A (Relatively) Tranquil Mirror World.

by omega7500

Summary:

Library of Ruina in a high-school environment and all that juicy angst and fluff that comes with being relatively around adolescent age.

Chapter 1

Summary:

gng welcome to the fic hope you enjoy leave comments i like comments trust me i like comments theyre the shit anyways the fic is gonna get better as it goes on.
cuz i develop as i write.
im cool like that

like a lot of other people just dont develop n stuff but i do and im yeah so i do that though take my word for it i dont know a single other person that has ever yk grown
as a person
or anything

yeah

read

Thursday, November 26th, 617.

Room three-hundred and ten was a seemingly insignificant room, even to those that frequented the hall in which the room lay. It was guarded by a standard wooden door, auburn planks resting under the feet of those that walked into the sunlit, dusty room. No classes took place in this room; not ever since District 12 High School had established a second floor for their once-meager and pitiable school. Many of the classes that were distant from the bustle of the center of the school were abandoned, the inconvenience of the stuffy halls and the effort it took travelling them far outweighing the value of three-hundred and tens’ placement.

It was a bit afterwards that the school decided to experiment with furthering their lacking extracurricular activities and communities, largely shepherded by the student body. Utilizing the empty classrooms while establishing and enforcing senses of community, care, responsibility and camaraderie would greatly benefit the learning environment. Upon the establishment of this new system, many ill-thought ideas for superficial clubs were put forth.

This does not mean, though, that there were no gatherings established with responsible intentions while still enforcing fair entertainment. One such idea came to the mind of a literary enthusiast named Angela, currently walking aside her ever-faithful companion, Binah.

“...Binah.” Angela quietly muttered, tugging at Binah’s backpack as she suddenly stopped amidst of their travel. Binah turned her head over her shoulder, looking down at the teal-haired schoolgirl tugging at her backpack.

“Yes, Angela?” Binah was one of few- if not the only one to call themselves a friend of Angela’s. There was none other with whom Angela interacted with regularly, and so Angela tended to consult Binah on relatively any matter.

“I was thinking of hosting a sort of gathering within the vacant room- room three-hundred and ten.”

Binah turned around at this, tilting her head with a faint smile at Angela’s lower stature.

“I would have assumed that interaction with others would be the last thing you would suggest for yourself.”

Angela narrowed her eyes at the jab. “I cannot resign myself to my social mediocrity forever.” Angela sighed, waving her hand- which promptly caught on her long, flowing hair. She narowed her eyes before tugging it out and continuing. “It is my mere wish to forge an environment in which I can display the benefits of literature to those who are willing to listen.”

Both Binah and Angela tended to speak mechanically, exempt from any tone that deviated from utter professionality as is consistent with their outwardly displayed disposition.

Perhaps therein lie their affinity with each other; birds of a feather having nested together. It did appear that, now, with the prospect of a group, the two would have chances to branch out in their companionship. At this thought, however, which Angela knew Binah had come upon as well, Angela noticed her narrowing her eyes, as if with distaste at the thought.

Angela sighed, putting the thought to rest within her mind. “I shall ponder further upon it after hours.” Angela glanced at Binah’s quiet, yet ever-thinking visage. Her ebony eyes seemed to stir with an eternal stew of thought, and Angela could find herself being lost in them as she attempted to garner some semblance of assumption as to what Binah thought.

Angela coughed, a fist raised to her mouth. “...Put this worry out of your mind, Binah. I may even come to not establish this gathering. It is a mere prospect.”

Binah seemingly only ever responded with that same cold smile on her face.

“What worry do you presume ails me? It is far beneath me to keep you shackled from what you desire.” Binah walked in front of Angela towards their homeroom as she beckoned the shorter girl to follow.

“And I do think that, perhaps there may be some benefit for you, establishing connections with more intellectual individuals besides myself.” Binah reached the end of the hallway, with Angela trailing closely behind. Binah held the door open for her as she walked through, sending a muffled thanks and stepping into the warm classroom.

Chapter 2

Summary:

roland and angelica walk to school cuz to get to school they have to walk as they do not live at school and thus have to walk to school– preferably together for the proper development of the plot

Thursday, November 26th, 617.

The black-haired child, Roland, strolled along the pebble-ridden walkway alongside his companion, with whom he almost always found himself with.

