This Could Be Better

I’m going to do the equivalent of spiking a vase into the ground and making it into a glass swan. It’s fine, Colorless was like a barely formed cup that exploded in the… thing artists cook clay in. Y’know. The art pressure cooker. The forbidden popcorn popper. The clay crockpot. The thing that turns moving rock into not moving rock. Kern? It’s far enough into the AM for me to want to write, but I really shouldn’t be.

In short, nothing in this story is changing except the beginning. I feel it isn’t fast enough, and my new way of writing out these chapters should give it the complexity and speed I chase. I’ll get it up soon; thanks for being patient with my first try at writing for more than myself.

I’ll also get a Discord server up soon. I like feedback, even if it’s pointing out I have a terrible crutch words.

Colorless Chapter 3

Vex was holding my hand, dragging me around stores and restaurants. She would collect a variety of food and comfort items, go through everything, realize it was over $50, and put it all back. We’re in round 4 and a pillow shaped like a cat pushed us over. This is truly hell.

I was trying to read her mind, but everywhere I started stopped abruptly. Most people think in paths that lead to more knowledge for me to gain. A dirt path treaded often is the easiest to follow. But Vex didn’t have something she thought about often. She cut through forests so they would grow back behind her. She never had to return to a thought, after all. The careless wanderer simply wonders, never settling down.

“This is just a night, right?” I ask. “We don’t need a million things.”

She looks to me, offended. “A sleepover is a sacred thing! Plus, Ordi’s Arena is on tonight, so I’ll need lots of chips. And then your room doesn’t have decorations, so we’ll need to grab something for that-”

I drag her down the nearby art aisle and grab a pink $1 posterboard and a nice $2 gel pen. “Got decorations.”

“You need more than that.”

I glare at her for a moment, eventually walking off to the bedding aisle to glance around. I select a cheap, fuzzy blanket that would make me happy. I lead her off to the snack aisle and wave a hand around to say, “Pick.” I’ve never seen any of these bags before, so I pick out a large bag of white cheddar puffs. She comes back with a green bag of chips and a blue box of cookies.

“We’ll get real food, too?”

She smiles and yells, “Pizza or burgers?”

“I, uh,” I attempt to dig into her head, finding nothing involving pizza or hamburgers. I’ve made chips before, but I’ve never heard of the foods she’s talking of. “I don’t care.”

“Okay! Burgers with curly fries it is!”

I nod and follow along, blankly staring at boxes of frozen food in glass freezers. Things… come… frozen? Aside from ice cream and some medications? Ew. Wouldn’t that just be an ungodly mixture of crunching, melting, and dealing with extra water that gets trapped in the food? I look at a bag of frozen salmon and try not to gag.

“Onion-broth burgers, my favorite!” Vex places a box on the pile of items I’m holding. “And buffalo-flavored fries! Oh, oh, I’m gonna get chocolate milk!” She throws the bag at my head and runs off. I just… stand there. Completely dumbfounded. I don’t get her. Are all girls my age or younger like this? She comes back and hits my shoulder with a gallon of brown milk.

“Ow.”

“We have fifteen dollars left! Let’s get…” She drags me along, grabbing two things, and leading me to the checkout. I cannot see due to the bag of cold fries on my face. I sigh and throw everything down on the grocery line I see out of the corner of my eye. I turn and stretch, finally free from my mule treatment. Vex jumps with glee and I eye up a row of wrapped, unrefrigerated food. Yeah, no, I won’t like that. I try to get a better idea of what it is, but Vex is thinking about a carton of premade iced coffee in the last-minute purchase area. She grabs it and throws it on the machine. I turn and look to the ground as Vex talks with the cashier and pays. She pushes all the bags onto me and leads me back to the apartment.

—————————

“Put the oven to 375! We gotta hurry, it’s almost on!” She hurriedly rustles through the bags of groceries. Pulling out the burgers and fries, she rips them open and messily tosses them onto a baking sheet.

“What?” I ask, not sure how to operate the oven. The one I had was operated by someone with orange eyes, and it was a woodstove. She rushes over, rushing the buttons and throwing the pans in. She grabs two glasses, the coffee, and the popcorn and chips. She childishly skips to her room, setting up a comfortable mess to lay in.

Flipping on the TV, a woman’s voice announces, “Welcome to Miss Ordi’s Arena! I’m Liv Ordi, and you’re about to see the power of Axel Rivet against our current fighter, who wishes to be anonymous. Now the rules are simple: fight our three fighters, me, and our champion. Win against everyone, and you become the next champion! For each win the fighter gets, they’re awarded $2500. Are we ready?”

