Phew, two chapters in one night... or morning xD well, here's another chapter, I'm going to bed now XD I should be working on something else, but what the heck :P enjoy ^^
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Chapter Four
“Don’t cry Chiwa,” Eliot’s voice said softly as he reached out a tender hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, his touch barely there, feeling like the tickle of wind.
“Can I really see them again?” Chiwa asked, her voice cracking.
“I think you can,” Eliot said, his light touch brushing against her face. “Chiwa, please stop crying.”
Blinking the tears from her eyes, she was able to make out his face. He appeared to be around twenty, concern dancing in his strange eyes, nearly void of color. There was a hint of gray in them, an almost silvery, but otherwise his eyes simply reflected that what was around him, changing their color slightly. His caramel hair falling in his face, a few lone strands sticking up at odd angles.
“Chiwa,” his features were still a little blurred, like a bad painting. “Look Chiwa, you see where we are?” he asked, his fingers brushing some stray strands of her almost white hair from her face.
“We’re surrounded by white,” Chiwa said once she had managed to get her trembling and sobbing under control, unable to remember the last time she had cried. Thinking back, she realized she had been unable to shed a tear since the accident, and felt a little more at ease after a good cry, even if that sounded lame.
“Well, we can’t go anywhere unless you take the ring,” Eliot said, taking her hands in his semi transparent ones.
“Are you a ghost?” Chiwa gulped, noticing the Jelly’s core was gone from her hands.
“No, I’m still not fully here, you see, all I know is what to do, not why.... It’s like a program written in my head, so please don’t get angry if I can’t explain everything. The information is there, I just can’t get it,” Eliot said, making Chiwa look him in the eyes.
“The ring,” Eliot released his grip on her hands, raising both of his, showing her the two identical rings, one on each hand.
“I still don’t get what’s going on.... And aren’t you unlucky?” Chiwa asked nervously, picking at her nails, blushing when she realized Eliot was wearing no clothes, glad that he was semi transparent and that his lower half was virtually nonexistent.
“Well, the ring is the final bond between you and God,” Eliot said, a solemn expression on his blurred face. “If it gets destroyed, you’re out of Lacrimosa, but lucky for everyone, rings are harder to destroy than people. But since people are fragile, they can get killed and if the person is killed, then the rings are wiped, meaning they go from this,” he turned his hands so she could see the markings and design of the identical rings. “To plain rings, no markings, nothing at all.”
“And I die,” he added, seeing her puzzled look. “You see, we Jelly are in charge of keeping the rings safe, and their ring bearers as well, so think of me as your personal bodyguard if you wish,” he grinned, his figure shaking, the edges coming into slightly better focus.
“And as for me being unlucky, that’s not a problem,” Eliot said softly, removing the ring from his right hand. “Because, with God dying, some rules are deteriorating. For instance, some bad things end up turning good, and good things bad, and I couldn’t just leave you after being through such a horrid experience, let the unlucky stick together,” he tried to cheer her up, not doing a very good job of it.
Chiwa still not saying a word, Eliot tried to fill the silence.
“Look, don’t worry much about what Ponya said,” he said, taking her left hand and moving to a kneeling position, or at least the best he could with no lower half. Looking up, he took the ring and held it to touch the tip of Ponya’s finger.
“Ponya, will you become my ring bearer?” he asked.
“Do I have a choice?” Ponya asked, wiping at her eyes with her right arm.
“Not really,” Eliot admitted, sliding the ring on her ring finger, the rings seeming to shrink to fit her perfectly.
The moment the ring was in its proper place, a light seemed to shine from within Eliot, blinding Chiwa, his edges coming into focus, clothes materializing. When the light was gone, his eyes were no longer a nearly colorless silver reflecting other colors, but a pure silver.
Rubbing her eyes, Chiwa made a face at Eliot, who appeared to be wearing her school uniform.
“Why’re you wearing that? You can’t go to my school! What’ll people thing?” she asked, inspecting the ring more closely.
“Don’t make that face,” Eliot frowned. “I don’t know much about humans, seeing I was only created a while ago, I can’t say exactly when, but it doesn’t feel like long ago,” he frowned, leaning in closer and resting his forehead against hers, making her blush, but not seeming to take any notice of it.
“Okay, how’s this?” he asked, his clothes melting to the type of casual wear her brother usually wore.
“How’d you do that?” Chiwa asked, a little overwhelmed by his powers.
“I looked into your memories,” Eliot said.
“Oh....” Chiwa said, looking at the contours of the ring, beautifully woven, swirling around in the center and creating a little bowl for a small clear stone, magnifying the scratches beneath it, revealing themselves as the number eighty-five.
“See, we match, sort of,” Eliot laughed; flashing his less elegantly designed ring, but with the same swirling numbers etched on.
“So Chiwa, any questions for Unlucky old me? Or not so old me?” Eliot asked, putting an arm around Chiwa.
“What’s this Lacrimosa business?” Chiwa asked.
“Lacrimo, Latin, to weep,” Eliot recited. “Can refer to Dies Irae, an old Latin hymn,” he said, earning himself a blank look form Chiwa.
“Don’t give me that, I’m one of God’s freaking creations! I have all the knowledge you need to face this game, named Lacrimosa. You know what’s weird? I don’t even know who Mozart is, but I can tell you that he composed a song called Requiem, and there is reference to Lacrimosa in it,” Eliot gave er a lopsided grin.
“I still don’t understand,” Chiwa frowned.
“Okay, the old hymn Dies Irae, is Latin for the Day of Wrath, describing the Day of Judgment, the final judging of every nation, supposedly taking place after the resurrection of the dead and the Second Coming of Christ, but the truth is, God doesn’t have a son. The humans mistook heir for son, and the last heir- the Prophet Jesus was killed, leaving God without an heir. The real Judgment Day is the day God finally finds his heir and hands over his throne, after one final judgment,” Eliot tried to explain.
