Art of Running the Fuck Away

~°°~

Before the world was old and stained with grays and black, it was believed that furniture weren't alive.

It was speculated that when the sun stopped rising, some items began to surge up with life for unknown reasons. However, they didn't possess consciousness; life they own, but there's a huge difference between something not dead and someone truly alive. They lived by rules and orders—examples of these were the chandeliers that ate up insects that scurried to the rooftops and floating candles lit up places unreached by the rays of the Light Tower.

But, Peculiars were different. They're sentient, conscious and knowing. They just didn't have a life. They had a soul.

There's a reason why one had to be skilled to own a Peculiar. The Ownership Ceremony was a belated game of hide-and-seek (Senior Kai had once said that there were students who had to look for their peculiar for a week), an act of vore then, a death-match inside the stomach of the Peculiar.

Magic, Lethe concluded, was quite bizarre.

No worries if one lost against a Peculiar, though. The worst that'd ensued would be a mild possession, some scabs, perhaps a broken bone, and a stab of humility in the gut for being clapped by a fucking furniture, a normal Tuesday in the Dome.

Lethe ducked the fire bolts. Flame charred the pasture and it singed her frazzled hair. Smoke and fumes shrouded her view. A square silhouette zoomed past. She flicked up the hose and the jets of water hit it perfectly. The book tumbled to the ground, wet pages stained by dirt. It gurgled out, as it rose once again. "This is not fair!"

Lethe raised a brow. "You said I could have anything I like as a weapon. I chose a water hose." As if to prove her words, she sprayed water on the Peculiar once again. It yelped. "Seems fair to me."

Even though the book had no eyes, she felt it metaphorically glare at her. "You should have selected an actual weapon like a sword or something!" It shook its pages violently. "But you, foul vermin, chose to take advantage of my weakness."

"That's how fights work..."

"I have enough of you, brat." The Peculiar hovered above her, seething. Its pages spew out fireballs, blazes flaring out of its frame. "Fine then, foolish trite. I shall unleash my final form—" Spurts of water interrupted its monologue. It slumped to the ground limply. And as expected a tantrum ensued. "Let me transform, you vermin—"

Water just met its face. The brunette yawned. "Okay, fine. Cease your attack, cease! I give in," it whimpered out, soaked and tired. Dramatically, the book wept out. "It just anguish me that my owner has such a terrible fashion sense. I shall be a laughingstock to my peers. Just like you." It shot her a dirty look.

A parchment of light and gold descended from above, filled with undecipherable characters. The Ownership Contract. The water hose on her hands became a pen.

Brown eyes narrowed. "I can't read this. What do I do with this?" Lethe clicked her tongue as she crouched down to the whining Peculiar. "Speak you bloody book. Or I'll drown you in water."

It grumbled as it waddled on a puddle although Lethe wasn't sure if it's water or tears. "See the image of the sun in the bottom?"

"Yep." The brunette nodded, muddy eyes peering at the golden paper.

"You just have to draw an eye on its very midst. After that, halve the illustration by also drawing a line in the midst. Then, write your name below it."

Lethe blinked. "You could have just said draw an eye and a line in the middle. Do you have to be so dramatic?" She grabbed the floating pen and tried to scribble on the paper. "Not to mention, this thing has no ink."

"Of course it's empty. You were supposed to fill it with your blood, fool." The Peculiar drifted above her. "Have you not listened when your Professors told you about the contract?"

"I didn't even expect that I'd pass." The girl shrugged. She bit her finger till it bled, uncaring of the mad screeches of the Peculiar and wrote what it had told her.

"I still cannot believe this brat will own my power," The book hummed, as it analyzed her in scrutiny. "Woe is me..." it uttered dejectedly as it became translucent till it became nothing. She stood alone in the vast abyss.

Lethe blinked and she was back to the towering bookshelves and the dusty compartments, no longer in the dark void of the book's stomach. The Peculiar no longer flew with life but laid snug and limp on her arms.

She, now, had fire in her blood.

She stared at her open palm intensely, imagining the scorch of flame and the blares of red. Nothing happened. Lethe grumbled.

Boreas was still slumped, moping when she came back.

Magic was indeed weird, but Lethe had observed that people were weirder. This was why she always liked Potions. You just have to follow instructions. Simple.

People however, had filters—they constructed these odd, unspoken rules that reeked of lies, forced etiquette and pleasantries. No one told her about these things. Hands fidgeted, eyes glazed and face convoluted as they expressed hidden implications they expected others to understand. They worried about so many things despite being unable to do anything. It was like trying to scream when you're mute. And people called her the weird one.

The three of them weren't forever, anyways. It was the thing she understood when observing people.

When Boreas leaned on her shoulder, she may have stiffened, but she didn't move away. Intimacy was never her quota—it was never anyone's in this Dome. But Boreas was warm. He didn't scorch and sting like punches nor did he splinter her skin, unlike those wooden swords on training.

They sat and chatted in an invisible blanket of comfort until Boreas found his Peculiar and got swallowed whole. Lethe stood alone, wrapped in the embrace of silent, soothing solitude.

A scream shattered the peace. A cry—Eris—stabbed through the air.

~°°~

Lethe wasn't sure of the details, but apparently, Eris—that fucking idiot—snuck in and decided to find their Peculiar despite the fact that they didn't pass. Somehow, it worked.

Lethe and Boreas had tried to visit Eris but to no avail, the Healing Lodge announced that it's unwanting of visitors.

