Untitled. [Private]

Chapter 1 - Waking the Fallen

Darkness. Nothing but the pitch of black. An empty void of shadow that filled a room with no distinguishable size gauged by the eyes that slowly flickered open. Could she even tell she was waking? Her skin felt cold, her body weak and her wounds aching. Red split streaks grazed her cheeks as her mess of hair shuddered in a light breeze. Her fingers curled into her palm, tapping lightly to confirm she still had some feeling. Strange though. She felt no nails on the tips of her fingers. She then moved her arm, finding it halted after barely an inch. Something wrapped round her wrists, suspending her arms upwards. She wriggled, trying to guess at what held her. The sound of metal? Chains and a clasp holding her firm? That must be it. The same with her legs. Her feet only moved slightly before stopping with the same sound of metal rubbing.

Moments passed. Only a few before her sight was blinded by another colour. A flash of white, sending a painful blast through her face. Only a few feet in front of her had a door opened, allowing light to flood into the chamber. In the doorway stood a figure that she just couldn't make out. They were tall, not moving. Just watching. They didn't even say anything. Several seconds passed and her eyes adjusted to the light. She could make out small features and details. A black coat. Long white hair. A torn white shirt complimenting dirty jeans and trainers. Whoever this person was, they were clearly rough. Her sight then moved down, to her own body. She was dressed but only barely. Her sleeping gown, black silk and lace, torn to ribbons but still holding some shape on her body. beneath, her skin was nothing but red and black. Wounds.

She looked to her hands. Her hunch was correct. She was chained to something behind her but it was no wall. Her fingernails had all been torn out, encrusted with dried blood. Her wrists were dirty and more scars decorated her upper arms. The silence would then pathetically be broken. She opened her mouth, her tongue barely able to move as she realised it too had been the victim of horrendous torture. Instead of words, she made gagging sounds. Moans. Her lips trying their best to mouth the word 'Help'. Maybe the figure notice. maybe he would rescue her from this prison. Maybe they were kind.

They did react. A grin fleshing across their face, eyes glaring only at her. They stepped into the room, lifting a hand to reveal a blade. Not too long, but smaller than your average dagger. Possibly just a sharpened kitchen knife. They stepped closer. Closer. Each press of their dirty shoes on the ground was an explosion of sound to her weak ears. The figure pressed against her body, their face clearly visible to her. Scarred, evil, plotting. They still smiled, the knife lathered in saliva as they licked it.

"I'm bored my dear. Can you sing for me again? My dear sister.... Ashlei."

Chapter 2 - Beyond the Sun

Not too far away down several twisting and turning corridors of darkness stood a firm wooden door, slightly ajar. From within, light poured into the empty hallway. The room was bright. A vibrant contrast to the rest of the building. It was also much more active than any other room. Within, childish laughter could be heard. The thumping of gloves on gloves and the kicking of legs. These all belonged to one tiny girl. A girl dressed in only white. A dress that waved down to her thighs. Her feet hidden within little white boots and her hands tucked into white gloves being rapidly patted against each other in a display of happiness. She was laughing. Her bright red eyes glaring with glee at other things in the room. She was happy, because everything in this place seemed to be made exclusively for her. The chairs were soft. The corners were each filled with toys and fluffy things. There was even a table with a few cups of juice and sticks of chocolate.

This little darling was Hexetelle. The daughter of tyrants. Thought she isn't exactly old enough to understand what that means. All she knew was that she was happy to be here. Do note however, that she is not alone.

Upon one of the soft couches, sitting on their hip, propped up by an arm with their legs lifted onto the seat was a strange looking woman dressed in black. Their features denoted that she was female. Her face was soft, her eyes also a deep red like Hexetelles. Her long white hair seemed invisible to the couch she sat on, yet her dark hooded cloak, skirt boots and leather straps made her stick out brightly in this scene. More interestingly, her skin was gray. As though she wasn't 100% alive...

"Hexetelle darling, do be careful with that"

The woman spoke, cautioning Hexetelle of the fluffy doll she had picked up and was now furiously biting into. Regardless, she still smiled. The little one was charming, adorable yet contained a lot of unreleased rage. Not too surprising considering who her mothers were.

"Sweetie, don't you think Mister Rabbit likes his face? You'll bite his eyes off if you gnaw too hard"

Hexetelle blinked and stared at the woman, then to the fluffy rabbit she had taken a chunk out of. The childs mouth was now somewhat full of fluff and bits.

"Did mishter Bunneh wan his fashe? I wanned ish more"

Hex shortly after began to spit the fluff out of her mouth, throwing the bunny aside to crawl to the next interesting thing she could cuddle and abuse. The woman just smiled and watched, brushing her hair from her eyes.

"You really are just like your mothers."