Eleison Undivine Me [BEING EDITED]

Episode One: beware the blood and blue (edited)

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Suggestion: Always turn on and loop given music.

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The mist is a thick, blurry white like spectres in a painting, moving between the tall trees of the black forest so elegantly, along in sync with the whispering wind, or the tired evening sky that has yet to clear off dust-coloured clouds.

Underneath, on the rain-soaked ground South Segment is quiet; the streets empty, the houses standstill, the masks unmoving. Not even a moth hovers under the yellow light of the lampposts.

She stands right at the bend of the road. Her clothes have dried by now, even though the hood neck feels cold against her ears. Subconsciously she rubs the long scar—stitches—on her left forearm from over the fabric. This spot lets her watch her house. Dain Household.

It'd be a shame to call it a house only, given its high arches and monstrous, intricate architecture. It has been here for many hundred years now, renovated time and time again by heirs, but its grey walls never change colour, the porch never has flower pots decorating it unlike all the other smaller houses on the blocks here, and its yard has no other vegetation other than the dull grass.

Boring.

Every once in a while Kyrie regrets coming back to this absolutely unnecessary house. Sure she'd be delighted if only she was a passerby, but she has lived inside those walls and it's nothing but empty inside. Empty. Even the air is empty.

And now George isn't here. And there are more cars in the open garage. Men and women in uniforms—transparent raincoats—patrolling the winding pebbled path, the scent of incense coming all the way here.

It's wrong.

"Young Master, should we-"

"Yeah."

"Oh? Yes, yes. Let's have a lip at your look-"
"A look at my lip, Hendrick. And no, it's fine. It's not bleeding." Instinctively her cold fingers brush over the fresh, red bruise at the corner of her lips and with it resurfaces memories and rage.

If Hitoshi and Ash and the guards weren't there she'd probably have more to weep for than just a bruised lip. Pathetic. I'm pathetic.

And now Hitoshi's mad. And these stupid guards could very well go about their business because very clearly they are of no use and she doesn't want to be treated like a five-year-old.