Lethe slumped to her new bed, jerking her head as she examined the new dorm. Her feet rested on marbled tiles. White walls and a white ceiling, that sported a crested triangle with intricate bouquets, littered her view. Two bunks stood side-by-side while four tall cabinets lingered near, mouths gritting and yellowish fangs flashing. Exempting the last beings, the dorms in the Second Sector were better; no longer crowded, no longer filled with chatters.

Lethe plopped down to her chosen bed, smelling the faint scent of lavender.

Head perked up as she heard a timid knock on the door. "Eris?"

The door opened. It wasn't Eris. Of course.

Shoulder-length red hair framed her face. Green eyes underneath red-rimmed glasses glanced at her with obvious scrutiny. Bandages and healing glyphs were pasted on her right arm and leg. She stepped in, attempting to stand tall and hide her slight limp.

"Oh. Hello," Lethe said with a hesitant wave.

"Hi," Rycella Gullerva curtly replied, carrying her luggage. "From Potions—Lena Walth, right? There weren't any more rooms so—"

The brunette's face deadpanned, "It's Lethe Walth. Nice to meet you, I guess."

Rycella cleared her throat coolly, a rigid smile forced on her face. "Right. My apologies. Nice to meet you, as well, Lethe."

"There's only two of us assigned to this room?"

"Quite." The redhead nodded. "A girl had an Unstable Peculiar; Permeation. Lost her leg. It's permanent, from what I heard. And Heindell is... As usual. Y'know." She scrunched her face. "So there are twenty-seven in the girl's section and twenty four at the boy's. So there's some free beds in here."

Then, she slumped to the next bunk, fixed up her things and did not speak to her again. Thank goodness. Talking was exhausting. Plus, there's something off with Rycella Gullerva. Lethe sat up, also intending to arrange her things. Carefully, she approached her locker, wary of its fangs. She shoved her bag through its mouth, backing when it gurgled and growled, slimy tongue spitting out a silvery vial.

Lethe gagged, nose scrunched in disgust. It was now her long-life mission to kill the idiot that decided to let furniture have life. Whoever or whatever it was.

She crouched, fingers grabbing the fallen potion. Her eyes gleamed as her brows narrowed. Invisibility potion? When did she brew invisibility potion—

An idea sprung to her mind. A good one. One so good that a certain Poitraz would not like it.

~°°~

Darkness claimed the Light Tower. The clocks chimed, whispering on her ears that it was night. Lethe chugged the invisibility potion and put the empty vial in her pockets.

Carefully, she opened the door, worried that she might wake up her current roommate. She stalked the dreary dark, avoiding floating candles as they whizzed by. Their flames drizzled her face with warmth and light as they unintentionally guided her path. She stole apples and leftover pies in the kitchen, intending to give one apple to Eris. She gulped down the pie in one bite. She planned to call Boreas as well so they'd both visit Eris but realized there was only one potion and that she didn't know what his dorm password was.

Soon enough, brown eyes spotted the dim, wooden cabin of vines and green. Lethe hurled her half-eaten apple away and pocketed the other apple. It stubbornly edged out. Once again, the brunette cursed the smallness of women's pockets.

The door of the Healing Lodge was open.

The floating candles were gone. It was cold. Her boots softly pounded against lumber instead of tiles. The aroma of harsh wood and potions corroded the smell of apples.

Her eyes were met with the sight of Eris tied on their bed with a man of glazed eyes and haggard face, towering above. His hand clenched a potion of gold, the other trying to keep Eris' mouth open.

"Ugh. I've been stuck in this Lodge making these for hours," he grunted, as he jerked his head. The nurse, Lethe realized. "So many potions wasted on this little shit. What was the Principal thinking?"

Lethe's eyes bulged, her heart hitched and rammed against her ribcage. Recorder Glyph. She needs a Recorder Glyph—

The apple waddled out of her pockets, thumping on the wooden floor. Fuck whoever decided to make women's pockets small, she cursed as the nurse's head snapped in her direction, face shadowed and grim. Seemingly, black vines clenched around her heart, stilling it for a mere second before it thumped again loudly.

Lethe Walth was an astute observer. And from what she had observed, she needed to get the fuck out of here. But before she could even move — heck, before she even breathed, it slammed shut.

The outside was gone and the whiff of herbs and condiments grew sharper. The scent of potions usually calmed her. In this instance, it filled her with fear.

"Who's there?" the nurse said, eerily calm as he stood up and took a heavy step forward. Lethe clamped her mouth and nose with her hand as she carefully backed away. She didn't breathe. She would not make the slightest sound. Even if her lungs burned.

"Invisibility potions have only one minute. Do you know that?" A smile tugged his lips as he clasped his hands together. "I'm a patient man. I can wait. Or, you can make this much more easier for both of us and appear. I'm not gonna hurt you. This is a mere misunderstanding."

The slow ticking of the clock matched her heartbeat.

Lethe wracked her brain, but all she heard was the drumming of her unstill heart. Her shaky fingers searched her pockets for anything. Anything she could use. They gripped the cold glass of the empty vial and.. a package of something small and soft — chocolates? She threw the vial on the nurse, and the glass crashed as she rushed to the door, turning the handle. It was locked. Her eyes glinted. She heard approaching footsteps, its looming shadow with it.

Burn. Please fucking burn. Peculiar magic yada, yada.

Her hands burst into flames and it crept to the wooden door. But it wasn't enough. She backtracked to gain momentum then charged to the door like a bull. Sharp pain jabbed from her arms and shoulders at the impact and something pierced her feet. But adrenaline in her blood made her not care. She ran. It was when she was out, did she noticed that her necklace was gone. And there was blood from her feet trailing behind.

~°°~