Crown of Coristol: Chapter two, (Inability)

PRISMS POV (Continued on from Crown of Coristol: Prologue)(Its recommended to read the other chapters to be caught up)

“You can’t save her.”

“She’s my sister. She needs me.” A glowing vision of Beam, encompassed by light that seemed to shine behind her, stood before her little sister. Her little sister, who was laying with her back propped up against the smooth, cold glass of the wall of mirrors she leaned against. Bleeding out from a gash in her neck, blood pooled around her body and seeped through her once stainless clothes.

Having been left for dead she lay there, pressed to the hard, sleek glass of the mirror she leaned on. Left for dead in the very room that had doomed her, by the very people who had promised to help her.

Mirrors covered every corner of the room, showing the dying girl at every angle. The blood that clung to her hair brought out its hint of crimson from her reddish-brown locks. “What I did, I did for us. I didn’t die so that you could.” Beam, looking whispy and ethereal as her transparent form flickered in and out bent down, her flowy white dress untouched by all the blood. She gently cupped Prism’s face, the elder sister's eyes crinkling with distress at the blood that dripped from the younger girl’s mouth.

The younger sister’s eyes peeked out from her lashes as she tried to open her eyes. Her mouth moved as if to speak, but only bubbles of her hot, sticky blood made it past her lips. A transparent, faded hand suddenly grabbed Beam’s wrist, a hand that connected to an equally sheer arm that protruded from Prism’s solid flesh.

“Hey, you can’t come with me.” Beam murmured, smiling sadly before placing a gentle kiss on her sister's forehead. “You need to get up.” Small sparks of electricity trailed down the older girl's arms, twitching and spiraling into her sister’s skin. “They left you. No one is coming to save you, so you need to get up.” Spitting and hissing streams of voltage raced from Beam to her sister, scattering and sparking around Prism’s body.

The transparent hand that gripped Beam’s arm let go, falling slowly back into her little sister’s body. The sparks coming from the younger girl’s form soon became erratic, twitching and igniting in wide arcs around her, bouncing off the mirrors surrounding them.

“There’s my sister.” Beam whispered, her currents of electricity crashing over the younger girl in waves of power. As feathers slowly started spouting from the elder girl’s back, the wounds began to close on Prism’s skin. Electricity all around them bounced and refracted off of the mirrors, hissing and snapping angrily.

The feathers soon formed into wings, stretching further outwards with each second that electricity passed between the two.

Beam let out a grunt, feeling the last of her electricity leave her body, her last bits of power shocking her enough to make her let go of her little sister.

Suddenly, a shockwave of electricity shot from Prism’s body, shattering the mirrors surrounding them into thousands of sharp, shimmering bits. The sound of the cracking and splintering of mirrors was deafening, glittering glass falling in all directions. The younger girl’s eyes shot open as her heart thumped in her chest, spreading her precious, invaluable life force throughout her body.

“Prism…?”

Beam- 

Prism’s eyes drifted to where her sister was in front of her, tears brimming in her eyes as she quietly cried out, tackling her sister in a hug. Sobs wracked through her younger girl's body as she clung to the fading image of her sister, nearly falling through the older girl’s figure. A look of horror encompassed Prism’s face as she stared at her sister’s vanishing form. The tears poured down her cheeks as she shook her head, clawing at her sister to find something to hold on to.

Something to try to keep Beam safe from the inevitable. Something that would freeze time, allowing them to fully and freely be together, unburdened by the weight of the world. But of course that didn’t happen. Fate wasn’t that kind.

No- not again-

-Please

“No- no no no, why are you disappearing? You can’t leave me! I can’t lose you again-” She wailed, desperately trying to dig her fingers into her sister's dress, only to feel it slip through her hands.

“I won’t let you go!” Prism screamed, her warm tears falling faster as she met the pitying eyes of her sister, who looked more transparent than ever. They sat in the middle of the room, broken shards of cruel, sharp glass littering every inch of what remained of the floor. Twisted and fractured glass dug into the younger girl’s soft skin, the fragile flesh that the older sister no longer possessed. Electricity crackled through and then out of the younger girl’s body, twisting and dancing around the sister’s with the matching tear stained cheeks.

“You know I have to.” Beam whispered as her final, shiny, glass-like tear fell from her eyes. “No! I don’t care, I don’t care about anything else-- the rebellion and everything be damned! I just want you! I just want my sister back!” Prism’s sobs turned into throaty whispers, feeling the ghostly hands she clutched disappearing. “Please. Not again. I can’t go through all of that again.”

