The tall newbie couldn't see his hand in the darkness, the light from above was dim as if he walked into someone's gullet. A touch of the tough rocky plane reassured him it wasn't the case. He could count his own breath, it was that silent. He snapped against his nails to create a uniform sound to still his heart.
He felt like a paper written by invisible inks, bit by bit, memory clips slowly came back. How long are the staircases going to extend?
When people are given a quiet calming moment, most would start thinking inevitably. As a human, Ace did too. He made good use of the insipid downward motion, glazed over to recall his memories. He was an orphan, he loved clown shows. A scene of kids looking at him with a half-fear-half-disgusted expression came back to his mind. A head tilt and it was ignored. It wasn't what he was searching for, he wanted to think back what he did before he entered the pod. Nothing besides the footsteps of his.
He believed they must have do something with his body and mind, memory manipulation maybe? A soft snort escaped before his laughter. Sighed, the stairs were still extending as if he was visiting Hell. Boring. Maybe he could ask the pirate lady when he made his back trip, ah, the fight also.
Trauma? He had none from his past. He wasn't afraid of the dark, ok, possibly a bit of loneliness. More memories returned to their places: It was a scene a young boy asking the clown to do his make up, the big red smiling face, the two delectable brilliant pink spots, block black crosses drawn around the eyes. He didn't forget that, it was how he got interested in make-up, how nostalgic it was.
The memory tracing soon reached its end as he stepped down the last stair to the cove. "Oh. No monster then" his tone was unexplained and tinted with disappointment.
The gentle whisper was not heard. Ace ambled along the only lit wall, something were inset in it. The man smirked with curiosity as he moved closer to the objects.
The soft female voice full of eagerness called again, but Ace didn't receive it yet. He reached out to pull one of the stone tablets out through random picking, but it was a rejection. Not only it didn't move, but there was a sense of unhappiness and disappointment. Not able to work out what was going on, he pulled his hand back to brush his neon colored hairs backward.
She cooed.
Another attempt gave similar result, though it was a different emotion - irritated, offended, synonyms of anger applied. The helpless man had no idea of what he should do to get his laser gun - maybe not laser gun. Making another sigh, his hand continued to brush across the weird little stones with strange glowing symbols. In his words, like breaking in someone's bath. Some are friendly with a 'it's alright, never mind' while some cursed and bitched, or even threw stuff at him.
"Who's this beautiful voice?" He asked, hand resting on his 44th attempt, which immediately gave out a swirling joy.
"I didn't see a pretty lady around?" His words initiated a silver-bell like giggle.
Ace could feel something like a cooing, a lover whisper, an invitation in his mind. He admitted that he was lured by the sweet voice of the goddess.
"So you're my weapon?"
"What should I do?"
Ace replied with a chuckle, "So you're my bride?" he feigned a sweet drawl in return.
A beautiful scythe landed on his hand, light and shimmering a cold shine. It fitted perfectly, as if she was tailor made for him.
Ace felt like a someone as light as a feather wrapped with affection around his shoulder, beaming with the sweetest smile behind him. He wondered what Claude's weapon would be like, he felt lucky to have a charming lady as his weapon.
The blest January bride therefore held hand-in-hand with her groom out of the cove (at least in her imagination), their honeymoon just began.
