocence, of being untainted by any sort of work or battle. . . . However, if the girl were to wander around in more casual clothing, the scars that mar her body would be very apparent. All over her arms and torso, there are varying scars, ranging from what look like gouges, slashes and cuts . . . And, upon her torso, there is a rather horrifying mark. Under her left breast, consuming the front of her ribcage, a scar mars her there, her skin is twisted and melded into an unnatural manner, forever dyed colors that one should never see upon flesh; seeing it tells you that Fia has been through something terrible. The skin upon her ribcage is shriveled, indented, and of an unnatural texture than the rest of her body, the colors range from a sick maroon to a deep shade of red and the skin holds a sheen to it. There are similar marks upon her right hand/arm/shoulder as well.

Luckily, for her, the skin upon her face seems unmarked, for the most part. However, the expressions Fia carries are not pleasant, normally, the girl’s face is consumed by a perpetual scowl or a glare; she seems to be a snide looking woman in every sense of the word, haughty and intimidating. At the same time, there seems to be a glint running through those eyes of hers that foretells of a consuming sorrow that gnaws away at her on the inside. . . . There are times when Fia can be seen, staring off into the vast distance and just thinking, a look of melancholy upon her features, the harshness of the normal scowl is gone, and she seems to be just a simple, sad young woman.

Fia’s features are fairly average looking by definition—she possesses light blonde hair which falls to her waist, it is kept complete with bangs which fall to her sage colored eyes, and locks of it which frame the sides of her young face , normally her hair is kept out of her way by placing it back into either a ponytail, or by wrapping it into an intricate bun with a ribbon placed around it. Putting it blatantly, if you just give Fia a single glance, you think of her as looking like no more than a fairly average woman who happens to possess an attitude problem. . . .

As far as things go, Fia’s usually found wearing this somewhat weird ensemble; a complete suit, with a jacket, a tie, and gloves.

‡I want to slip into the darkness, but I always find myself called back to the light. . . . ‡

‡ Behind The Façade ‡

| Habits | "Habits, hobbies, whatever, they are what they are."
Reminiscing – She has this tendency to stare off into space for long periods of time with this melancholic expression She won’t move, speak or hardly anything—it’s almost like she’s in a trance. In reality, Fia is reflecting upon her past, thinking of times long since passed by her now. Happy memories that now serve as fuel to feed her sense of guilt.

Seeming Angry – It’s fairly normal to find her with a scowl on her face, or to be glowering at another for any sort of reason.

Recklessness – Completely so. She has no regard for her own wellbeing so it’s very common to find Fia going head first into situations that could easily cost her, her life.

Aversion – For everything, she has a tendency to avoid the touch of others as if by second nature. Fia will sidestep others as quickly as she can manage in order to keep from being even brushed up against.

| Likes | "If I like something, I like it, no matter what that something might be, if someone has a problem with it, they can take it up with whoever they want."
Silence – Preferring it when there is no noise, it allows her to stop thinking, and to pretend like she doesn’t exist at all. This is what she seems to want more than anything else, after all, to stop existing. . . .

Music – Though it is very true that she hates herself, and yearns to cease existing, Fia has a deeply embedded love for music within her. Though it wouldn’t seem it, when she was younger, Fia was much of a singer, however when she came to turn who she is now, her song voice became locked away within her heart, and hasn’t been heard since. Regardless of this though, she still does very much enjoy what she defines as being ‘good music.’

Solitude – She likes to be alone, it makes her feel like she’s out of the way, where she cannot bother people.

Books – They’re an escape, she can see through the eyes of someone who has worth, who isn’t a screw up, or someone who deserves to die. She can see and understand the thoughts of someone who isn’t like her.

Television/Videogames – For much as the same reason as she likes books, playing RPG-genre games or watching a number of shows where you follow an intricate story. . . . It’s an escape.

Animals – Although she seeks to die, and to vanish from the world, Fia has a definite love for animals, enough of one that it about tears away all the layers of darkness, pain and self-loathing that have built up within her. For an animal, she’ll do about anything, so much as allowing herself to be bitten by a dog that’d been beaten by an abusive owner without striking it to show the canine that not all people were out to hurt her. This is indeed something she’s undergone; the bite scarred, and she managed to calm the dog enough to gain her trust.

Darkness – It’s comforting, enveloping and it lets her feel like she’s finally sunk into the forever-sleep she desires.

| Dislikes | "There’s a lot I can’t stand, and will not stand for."
Noise – She hates this, it clutters her mind, gives her headaches and it makes it hard for her to think, and to pretend like she no longer exists like she can within silence.

Company – Honestly, she just doesn’t like being around people because it always makes her feel like she’s getting in the way, or that she’s just not doing anyone any good.

Injustice – Now this covers a rather broad spectrum of things; she hates many things, people who hurt others for no reason, those who are violent, who treat others as less than human, or animals as if they were without worth. . . .

Fire – This well may be the thing that Fia hates the most; because she lost her younger sister because of a fire, the element is something she despises.

| Fears | "When it is that not even Death scares you, what does one have to fear . . . ?"
Atychiphobia – Failure
This well maybe Fia’s only true phobia; though there are indeed other things in which she fears, the ideal of failure is something which haunts her gravely. Due to her past, the notion of failing to do something which she was assigned to do or otherwise is just a consuming notion that she can’t stand. If the possibility of her failing seems imminent, Fia will simply lose it. She becomes an anxious, nervous mess of a woman who seems desperate to do just about anything she can in order to keep from failing.

| Strengths | "A person like me having strengths, pfft. . . ."
’Bravery’ – If it can be called this. . . . Fia rushes headfirst into situations without free, no matter the danger. Risking herself for the sake of others it would seem, she will protect others without fear of her own wellbeing, letting herself take injury while others get away.

Honesty – Beyond all things, she speaks her mind and what she believes without a second thought, or without fear. One thing Fia can be counted on for is the fact that she will not lie to someone, about anything, though her words may come out harsh or rude.