“Yes you can.” Beam murmured, again cupping her face and catching the tears that her little sister shed. “It’s not going to be easy, but you’re not alone.” Prism shook her head, her whimpers and cries overpowering her voice as her chest heaved with her short and heavy breaths.

I can’t breathe

Why does this hurt more than last time?

I need you

How am I supposed to live without you?

What if I miss your crappy attitudes, your horrible taste in music, your terrible, inedible birthday cakes?

What am I supposed to do then?

It should have been me

You didn’t deserve any of this…

“Pris, look at me, listen to me. They left you to die. They expected you to die. They thought you were weak. You’ll only be proving them right if you don’t go back to them, if you don’t show them that they’re wrong. That you survived.” The older sister told her, determination steeling her gaze. She was almost entirely see through now, only a faint outline remaining of the younger girl’s dear sister.

“How do I live without you..?” Prism asked softly, sniffling as her tears started to slow.

“By living for me. I’ll still be here, you just won’t be able to see me.” Beam soothed, smiling sadly down at her fading body that flickered in and out of sight. “I think that’s my cue, Pris. I’ve gotta go.” She gently brushed her hand with the hand of her sister’s, her vanishing form passing through the younger girl’s flesh. “Remember that you’re never alone. I’m always here. I love-”

“Stop! Just….don’t say that..” The younger girl interrupted, her eyes obscured by the curtain of her matted, bloodied hair that hung in front of her face. “That sounds too much like goodbye.” She whispered, fists forming at her sides as she lifted her chin to look at her fading sister one last time.

“Well, I was never fond of saying that either.” Beam laughed quietly, the sound gradually fading into the air as she slowly disappeared in front of her sister’s eyes.

Prism let out a short and bitter laugh as well, the noise dying in her throat as the realization dawned on her. 

She’s……she’s really gone…

I’m never going to see my sister…ever…again…

She took several deep breaths, trying to keep her tears from escaping her flooded eyes. Snap out of it! If I have any hope of surviving, I need to escape from here--quickly. Every second I waste increases the chances of me getting caught. I can’t let her sacrifice be in vain.

Prism slowly got up, wincing as a shard of glass cut through her pants, imbedding itself in her skin. She sighed irritably, pulling the troublesome, dime sized, shard of mirror from her flesh. She rolled up her pants to examine the damage to her leg, blinking when it appeared untouched. Her eyes went back to the piece of glass she held, the red of her blood glinting on its sharp edges.

Just what did Beam do to save me…?

“God, someone’s getting fired today.” The receptionist next to Prism muttered, her eyes lazily drifting to the two arguing men in front of her desk.

“SHE WAS DEAD WHEN WE LEFT HER!” Scott, the team leader of the mission screeched, flailing his arms around wildly. “WELL SHE DOESN’T LOOK VERY DEAD TO ME, SCOTT!” Joshua, the supervisor in charge of all Missionaries retorted, waving his hand wildly in the direction of Prism, who was trying to hold in her laughter.

The situation was truly ridiculous, but in the most entertaining way. When Prism had eventually made her way back to base, it had caused a bit of scrambling to say the least. The entire rest of Prism’s team testified that she had been assumed dead due to her state, which was verified as the truth by a lie detector. Since Prism was in fact, not dead, one of the rebellion’s higher ranks, a Supervisor was called down to resolve it.

Each sector of the Missionary rank had 4 Supervisors, and Prism’s team was unfortunate enough to be dealing with the most ill-tempered of the Supervisors in the entire rank. Prism couldn’t blame her team for leaving her, as much as it stung, since it was the rebellion’s policy to leave the fallen members if bringing them would endanger the mission.

Three months prior, when she had first joined the rebellion she started off as a Runner. A Runner was the lowest rank in the rebellion and was generally reserved for beginners and new members. Prism had recently moved up to the Missionary rank, the most common rank in the resistance. In fact, she had just technically completed her first mission. If she could complete two more successful missions, Prism would be eligible to move up to the second sector of the Missionary rank.

Each rank is separated into four different sectors. Once you move through all the sectors, you rank up. Prism was currently in the backup sector of her rank, and if she performs well enough in her next mission’s she’d be able to move all the way up to the leader sector.

The receptionist, Remy as stated by her name tag, leaned over to Prism, keeping her eyes on the men as she whispered. “I think you’re free to go back to your residence. They’ll be here for a while.” She snorted quietly at the flames that began flaring up on Joshua’s skin.

