SHINEMA

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> Mercy, a distant soul with █ █ █ █ █— a dead star— by █ █ █ side, through everything.

He was “Morgan Wilson”— son of William, an alleged witch. That was before he was sacrificed to the church, they self-proclaimed it to be directly connected to GOD himself.

He was just 17, what ritual they did didn’t phase him, but the sight of his very own parents, embraced the idea without hesitation.

Not that the narrator had any sympathy for the poor boy.

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M█ █ █ █ █ felt as if the weight and air around him shift, as █ █ █ eyes fluttered open, upon █ █ █, 4 primordial figures, their gazes laced with quiet power slipped downward. The █ █ █, the MOON, the STAR, and the VOID.

M█ █ █ █ █ stared up at the in disdain, overlooking the wrong in █ █ █ physical body, █ █ made an effort to speak, nothing comes out, as it appears; █ █ is a thing, with the 4 primordial figures looking down on █ █ █…

> “Oh… poor YOU.” The MOON said, clutching the staff.

> “Don’t feel sympathy, parallel pulse.” The VOID remarked, “the STAR’s choice of human for the LAST of our species.”

> “Now, we should not SPEAK in front of our GUEST like ***this***.” The STAR interrupted the VOID.

M█ █ █ █ █ squinted █ █ █ eyes, as the STAR spoke up.

> “Now. What will your name be?…” the STAR brightened up with mockery.

“Welcome home, Mercy.”

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The next thing he knew, he was lying on the soft, tall grass. Glancing to his left, he sees █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █

⌇ ⍜ ⍀ █ ⋏

A hauntingly beautiful man with tanned skin, short wavy black hair, with what looks like a white highlight on his bangs. The man was closing his eyes, head at his direction.

He’s unaware of why he knew the man’s name.

> “Soren…”

Mercy gasped the name out loud, stood up so sudden. Said Soren was now floating like it wasn’t a paranormal.

> “‘Fascinating, it really worked.’” Soren… spoke? His mouth wasn’t moving, but his expressions say otherwise .

Mercy looked puzzled, as Soren swirled around him, gleefully.

> “Who… are you?” Mercy tilted his head only slightly to meet Soren in the eyes.

> “‘It doesn’t matter who I am.’” Soren stared back at those dark eyes, looking like a deceitful angel. “‘I’m here for you, Mercy.’”

As tanned hands reached up to hold the blond’s face.

Mercy staggered back to where he woken up, the wavy’s eyes were as an ink spilled across a page—ruining every word before it’s written. He’s suddenly out of breath, Soren’s eyes… looking down at him.

The moment he caught his rhythm of breath, Mercy swatted the soot off his clothes…

His clothes… a short beige trench coat, gray scarf, dark gray trousers, and high leather boots.

> “‘Come with me, I’ll take you to paradise. You just have to lay your trust on me.” Soren landed on the soft surface, his hand pulling Mercy’s, led him out of the soft tall grass.

Mercy swallowed the dryness in his throat. He accepted the invitation, only reluctantly.

> “…Only if you insure my safety of the trip.” He said bluntly.

Soren’s soft smile widened, he nodded.

And that, their journey begun.

OC INTRO:

Blond, tall, long hair : Mercy [Morgan Wilson]

30, 2/26, dreary.

Weapon : shotgun

Black, slim, wavy hair : Soren [Nero De Sevyr]

29, 7/16, ecstatic.