Cunning – For all purposes, and despite her ‘hotheadedness,’ Fia is really a smart young woman, her intelligence might surprise some people, but she’s quite the capable thinker as far as things go despite how it might seem.

Sang-froid – For the most part, she can keep her calm and cool within most any sort of situation, no matter what pressure may be applied to her, she seems like she’s always fine. The only time this would break or prove untrue though would be more when someone Fia might be coming to care about is put into danger, then a crack within this might form.

Grace/Agility – She’s quite the speedy thing. In a moment’s notice, she can suddenly just bolt into a full-on sprint, and be going so fast that you wouldn’t think it possible, topping that off, she has a natural grace about her when she’s running, she can deftly dodge things and such with little issue.

| Weaknesses | "Sure as hell are plenty of these."
Animals/Children/Cute Things – Might not seem it, but Fia is a sucker for anything potentially helpless or cute. Enough that it can provide a rather potent distraction for her, and even if it true that she’s a rather dark and lonely sort . . . she still has a number of plush toys and stuffed animals that she keeps around.

Sweets – Yep . . . one of the few things she actually enjoys about living are the sweets, though she feels guilt afterward.

‘Bravery’ – As much of a strength this can be, it’s also a weakness since she’s prone to jumping into things with little thought, meaning she can get hurt easily.

Small Form – With being so light like she is, Fia can be tossed around rather easily, one good blow would be enough to send her to her knees.

| Personality | "I’ve got nothing to say here."
Honest to God, it seems pretty easy to sum Fia up. She hates herself wholly, death is something she’s wished for countless times, she seems to have no regard for her own life at all, she doesn’t value it as she’s willing to dart into danger without a second thought. Fia is someone who is beyond the threshold of depression; she’s hit the bottom emotionally and hasn’t managed to even stand back up to her feet yet. This is who she’s become and it who she has remained for a number of years. Every time Fia’s life has come under threat, or she’s darted into danger, she’s always hoped that it would wind up being the end of her at some point, that she would indeed finally claim her peace . . . but, in the end, she’s always come back out of every instance and event alive, perhaps injured, but very much alive. Always questioning this, she doesn’t understand why it is that she’s not yet died despite the fact that there have been so many times where she’s come close.

In the past, she’s contemplated suicide, and at times she still does, but she never follows through with it—all she winds up doing is staring down a bottle full of pills, thinking about what would happen if she just popped the cap and went bottoms up, and swallowed down ever last one. She wonders if it’d be painful to poison herself, or if she’d just drift off to sleep, never to wake up again. No matter how many times she winds up looking at the bottle though, Fia never has once followed through with a true attempt at ending her life. These moments of hers always end with her having a bitter smile upon her face, and she winds up just tossing the medicine away. In a way, because she’s never been able to even attempt it, Fia considers herself a coward. Though she wants to die, to never have been born, she still won’t take her own life for some sort of weird fear of it. Dying holds much appeal for her, yet she just cannot ever seem to muster up the will to end it all herself. Instead, she wants to die by the hand of another, or because she’s gotten trapped in something that has no escape.

She seems a woman of honor, whom appears the staid and reserved sort while also carrying with her an undeniable hardheadedness one could also define as a sense of ‘resolution.’ There is no denying the fact that she comes off a gallant and brave young woman, someone who does not hold back to help another in need—in a way, she lives by this sense, and sort of follows her own views of ‘justice.’ Because she does not hesitate to aid someone, Fia really seems like she is a woman bound with a knightly soul, she can well come off as mature, quiet and rather intelligent when first met, she speaks to others in most polite manner, treating them with respect and dignity . . . until her true colors shine through.

Now, she is not at all a bad woman even though her true self is . . . less than pleasant. Fia really is a serious young woman, and she is rather adult, but the problem is that she can be a little hotheaded at times without meaning to be. She can seem arrogant and overly certain of herself due to her latent temperament. She is an intelligent woman, that is certain, and because of her knowingness, it’s common for her to insert her views on a matter, or to act based entirely on her own opinion. Indeed, she does value the opinions of others, but she really prefers thinking for herself and acting based on her volition instead of others. In a sense she is single-minded this way, when she’s set her mind upon a course of action she will see it through until the end, despite obstacles and anything which might bar her path, this sort of comes from her sense of principle, if she’s given her word to do something, she won’t go back on it. She feels that would be wrong of her to do.

One thing, which truly defines Fia, is her need to defend others, even complete strangers. She still has been known to impede upon situations with which she is not associated if she’s felt the need. Frankly, she doesn’t give the damn if she’s ticking someone off, if she feels the need to intervene, then she’s doing it. In these moments, she carries with her a rather astounding level of sang-froid, as in she does seem angry, but it is a quiet seething sort of fury. Meaning that she is not letting her rage get the better of her, rather she is channeling it and using it to possibly strengthen her drive, and herself in those moments. In a way, she seems to be rather haughty due to her outer actions and mannerisms—solemn, withdrawn and even cold; her words can come off as harsh as she is honest about matters that do not concern herself or her past.

As far as things really go, the way Fia lives is beyond questionable, she does indeed persist on for the sake of others, but she still also desires her own death, feeling like she doesn’t deserve to be breathing. Guilt consumes her in truth, festering away within her soul, it’s rotted her from the inside almost to the out. This has led to her recklessness, to her feeling more pain for even so much as taking a step. . . . The thing which most defines Fia on the inside is the fact that she solely blames herself for the death of her younger sister, feeling like she should’ve died instead, she doesn’t understand why it is that she’s alive now.

Although she does indeed possess a rather . . . definable outward personality in regards to others and any sort of situation that doesn’t concern her past, if the topic of her past is drudged up or someone inquires about it, then you can expect the aspect of her to take hold that is less than pleasant. Defenses drop entirely, and an air of sorrow and pain seem to envelop her. It becomes obvious enough that Fia is unhappy with herself, with even breathing. She feels herself worthless, annoying, like she should become dust. More times than not, Fia’s wound up crying because of what she feels inside, no matter what anyone can say to her, it’s never enough to actually pull her from these instances. She feels like others would be better off without her, like she is burdening everyone around her with her existence.