A loud applause hit the crowd as two people walked out on field. One was the black man, Axel, who had one green eye and one brown eye, muscular legs, and hair that was styled after Jean-Michel Basquiat. He wore a strange green jumpsuit with a zipper down the front and big shoulder pads. The fighter wore a white jumpsuit and a visor over their eyes.

“So,” Vex asks, “you know how eye colors work, right?”

I nod and open my popcorn, biting into one. It’s… good.

“Say it. I wanna make sure.” She smirks and stares at me as if she’s won. This is basic stuff, and the thought of her doubting me angered me.

“Each eye color means you have power over something. Brown is knowledge, violet-”

“Purple.”

“Violet is energy, blue is body, green is problems, yellow is decay, orange is elements, red is life, and pink is mind and soul. Heterochromia can affect powers in two ways: monoskill and biskill. Monoskill means they combine into one, like your mom, I think. She controls smoke and it causes mental effects.”

“Yeah.”

“Then biskill means it’s two separate abilities.”

“Yep! So, this dude, Axel,” she points to the screen as he gets knocked to the ground, “is kind of weird. He says he’s monoskill, but people theorize he’s biskill. He has knowledge over machines and their problems, but- and this is fun- guess what?”

I look back at the screen, seeing him get back up. He dashes to the sidelines at top speeds and comes back with a chainsaw. Oh, there’s a weapon stash over there. The girl sends a little cloud with a face on it over to him, the little creature lights up with electricity.

“I think the girl has orange eyes.”

“Go back to Axel.” I watch as he tosses the inactive chainsaw at her. Midair, it revs up and hits the girl on the arm.

“He controls machines?” Axel grabs another chainsaw to hurl, but a cloud creature strikes him with a fist-sized hailstone, bloodying his head and knocking him out.

“Oh, beautiful Axel, how you try and how you fail.” She looked on with enjoyment and happiness. I could tell she had a “celebrity crush”, but she also identified with him. Truthfully, I’ve only seen green eyes in tales where they are the problem. Green eyes are characterized as trouble, brown eyes are shown as the “commoner”, but here you have a guy that shatters the expectations, looking just as bizarre as what his abilities might be.

“Next up will be the punching dude. Not a big fan of his. He’s kinda cool, though. Smite, the guy, is like, a really old boxer that’s in his fifties. He’s got blue eyes, and he puts a ton of power into his punches. But, with how old he is, he’s pretty easy to knock down.” She talks mindlessly, staring at Axel and still pitying him.

“He’s a glass cannon?” I asked, mostly to say something I thought she wouldn’t know so I could seem smarter.

“What? I guess. Then, it’ll be Exi Severd, with red and orange eyes, and then Miss Ordi with her red and yellow eyes, and finally, the Champion.” She looks at me slyly with a smile.

“And the Champion has?”

“Pink eyes.”

And then, unsurprisingly, I had an Axel to look up to.

—————————

I pulled out the food, a little crisp, and waited for the next break. I was uninterested in the other fighters for now. I only wanted to know about the Champion, and the rest seemed like filler.

I opened the dingy brown cabinet to look for the buns, as Vex instructed me. Buns, ketchup, mayo, and dill relish. On the top shelf, there were three bags of bread stacked together: potato, wheat, and buns, along with rice and noodles. Middle shelf, drink mixes. Bottom shelf, cans and sauces. I grab the buns and whip around to the fridge. Ketchup, dill, and mayo. I think a moment.

“Hey, Vex?”

“Yeah?”

“What do ketchup, dill, and mayo look like?”

I can hear her sigh, then stomp off. “Ordi’s winning, she won’t be a champion. She’ll still be fighting the Champion, though. I know your excited for that. Go watch the match and catch me up when I get back.”

I walk back and sit in front of the TV. Ordi had an interesting ability: she kept creating tigers and the such to strike the fighter. The fighter kept summoning her cloud monsters, which would focus on the animals directly endangering the fighter. While this was happening, Ordi would pet or punch at the cloud monsters, causing them to age rapidly and die off in a fit of lightning. The fighter was getting weak, to the point they couldn’t stand.

A bear jumps forward to strike, and in the air between the jump and the gasping fighter, the beast turns from haired, to hairless, to decomposing, to bones, to dust. Ordi throws her hands up. The round is won by the fighter in an act of pity and drama. The crowd erupts, booing and cheering from all sides. She walks off the field, strutting in confidence.

