Omake: Intangible yet Oppressive
The ceiling fan spun lazily, it's little motor purring in an otherwise silent room. A young woman sat at a desk, bent over sheaf's of paperwork. Her long black hair, streaked with while and silver, collapsed lazily over her shoulders and onto the tabletop. Snow sighed, and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. Ever since her "rehab", the once immaculately cared for hair had grown wild alongside her personality. Leaning back, Snow stretched, her eyes landing with hostility on the documents scattered in front of her. Her work was dull. Having a position of power was more oppressing than she thought it would be. Sometimes she'd long for the days when listening to orders and taking action was--
No.
Snow's fingers raced towards her temples, face twisted into a grimace as she tried to dispel the thoughts that had overcome her. The Last Order.
Kill orders. How she always referred to the group as a hateful "
them". The fanaticism that had been instilled into her. The militant uniform. Snow felt her teeth grit. Her fingernails bit into her palms. The crumpled bodies of fallen hero's.
All the orders that had been received and obeyed without question. Dead eyes that stared back her in every mirror.
Slam.
Her fist crunched onto the table, a thin line spreading along the top as it fractured from the force. Ragged breaths escaped from her mouth, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Snow's pulse raced, weakness spreading throughout her body...and a small black hole in her heart. She felt loathing and regret. Sadness. These episodes were beginning to occur less and less, a side effect from the indoctrination of
them, the shrinks had told her. It was a psychological scar that would heal with time, they said. Bullshit. It was something she'd have to carry around all her life. Recovery still seemed so far.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Alarm surged through Snow's chest. Her fingernails had bit deep into her palms, breaking the skin. The scarlet liquid, one that Snow was overly familiar with, slowly dripped onto the polished floor.
Goddamn it. Pushing back her chair with a bang, Snow stood up and snatched the box of Kleenex off the counter behind her. Staring at her hand, Snow slowly wiped the blood from it, only to have more leak out. Moisture gathered in her eyes, and Snow let out a coarse laugh.
I have blood on my hands, literally as well as figuratively! The chuckle turned into a groan, depression gathering around her like miasma, infecting everything.
I'm trying so hard...so hard to make things...right. But what was she really accomplishing? How many people had been alienated from the mere mention of "Last Order"? Whispers followed her since then, full of maliciousness and distrust. Her smiles could only do so much to shield her. Even she couldn't keep her own resentment from piling up. Eventually, it would have to find an outlet, she knew. The darkness had gathered up in her heart, a storage that was about to burst forth like a great wave breaking down the levies. The icy cold that had run through her veins could do so once again, if only Snow stopped resisting it. But...
The sharp eyes of that man bore into her, breaking down those frozen walls. J.J Rabbit. Back in the days when she still worked for the last order, he'd recognized the fetters that been placed upon her, even when she didn't. After every battle, the words had pierced her, leaving Snow with an unrecognizable feeling of loneliness. Yet, still she followed that Organization, with no knowledge that she was considered expendable. Not until that fateful day. The hardest fight of her life. Multiple Hero's had fallen by her hands, buying time for the leaders to escape.
J.J had been the last man standing, both of them covered with wounds sustained by that fight. Yet his eyes never faltered, the light never flickering. Strong, unlike me. With only a few words, the group she had dedicated her life to broke her. Remembering that feeling sent chills down her spine. Despair. Lost. The feeling had completely left her, forcing her to her knees, even with the base falling to pieces around her. But she'd been pulled to her feet by J.J.
He'd become her bastion of strength. How did he glow like that? Even in the darkest of times he shined, pulling his team and her out of there. It fascinated her, and still does. Breathing calming down, Snow berated herself. Gathering a handful of tissues, Snow went to one knee and wiped the blood off of the floor. With each swipe, the crimson slowly disappeared. Not completely, it never would, Snow knew that. It would take time. Lots and lots of time.
It was fine. Everything would be fine...
AN: Welp, that went in different direction than I thought it would when I first started writing this. Hope you guys enjoy it. I like giving characterization to the cast.