𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐓| 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄|𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

SEVEN WAS A CURIOUS GIRL, in almost every sense of the word. For no one knew Seven, not really. —She scarcely even knew herself.

All the knew about herself was what the few letters she'd found had told her, —seven to be precise. Her entire life seemed to revolve around that number. Sometimes she felt it was all she ever was and all she would ever be, just another number, just as meaningless and fleeting as the last.

Not even she knew her real name, so instead she became the embodiment of everything she was to destroy, and in turn, with the slaughter of the seven Sins she hoped to cull this identity and shed it in favour of another.

Only when the seventh Sin fell lifeless to her feet would her memories return, along with her true identity, or atleast that's what the letters foretold.

Seven had read and reread the letters so many times by now that the parchment had started to fray and tears intermittently stained the ink. Every night she slept with them beneath her pillow, safely tucked away in her little black purse, although tonight was different. —Tonight her letters were no where to be found when she finally awoke, head throbbing with the weight of a morning as she stretched the sleep from her aching limbs.

  Light from the setting sun danced across her bed as she sat up, tainting the white sheets tangerine. It was considered early in the Lust District, Seven guessed it to be scarcely passed nine o'clock, as much of the night's music had not yet began to drift through her open window, carried by the breeze.

  Though the absence of her letters was not the only thing amiss as she rubbed her groggy eyes and saw him. At the end of her bed sat a boy, casually draped across an arm chair, flicking through her letters.

  Seven sat up at once, reaching for her knife only to find it also missing. "—Who are you?" She demanded, clutching the sheets to her chest, realising she was still wearing the same dress as last night, though she struggled to recall the exact events through the emerald haze that clouded her mind. Lust was dead, that much she knew. "—What do you want?"

  "So many questions, and so little time." The boy mused, not tearing his eyes from the parchments.

  "Answer me!" Her fingers found her wand beneath the sheets, and she pointed it at him, —her hands not quite as steady as she hoped them to be.

  "Why?" He finally looked up, his eyes meeting hers for the first time and Seven could've swore she recognised him. His grey eyes were unsettling to say the least. Everything behind them screamed of hollow darkness, the kind that came right after the moon reached its crest and the evil came out of the night. The kind that suffocated any semblance of light. Pale hair, almost white despite the vermillion light fell over his face. "—Are you scared Seven?"

  He looked like a freshly woken storm, brimming with thunder and cursed by lightning. Everything within Seven screamed danger, —to run. But she couldn't, she was entirely transfixed. Frozen in time by the boy with the piercing eyes. The colour of thick smoke.

He knew her name. What else did he know? Seven didn't dare think. Instead she shoved the bitter feeling down in favour of a snarl. "Should I be?"

A strange smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "You should be absolutely terrified. —But not of me, at least not yet..."

  A frown marred her face as he looked back down at the letters, pulling fine lines between her brows. "You don't know me."
  It angered Seven that she had her wand pointed straight at his chest and he didn't even care, still he practically ignored her just as he had before. "—I know what you want, and trust me, we have that much in common."