Angelica was, in physical appearance and personality, a complete contrast to him, but they were effectively inseparable.

While Roland was, usually, a more introverted, intimidating and silent person, with Angelica’s repeated approaches and interactions, Roland had progressively come out of his shell. He had her to thank for a lot of his social development, as much as he would never admit it aloud.

Roland found in Angelica one of his only close bonds, besides a long-time friend of Roland’s named Olivier, and he appreciated her company each passing day as they walked beside one another.

“...And that’s not all. He came into the room practically frozen to death, a horrifying stare on his face– the way he’d described the snowballs flying would make anyone assume he was fresh out of a slaughterhouse... The Snowdrift War was insane.” Roland recounted a tale of him and Olivier’s antics during the great, frigid conflict.

“Pfft... I remember my times from the War too… Was holed up in my room until I heard a snowball hit my window, and a shadowy figure ran off. I never really saw who did it, but when I came outside to check it out, so many others did too...” Angelica chuckled, reminiscing upon the shivery conflict’s origin.

“They all began blaming each other for having thrown the snowball at their window, and it all just escalated from there, really…” Angelica grinned as she reminisced.

“I remember just… Blitzing through the snowy fields, ducking under flying snowballs and smashing snow into as many faces as I could see.”

Angelica was an exceptionally athletic girl; in fact, she and Roland had met through an old group of friends centered around sports.

Unfortunately, the members of the sports group had all drifted apart after the appointed “leader” named Charles had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the members to pursue their own ventures.

They were a ragtag gathering of children, back in middle school when they were together, so there wasn’t much incentive to stick together without their shared anchorage.

Charles was always rather mysterious; nobody Roland knew had ever known him on a personal level, even with their constant interaction.

He was charismatic to a certain extent, and his presence brought the group together, but nobody– at least, to Roland’s knowledge– knew where he had lived or what he had done to disappear so suddenly.

“...So now I know what hit me in the face that one time...” Roland gazed at Angelica with an accusing expression. “I was looking out for flying snowballs, I wasn’t expecting to get pelted from underneath...”

“Wait, you were there?” Angelica giggled. “Now that I think about it, I do remember seeing that face of yours, dumbfounded and smeared with snow.”

“...It’s a surprise you could see my face under all that snow—Plus, I was wearing my-” Roland began, but was cut off with a barely withheld snort from Angelica.

Roland feigned anger with a huff, crossing his arms. “What, you’ve got something to say about my mask?”

Angelica raised her eyebrow, snickering at Roland’s dead-set expression. “...Oh, please, Roland. You were so attached to that thing..! I mean, it really is edgy, you know~” Angelica teased Roland, her hands behind her back as she leaned forward.

Roland’s pouting face stared straight ahead as Angelica continued. “I remember how long it took you to take that thing off, so don’t you re-enter your depressed phase and start wearing it around the school again, Roland~”

Angelica’s teasing was incessant… “...I was never in a depressed phase. Is it really that much my fault that I don’t want to associate with any of the people at school?” Roland scoffed. “You know what most of them are like.”

Angelica hummed, leaning back and looking ahead to the nearing school. A twig snapped under her foot as she rebuked Roland’s statement.

“You shouldn’t be so quick to judge, Roland… Not all of them are bad- I mean, you seem to tolerate me, at least~”

Roland rolled his eyes at that ridiculous statement.

“Oh, come on, I think I do a bit more than tolerate you by now.” He muttered.

Angelica curled a brow at Roland before he continued.

“…I wouldn’t trade for you for the world.”

Roland grinned at the white-haired woman to his side as they neared the front gates of the school. He noticed Angelica’s face had turned away from him.

“You’re a lot different from all the rest, y’know? Have some more faith in yourself. You can’t consider yourself part of the scummy masses.”

Roland held the door open as they entered the main school building, beckoning for Angelica to step through.

“...I’m not all that different. I have my fair share of flaws.” Angelica pouted as her sneakers met the cold flooring of the school.

“Well...” Roland reminisced- vestiges of memories about bittersweet times softening his gaze. “...Don’t we all.” The two stepped into the building, walking to their shared homeroom– room three-hundred and seven.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Summary:

yesod yesod finds aaahh ahh netzach suspect type shii yk what i mean and hes like yeah this is old chapter and im like locked in in the chapters after this one so yeah im locked in so stay reading

also comment i like it when readers comment pls comment that makes me go "heck yeah!" and, heh.... trust me... you want me to go "heck yeah!" woo ya

Thursday, November 26th, 617.