“Ah- alright, uh- thanks.” Prism nodded, moving away before Remy grabbed her wrist. “Wait! I forgot to ask, could you do me a favor and bring this order to Christopher-Alexander on your way there? I have to stay here and keep the peace.” She held out a slip of paper to the younger girl.

“Oh- sure,” Prism gave her a little smile, taking the paper and tucking it in her pocket before making a mental note to head to Chirstopher-Alexander’s room.

The residents of the resistance’s safe house were relatively quiet today, the only sound being the tapping of her shoes on tile. Prism silently wondered how Christopher-Alexander had taken the news of her “death”. She considered them friends, since he’d helped her get adjusted to her new life with the rebellion and while they didn’t cry in front of each other or talk about it, they understood each other's pain. An unspoken bond, if you will.

They both grieved the loss of Beam, as well as being witnesses of it. That sort of feeling of losing someone leaves scars, and in Prism’s case, hers had just been ripped open and glued shut. Though cruel as it may be…

It's not so bad having someone to relate to. 

Someone who gets it.

I hope he’s okay.

Prism chuckled at her thoughts, entering her residency before using her foot to gently shut the door. She moved over to her dresser, pulling open the top drawer to reveal extra clothes. After making sure her window was covered, Prism slipped out of her soiled mission outfit, changing instead into a t-shirt and jean shorts.

She started off towards Christopher-Alexander’s room, making a quick pit stop in the laundry room to throw her old clothes into the cart. She waved at the woman who took the cart into the other room as they both exited. Alright, let’s do this. She told herself, walking in the direction of Christopher-Alexander’s room.

Her feet paused when she reached his door and she took a deep breath before gently rapping her knuckles against the wood. After a minute or two of no response she knocked again and wondered if he was in the cafeteria. That thought was quickly dismissed when she heard him muttering from the other side of the door.

“I’m sick of you entitled, awful, bastards pounding at my door just so I can pick up the pieces to your shitty messes!” He exclaimed, stomping to the door from the other side. “You act like you can just fucking kill and leave my friend and I’ll be all yanky-doodle ready to do your-” His words stopped short when he flung the door open, his eyes widening when he saw Prism. His jaw dropped as he stared at her, blinking several times before speaking. “P-Prism? How…how are you alive?”

“Uh…I don’t really kno-” Her words faded as his strong arms enveloped her, pulling her tightly against his chest in a comforting embrace. “I….I thought you were dead…” He whispered, holding her close in a protective manner. “I didn’t want to believe it but they had pictures a-and-” He sucked in a shaky breath, his arms trembling around her.

She slowly slid her arms around him, hugging him back as her mind whirled with worries. “Well I’m very much alive,” She said, looking up at him, offering a small, apologetic smile. His eyes remained trained on Prism and he gently cupped her face as he examined her, still trembling slightly. “Are you sure you’re real? Is my mind making this up?” He whispered shakily, seeming to still be in shock.

“No, no I’m very real, don’t worry,” Prism assured him, gently taking his hands and removing them from her cheeks, blinking in surprise when he entangled his fingers with hers.

“Prism.”

His voice was quiet, but the way he said it had her gaze nervously trailing from their entwined hands to meet his eyes. “Yes…?” She answered, her voice sounding much more breathy than she would’ve liked. “Do you know why…why it messed me up so much when I thought you were gone? I know I haven't known you long-” He used his foot to gently close the door before stepping closer to her, making her stumble back into the door. “-but seeing the pictures of your dead body…I…” His words trailed off as his face twisted with emotion.

“I didn’t want another person I care about to die. Seeing you like that…so..so still…Prism….I..” His voice cracked and his voice trembled, but he held her eyes with such an intensity of emotion that she couldn’t look away. “I don’t want to waste this chance, we’re in a rebellion, we could die any day. Pris….I don’t want to be just friends.”

Prism shivered at the nickname. The only other person who had called her that was Beam and the name sounded foreign coming from his lips.

Wait, what was the rest of the sentence?

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes locked on his as he slowly leaned closer to her, his hands gently pressing hers against the door. “I can’t keep living without telling you- I would never stop regretting it.” His eyes broke contact, trailing lazily down her face to her lips. “I want to be the one for you, I want to be by your side, Pris. I promise, if you give me a chance you won’t regret it.”