In truth, around others . . . Fia is faking. As she is now, and as she has been for many years, Fia is one who does her best to detach herself from the happenings around her. From people’s plights, to their words and to any situation at hand, she prefers not to let her emotions get mixed up in anything; she knows her own frailty and realizes that if she allowed herself to be open to the misery of the world around her, and to her own situation, that she would break. Honestly, what is keeping her from breaking now is uncertain, she even wonders why it is she is trying to look strong to everyone around her now. Her situation seems utterly hopeless, so why? The only answer to this whole matter that she can form is that inside of her, she wants to retain some sense of self, something that will remind her that she is still her own person, and that she will not break to her keeper. . . . Even still, there are undoubtedly times when Fia’s nearly lost it before another, become overwhelmed. . . . But in not wanting others to know or to be anymore of a burden than she’s been already, Fia does tries to keep it inside, though the fact that she has little real regard for herself shows through her recklessness, anyway.

It’d be easy enough to chalk this up to her youth though, to her just being an inexperienced kid who thinks she knows more than she really does, so she acts without thought. Honestly though, Fia is thinking in these situations, and what she’s most often thinking about is the prospect of her life being endangered.

In truth . . . things boil down to something one might not expect with Fia though; she is a girl who is very lonesome. She blocks people from her heart, from letting them know her because of how she views herself, and the fact that she can come off as so uncouth at times drives others away as well. She thinks she knows of her own shortcomings and as such, she doesn’t want someone else to have to deal with them. However, if ever it did happen, if ever it was that someone stuck by Fia long enough to understand her, to know that she’s really someone who is in a lot of pain, and they bothered to become her friend . . . the heavy mask she wears to keep anyone from comprehending how deeply she is scarred on the inside might well just break, and she might come to like herself. There’d be no way Fia could keep herself from tears. Fia would become heavily dependent upon that person. She’d be needy, want attention, and might even feel a need to cling to her friend.

Really, she’d seem completely childish, as in that if she did not get these things from her friend, she’d be prone to pouting. . . . But, there would definitely be a bright side to being Fia’s friend, after some time, you’d begin to see a rare side of her, the true her. Yes, she seems a lot like a child, but that’s because part of her still is, she is honestly an innocent soul full of curiosities and wonderment. She has dreams, fascinations, hopes and even believes in things that most view as nonsense, such as making wishes on stars. . . . In these moments of seeing the true side of her, it wouldn’t be out of the question that one would even get to see her smile, and laugh.

‡I’m not the one who should be here, she is. . . . ‡

‡ Replaying the Past and Living The Present ‡

| Relationships | "I haven’t spoken to anyone in long enough to not even have these. . . ."
Father – Ezekiel Thorne
Living.
Age – Forty
Once rather close with him, Fia adored her father and was much a ‘daddy’s girl.’ She spent a lot of time with him, happy and playing with him and her siblings, there was hardly ever a moment where Fia would be in tears around him. Ezekiel is a good man, no doubt, he instilled his children with firm and good teachings, and he loved his family dearly. However, after it was that Cosette died, the closeness between him and Fia faded, and it has been two years since he and his daughter have spoken at all. Last time they saw one another, there was barely any words between them, and it ended with an awkward, “. . . .take care of yourself, Fia.” From Ezekiel.
Mother – Maria Thorne
Living.
Age – Thirty-Nine
Loving and accepting of her children, Maria’s always been a kindhearted mother who adored her children and did her best to show them her adoration. Close with each one of them, and to Fia, the woman spent what time she could with her family day in and out, smiling and laughing all the while, happiness abundant. After it was the Cosette died, however, an emotional gap began to form between Maria and her two remaining kids, as well as with her husband. Maria and Ezekiel remained married, and they never cheated on one another, but the love Maria had for her kids sort of . . . waned, it was there, and she still cared, but it wasn’t so evident. The last time she spoke to Fia was a year ago, because she called her daughter to check in on her, the conversation was short, and awkward.
Older Brother – Lucian Thorne
Living
Age – Twenty-One
A typical older brother who was, and still partly is, protective of his younger sister(s). He teased and poked fun at Fia when they were younger, and they had their spats, but they got along well, loving one another like brother and sister would—there are a number of pleasant memories between Lucian and Fia, happy times and fun. . . . Following the death of Cosette though, Lucian became a much more serious individual, protective of Fia since she became rather reckless and uncaring of herself, as well as distant. To this day, he’s probably the one who remains closest to Fia of the family, bothering to call her at least once a week to check in on her, though the relationship between the siblings is somewhat shaky and shallow.
Younger Sister – Cosette Thorne
Deceased.
Age of Death – Seven
Someone cherished and much loved by Fia and her family, the youngest member of the Thorne grouping . . . Cosette was a dear little girl, adorable and sweet as could be. Her death tore through her family, and tipped who Fia would be forever. There had been a fire, and with this fire, Fia and Cosette became trapped . . . a burning beam fell on top of the two, and while Fia survived, Cosette died, in her sister’s arms. Since this happened, Fia lives on with survivor’s guilt, hating the fact that Cosette died instead of her.

| History | "I don’t want to talk about it. . . ."
In all truth, Fia’s story starts off about as normally as any other girl’s could’ve. She was born the second child to a set of loving parents who cared for her dearly enough, she had an older brother who loved her, though he would pick at her from time to time. . . . She had a happy start to her life, living with parents who devoted time to her, and made sure she was happy and healthy while her brother did what he could to help out with these moments as well. She was a happy child, and there isn’t really anything noteworthy here to recount. . . . When Fia was five though, her brother seven, her parents received the news that Maria was again pregnant, and they were very much happy to have been given this news. Eventually, Cosette Thorne was born, the youngest child of the Thorne family, she was Fia’s younger sister, and she was simply adored.

The family was happy, nothing but, there were smiles, and the whole family all helped out in taking care of Cosette while she grew up, and there are many good memories there of those years. Colette played with her siblings, and was always happy, as they were.

