While We Live, Let Us Live

~°°~

It's like the dream. And the dream always started the same. The field of weeds and wild flowers gleaming under the rising light of the Tower. A hand reached forth. What comes after, what comes beyond?

No one knew. For Lethe Walth, it's only death.

It was rather unnerving to talk to someone who knew you better than yourself. Rycella was not as inspired to talk much to her dismay, more interested in doing some pathetic, guilt-ridden shipwreck.

Eight small silhouettes, one trailing behind despite her two wooden foot and one tall boy, running and running to the edge of their cobbled world. But then a voice asked a question. The voices turned to more and the group was divided to two. There's faint screaming, the grasses unable to hide their angry petulance.

When it stopped, there's a haunting silence. The Being awakened.

The boy who knew no defeat was slashed all over his body for once. There's a girl, still, skin ashen and as cold as snow.

What have you done? said the oldest, horror in his eyes.

The smallest one lunged, fist aimed, held back by the one with braided hair and the one with slashes over his skin. He clawed, trying to reach so desperately. Bring her back. Please.

The others watched in askance but the girl who hides and wants, whose green eyes looked for something and anything of reckoning, agreed. But while the body can heal, the soul cannot. A living corpse.

The boy with blood all over his body laughed. Stop.

Everyone except him and the undying girl fell into a slumber, suspended in the air.

Why. Why did you come here? His laughter was hollow, scorned. You ruined everything. Go away. Don't come back. Then, he left. Dragging everyone else with him. At that time, there were no gates yet.

The girl who wants continued to heal until flowers, grasses grew and a tree sprouted from the ground, standing tall. Dawn was coming and yet there's nothing to reckon of. Her fingertips were cold, piercing like ice. What did she want really? To be less lonely for once, maybe. The girl who hides decided to stop. She raised her head and walked towards the looming Towering, dragging the bits and pieces with her.

Deep down in the dust, there are discarded parts of a body ripped to ribbons, too small to heal, clutched by roots of a tree. It was hers once. Fire is in her bones. Fire is reliant in wood, in coal. There's only one tree in the Dome and it's her graveyard.

This week, Lethe Walth will die. Or well, die again. She'd been dead for a very long time.

~°°~

The blonde girl dragged the body up until the silhouettes of Professors crowded near.

"I can barely read her mind." The Principal looked somehow amused at this situation. She crouched down to the girl, glancing at her long ears. "Interesting."

Professor Helica however, was in panic, tearing out tips of pale magenta nails. "A product just died. The higher-ups are on their way. Do you even understand the severity of this situation?"

"She was a limp," the Principal dismissed. "Not even demons eat them."

Professor Buhrn's face was stark pale. "What do we do with the kids?"

"Korin has already that handled. Both of you should just calm down," replied the Principal with a chuckle.

"I meant the boy. The Special," scowled the bearded man, looking more pissed at being told to calm down. "The one with reality bending Peculiar."

The Principal shrugged. "Let him be. He seemed to accept about things he needs to keep in silence. He needed his Peculiar to function properly anyways. And he knows better now than to follow his own rules that seriously." Her eyes were a firm set. "I have him handled."

Buhrn gasped. "You can't possibly—"

"He's a favorite," she interjected sharply. "It'll work out just fine, just trust me. You guys are focusing on the trivial matters." Her eyes rolled, as she gestured at the still girl, sitting downtrodden, a hand still resting on the ripped, cold corpse. "This girl literally passed through it without sweat. And you guys care more about a bunch of random kids?" She whipped her head at the young girl, as she whispered in awed reverence. "What sort of being are you?"

The girl said no response, prodding at the dead body still.

The Principal crouched even more closely, touching the corpse. "You want her to be fixed up? Want me to help?" She gestured rather abstractly.

The girl nodded. Somehow, she understood.

"What are you doing?" Professor Helica whispered harshly in her ear, tugging her away. "You have no idea what sort of diseases it has nor what being it is. The higher-ups had told me to be not in such close vicinity."

The Principal scrunched her face as she politely shoved her away. "What sort of fun would that be?" She stood as she scooped up the ripped body and placed it on a nearby desk, humming as she caressed her chin. And ignored the insistent glare of Professor Helica. "Burhn, get some soup for the little dear and coffee for me."

The burly man grumbled before following.

The girl cautiously followed the Principal and stuck out her little hand to the body. Green light sprung to the air and the ripped flesh mended themselves right in front of their very eyes. It even molded a leg out of the limp, cleaning out the scars until they were as smooth as marble, pristine. In the ground, grasses grew.

Beady eyes widened. "An Original."

When inevitably, the light ended so did the magic and the grown flesh darkened, rotting and began to shrivel. Only the grasses remained. The girl sniffed as she took her hand away, frustrated.

The Principal whistled. "I see. You can heal in such an atrociously amazing way. But, she's dead. No one can heal a dead person." She tapped the desk with a grin, looking very pleased as she looked in the air. "Do you think she's worth it? It and the skeleton she brought in with her?"

Professor Helica arched a brow. "What?"

"No, not you." She waved her off. "Well, I think she is. Especially, that boy's skeleton."

Professor Helica furrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Have you known about this girl?" she asked, indignantly. "What—when—"

"Of course," the Principal snipped, finally turning to the woman behind her. "How can I not when one mind is blank and the other is babbling so loudly in a tongue I can't understand?" she replied with manic grin. "I wanted to have atleast a week but here she is, strolling along a body. And now, what to do?" Fingers gripped and ripped coiled hair. "Do you think they're worth it?" A book jumped out of the Principal's back, it's cover wide open, looking like a decrepit wing made of paper. "What if just once?Atleast, just once. Can you do that?"

"Of course, I can do that," the book said, words spilling as if through a smile. "I only require, the entirety of your soul."

"I accept."

Helica took a step back, flesh growing in her feet, ready to strike. The little girl watched with a slight shiver as the Professor's voice raised. "Whatever you're doing, stop it. Stop it now. I will—"

~°°~

"You won't stop me will you?" Lethe asked, wryly. "I think I'll still go to the Wall. It's better than me rotting to death. Don't tell what happened. It is not their fault."

She glanced at Lethe Walth carefully, almost afraid. "Okay." The blonde roots had been covered. She opened the faucet, cleaning her hands, the brush and the cup.

Brown eyes assessed her movement, head tilted. "What's my name? Was it Lena?"

"I'm not sure. It's not Lethe, that's for sure."

"My name is Lethe Walth," she repeated, unsurely.

She understood. She's also a being of no name. "Okay."

~°°~