Prism’s mind buzzed as her thoughts ran in entirely different directions, scattered and everywhere at once. Her heart pounded in her chest, a wave of curiosity washing over her as her gaze dropped down to his lips before returning to meet his eyes. His steady stare held an emotion that was deep and entirely impossible to decipher.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly, his breath hitching in his throat. Dazed, confused, embarrassed but also curious, Prism could only get out one word as her thoughts raced around her brain. “O-Okay,” 

Christopher-Alexander leaned closer, closing the distance with a gentle press of his lips to hers. Prism gasped quietly, her heart pounding as a warm, homey sort of feeling spread throughout her, the tips of her fingertips tingling with static. It felt as if kissing was an experience shared by the whole body, not just the lips. It felt right but not at the same time, confusing and intriguing her as

Christopher-Alexander pulled away slightly, sucking a quiet breath. Their eyes met only for a moment before he pulled her back in, gently letting go of one of her hands to caress her face, deepening the kiss.

Prism’s eyes fluttered closed, sinking into the warm comfort of the moment as she rested a hand against his sturdy chest. He pulled away again, giving her a soft smile. “You know, I’m glad you’re so much like Beam--so, impossible to kill?” He leaned back in for more as Prism’s mind reeled. Despite the warmth of his words, she was so startled that she stumbled back, crashing against his nightstand. Her hands caught the rim of the wooden formation to catch herself, causing her elbow to send a vase identical to her own crashing to the floor. The loud sound of shattering porcelain snapped Prism into action, knocking her out of whatever daze she had been in.

“Oh no- I’m so sorry!” She crouched to the floor, hastily gathering the pieces to prevent any further advances towards her. Why did that sound so sinister? Heavens, I’m going insane. “No, it’s my fault, that came out so wrong, gods I’m sorry, Pris.” He got on his knees to help, tossing one of the bigger pieces of debris into the trash that sat against the opposite wall.

“Nice aim,” She murmured softly, her gaze fixed on him as the piece of the vase plummeted into the trash can. “Thanks. I used to play basketball.” He answered as they both picked up the pieces, being careful not to accidentally cut themselves.

Christopher-Alexander took the small shards from her and stood to dispose of them. Prism watched him quietly, waiting until after he dumped the fragments into the trash and his hands were empty. “Hey, Christopher, catch.” Prism tossed a larger chunk of the vase to him and he quickly leaned forward, barely catching it with his right hand. She mentally noted to work on her throws, offering him an apologetic smile. He returned his own smile as he dropped the chunk in the bin, seconds before Prism let out a sharp gasp.

“Shit,” She muttered, examining her left hand that now had a shining red gash on the palm, the blood glittering and threatening to spill. Christopher-Alexander quickly rushed over, getting on his knees next to her as he gently grabbed her hand to examine it. “Damn, you got yourself goo-”

His next words were cut off as Prism wrenched her wrist from his grasp, tackling and pinning him against the hard tile. She straddled his chest as she used her knees to pin his forearms to the ground, her left hand pressing his head against the cold floor. Blood leaked onto his forehead from her wound and her hand buzzed with a dull pulse of electricity, a warning.

“Who are you?” Prism hissed, narrowing her eyes as she examined his face. His eyes widened in surprise as he assessed his situation. “Hey, uh what are you doing?” He asked with a hint of nervousness in his voice, shifting uneasily under her. “Did I do something?”

“I’ll ask again, who are you?” She repeated, her pulsing electricity becoming slightly stronger, emanating a warm tickling sensation. Christopher-Alexander nervously eyed the blood from his captor’s hand that trailed lazily down his face. “You know who I am, Pris-” He was cut off by a grunt as Prism sent a jolt of electricity through him. “No you’re not.” She chuckled bitterly, nodding to his hand. “You caught and threw both shards of the vase.”

“I told you, I was in basketball.” His face tensed as he faced her with a grim look. “Now if you could get off of me-”

“You used your right hand.” Prism interrupted, scoffing bitterly before continuing.

“Christopher-Alexander is left-handed, dimwit.”

Gotcha.

Christopher-Alexander, or whoever he was, blinked rapidly before grinning as chest shaking laughter left his lips. He stopped laughing when she zapped him again, grimacing. “Hey, easy on the merchandise, sweetheart.” He gave her a charming grin as his voice shifted down an entire octave, giving up his ruse. “Gotta say, you’re the smartest bitch in this whole damn place. If only someone else had noticed I was a poser sooner…maybe I wouldn’t have done as much damage.” He winked at her before smirking cooly at her surprise.

“I’d advise you to run while you can, darlin’.”

(There will be a chart to explain the ranks for the rebellion in the comments)