chapter three

She never needed descriptions of people's physical appearance contents or maybe adapted to viewing them as only lights. This view maybe also allowed her to forget they were human allowing her to kill without remorse. So it was bemusing to her that even with sight everyone around her compared and described each other's looks. They said her little sister looked like their grandmother something she tried not to visualize knowing her unimaginative mind would put a old woman's face on top of a petite body from more info unwantedly provided. Which was a contrast to how she really looked like. With a heart shaped face inherited from her grandmother but unmarked by time as smooth as it was ashen adding to her innocent and appealing look with big auburn eyes and pink lips. Her body petite only to those comparing with what is considered standard beauty had slight curves accentuated by her gracious walk that also caused her long auburn hair to bounce with each motion . Acisillia also vaguely remembered how her grandmother looked like...her arm twitched restraint stopping her from reaching up for her eyes when her mind involuntarily tried to. Now covered by a cloth which she knew if she reached under she would feel  stitches in the absence of her eyeballs stretching closer to her ears....

"...old woman should have tied her up..."

She allowed her maid to guide her arms to a cup chastising herself when she noticed she was shaking. She wasn't a little child anymore or at least she tried to remind herself even as she felt a cold knife on her eyes slowly getting warmed by her blood...

"Father is busy with the investigation that's why he can't make it for breakfast but he sends his regrets"

She didn't grace that obvious lie with one of her usual retorts. In a foul mood not because of the memories she convinced herself but because of her startle from a peaceful slumber by a maid squeamish at just the sight of one body .

Adianta insisted on maintaining a façade of a perfect family which Acisillia wasn't sure came from delusion or a misguided attempt to protect her. Neither of the theories to her demanded such a deceit since it was feeble. They had not seen their father for years now. Not like he could be blamed with a mother who blinded his daughter  a blind daughter and a frail wife who later left him to carry all the burden on his own.

"To think a murderer would strike in our house"

Her sister was trying to make conversation but was failing miserably as Acisillia could not understand the shock behind her words. What about the act was impossible? She did it so easily not like she would enlighten her about it. Maybe the shock came from the fact the act was done in the guard commander's own house.

"The audacity"

Acisillia supplied dryly.

"They think the knife did it"

"The knife?"

"That's the name they are giving him. All those killings were done with a knife and the guards suspect it's by the same person"

Disinterested by the fact they just assumed it was a guy and by the uncreative name she did not bother to answer. Abandoning her barely touched tea she made to get up.

"Acisillia... sister would you not stay a little longer...we could talk"

'Ahhh! so it was delusion' she concluded in her mind getting up besides her sister's plea.

"I know your friends will be here soon and that they are not comfortable with my condition"

using the word condition was strategic it earned her both sympathy and disregard as it made her seem diseased instead of injured.

"Oh I'm sure..."

"It's ok. I prefer my own company anyway"

"If...if you say so"

Adianta reluctantly obliged letting her go.

He was studying her austere room before she entered. it was a bleak room lacking any possessions or decorations which made sense since Acisillia was blind and could not collect objects of sentimental value. Curiosity which was what he was calling the need that propelled him to open her wardrobe the only furniture in the room besides her bed . The wardrobe proved to be more plain than the room with only white chemise dresses all of the same style. As she entered he turned his scowl from the dresses to the black smoke that surrounded her with no intent of his own ,another curiosity but one he could not sate. 

"Death"

she greeted and he knew she expected another mission. It was a game to him one he enjoyed playing with her. Death itself gave him a delight but the swift ruthless and bloody way she did it utilizing how everyone disregarded her due to her lack of sight was the only reason he liked her white dresses. A canvas that showcased beautiful crimson patterns of her work. He scowled at the open wardrobe again as if to warn them he didn't like them that much. Unfortunately he didn't come to play but the reason he came eluded him.

"Your time is up mortal"

He issued the warning even though he questioned his own motives since the warning served no purpose. Nobody could escape Death.

"Ah I see..."

She called for her knife almost slitting her throat before he dispersed his smoke.

"Unfortunately this is not your kill to make"

She gave a bemused look her to which he replied to with a chuckle  . She had always embraced death looked it straight in the eye something that entertained him and slightly lowered his smile when the door smashed open. Her change of expressions could not be noticed with her lack of eyes to show them but he noticed the slight drop of her shoulders which he understood as acceptance.

She was on her knees being restrained and as she stared undauntingly at him he wondered if blinded could she tell her father was the one restraining her. Could she recognized his voice promising a painful death on a guillotine? Her lack of struggle only made the guards in charge of escorting her treat her more harshly. 

"Hey Death what is my story?"

it was a whisper a form of parting that almost faded just like her before he caught it.