BlackWhite Coat.

She absolutely despised the coat he was wearing.

It was nothing special, just an unusually black coat and she loathed it. Nothing was able to stain the thing and it unnerved her. She wasn't sure why though. She just knew she had to do something about it.

Her chance came on a  cloudy Friday afternoon. She was worried, that he would show up with something else instead, but he appeared exactly at quarter to eight, wearing the coat rather neatly. She was so pleased she couldn't stop smiling until they had reached the school.

They were walking home together, through a nice park they both were fond of and which didn't stray too much from their way home. The stroll passed as usually, with the two of them discussing various things and generally chatting about life, the only thing that perhaps would have given away her plan was that she was eyeing the coat more often than usually.

"Well, that's the spot. See you," He said when they had reached the gates of the park, the spot they usually parted at. It seemed he was hesitant about leaving, as if he had something to say, but he turned away, probably deciding to leave it for tomorrow.

She tapped him lightly on the shoulder and he spun around. Before he could react, she jabbed the knife into his body.

"Goodbye," she whispered with the most sincere smile on her face. She saw something flash in his eyes, but she had no idea what it was. It was an emotion unknown to her.

She expected him to scream, but he didn't. Instead, he collapsed on the ground, making it easier for her to strike. So before he could start, she pulled her knife out with great force and slit the throat with all she had. She jammed the knife ruthlessly into his windpipe.

When she tried to retract it, it got stuck for a moment, but she simply crushed part of his neck with a well aimed kick. By now, his desperate attempts to get her away from him had faded into mere occasional twitches. So she focused on finding the parts of his body which would cause a huge blood bath.

Several hours later, she returned to her apartment, the black, now finally stained coat on her arms, her own white coat covered in dark red blotches, which once used to be fresh, crimson red blood. She washed both of them and hanged them to dry.

Later on, she fixed the rips she had created into the coat and then hanged it nicely on the coat rack, the coat now black with a reddish undertone.

She never hated black coats again.

Everyone liked the pink colour her own coat had taken on and were all very curious to find out how she had managed to get such an interesting shade with colour dyes.

Let's play up.

I am officially done with trusting people besides my family.
Yes, me, it's about time you shut your mouth and learn that in the end, the only one who understand you is yourself.
So stop getting your hopes up.

I have started way too early with listening to songs I haven't listened to in a while. I think my first Vocaloid fangirlings happened in November and October, so it is currently much too early to start listening to "Disappearance of Hatsune Miku". Although it was nice and left a message behind: Mada utaitai.
 Not that anyone would realize what that means.

In addition, my favourite Vocaloid is Megurine Luka.

It's amazing how many times I have wanted to write a post because I felt horrible at that moment. I never got to it though. I guess now's the time. And this time, I'm just tired of caring.

Although a classmate of mine successfully proved his point that I do care.

Lately I've been taking pictures of the clouds a lot. Every time I get this weird sensation that I might look really weird to bystanders and try to imagine what I look like to others. Then again, I've been trying to always imagine what I must look like to others and gotten severely hurt at times when I don't.

Oh well, tomorrow will be a Monday. Let's look forward to that, hm?

I shall be continuing on with this annoying happiness-sadness routine,
Henshin Oujisama.

Just a not so public outcry.

Hello?
We are lost.
How do you get unlost?
We are emotionally unstable.
We don't like this.
We want concern, we want attention, but we don't want it from the people we care about the most.
We don't want to worry them.
It's been long since we stopped entrusting things to them, for the sake of them not having to worry.
So stop this insanity?

The Fool.

With the sub-titles:

• Headaches are incredibly fun.
• I wish they'd all just die.
• How is it possible to ruin a day just like that?