A song began to play, the “Pink Panic”, traditionally played on an autoharp. Before the lyrics can start, a man emerges from the same door Ordi exited from. His white hair trailed behind him, flowing in the wind. It had to be butt-length at least. The crowd gasped, then cheered. He seemed odd, wearing an open pink suit and pants, a purplish-blue shirt, and dark purple leather straps that looked strange with his pastel clothes. The leather straps looked like something you’d see in a weird comic, but I think it was more for looks than for anything weird. He was outstanding.

Vex comes back in, balancing everything like a waiter. I tell her as she puts down a bowl of fries and a plate of burgers, “Ordi threw the match, they’re fighting the champion now.”

“She didn’t throw it. If it’s clear the fighter will lose against Exi or Miss Ordi, they’ll stop the battle so they can still fight the Champion. They won’t win, but people love him, so…”

I lean into the TV and dip a fry into the bowl of ranch she brought. I watch the way the Champion moves: rhythmically, posing often, like he was always ready for a picture.

“The others are less showy. He seems to be more of a model than a Champion.”

The fighter runs at him and, in a single punch to the chest, they fly fifty feet and hit the ground, getting knocked out. Their clothes are cracking apart like glass, revealing her orange bra.

“Well, yeah. People don’t usually have pink eyes, and eye color is important to people. But, really— who has pink eyes? Aside from you.”

I think for a moment. “So, the others can focus on relatability and representing their eye colors, but he has to resort to being a show?”

“Well,” she thinks for a moment, then throws out, “I’m sure they get paid for just this. But now that I think about it, yeah. I follow all of them on Tumblgram, and most of them have, like, lives. Axel and Exi are dating, and Exi does a lot of community stuff. Axel’s more of an introvert. Smite owns a dog kennel and has a son that’s living a weird life as some kind of traveller. Ordi owns the entire floating arena and has partial ownership in a ton of companies. She’s a millionaire with ties to the Emperor.”

My hand jerks to my shoulder. It’s still a little bruised. “Interesting.”

“She also has a weird drug company. Hues, I think it’s called.” She scrolls through her phone, looking through the Champion’s blog, full of skin tones and pinks.

“Yeah,” I whimper, remembering that gross grape flavor, “I’ve heard of it.”

“You’re right about the Champion. He posts nothing but his eyes and his body. Like, look.” She shows me a picture of the tan, light-haired man leaning back, staring seductively at the camera. His pink eyes are emphasized to the point they look fake. She scrolls to the next picture. “Woke up like this <3.” Next. “Pink eyes just reflect the light so well <3.” Next. “Thirsty?”

“Okay, so he has a career based on being young and pretty.”

“Yeah, but I gotta say,” she leans into her phone and smirks, “he does it well.” She looks to me, then to the picture. She holds up her phone and compares. After a moment, she decides to say, “Oh, your eyes are a lot paler.”

“His eyes look fake.”

“Nah,” she looks at the picture again, “his eyes are just brighter.”

I groan and bite into a burger. It’s good.

“Hey, how old are you?” She grabs a burger as well and begins to chow down.

“Uh, sixteen.”

“Oh.” She murmurs something to herself, then stares at me. “Late bloomer?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I’ll go with yes. I’ll see if mom can explain things to you, but moving on from that,” she bites into a burger and reaches her arm into the air, “we’re moving into the city soon. That means we’ll be closer to the floating arena-”

“Cool!”

“-and closer to overthrowing the government!”

“What?!” When was this the goal? I read her mind to see nothing but a painting, one of Castle Rosegold falling.

“That’s what Thorn is all about! Let’s watch Kars 2! This is the one where he comes back to Earth!”

“No, go back-”

“I’ll get my mom to go over that stuff with you, okay? No politics at sleepovers!” She follows up in a cutesy voice, “This ain’t no turkey dinner!”

Colorless Chapter 2

“Wake up, boy. What’s your name?”

I cough up smoke that smelled of rotting meat. Gross. I stick my tongue out to gag, but a sweet lemon scent rushes into my lungs before I can show my distaste. Trying to move reveals ropes digging into my wrists and a dress shirt clinging to where my cape was. Looking about, there was only fog- a thick, yellow fog.

“Name. Now.”

In a bluster of words, I somehow throw it out there. “Heartfelt.” I search for their thoughts.

“Last name?” Lyon was a strong, mannish woman with yellow eyes. Her coat was getting uncomfortable and her girlfriend was trying to use her powers to fix it. Lyon wasn’t a positive nor calm person, something Amelia’s powers required her to be.

