Eleison Undivine Me [BEING EDITED]

Episode One: oh lookalike, lookalike (edited)

Ë̸̮̭̫̜̹̀̆̏l̴̢̯̠̘̖͇̥͖̭̀̊̃̐̔̈̽͜e̶̢̱͈͉͔̙̣͔̓ǐ̸̡̙̪͖̬̐͋̄̎͠ś̶̲̌͗́͘͝ͅơ̵̢͓̫̰̖̬̖̝̋̆̽͑̐̑ň̵̗͋͌̈́̏͝

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Suggestion: Turn on and loop given music.

𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

░E░p░i░s░o░d░e░ ░O░n░e░ ░E░p░i░l░o░g░u░e░

𝓑𝓮𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓮

░T░h░e░ ░W░h░i░t░e░ ░R░o░s░e░'░s░ ░T░h░o░r░n░

──

A wave of frigid air. The sound of rustling leaves, a cold, cold laughter. At this point she can't even sense her tears anymore, or her body, or her mind. Only the awareness of the knife in her hands that has slain the man before her.

She has killed him. She has killed him. Just like he wanted.

"I'm surprised." Eugene takes one step forward, scratching his neck with his left hand. When she looks up at him with an unalloyed uneasiness he has already peeled the fake skin that has screened his tattoo so fruitfully all this time.

"You really did it. For what?" His irregular laughter leaves her confused. For what? Is he kidding?

"You..! Let go of them now! I did what you told me to do!"

"Let go?" Retracing his steps, he looks around him as if confused. "Of what?"

Kyrie tries to understand him, make sense of his words, she can't. Not until the garden around her starts to evaporate, and when she tries to find Kiel and the rest, they aren't here at all.

Paranoid, she lets go of the knife, then understands she has never held one at all. In place of her knife is a white rose, one whose thorn pricks through her skin. The blood that she has felt so disgusted by only a few seconds ago is of no one but her own. And the man she has killed?

Why, he looks as if he has been dead for weeks anyway. She hasn't stabbed him. It isn't real. It isn't real. But the obvious screams of agony from somewhere that rings in her head and makes her want to pull her brain out of her cranium, they dismantle the delusions she was put under.

It must have been a drug. Are the screams real at all? There is but one way to find out. It doesn't matter what's real. She just has to find out.

So she bites her tongue, clenches her fists, and runs. Through the rose gardens that slowly evaporates to nothingness, through the contradictions, guilt, shame, anxiety, fear that tries to dull her senses. There is only one thing that matters: even if every time she saves somebody it turns out to be another make-believe, once, even if once if it is real and she makes a mistake of not making a move, that person will be dead.