So as most of the readers of this blog are aware, today was my first full-fledged school day. Perhaps what people are less aware of, but still a decent amount of people knows about it, is that it was horrible.
 It didn't even start out all that bad. I didn't have an head ache until english class I believe. Well, that means about two hours of peace, but hey, that's more than I have had for the last three days. Yeah, writing this post probably does nothing to help, but I figured that I could at least do this before going off to sleep. Although Tammsaare is waiting as well.
 So well, after getting a head ache, it was still all flowers and stuff because I actually managed to write something down during art class(read: 3 pages full of...stuff. Which I am supposed to know by tomorrow). And afterwards was Maths, which was fairly entertaining as well. I'm not going to go into details with that.
 But then things started to turn bad. Well, it was kinda nice to see some people earlier than expected but to then suddenly drop this bombshell on me...I should've known. Someone should've warned me. But no, that's not how the world works(unless, for some bizarre reason the world is still not against me and this was possibly I chance I should have considered but pfft, screw unreasonability, I shall get married to Kai and Lulu and possibly a lot of other anime characters while I am at it, because I need a harem. Yes, I need one.).
 So yeah, after that I was nicely shaken and have been doing the occasional crying every now and then. But I'm not sure whether it is because of my emotions and things or because my head hurts. Usually, it is a mix of those two.
 And now, after a twelve minute phone conversation and an incredibly weird Vocaloid song, I feel like I am out of things to say. I hope tomorrow won't be like this. There is no way it would be, but well, I got myself enough material for today to get extremely sad or angry again. I'd prefer sleeping, but I know that is not how things work. If I was a poet, I would create a poem for depressive things like this, but alas, I shall satisfy myself by listening to Vocaloid songs, from which 2/3 are sad and involve murder anyway.(Which reminds me of an amusing thought, but I'd better not state it, for the sake of my own safety and perhaps even sanity.)
 I appear to have lost my mind again, because I have named a blogpost after a Tarot card. Not only that, but I have a story involving Tarot cards as well. It is probably one of the most thought out, yet I have written out one chapter. I think the only story that can beat The Fool is Himitsu. And that was some seriously copycat stuff.
 Wouldn't it be nice to scream so loudly, that your head explodes and your guts splatter all around your now lifeless body?

Meow,
H.

Letters from the Dead.

Dear weirder,

How have you been? I probably shouldn't ask, for I am bound to get no reply, but it is part of the protocol to ask how the recipient of the letter is doing. So now I shall follow with mindless rambling.
 Today on the bus I discovered a few things. It does not matter why or how I got on that bus, but it is merely a fact that bus rides make me think a lot of different things. So now on to the discoveries. I realized that I can lean back slightly so that I can look at the sky. It is much more interesting than the never unchanging scenery I have gotten used to in these years(I believe there are a lot of them). Also, the colour changes in the sky are amazing. My head kept darting back and forth to comprehend the change. It was truly an amazing sight.
 A stop later I discovered, that my hands had the smell mixture of soil and sandwiches. I liked it a lot, for it reminded me of the day I had just been through. Although remembering it now makes me feel kind of sad. I am one confused individual.
Lately, I've begun to lapse back into my weird impossible fantasies. It makes me somewhat happy, because that will mean I won't have to be afraid of sad and teary nights again. What is slightly baffling though is that my source of comfort has become Kai, whom I have somehow moved on from. But I guess it might be because unlike Lulu, his story is not complete yet. There is no conclusion. There is nothing certain. The story hasn't taken shape yet.
 It's also nice to know that I've got a lot of things that can take my mind off things if necessary. But there are also a lot of things that are being applied to me with slight pressure, which are of course perfect for their timing, since school is starting. There are so many things I am supposed to do, so many things I want to do. This school year will be busy as well. I guess I'll never be able to break my way out of the art school habit. Workdays from eight to eight. Though I hope it won't get that busy. But you never know.
 But one thing I do know which I surely want to do is draw. I haven't done a lot of it, but these past few days I have actually sketched/drawn things. It is kind of nice not to take them seriously, not trying to perfect each detail and throw in some random and not really accurate shading. I should stick to chibis though.
 I feel that tomorrow will be a nice day, because I get to listen to songs accented with rain pouring as background sound. I thank you, wearder, for making this possible.

I am again obsessed with Earl Grey,
H.

Fortuna.

The monthly masquerade of Earl Kirkum was always amongst one of the most awaited events among the higher nobility in Venice.

But never had it been more popular than after the rumors of Lady Fortuna's scandal with marquis Nimportequi, whom she had recently been in an affair with.

The man in question had apparently crushed the lady's heart by walking out on her after an extremely long and intimate relationship by choosing to return to his homeland France after proposing to her many times.

All of Venice's creme de la creme were eager to see how badly hurt the young lady was. It was the inevitable part of human in them showing: seeing the ones they envied bloody, broken and bruised, because Chiara Fortuna possessed many treats the aristocracy lacked.

The self-proclaimed aristocrat had an air of unnatural grace around her, she was always best informed of the doings on the streets of Venice and the soul of every party she was invited to. Her beauty attracted a lot of men of all ages and the dislike of women.

She was probably the most loved and most hated person at the same time.

So on the night of the ball,  Lady Fortuna was not hard to find at all, for a flock of suitors appeared right at her side when she stepped into the ballroom.

In time, the flock grew in numbers, but the content of it changed occasionally, for some of those men had brought their own ladies whom to tend to from time to time. Those who had attended the ball alone, were constantly around her, hoping she would take interest in them.

One of the suitors was lucky: the light blonde lady allowed him half of her dances, kept him always in her conversations with other nobilities and seemed to take an interest in him.

It was well past after midnight when Lady Fortuna asked him to accompany her to see the Earl's many riches.

The rooms of the Earl's house were filled with paintings, furniture of previous eras and various antiques, making it quite the display during day time.

