There is no fear in me, not yet, for there is nothing but the not-quite-silence of the forest to keep me company. The hues and shades of brown and black and, every now and then, a splotch of brilliance keep me company, though I wonder in solitude. It is odd, perhaps, that I would assign colours such personality, but as it is their nature, their very being that is shown to me, I feel that it is apt to do so. As much as my deceased loved ones, my colours are my companions, and are significantly more comforting than the former accompaniment.

A quick look around through lavendar eyes shows me nothing amiss through the dull throbs of earth tones that blossom in my vision. The browns are for hoofbeats, or for the squirrel scurrying up a tree, or for the gentle thuds of a deer bounding by. The shades vary, of course, and vary widely: my own muffled noises of movement are cocoa, very dark, very staccato, and very predictable; the squirrel, though, is coloured in amber and bronze, a lighter hue, and has a more sporadic trajectory across my vision. A deer's leaps might produce a chestnut hue, rising and falling and strengthening and fading with each new surge. They are all noises from similar causes - movement - but the difference in their sources creates a wide range of shades and hues, though the tint remains the same.

My colours, then, are my blessing and my curse, depending on who you ask. I suppose they are really quite relevant to the bigger picture of who I am - they do not interfere with my ability to fight, though they do assist my ability to heal. Such is my life's story. Schwere wanted me to be a fighter, and I fought, but I never loved it as he wished for me. I never wanted it as he did. Weakness, he called it, though Verletzt called it strength. How confusing it had been, when I was young, to have such different sides clashing all the time. Back then, my gift had been my anathema. Now, it is my salvation.

I am not particularly easy to startle, for Schwere had beaten such delicacy out of me. I do not enjoy killing, but nor do I fear death. I do not want to cause pain - in fact I desire quite the opposite - but nor do I fear its infliction. There is little in this world that can bring about surprise or distress, but then I have never been as reactive or volatile as those around me. Perhaps it is a learned distance, or perhaps it is simply as my colours are: something I was born with. Perhaps it is my sensitivity to sound that causes me to be so in tune with the world around me, or perhaps it is the fact that I am so aware that brings me the colours. In any case, I hear a soft movement, a gentle flutter of mahogany, and I don't think much of it. I know that it is there, though I don't know what it is.

And so when a rather poisonous voice emanates from the shadows behind me, blossoming in a dark, deep orange-red across my sight, I do not find myself frightened or even startled; no, it is the owner of the voice that brings a shock. I have been looking for Seele to atone for my sins on her behalf, but I never imagined that she would appear right in front of me.

Well, that was easy.

I have turned to see her, and the sight of the source of the vermillion voice brings wide eyes and a snort of surprise. Her voice is melodic, though it speaks volumes of the deadly, wicked witch before me. Cinnabar tones continue, inquiring as to my reason for visiting this realm, and I am momentarily silent as I attempt to make my vocal cords function again. Her colour has slashed my vision, shredding in indelicate tears over the form of her body, but still I can make out the white mask, the crimson markings. It is her, and I do not know if I ought to be glad or afraid.

Light blue swirls up from my left, and I pin my auds momentarily, guilt trickling through my soul. A quick glance shows that Liebling has appeared, and her sadness with her. She sways gently from side to side, as though attempting to rock herself into a state of relief, though I know that she will not succeed. Her lips move, but I cannot hear her; still the aqua shades of her voice slide in gentle waves across my vision, similar to the brook I heard earlier, or perhaps the waves of the ocean. It would be soothing, I'm sure, and I begin to understand Seele's fondness of her, although her appearance brings me nothing but regret. "Tell her," she seems to say, and it swirls around my mind in conjunction with her colour.

The crimson splatters follow, reminding me of what death looks like in Schwere's eyes. To my right, Unheil paces, his voice radiating in violent bursts across my vision, growing and morphing until it takes up the majority of my sight. Thre is no mistaking his intentions, no wondering what he might be saying or thinking. "It is time," I imagine him saying. "It is time to answer for your wrongdoing." I'm sure I look quite insane, looking to and fro between the two for a moment before I can begin to think of answering my half-sister, but perhaps she will not tire of my silence and kill me even after all the hard work I put in to follow her here.

She does not know I exist, and I doubt it is the right way to tell her. Not only would she scoff and leave me, or perhaps even kill me just for sport, but if I were to mention Liebling, she would murder me for certain. There is no option but to ignore the pair visible only to me and simply act as though nothing is amiss. Perhaps I can gain her trust, that one day I might be able to tell her the truth. Today, though, is not that day. "I'm sure that my intentions are much the same as anyone else's," I tell her, resisting the urge to call her sister. "I seek a place to rest my weary head, and to avoid the persecution of those who do not understand me." It was a hint, nothing more, that perhaps I was not all right in the head. Perhaps it would be enough.

"Talk talk talk."

1119 words
@[Seele]