(Death Note OC) Eccentric: Chapter 1

(A Death Note OC story)
       
I Don't own ANYTHING used in this journal, except for my OC character, Royal Raimondi/Aki/A
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CHAPTER 1:  "A" is for "Alternative"
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'Do you ever fill disconnected to the world....?'

'Like you're watching your body move and think for itself...? While you're watching...'

'As if everything suddenly becomes tuned out, and voices blur in the distance while your head goes underwater...?'

'...That's what I feel like every time I recall the crash.'

'The world blurs and I slip into my memories...'

'My dad was driving up front, and my mom was sitting next to him in shotgun. My older brother, with ebony hair like dad's, sat in the back with me on my left.'

'My dad had his hands on the steering wheel. His blue eyes watching the frosted road of winter...'

'I could see mom's dark, chestnut brown hair as she was giving dad some small talk. Her mouth was in a relaxed smile...'

'My older brother was searching for a particular song on his iPod. His right foot tapping softly against the car floor...'





'Mom.... Dad.... Drew.....'


'................................... I...........I miss you all so much-!'

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    The sound of wheels against crunching gravel and ice was becoming clearer.
Royal opened his tired eyes to a blend of black leather and polished wood against silver. A soft humming was heard with his head press against a cool surface. His icy blue eyes focused on his surroundings as he sat up, uncomfortable, against the restrain of the seat belt. Resting his back against the black leather seats, he turned his head a little.

Royal sat on the back left seat of a car.
It was sleek with a fresh coat of black on the outside, with black carpet on the floor, and wood and silver lining on the doors. Frost decorated the cold windows to reveal a winter setting of a few holiday decorated shops, lined with sleet until it was replaced with snow kissed fern trees as they were driving by. A beautiful time in Winchester.
        Royal shifted slightly to have his ankles be pressed against his dark gray suitcase that was lodged between the back seats and the driver & passenger seats. Though strands of sapphire hair, he could see the dull brown of cardboard boxes that were located on the other half of the passenger seats.

He adjusted his white jacket against the seat belt's protest before he could feel the car drive up a slight slope as they turned right.
Royal's eyes passed over the head of the driver to look though the front window.

    They were pulling up onto an open cobblestone driveway as they passed a set of iron gates. Easing into a left turn, Royal could see the architecture of a large building that resembled to that of a second story, Victorian era manor. The faded caramel brown color of the building looked duller with the icicles hanging under the window frames and roof top edges and piles of freshly fallen snow piling up against the brick-work walls and driveway.

The car crunched against the frost into a stop. The parking gear clicked up front at the driver's seat.
Royal became aware of the driver opening his car door a few moments later, when a winter breeze made his breath sharp, and his skin cool. Unfastening his seat belt, Royal lifted up his gray suitcase and pulled it out from between the seats as he stepped out of the car. His white snow shoes plopped onto the frost bitten driveway along with the little wheels of the suitcase. Looking around, he could see the front 'lawn' of the manor covered in a white blanket all the way up to the front gates with a 'W' letter curved onto the black iron bars.
A soft breeze was bitter in his icy blue eyes and it rustled his sapphire hair to one side.
Royal pulled his white jacket tighter around himself for warmth.

His eyes traveled back to the sight of the manor. A puff of warmth left him as he spoke,
"The Wammy House is cold outside..."

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Warmth veiled him as Royal hurried into the manor, his footsteps transforming from crunches into clicks as his snow shoes touched polished wooden floors. The manor inside was commodious and spacious.
    Polished and dark wooden floors stretched out across the first floor, with a detailed red & gold rug of about eighteen feet was centered in the middle of the entryway, directly below a grand chandelier lined with gold, and clear teardrop crystals.
The walls were painted a pale gold- almost cream- color, and were decorated with a few oil paintings of the scenery around Winchester, England that varied in season.
    A wide staircase was beside the wall on the left was of the same dark wood of the floor. A mint green edged and white carpet trailed upstairs into a hallway that towered past Royal's sight on the second floor... his eyes wandered the second floor to gaze at the orphanage's tall, frosted windows that travelled to almost the top of the ceiling. Red curtains at their sides.

His eyes wandered back down & to the far right wall, was a set of doors. Two larger doors of cherry wood appeared to lead into other rooms... the smaller one was in the corner, and was ajar to reveal a brightly light hallway, while the double doors was slightly larger.
    Royal turned his head as he looked towards the back wall.
There was a fireplace of dense, gray stone bricks against the middle of the back wall that was freshly lit inside with a mischievous fire that lapped up the bark of cleanly cut logs. And a distant scent of cocoa and coffee greeted his nose.

The next few moments seemed to register dully to Royal.


Royal followed Mr. 'Watari' to met the assistant care taker of the Wammy House, Roger Ruvie.

