❝𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙀 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙄𝙎 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂. ❞
↣ A PARADOX IN WHICH
a girl rises and falls
like the Empire of Rome,
knowing not of
what she has gained,
but instead of what
she has los...
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『 Chapter 35 』
⤐ ♤ « 〚♞〛 » ♤ ⬷
Her fingers are sickly cold.
That's the first thing Y/N realizes, or, well, more so remembers, when she comes to consciousness. Now that she thinks about it, her entire top layer of skin has goosebumps and chills glide along it. The cold is more of a discomfort than anything, nothing debilitating. Maybe cold isn't the best word to use, numb would fit this situation better, wouldn't it? At least she's not shivering—
Wait, that's not...right. Why is she shaking? She doesn't know why she's shaking, she didn't know when she started shaking. Bubbling unease burrows itself in the peripheral of her mind, tapping on her bones and causing her to quiver. Tap tap tap tap. Her breaths are heavy, sounds buzzing from around her, creaks of floorboards, clinking of glasses, it doesn't help the feeling.
Y/N's hands weigh of steel, her feet of iron. Rooted into place, her muscles try to shift and form into normal movements and stretches, but her current, statue-like nature provides the burden of sloth. The air around her doesn't have any specific temperature, but it feels sticky, with the faintest whiff of ale or scotch.
Stars pull at her skin, their tiny fingers sparking lightning against her trembling form. Frost and fire, gaseous twisters of imbalanced equilibrium, two sides colliding in a specter of space. The stars have sharp nails, picking at her scabs and running their palms over every fault she has.
It takes a few blinks from her heavy eyelids, but this time, she actually wakes up. She hadn't even realized what she felt before was false, a mirage of some sorts. Waking up twice felt like a slap to the face, guts twisting in nervousness and concern.
This time, however, Hidaka knows where she is.
The lapse of images in her head is menial and spins along the back of her eyes like a motion picture. She can still feel their grabby fingers around her biceps, the glacial blade along her throat, the prick in her arm, the warmth in her veins, the vast sea of purple mist, being thrown to the ground, the cold floor, the yelling, some explosions, a short stream of tears from the noise, curling up and trying to fall asleep, and then the silence.
She honestly expected more from the so-called League of Villains. A name like that, one which carries infamy around it like a cape should be as imposing at it sounds—but this place doesn't reflect that at all. Y/N doesn't have the energy to laugh, but seeing some small, cramped room act as the base for such a revered group would normally erupt a chuckle from her.
She doesn't have time to reminisce on the scenery, however. Someone is kneeling down in front of her. It's in this moment that she realizes she's sitting down in a chair. The person is finicking with some sort of metal, she can hear the twisting of bolts and the sound of a tool, most likely a screwdriver. Hidaka's own (eye color) eyes trace the patterns on their full body suit, the gray streaks standing out against a slate black background. She can't tell what they look like.