At night time however, most of the riches were hidden in the shadows, very few of all the curious objects showing occasionally in the moon light.

Lady Fortuna lead the young man into one of the biggest rooms, which had only been furnished with a piano and a few vases filled with plants. The suitor, who had been silent until now, started declaring his undying love for her.

He continued on like that for about five minutes, without noticing that the young woman grew more and more irritated with every passing word.

"Ah, I can not even begin to describe your beauty, my fair lady! Your hair shines in the moonlight so brightly, its silver hue making it seem snow-white! And your eyes..." His eyes widened as the words on his lips died down as he realized his mistake.

It was not the moon light colouring her hair white. Her hair was white and her eyes glowed with a crimson red.

The young woman smiled at him and with a quick snap of the neck, he collapsed dead on the floor, his head twisting at an odd angle.

Lady Fortuna turned around and started looking for two glasses she had hidden in the room earlier, when the  gentle rustle of clothing sounded. She smiled, but didn't turn to look.

"You're early, Scip." She stated, pulling out two glass goblets. Chiara knew the figure behind her must have scowled, but it wouldn't show under the big dark hood he was wearing.

"Don't call me that." The voice was ice cold, but Chiara simply stuck out her tongue while handing him one of the goblets. "Would you prefer Scipio then?" She asked and she was sure the scowl had deepened, but once again, the hood was hiding everything.

"How about calling me by my name for once?" He sounded irritated and Chiara's face expressed confusion.

"But it doesn't suit you at all!" She exclaimed. He let out what seemed like a sigh and started massaging his temples. Chiara watched the long pale fingers disappear under the thick cloth with amusement.

After calming himself down, he finally took the goblet the young girl had offered her.

"Let's just get this over with." Chiara threw him a look that expressed mock sadness for his obvious dislike directed towards her. But then again, he had all reason to, she mused.

How could Death possibly like an immortal like her?

Meanwhile, the cloaked figure was busy with the body. He crouched down next to it and extended one hand hand. He stuffed his hand down the throat of the once so lively young man and when he pulled it out, a small, golden egg rested on his palm.

Death stood up once again and Chiara examined the egg. At her nod of approval, Death cracked the egg with the edge of the goblet. Splitting it in half, he handed one part to Chiara and unceremoniously dumped his half into the goblet.

Something white and something black twisted into the bottom of the glass. It was neither liquid nor gas: it was a state of liquid smoke, the black and the white trying to mingle, yet keeping away from each other as to not get mixed.

"Hmm, 65 to 35 for white. You rarely get people as pure as this these days." She commented before taking a sip of her 'drink'. A smile of glee spread on her face, showing how much she enjoyed it.

"You should stop hunting for pure ones. If you hunt anymore than that, then they're going to become extinct." The scowl in his voice was evident as he raised the goblet into his hood as well.

Chiara didn't seem to be that much concerned with it.

 "Who cares? I mean, I'd rather gather them now, while there still are some than wait for humanity to chase them out of society." Death seemed irritated again, but chose to be silent.

They quietly finished their drinks, Death thinking of nothing at all, while Chiara pondered on the deal she had made with Death so many years ago.

She could barely remember it, the only thing she seemed to remember that it had happened on a full moon night such as this was.

After their ritual was finished, Death nodded to the immortal slightly, who only answered with a sly smile, before returning back to the mortals' realm, where a ball was still taking place.

Selective amnesia.

 It's amazing how many times I have wished for the Geass to be a real (almost as often as wishing for my own  Lulu. But I guess these two things go hand in hand.). But a few months ago(when I was not stupid. And enjoying a more quiet phase of insanity.) was the first time that I wished for the Geass so that I could forget. Forget this one single person. And then I had even no reason to wish to forget them except my own inability to calm my own mind. Perhaps this is the reason even now. But yes, I wished to forget. I knew it would have driven me mad. I mean forgetting that one person would have created quite the blank into my memory. And I am the curious kind. I would have tried to fill that blank. Heck, I even have a scene written about it.
 Alas, reality is cruel and I have no other choice but to take the longer path, forgetting everything at a snail's pace. Even then, I won't be able to forget everything completely, but forgetting about my own feelings is a feat I will probably be able to manage. Time heals all kinds of wounds and even those created by myself will close, fade into nonexistence and be forgotten about when another wound is created. I don't doubt that my stupidity will be always there for me, inflicting pain when I don't need it.
 but then again, those wounds are parts of me. They shape my character, affect my behavior and make me lose myself completely. I didn't feel like myself until a few weeks ago. Now, the daydreaming part of me is slowly returning, along with old habits. I am slowly standing up again, facing fall with the usual mindset and bloody optimism I have. Things feel like they are going to be all right again.
Even if my dreams try to viciously argue against it.