“Oh, Hize and Rate.”

I could sense unnerve in Lyon’s voice. “I meant your last name. We’re interviewing you.” Amelia’s powers had no effect anymore and Lyon’s coat felt hotter than it was before. I stared a hole into the fog, right where Lyon should be.

“What do you want with my eyes? Please tell me. I’ll find out either way.”

She sighed, and the fog released. Lyon was holding her hand to her forehead, her short blonde hair waving in anger with her nodding head. She was taller than I thought, and dressed in yellow, black, and pink. Amelia stood behind her, toying with the golden vest-jacket with half a tail going down her right leg, a light pink streak on that tail. Additionally, Lyon wore two pink belts, gold boots, and matching black pants and a long-sleeve shirt. She gave off a lion’s attitude, fierce but strictly quiet until she decides to roar.

Amelia popped out behind her, hair dripping like ink. Her purple eyes peered at me, then back to Lyon. She didn’t care for me. She wore less of a shirt and more of a sports bra and vest combo, leaving much out to “breathe”. Iron boots with an amethyst seemed to weigh her down, but the yoga pants seemed light.

“Your eyes aren’t worth anything for now.” She moved her hand, revealing a vibrant pink shade. “We came due to a disturbance. You seemed to be a runaway, so we took you in until we could determine where you’re from. However,” she struts toward me like a lion preparing to dine, “perhaps we can’t find your parents. Perhaps, if you joined us, we’ll settle on never finding an answer.”

I glare at her. “You don’t know where to start. I won’t be found on a missing kid poster.”

“Join Thorn or get thrown into a children’s home. That’s my offer.” She brushes off her shoulder and closes her eyes. I can hear someone else’s thoughts nearby.

“Maybe. You have a daughter?” She twitches at my question. “Vex. Is she nice? Do I have to deal with her often?”

“We’ll see.” I see a girl, a little younger than me, drinking the rest of the milk and putting an empty pack of cookies back in the cupboard. She then runs off to her room to eat it. At the time, Lyon was at the kitchen table and drinking a coffee. It was one in the morning on a Sunday.

“Selfish loner?”

“She’s twelve. Of course she is.” Sighing, she goes behind me to untie my ropes. “Your choice is clear. Pick it.”

“Guess I have to stay.”

“Correct.” She whips off the thick rope and tosses it to Amelia. “Honey, will you get cookies and iced coffee? Get Vex, too.” She looks to me, something uneasy to her. The pink was extreme, far from the usual light pink I see in my own irises.

“You have yellow eyes.”

She winks, “Yes, I do.” She rubbed her left eye. “One pink, like you.”

I wanted to stare into her to find a reason to not like her, but I’m stuck here. I read her mind, and I can know if she’s lying or telling the truth. I can know exactly how she feels about her lies and truths. But, in doing so, I’d have to pretend I didn’t know. I can’t pretend. With a puff of air, I sit down and close my eyes.

“I understand this wasn’t where you wanted to be. But, we’re here now, and you’ll be a hopeful sight in Thorn. As you know,” she sits down beside me, “almost every revolution was led by someone with pink eyes.”

“I know.”

She sorrowfully smiles down on me. Amelia walks in holding a clear teapot, and a girl with long, straight hair ending in clouds followed her with teacups. Ah, that’s Vex. She was clearly younger, happier, and less educated than me, smiling cheerfully with no focus on balancing the cup. She spilled the cups out on the table, letting Amelia deal with it so she could run over and sit next to me.

Practically yelling in my ear, Vex says, “Hi! I have green eyes, and that means I have power over problems! Specifically, I cause problems!”

Leaning towards Lyon in an attempt to both distance myself and ask a question, I murmur, “Is that a power, or-”

Amelia cuts me off, “Yes and no.” She pats Vex’s head and elaborates. “She’s able to curse people with a long string of misfortune until she either releases it or the original curse runs out. Her shortest lasted seven seconds and her longest lasted 72 hours. However, before she even learned about her power,” she covers Vex’s mouth to keep her from interjecting, causing her to wriggle, “she got kidnapped and got returned within fifteen minutes. Apparently, the to-be extorters got tired of her. In all, she broke three windows, two ropes, two knives, a gun, the wallpaper, and the flooring.” She hugs her and picks her up, purring, “We love our little problem.” I got the feeling that Amelia loved to tell that story.

I sigh and ask, “Amelia Rate, and you’re able to… make things better? But only if it’s calm.”

“Yes.” She nods. “How do you know that?”

