The wrought iron door continually trespassed upon the domain of luminescent transparent vivacity, undeterred and valorous, callous to the singular disciplinarian's fervent gaze, her eyes that antecedently occupied the twain visages, that of Eros, with irises of heterochromatic pigmentation and Gabriella, whose face broiled with an ardent shade of sovereign carmine.
Unobserved, her enchanting, forbidding astringent features contorted, the seams of her lips as though puppeteered by myriad conspirator fracturing in innumerable manners, teeth, opulent, alabaster in hue, virginal and unblemished lay reddened, drowned in a bath of cardinal carrion, anger, delight, quivering ecstasy laced with torturous apprehension, indiscernible was the pedagogue's mind. Yet, one thing lay transparent to all who beheld such spasmodic performance, the progenitor behind such anarchic gesticulations, a wrought metal door, and the bereft, destitute land that flickered with a complexion of impassioned scarlet.
Seconds passed, ignorant and apathetic to Eros's hyperborean plea, the instructor lay reverent to the seemingly innocuous yet preternaturally uncanny monument, that was until motion returned to her ensorceled visage, her head encased by supertemporal strands of elongated fibres whipping in apparent agitation, her eyes quivering with transient, turbulent foreboding as her gaze materialised atop the adolescent's pusillanimous figure. "The lesson's over," The lecturer breathed, her tone evanescent, insubstantial, ephemeral in volume, akin to a mere whisper the youth mistakenly overheard.
"Wh-" Gabriella started, her doll-like hands encumbered by multitudinous callouses falling, the pole she formerly shepherded atop Eros's throat of snow dropping languidly aside her broad, voluptuous hips.
"THE LESSON iS OVER! I DEMAND YOU ALL LEAVE THE CLASSROOM THIS VERY SECOND!!" The instructor hysterically screamed, her voice shrill, deafening, every syllable grating upon Eros's obscured ears with malicious, malign conspicuousness. Myriad eyes, disorganised, disquieted and disturbed, convulsed upon heeding the disciplinarian's transcendent demand, their figures lurching into a frantic bout of transparent trepidation as they hastened towards the eternally chasmic rift. Yet, twain figures remained amidst such a realm of matriarchal consternation, the former possessing head of mottled pink and primaeval brown, while the latter merely gazed upon the demented beauty with eyes of virulent mephitic emerald.
"Where's Fi- I mean my…master? " Eros fervently demanded, his heterochromatic eyes scrutinising the horizon of monochrome halcyon with an ardent sincerity. He had to find her, the girl who granted him a life remote to that of a prophesied death. Still, no matter how profound his call, despite his transparent longing, the resentful, indignant teacher responded with nought but an incensed murmur.
"It doesn't matter where she is! Just leave. She'll return to you before nightfall," And with such call did Eros feign acquiescence appeasement. Retaliation would garner him nought but undesired quietus, for he was a male, no matter his status as an esper's attendant.
Indistinct steps, twain, Gemini yet unwarranted, embarked from the realm lorded by reticent chaos, heedless to the repugnant fragments of invidious dust that ventured to impregnate their flesh of peerless virginal achromatic white did the downtrodden, persecuted couple move, their departing visages stalked by a maniacal leer, that was until their forms dissipated, bereft of halcyon light, subjugated by its variegated peer. *Bang* The leviathan monument bellowed such parting throe, its chasmic wound cauterised, uncontaminated by the putrescent plague that was Eros.
Silence, a consummate marriage of utmost quiescence, the orthodox ecclesiastical land, antecedently littered by the indistinct blather of myriad espers, appeared uninhabited, occupied exclusively by the adolescent bearing eyes of mismatched pigmentation and the apathetic, tumorous Gabriella. 'Did they leave already?' Eros inwardly questioned, seemingly indifferent to Fiamma's deceased presence, his ears obscured by multitudinous strands of stained pink straining, endeavouring to discover but a singular source of twin sonant, yet, he would be met by nought but cadaverous cessation, the hollow cry of stagnant air intermittently broken by Gabriella's rhythmic breath.
Afflicted eyes absentmindedly investigated the sacerdotal realm, innocuously falling upon the polychromatic parquet, searching, scouring the ostentatious timbered canvas for but a singular harbinger, a disgorged basin of sanguine, the remnants of the youth's anterior clash, however, no matter how meticulous his search, Eros would befall nought but the same invariable portrait. No blood pigmented the realm, nor did there lie a trail of shadowed crimson amidst Christiaan's wake, the rustic tinge of iron pressed not upon the adolescent's apathetic sinus. It was as though the precedent scene of torturous anguish was nought but an apocryphal, delusory dream, one the youth ardently denied yet lay vain in his attempt to prove.