It was when Cosette was seven though, that things took a change. Fia was twelve, and while it was the whole family was sleeping one night, a fire started in their home . . . Lucian, Maria and Ezekiel managed to get out of the house without a problem, but Fia and Cosette. . . . They weren’t so lucky, Fia took to finding her sister in the flames, winding up with burns on her body. And even after she found Cosette, Fia was helpless to do anything, as the two sisters became trapped within the room they were in. Cosette clung onto Fia, crying, terrified. Fia did was she could to comfort the girl, but only so much could be done there. . . . Then, eventually, as the flames consumed the house, the structure just couldn’t take it anymore, the support beams holding up the second story of the house collapsed as they were slowly eaten away.

A beam came down, right on top of Fia and Cosette. The impact sent Fia unconscious, the last thing she remembers is hearing Cosette’s pained scream. In that moment, Cosette died, she burned to death. Fia awoke, days later, having been in a coma. Injured and burnt up badly, it’s a wonder she managed to survive herself. But, with the news of Cosette’s death, Fia fell into a short-lived state of denial, followed by shock and then depression which lasted some time.

The Thorne family drifted apart at this, only Lucian really remained in real contact with Fia, as she came to recover from her burns, turning into the reckless girl she is now. She began to risk herself time and time again, getting hurt repeatedly in some attempt to die, as a way to ‘repent’ for surviving an incident that she should’ve died in. Guilt consumed her, and she came to believe that Cosette was the one who should’ve lived between them, not her. Emotionally, Fia separated herself from her family, barely speaking to them on a level deeper than casual. As time drifted on, and Fia continued her reckless actions, never dying, only winding up injured, she drifted through life otherwise detached from much of anything that didn’t catch her attention. Namely, anything that involved ‘injustices.’

When she turned eighteen, Fia packed up and left home, choosing to not graduate high school in the process. She took up and moved away, finding residence in a rather simplistic apartment, she makes ends meet by working a job as a hostess at a local, rather upscale restaurant, from time to time still seeking out danger and risking her life while wishing she would just die or vanish. This is the life she’s come to lead now, routine, and ordinary aside from her own little risky ventures. . . . The only thing one might not expect of her is that she has a pet dog, a female of a mixed breed she found beaten in an alleyway some months ago who actually bit Fia. However, Fia allowed the canine to bite her to show that she wasn’t going to be harmed at all. Through this, Fia managed to earn the dog’s trust, and she took her in, getting her back to health. . . .

This dog is probably the only thing that’s kept Fia from becoming even more reckless than she used to be

‡Here I am, breathing still, with the prospect of eternity staring me down, and all I ever wanted was to die. . . . ‡

So begins...

Fiammetta Thorne's Story

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#2012-12-04 09:12:08, as written by Jakuri-chan

[Fiammetta Thorne]

Night was already settling in, the sun had already sunk beyond the horizon in the Western skies, and the world around had commenced its routine of fading with the last colors of the day into nothing but black. It would seem as if darkness would threaten to engulf everything in sight—until the streetlights would eventually begin their scheduled buzzing before shortly flickering to life, providing humankind with some semblance of comfort through the coming hours. A sense of shadowy calm settled in upon the city it seemed, the streets around had begun to empty, the people thinning out, ducking into their homes to escape the night, while it was there could be heard the distant sound of car horns, people probably getting irritated at one another because they were caught in the grasp of after work traffic. It was the usual sort of foundation to an evening.

The sights, the path she walked, the sounds and all around remained the same as ever. The trek toward home was unchanging, feeling no different from that first day she’d traversed it when coming home from her occupation some long months before. With the day having ended, all that remained for her to do now was to slip back into her domicile, and to retire for the eve, only to awaken in the morning to repeat the set pattern that had become her life. Her living was ever the same, nothing of it or within changed. And, this is how she preferred it would stay, should she be made to continue on breathing. This life she led wasn’t one which even belonged to her, the air that seeped into her lungs was air that should’ve gone to another soul. With this stolen existence, she muddled through the days, the hours, the minutes and the seconds, every moment of it was yet another that should’ve gone to another.

She was nothing but a thief; stealing this life from her own sister. . . .

No matter what she may’ve yearned for or desired, her wishes were never granted. Perhaps living onward through this thieved life was meant to be some sort of divine punishment for surviving in the place of her sister. It would continue as this, it would never change for her, and she would for the remainder of her existence persist through day after day, weighted with the knowledge and guilt she carried, always remembering the fact that the moments she experienced now weren’t really hers.

Gloved hands within the bounds of her pockets, head downward with her eyes to the pavement below, her blonde ponytail hanging partly over her shoulder, she toiled on, feet moving under her as if set on some form of autopilot. There was no conscious thought applied to her movements, simply she moved for the sake of it, because it was a part of her everyday ‘punishment.’ It was a part of the pilfered years she possessed. Those sage-colored eyes of hers were half-lidded, dull and listless; they were reminiscent of the eyes of a soulless puppet. Her mouth was formed into a thin line, her eyebrows drawn downward, leading to her tired and pallor face to form into a scowl. The typical expression found upon her features. There was no reason for her to carry another sort of expression—she’d no right to a smile or anything of the sort, after all.

The day had blurred together, blotched into the blob that was her life. The same had happened as it would always, she’d greeted people at her workplace, led them to where it was they would be seated before handing out their menus, informing them that their waitress would arrive shortly to tend to them. . . .

She shut her eyes for a moment, still taking steps forward as a slow and quiet exhale slipped from her. Yet another breath that doesn’t belong to me.

Why was it that she was still alive . . . ? Her life should’ve ended that night some years ago, but it hadn’t, the life that had been lost was one of an innocent little girl. And no matter how many times she tried to find a way to slip away from the world, to vanish, it never happened. Every time she believed it to finally be over, she would again awaken, only left with injures and with more scars. Her flesh was marred and marked times over with reminders of her many failures to disappear. To be hurt so many times, to risk herself repeatedly without managing to achieve death, certainly living this stolen life was a chastisement.