Roger enlisted his alias as "A", and was noted a part of the 'First Generation.'

He left the office with Watari and followed him upstairs into the second floor, where the newest orphans were assigned to rooms...
('I think I saw other rooms in that downstairs hallway...' Royal reminded himself.)

Watari parted with him after introducing him to his assigned room, number 102.
The door was a plain white with gold painted numbers and a golden colored knob.

Royal looked at the door knob before turning it & pushing it open with his right hand.
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The room was actually nice.

And warm.

            The fairly large room had walls that were painted a medium navy blue, with white and light sea green wave patterns across the walls. A white and gray flecked carpet that was soft against his now bare feet. A single, tall window was against the back left wall with thick, white curtains, was next to a dark blue quilt-plushed queen sized bed with light gray pillows.
Next to the bed was a glass & steel nightstand with a clock and lamp on top.
The other furniture in the room included was a closet, a (glass & steel) desk and rolling chair, a large wooden book case... and an old English styled trunk/chest made out of leather & steel with a combination code dial set.

Royal drummed his toes against the carpet, feeling the smoothness of the rings on his largest & 2nd largest toes. He placed his hands together and popped his knuckles before placing his hands at his sides.

"This is very nice and all... but I think it needs some Personal touches." Royal mused to himself.

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   ???'s P.O.V.  (Point of View)
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"-No, that's false... If there was a 32% chance, he would have disposed of the broken pieces.... so why didn't he?" he mumbled to himself in the privacy of his room. Typing on his silver laptop with one hand, while the other hand subconsciously had the thumb pressed against his bottom lip in thought.

The police had given him detailed images of the most recent crime scene, but the murder's intentions felt scattered to him. Did he leave the evidence behind because he knew that the police would find it, or because he thought that the family would find it...?

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly by a repeating noise...
Something was muffled was being dragged against the floor, and then continued on with a "thump... thump... thump... thump...".

Skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid...

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid...

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid...

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid...

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid...

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump...

    ('What is making that sound?' he wondered.)
The young man sat up from his crouched position, on the desk chair, and walked along the walls of his room. The muffled sound was nearby, because he could hear it better after wandering over to one of the walls & placing his ear beside it.
Something was being dragged on the floor... and then stacked?
                Curiousity mused his thoughts at this.
Roger's office was downstairs, he had no current business with visiting one of the upstairs bedroom. Watari was away for the time being... there was also the sound of a car earlier. Someone else is here then?

Walking over to his bedroom door, the young man quietly turned the knob & peered into the hallway before walking outside. His footsteps were quiet against the mint green carpet. He followed the source of the sound until he came to the room next to his. The young man's gray eyes flicked over to the room's open doorway.

A boy about twelve years old was emptying out boxes.
He dragged a cardboard box across the carpet before leaving it at the foot of a wooden bookcase. The boy would pick up four books at a time using his hand... but picked them up oddly.
He held the books gingerly, but picked up the books using only his thumbs, middle, & ring fingers before stacking them neatly on the shelves. But what caught the young man's attention were the specific traits on the boy's appearance.

The boy's hair was short with long bangs, and appeared to be dyed a rich, sapphire blue.

His fingernails were painted the same blue as his hair.

His toenails were without any nail polish, but instead had four  silver toe rings. Two on each foot.

The boy wore a black shirt that appeared to be hastily put on, with the collar tilted to the side crookedly, showing more of his collar bone on the left side than on the right... but he wore a slightly oversized white jacket neatly. The jacket was worn orderly with smooth edges & without any stains, as if a suit's blazer.

And while he Was stacking books, that was only with one hand.
He was holding a tea brown colored paperback book open. In between two pages was a crossword puzzle with a few words filled in.
But he wasn't reading it.
He just held it open as he sorted out his other books.

The young man turned his gaze on the cardboard boxes of books. Catching a glimpse of a few titles he found books that were written by Goethe, William Wordsworth, Wilde, Emily Dickinson, & Arthur Conan Doyle. As well as other genres of literature, from paperbacks of fantasy, sci-fi, traveling, poetry, & psychological books to textbooks of medicine, geographical, history, and murder cases.
All of these books were packed in the boxes until they were completely full. The young man took note of about 21 (visible) boxes, just from the angle he was standing at.

This boy was only four years younger than himself... but his literary collection was very impressive.
('Has he read most of these....?')


It stopped.


The room was quiet now.
The young man turned his head in direction of the boy.

The boy with sapphire blue hair stared back at the young man.

The boy's eyes resembled the frozen surface of water. An unforgiving frost, with a calm mind.

The boy opened his mouth, & said the first words he ever said to L that day;

"Are you cold, too...?"


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THANK YOU FOR READING...~

.................... TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2 ......................