'Would he still be in the hospital wing? No-The espers there would heal his wounds within seconds,' The youth inwardly stammered, his mind lacerated and maimed, bifurcated neath twain ethos. Did he care about Christiaan's continuance…No, he was but another male to the heterochromatic boy, one whose sole purpose lay transparent for all to behold. Instead, Eros merely sought denouement, a finale to the eerie play prevalent exclusively amidst his mind.
Still, Eros did not lurch from his position before the ostentatious gatekeeper. His figure was stalwart, paralysed, denouncing his ideology. He would wait. To search for an evermoving target under the assumed aegis that was Areata would chaperon forth nought but myriad maltreatment. Fiamma was not here to protect him. His status as her attendant appeared frivolous, nugatory before the cavalier beauty. 'That dress, it couldn't have been a dream,' Eros inwardly murmured, absentminded motion permeating his person, progenitor to an incongruent cacophony of disharmonic steps, an eerie duet.
For every stride was followed by a Gemini impression, a stygian shadow bearing a head of gilded gold. Gabriella, her eyes antecedently rancorous, scintillating with a malefic hatred, lay placated, enamoured atop the youth's inattentive figure, stalking his every motion with lips bearing a propensity for opening. Yet, no words echoed from such alluring chasm.
"Um-" Eros started, his figure convulsing in a tempestuous digression, the apple of his eyes alchemically enchanted upon the haunting visage of Gabriella, "Who-" He continued, portraying an act of unconditional ignorance.
"Gabriella," The girl apathetically interjected, her superficial features evermore unchanged, spare for malignant eerie heat that postured itself atop her ornamental flesh of porcelain. For but a second, Eros appeared disordered, his mind having yet to adapt to Gabriella's forthcoming inauguration. Still, such notion of chaos dissipated within but the blinking of an eye, as myriad intentions effloresced within the apostle's ravenous brain.
"Ok, Gabriella, I'm Er-"
"Eros. I know who you are…Fiamma made sure we all know who you are," The toxicant battle whore murmured, her heart discharging exiguous beats, baleful, irritable, their purpose unknown to the perpetually callous girl.
"I see," Eros blurted, his brain incomprehensibly battling with countless images of Fiamma's 'announcement' to the entirety of her class. "Well then, do you mind if I ask you a question?" The boy continued, his left eye scintillating with an ill-repressed luminescent ambition, an eagerness met by nought but wordless acceptance bearing a vessel of a simple nod. "Is there a library or something nearby?" The boy innocuously pleaded, his voice transparent with a downtrodden loathing, a doleful abasement perceptibly birthed by Fiamma's expired presence.
And once more did the girl respond with but an inoffensive, banal nod, her figure encroaching upon the abstracted boy, whereupon she immediately shepherded his peregrination, cretinous to the boundless lies such voyage would denounce as sacrilegious.
Minutes passed in wistful inarticulateness, dead air spasmodically shattered by cadent strides. Innumerable girls had bore witness to the enchanting youth's polychromatic person, yet none dared approach, abstracted by the accursed, pestiferous presence of Gabriella.
Ceaseless corridors, monotonous and prosaic, appeared marred amidst the apprehensive boy's mind, their images but a singular portrait painted by oil of unparalleled tedium, a listlessness soon shattered, for it was amidst such cherubic crucifix that Eros would find his form riddled by a bloodcurdling primaeval apprehension. Hyperborean frigidness enveloped the adolescent's anteriorly languid visage. His flesh of snow appeared tinged a cadaverous hue, akin to that of a vitalised, zoetic corpse, blood that antecedently brewed with unquestioned heat lay petrified, icebound amidst his veins.
A sentiment the youth had acquainted himself with once before ran rampant amidst his mind.
Prophesied death.
Instinctually, Eros turned, his eyes quivering, bloodshot, yet, no matter how much he scoured, no matter how ardent and impassioned his plea, he would spy nought but the dispassionate impervious faces of countless espers, the gut-wrenching antipathy that dominated his person soon dissipating never to bear ascertained origin. 'What was that?' The youth inwardly fretted, his body shakily trailing the indifferent form of Gabriella, who appeared impervious, benighted to the preceding pressure.
Erstwhile pestiferous, shuddersome pupils of sky blue impregnated by pigment of mild cobalt appeared displaced from their antecedent prey, their bounded field of snow littered by convex veins of carrion, transparent with an unrivalled, transcendent resentment.