Overhead her, there came the timed buzz before . . . blink, the streetlights came to life for the night. Passing underneath one of these lights, Fia came to open her eyes again, the nighttime quiet settling in upon the city. Nothing different. Ready to continue moving on, to allow herself to sink into the silence around her, she wasn’t quite ready for what it was that happened next. . . .

From the alleyway next to her, right as she managed to cross the halfway point of its entrance, the sudden clatter of trashcans being tossed about made her nearly jump out of her skin while her heart very nearly leapt into her throat. Freezing in place, body taking on a natural defensive sort of stance as her wide-eyes peered down through the dark lane, the question formed within her mind of what had sent the trashcans tumbling rippled through her mind. Certainly, a cat or a dog would not be enough to do that . . . ? Unless, of course, said animal was much larger than the normal sort one would find wandering the streets.

Ready to shake it off, to resume her usual trek home, and to put past her this sudden out-of-the-blue incident, Fia merely sighed to herself before she shook her head, turning away when it was a sort of strange . . . sense rippled through her body, from her core to her toes and fingertips—the only way to describe it was to say that it felt like a sudden, weak jolt of static electricity had been sent through her. Her eyes wide once more, though not a sound slipped from her shut mouth, Fia remained where she stood, looking at the ground below her as her heart had skipped a beat from the jolt. A foreboding sort of sentiment settled in upon the teenager’s body following this, a sense of danger. It was something she didn’t understand, but her body reacted regardless, she could feel her muscles tighten, her hands balled up into fists at her sides while she clenched her jaw shut, teeth pressed together uncomfortably.

With her peripheral vision, she caught it. The sight of a shadow moving within the alley next to her. Quickly, her head turned, and she was looking within the darkness again—knowing she’d seen something, something that sent a chill through her. She knew it was ‘danger.’
Perhaps, she should’ve ran away then . . . but her feet below didn’t move from their place on the cement sidewalk while again there was another moving shadow, slowly enough treading forward; toward her. Fia was able to make out the sound of a sort of hiss, akin to that of a snake, poised to strike. The silhouetted something within the darkness ceased its movements for a moment before, there slipped from it a low, throaty rumble—and Fia’s body reacted before her mind.

A cry slipping from her lips, the woman managed to thrown herself forward, pulling her left arm inward, draping it over her middle as her hand ended upon the hip opposite while it was her right went ahead of her, the weight of it used to pull her downward into a roll, the weight of her form supported upon her left shoulder. As soon as it was she was right side up again, Fia was quick about turning herself around, crouched down as she watched the something from the alleyway slip into the artificial luminescence of the streetlight above. It had leapt from its place within the darkness, right through the air that her body had inhabited a second before. She knew what that meant, understood well enough that this dangerous-something had been ready to strike her down, for whatever the reason.

The beast was something with which she was not familiar, at the very least, it was bipedal, reptilian—perhaps reminiscent of a raptor, only . . . not exactly the same as that. The expression upon Fia’s face formed into a very notable glare. . . .

It turned around, looking at her again, illuminated by the light from above it. Remaining quiet this time, the creature simply stared her down while it was she returned the gesture. What the Hell it was Fia was suppose to do to deal with this, it was beyond her. All she knew for the moment was that the something was dangerous, and that it was after her.

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New York, New York

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#2012-12-04 10:33:32, as written by CNAGamer

[Morgan's Copy]

The copy of Morgan sensed the precense of Fire and the demon before he heard the cry. They were close. He jumped down from the building he'd been running across, and landed, ever silently, on a street lamp not fifty yards from the pair. It seemed the two of them were having some sort of staring contest. The copy gazed at the new Fire Reaper. She was female, slender, blonde...interesting. Her last body had been male, with dark hair and blue eyes, and rather muscled. A part within the Copy smirked at Morgans' memories. But as the Hexon Demon let out a snarl, his focus went back to the battle in front of him.

The beast lunged at the girl, who dodged again. She was taught the basics already....that would prove useful. Still, with no expeirience and her memories still locked away, the girl, Fiammeta, he believed was her name he caught from her subconious, would not stand much a chance against a Demon, even if it was only a Hexon. With that thought in mind, the copy of the Void Reaper threw its' scythe at the Demon, the blade spinning through the air and catching the beast by the tail. Black blood spurted from the wound, and it howled, low and greusome, as it turned its' head and hissed at it's attacker, who simply lept down form teh top of the street lamp and landed a few feet away from Fia. He gave her a simple, emotionless stare before walking over to the beast, who lunged at him. The copy simply stopped moving, his hands in his pockets, and the beast missed him by a mere inch. It couldn't move any further because its' tail was held in place by his scythe. He smirked softly. "Yeah, sorry...but it's time for you to die now." With those words, accompanied by a hiss form the Demon, The copy of Morgan shoved his hand straight through the creature's head, ending it's life abruptly. He didn't move as the body slowly crystalized and turned to dust. Then, he walked over, picked up his scythe and swung it over his shoulder, turning to Fiammetta. Her thoughts, while harried, were at least calm.

"Fiammetta Rose Thorne...fitting name, for the new Reaper of Fire."

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New York, New York

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#2012-12-05 05:12:51, as written by Jakuri-chan

[Fiammetta Thorne]

What was she suppose to make of this now? First, playing a game of dodging with a bipedal lizard, before a scythe had slipped through the night air to keep it pinned down by its tail as an unknown person entered into the scene, staring at her before moving to end the miserable creature’s life as if it were nothing. The form of the monster crystallized, before it disintegrated rather quickly following this stranger running his hand right through its head. Despite the rather . . . abnormal series of events that had played out before her so quickly, Fia remained where she’d landed before, following the last round of dodging she’d played with the lizard. The expression carried upon the suited young woman’s face was one of disinterest, it remained upon her face as a scowl, the sort she always held on her features. Still crouched toward the ground, a hand at her front on the pavement below, her eyelids drew a bit lower as it was this unknown quickly swept the scythe up from where it remained, planted into the asphalt of the road, before he left it to rest against his shoulder.

