The Scramble [Complete]

[Sarah_Kerrigan]

The voices – if they were ever there – began to slip away, quietly in fact, trickling into dull nothingness; not at all different from the endless flow of a nearby fountain, where its waters would grow out circulate again, and, just be gone thereafter replaced by the new. Perhaps they were never there at all, just a ploy on Kairi’s imagination, serving only to trick a stressed young mind. As she regained some composure, the world (if it could be called one) around her seemed no more real than it had before.

Silence and the White.

The blankscape stretched on and on in one direction, then another, another, and, another still. Each path going on for miles upon miles. Still though, when she blinked, refocused while steadying herself, the fountain became clearer, more there actually, and, figures that were once blurs either vanished or remained, slowly becoming a part of her reality. Whereas everything had once felt so distant, now, they resounded in utter clarity. She was really here . . . wherever here happened to be.

“Omni,” the word, a name? It parted from her lips naturally, but, felt nonetheless, foreign. Like something important tugging at the very fiber of here being, it was a part of that familiar sense of longing, of wishing for something that could not actually exist, that struck her about it. Only a veiled whisper, with a grain of truth, and, knowledge about it. Omni, that name was very important, but, as to why it was, she could not say. It frustrated her to no end (half-remembering), all it left was a sense of never knowing what exactly was real enough to cling to. Even the stoutest of persons, would crumble against the inconsistency of her memories. Why can’t I remember? She struggled within herself. In those voided memories, she found fear.

Yes, she was frightened. The tremors shivering their way through her hands were evidence of that fact. She bore all the side effects of being hopped up on caffeine, without, any of the benefits. The nerves though, were the worst.

She slipped an arm behind her back and gripped the other, rubbing it lightly, nervously. The figures by the fountain seemed to have noticed her presence, but, made no moves towards her. Instead, they were sitting, one lower to the ground than the other, as though, they were waiting patiently, or, more likely speaking towards another that stood at great height. From this distance, the darkest of the three appeared far more defined; far more there, or, maybe some subconscious factor of intimidation was sneaking its way in. Regardless, his impression consisted of something . . . substance.

For now still meters away, she could not grasp the situation poised, and, in turn did not wish to intrude; not yet at any rate. After all, she could barely think. But, a sea of thoughts swept on swimming, disconnected words and ideas in a never-ending flow of nonsensical, well, nonsense. This entire place just felt . . . wrong.

That wrongness, convinced her to act.

Cautiously she walked forward, still keeping that one arm clinging tight to the other: for comfort, mostly, as a way to keep connected to herself, as though, she feared fading away from this place in its entirety. “Excuse me,” she tried to interrupt politely when she drew closer. “Would you tell me where I am?”