The violet-haired man walked stoutly down the halls. In his arms he carried a binder, not a single page jutting out of its necessary placement; upon his back lay an orderly backpack, not too bloated with supplies nor empty enough to display itself as a useless accessory. It was perfectly weighted upon his back.

Yesod was a near-perfect student, one who strived and aspired beyond any reasonable measure to achieve utter perfection. He wore a clean white shirt, a purple jacket atop not showing any speck of his pale skin besides his face. A purple bowtie decorated his chest, with straight, ironed black slacks to adorn his legs. He stepped with professional, unadorned black shoes.Not a single part of his appearance betrayed a perfect air of professional cleanliness.

His footsteps rang out with clarity, the heels clicking first before placing the rest of his foot processively down as he raised the other to methodically take another step. He walked with a brisk pace, yet not swift enough to give an undignified guise as if he were sprinting, like some lowly brigands within this school’s corridors might be apt to do. He ensured that his steps carried diligence, that he exuded an air of untouchability and height that none could hope to achieve.

As he walked, the corner upon which would yield his homeroom quickly came to pass, before Yesod grasped the handle with a similarly decisive and elegant mannerism, twisting it and pushing it open with one solid movement. He was the first one there. As would always be the case.

Yesod set down his binder and bag without any semblance of unnecessary noise; it was as if his movements did not even disturb the thin film of dust that settled onto his desk. He gazed with disdain at the minor decay that had swept across the classroom over the weekend.

It was his duty as the (self-proclaimed) class president to keep his domain clean and orderly, as he himself was. Yesod wrapped a clean, white handkerchief that he brought out from his chest pocket around his neck, straightening his purple bowtie and rummaging through the closet at the back of the classroom, grabbing a poofy duster and beginning to dust the crevices of the classroom.

It was as he cleaned off the radiator at the side of the classroom that he felt the clear ring of glass colliding against his duster. Surprised, Yesod moved the safety cover of the radiator and, putting on a latex glove from the closet, reached behind the depowered, cold metal.

A glass bottle made a clicking sound as his hand tapped against it, and Yesod, shocked, pulled out a small bottle with a brown liquid inside.

There was no mistaking it- this was a bottle of alcohol of some sorts. Yesod had seen drunkards in the streets holding significantly larger versions of the same bottle he held within his hands, he could recognize it anywhere.

But... Who could have brought it here? Who would dare to infiltrate a school of professionalism and diligence with such irrational irresponsibility? Most of the people who attended this school didn’t reach the level of maturity in which Yesod aimed to embody, sure, but none would dare to bring such travesty into HIS classroom, of all places!

Red-hot anger flooded through Yesod before he took a calmed breath to cool himself down. Clarity struck him as he realized that there was one suspect in his mind… One that he would confront as soon as he could.

Yesod washed the bottle off with cool water from the fountain outside, rinsing all vestiges of the liquid poison from the dusty glass. He slipped it into his bag, as he would use the object to fluster his suspect in the near future when he slammed it down on that irresponsible vagrant’s desk.

He eyed the aforementioned suspect’s desk. As was standard, stains of unknown kind adorned the top, little drawings and doodles of fantastical illusions and apparitions scattered atop the worn wood.

Of course. Yesod thought about the blunt, dull-green haired man. He would never devote himself to studies as I do. That brigand would much rather wallow in his sorrows, as if we all did not suffer through what he had to.

“...But this is a new low, Netzach.” Yesod muttered, to nobody in particular. He simply picked up his duster and continued to sweep away the dust that had gathered- particularly on the sign to classroom three-hundred and seven.

When Yesod finished fixing the classroom to a degree he was satisfied with, as if on cue, a black-haired man and his contrarily-appearing companion entered the classroom. Yesod had seen them around before, joking and wandering around the halls like all the other attendees of this school.

Yesod sniffed with his rightful sense of superiority. At most, they would cause a mild disturbance. They were of no concern, so Yesod continued on with his day, affirming that his supplies for the upcoming daily affairs were all in rightful order.

He would ensure, today, that he would confront Netzach on this.