This stolen life of hers was about to undergo a rather drastic change . . . wasn’t it? Change was not something she deserved, she was meant to live out her mundane days in misery, knowing forever what it was that she was guilty of taking the life that was supposed to have belonged to her sister. It was meant to remain unchanging, nothing was suppose to happen to interrupt all she knew and all that made her wallow through the days and seconds as she did.

But that thing, that reptilian monster. . . . There was no doubt that it was beyond all her earthly knowledge, whether or not she was numb toward this situation, toward this person who seemed to have came to her rescue, this was something that wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Fia kept her sage-eyes upon the man, a part of her wondered if he was going to expect her to treat him like he was her knight in shining armor or whatever for apparently saving her life from whatever. Tch, whatever, this is over and I’m ready to go home, and to continue on with this thieved existence of mine.

He turned toward her before he spoke, “Fiammetta Roselle Thorne…fitting name, for the new Reaper of Fire.”

To hearing her full name spoken, to hear some stranger know her full name when there was no way that knowledge would be held by them, Fia couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in questioning. Slowly, she ascended back upward, standing up to her full height, keeping her disinterested gaze upon this scythe-wielder. How the Hell did he know her name? As if it weren’t enough that something had gone and interrupted her established routine. . . .

There slipped from her only a sigh as the sense of apathy returned, she didn’t care if he knew her name, she didn’t care about the thing that had triggered a sense of danger within her before, Fia didn’t care about what was meant by ‘new Reaper of Fire’ either. Unless it meant that she was going to be granted her wish to vanish away, the term and this man held no importance to her. Life was to continue on regardless of whatever bizarre happening had occurred just before her, so why would it matter if she gave it thought? The only thing that mattered now to her was to live out her life, always remembering what it was she was guilty of.

Expression returning to its usual—a scowl, an apathetic one as it was Fia came to slip her gloved hands back into her front pockets and her head tilted forward again, giving her a somewhat hunched over appearance. “. . . .unless whatever you’re talking about is going to let me finally die, whatever the freak just happened with the giant lizard and you, I don’t care.”

She stepped forward, walking back toward the sidewalk to continue her trek homeward. The little life within her eyes had vanished once again, leaving them wholly idle, empty and devoid. Though intent on leaving now, there was something within that stopped Fia dead in her tracks. There’d been nothing before, she had felt little but questioning beforehand, when it was she had looked at this stranger with the scythe, but with her back to him, as she tried to walk away a strange jolt slipped through her body, a sense of knowing, familiarity, something that didn’t belong there.

“Mmph?” slipped from Fia’s throat as she stopped walking, her hands remaining within her pockets while her eyes widened. Why was this happening to her now? What was happening? Why did she know his . . . ? Fia’s body went rigid, and she did not turn around to look the supposed-to-be stranger as the familiarity took hold of her. Though there surfaced within her no conscious recollection, or memories, there did come with the sentiment of knowing, a name. A name that felt like it belonged to the scythe-wielder. Though she did not mean for it to, Fia found the name slipping from between her lips quietly, in a manner most questioning as for a moment she forgot of the guilt she carried. “. . . .Morgan?”

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New York, New York

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Character Portrait: Lillianna Aretha Dauglas

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#2012-12-05 06:57:29, as written by CNAGamer

[Morgan]

Inside, Morgan sighed. This wasn't going to be easy...

“H-h-how b-b-b-bad i-is your w-w-w-wound?”

The soft voice made him turn, and he took in a blonde female, who looked concerned for him. [color]"Actually, none of this is my own. I am not wounded inthe sligh-"[/color] He cut himself off as a familiar feeling ran through him. So this was the new Water Reaper. He smiled slightly, skimming over her thoughts, touching on what her name was among other things. He then winced, and turned back to Daemon. [color]"You're thoughts are getting worse, as is my headache. No, I am not crazy, and I don't appreciate being thought of as 'unhinged'. True, it may be that I really am no longer very human any more, but I am as sane as you are, Daemon. And no, there is a lot more buried deep within your subconcious, just as there is this woman's, whose name this time around is Lillianna Aretha Dauglas, if I correctly read her."[/color] He turned back to the girl, and said, "You are the new Water Reaper. This night just got simpler. I only have three left to find." This time, he really did sigh, and then said to both of them together, "I know you both are confused, and I know none of this makes any sort of sense. But it will get easier. You'll remember me soon enough, along with the others, and who you are. Or rather, what you are. Now, wil you come with me, or am I going to have to simply follow you until you remember?" He stared at the two of them in turn with blank eyes.

[Morgan's Copy]

The copy smiled somewhat. "Well, yes and no. That would be the name of the Void Reaper, I am only one of his copies. He'll be pleased to know that you're already starting to recover your memories. Air isn't taking it so well, the boy is in complete denail and thinks Morgan is a stalker. Oh well, I suppose it's to be expected in some cases. Just how much have you rememebered? Or is it simply his name?" He was curious about the new Reaper. She seemed to want to embrace death willingly. Perhaps he could play upon that to get her to agree.

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New York, New York

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#2012-12-06 04:18:26, as written by Jakuri-chan

[Fiammetta Thorne]

The name, how did she know that name? Where from her memories did it surface . . . ? And it to have slipped from between her lips so easily, so simply without a single hitch. . . . She didn’t understand it, how it was so easy for her to say a name she knew she should not have known. A glint of confusion reflected within Fia’s eyes, an unsettling sense of not understanding how it was possible for her to know this stranger’s name. All she had wanted to do was to go about her business, and as she’d tried to walk away from him, to enter back into her stolen existence of a life, there it’d been, that sense of knowing. She had no memories in her head of this man, only a lingering sentiment within the depths of somewhere that she knew him, that he was invaluable. That shouldn’t have been . . . possible. She didn’t bond with people or speak to them when she didn’t have to, she regarded them all with the same attitude and mentality, feeling like not a one of them deserved to have themselves burdened down with her.

So then, why? what had been said before, ‘new Reaper of Fire.’ Did that have something to do with this absurdity?