Lyon nudges her and exclaims, “It’s because he has pink eyes, like me!”

“Mom,” Vex whispers, “Your eye looks pretty rough. Why don’t you grab a nap, and we’ll take care of-”

“No, no, no, I’m the leader. I have to welcome the new members. I didn’t hand Embal Colquy off, did I?” She points to a billboard outside. It had a strong, shirtless man holding a man-shaped mirror, his red hair blocking off the head. His blue and red eyes seemed welcoming, his smile soft, and “PERFECT YOU”, which was pasted on the chest, seemed to allude to… something. I’m fifteen and a guy, I don’t need to know what shirtless dudes make women feel. I assume he’s a part of their weird group that’s still a mystery to me.

“Hold on,” I detest. The three look on at me.

“You’ve already agreed to join.” Lyon glared, smiling as if superior.

“Yes, but I want something out of this deal.”

Lyon stood in front of her girlfriend and daughter, crossing her arms and tilting her head upwards. She sneered at me, likely evaluating the value of keeping me there. “I’ve made you a deal.”

“I want to be something other than kidnapped- which, I mean, I technically am. This should be easy for you, so I’m not asking much.” I point to my eyes, widening them in example. “You have a pink eye. I’ve never met anyone else with pink eyes, or even one. Most people get to learn from people with eyes like theirs, and I never got that. I want that.”

She gets in a non-defensive pose, squinting her right eye. She goes upright, hands to her sides, grabbing a cigarette from her pocket. She lights it with a matching set of rings, one flint and one steel. Smiling, she bites down on the cloth tube and nods her head.

“Thank you. For now, what do you want me to do?”

Lyon pats her daughter forward and waves off.

“I have people to call. Amelia, could you write? Liv needs a response.” She hands off fifty dollars to Vex, abruptly ending anything resembling a respectable conversation. “Have a sleepover.”

Amelia sighs and pours herself a cup of coffee. I feel back at home, amongst a liar and a servant. I could only wish to be as innocent and stupid as Vex about it.

Colorless Chapter 1

Hair waving in the wind, waist-length black mantle slapping the night air, weeds whipping my bare hands. It felt free. I’m too far away, so I don’t know if he’s looking for me. The only person I can read is a man knitting socks. I fall back into the long grass, sitting up to look at the small farmhouse. Peeking up over the yellow plants, I see hints of red and a lone light on, in the second floor window.

The old man’s a farmer. This year, he decided on wheat, a grain that can be turned into bread. He always saves the first loaf for himself. Oh, I’m in a wheat field. I bite a stock out of curiosity. It does not taste like bread. It tastes like hollow grass. I bring myself back to the old man. He’s tired, but he wants to look comfortable when his daughter comes to visit so she doesn’t insist on hiring help. I put the thought in his mind that she just wants the best for him. She’s going to be worried, anyways. He liked to remember the house as shiny and red, freshly painted. But, what confused my eyes, was the large rusted home that had clearly been neglected.

He tucks the socks in the drawer and decides to look out the window once more. The wheat field was quiet and waving, relaxing his old soul. But a figure stands, staring at him.

I hit the ground, but he’s already reaching for the phone to call Lyon Wise. I didn’t dig into Lyon’s identity, assuming he was someone I should fear. I scramble like a deer running from the cheetah’s claws. I’m not in danger yet, but I’m just avoiding the problem altogether. But I tripped. The wheat and dirt hit my face and scraped my cheeks. I want to cry, the feeling of wheaty knives running along my cheeks.

I get up, rubbing my eyes and letting tears clean the new wounds. I didn’t have to run. I ran, and now I’m here. Perhaps disillusion is the way to live. Perhaps there’s a good reason so little people have eyes like mine. I wonder how roses can stand being pink.

I get back to running, even as silence took over the area around me. Nobody is chasing me. I escape the wheat and run into what I assume is a safe place: a wooden shed with a hole in the side. I crawl in like a puppy hiding from an angry master and throw myself in the corner. The room was full of black orb-like creatures with many legs, and a few butterflies with large mouths. Snuggling up to myself, ignoring the floor of rotting wood, I close my eyes.

As the scent of burning lavender fills my nose, I know I’ll be fine. I feel calm, too calm. A type of calm that refuses to let me move.

“Darling, where’s my knockout cigars?” She put her hand atop her shoulder, waiting patiently.

“Here, Lyon.” She places the small brown tube in her hand.

“Thank you.” She lights the cigar, and my powers fade along with me.

Dad was right, they would hunt me for my eyes.