A breath escaping from her, Fia drew her eyebrows downward as a frown formed on her face, a look of discomfort passing through her eyes. There was a sense of sorrow bubbling up within her from within her now, along with the feeling of knowing. So, she couldn’t help it, turning herself around. She kept her hands in her pockets still, but that uncertain, pained, expression remained on her face as she looked upon the scythe-wielder whose name she evidently knew.

There was something of a smile on his face, a sort of weak one. “Well, yes and no. That would be the name of the Void Reaper, I am only one of his copies. He'll be pleased to know that you're already starting to recover your memories. Air isn't taking it so well, the boy is in complete denail and thinks Morgan is a stalker. Oh well, I suppose it's to be expected in some cases. Just how much have you remembered? Or is it simply his name?”

Okay, so none of what he had just said to her made much sense. ‘Copies?’ Void Reaper? So, what, I’m suppose to believe that this guy standing in front of me is a . . . copy of the real person? The person who really carries the name I shouldn’t know? the frown remained upon Fia’s face while she stared at this supposed-to-be-stranger. She just stood there silently observing him, trying to understand what she’d been told and wondering if she should really even be caring? Something in her told her that she did, that she should, but then there was just this . . . apathy that bespoke of the need to not. Whatever had happened before, the lizard, and this ‘copy’ killing it, and her knowing the name of ‘Morgan,’ while it was indeed strange, was it something she really needed to concern herself with anymore than she already had?

Unless this led her to a chance to finally vanish away like she wanted, for some sense of redemption for having stolen the place of her sister in the world, then, no she didn’t need to concern herself with this insanity anymore than this. Even knowing the name of a stranger . . . she didn’t need to. None of this mattered, not to her. Whether she’d been addressed by her full name and she’d managed to address a stranger by his name. . . . It was just something else that happened in her life.

Fia could only come to shake her head at herself with a sigh, one of her gloved hands slipped from her pockets as she brought it up to place on the side of her head. Why is this happening . . . ? It shouldn’t be, all I’m supposed to be doing is living out this miserable life as my punishment for Cosette’s. . . . The thought of her sister’s name sent a dull pain through the scar that remained on her side from that night.

“Why does it matter?” she suddenly asked.

“All of this shit right now, whatever the hell you’re going on about. . . . Does any of it matter?” her voice lowered while it was there was an uncomfortable sort of feeling in her chest, a pain. There within it was that spark of familiarity again, along with a sense of sorrow, sadness and an ache she didn’t recognize for a moment, having spent so long numb to everything but guilt. . . . .loneliness? “All I want to do is to turn around right now, and go on with living my life like I was before. I can ignore and forget what happened with the reptile thing and you as if it were nothing, because that’s all it really is. Even knowing your name. . . .”

“That’s what should be happening, how it should be since that’s how everything else is, and yet. . . . I can’t. There is something that’s not letting me do that. Your talk of ‘copies,’ ‘Reapers,’ and ‘memories,’ I don’t understand any of it.” she prattled on, not knowing where she was going with this. “Why does this matter to me if I don’t understand it . . . ? Explain it.”

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New York, New York

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#2012-12-07 05:20:13, as written by CNAGamer

[Morgan]

And yet someelse joined their little party as Daemon began to wander off, only to nearly be run over by a female with pink hair. Morgan didn't even have to look at her to recognize her. It was the Earth Reaper. Which left only Light and Darkness. Exasperated, he sighed. What a night. Thoughts were flying every direction, and he was losing track of who was thinking what. Finally, he twirled his scythe once, and then swung it downwards, the blade sinking into stone. A ring sounded out where metal had struck stone, causing the others to lapse into silence and stare at him. There was a flicker of fire in his eyes, but other than that, his expression stayed flat.

"Alright, that's enough. I can't think straight with all of you in one place like this. So..." He stood up straight and closed his eyes. Two copies of himself flickered into life on either sides of him. He turned to one of them, saying, "Find Light and Darkness, they're the only two left." The copy nodded once, and took off. He then turned to the second one. "Take these three back to the base. Explain all you can, but just make sure the get there. Xander is close. I have no doubt he wants to talk to me, so I'll stay here and meet up with you back at the base." He then closed his eyes for a second and relayed the information to his copy with the Fire Reaper. He turned to the others, who al showed stages of shock and disbeleife, nodded once, grabbed his scythe, and walked across the street. Xander would be able to find him. The demon always could.
[h][/hr]

[Copy 1 {Fire}]

"Explain it." The copy smiled slightly again. "Hm, where to begin. Well.....We don't actually know where we came from. For as long as the Reapers remember, we've just been. There are seven Reapers total, one for each element. Air, Water, Earth, Light, Darkness, myself, which is Void, and then there is you. Fire. We each have complete control over our element. They are called the Soul Elements, and in order fro them to become Reapers, they must inhabit a human host body. You have been chosen by the Soul Element of Fire. The Reapers are the only defense for humanity against the creatures we call Demons. Not in the Christian sense, as you'll soon find out, that God does not exist. There are only humanity, the Reapers, and the Demons. No more, no less. The more time you spend near me, the more memories you'll recover, and you'll come to understand exactly what has happened. You'll remember who you were in past lives, who I was, though for me, I've inhabited the same body, this 'Morgan' for one hundred and fifty five years now. As I said, the more you remember, the more it will make sense. Now, the Water, Air, and Earth Reapers are being led back to teh base. Will you join them?"

He waited for her answer. He was hoping she would come. He didn't want to have to do anything drastic, but then again....what she'd once done to him to make him believe...

On the real Void Reaper, his scar itched.

[Copy {Air, Earth, Water}]

After The true Morgan left the four of them, the copy turned to Daemon, Erys, and Lillianna. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to insist that the three of you come with me. I can explain any questions you may have, but it is going to be getting dangerous, we really should be getting off the streets." He glanced sideways back down the alley, where a Hexon had once been, traces of dust still lingering on the ground. "Unless of course you fancy getting ripped apart by Demons. So....shall we?"

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New York, New York

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#2012-12-07 06:59:29, as written by Jakuri-chan

[Fiammetta Thorne]

She kept her eyes upon him; a very clear frown was upon her features. A sense of discontentment had settled in upon her, but that was to be expected given the current situation, as well as the fact that she didn’t understand any of what was going on, or why it was she knew the name of this strange scythe-wielding man who claimed himself a copy of the real thing. If anything, she shouldn’t have turned back around, she should not have let herself speak a name she shouldn’t otherwise have known. She should’ve just continued on her way, and headed back on into the life she’d been leading for the last year, simple, routine and mundane—a punishment and a reminder of the sin she carried.

Fia’s arms came to rest around her middle, lightly draped over the still dully aching section of her diaphragm. This, whatever this all was, she already knew one adjective with which she could describe it. Insanity.

The self-claimed copy of Morgan gave to her a halfhearted smile, before he began to explain himself and the situation as she’d half-demanded of him. The whole thing, all of what he had to say, it ran together in her mind, and she found herself nearly as confused as before. To such a thing as he’d gone on about, what could anyone make of it . . . ? What was there to make of it? In reality, Fia knew there was only two possible ways to react to such an explanation, and the question of whether or not she’d be coming along with him. I can decide either that this short little scene is simply crazy, or I can play along. . . .

Why did this sort of thing have to be happening . . . ? Why was this happening to her? No matter what course of action she went along with, there was no denying something, and that was the fact that a certain strangeness had found itself within her life in a matter of a minute. A giant lizard barreled out of an alleyway in an effort to claim her life before a scythe-wielding weirdo popped out of nowhere, killing the reptile before spouting out her full name. . . . Topping that craziness off, she even found herself knowing his name too. Here she remained, though she should’ve just walked away and left the whole instance there, in the past, and allowed herself to forget it in order to just carry on with her life as she had before, something just wouldn’t let her.

If she were to believe him about the situation . . . about the notion of the ‘Reapers’ that he had explained. . . . He claimed her to be housing the element of Fire within her now, if that were true, if this were. . . . Why Fire? Of all the things, why would it be that?

The confusion and uncertainty she felt had to be what any normal person would experience, the hesitation. . . . Honestly, she really wanted to back away from ‘Morgan’ now, and to just forget this all of it, to go back to living her life. She had a sentence to carry out, the weight of a life remained on her shoulders, and she deserved only a life filled with remembering that sin of hers, the guilt. This sort of thing, it shouldn’t have been happening to her of all people.

For as much as she wanted to deny it, there persisted within Fia that something that could not allow that to happen—that sentiment which had driven her to remain there, to utter a name she shouldn’t have know. She could only exhale slowly, as she shook her head a bit at the absurdity of this all, shutting her eyes.

“I honestly can’t say that I know what to make of this, of . . . any of this, of what you explained, or otherwise.” The tone of her voice was reluctant; a part of her mind was dwelling upon the fact that he claimed her to now house Fire within her. “Really, why . . . ? Any of this, why me? As much as there is a part of me that wants to tell you to go to Hell with all this crap, I know that isn’t right. I still don’t know what to think, but, for now . . . I’ll follow along with you and this, Copy.”

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New York, New York

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#2012-12-13 11:30:02, as written by Jakuri-chan

[Fiammetta Thorne]

She listened…and simply followed. Placing her hands back into her pockets, Fia kept herself quiet, and though much of her remained ever hesitant, she treaded along behind him, the supposed Copy of the ‘Void Reaper.’ His explanation, the story, the giant lizard and everything that’d happened in such a short time, it was beyond the realm of crazy by far. Why was it happening to her…? Why to her? None of it made sense to her at all, but in such a situation, nothing would make as much, in truth, she was probably lucky to have retained her senses as she did. Nothing in her head remembered this ‘Morgan,’ only there persisted that familiar sentiment, and the knowledge that his name was one she could never forget…should forget. That sense however, felt alien to her, it was something that did not feel as if it belonged within her, it conflicted. Between it and herself, Fia felt a conflict beginning. As herself, she knew that what she felt, knowing this ‘Morgan,’ being unable to deny the story told to her…those things did not belong in her mind, there was no place for them—they came from a source she didn’t understand or have access to yet.

But, there they remained, ever present and as real as everything else in her head and heart. Whether foreign or not, the sense she felt was real. It doesn’t belong though. All of this, none of it belongs inside of me. she thought, sighing while walking along behind the Copy.

This was not the life she was meant to lead, this sort of thing wasn’t supposed to be for her, with her. The life she was meant to lead was a stolen one that remained the same day in and out, it was meant to be a punishment, for having taken her sister’s place on the earth. I shouldn’t be…following, yet I can’t stop my legs from moving beneath me now. That sense won’t let me.

Something within Fia felt like it clicked off as she came to realize this. The expression upon her face became a blank one, even the usual scowl she carried faded away. What was happening to her now, the fact that she was unable to control her own two legs, to keep them from moving; it was just too much…. In a life she was suppose to be living for the sake of remembering her sister’s death, she was doing nothing of what she should’ve. Cosette’s memory was slipping away, too quickly, and replaced with these unknown feelings.

Following him up into the apartment, Fia looked at the ‘copy’ with a vacant expression, “Your room is the last room on the left in the eastern corridor, with its matching bathroom connected to it. You may rearrange it however you wish, come and go as you please. I simply ask that you do not leave the apartment for the time being.” To this, Fia gave him a quiet nod before she took to walking along, legs moving beneath her again without her thinking about it, going along as if the way were known to her already. The surroundings of the apartment were familiar, or they felt as much, though the part of Fia that knew that this was wrong, that she shouldn’t be aware of these things remained.

But, there is a part of me which feels as if I am home. There were still no conscious memories surfacing within her head, but Fia felt like this were…a place where she belonged. All of this business, she didn’t understand it still, none of it yet made sense to her—she only could grasp at bits and pieces of it. Without a word, Fia stopped, right before a door—a red one. Setting her sage-eyes upon it, she blinked, staring before it was she took a hand out of her pocket, and set it upon the handle, before she slowly turned it…. Stepping through and into the room.

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