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~ [i]Contained in Open Fields[/i] ~[/center]

The corner stone of reality. A plethora of multiplying divergences, accumulating in the peripherals of existence, dividing and spreading like a cancer across the galaxy. Expanding outwards. Reaching, and clawing, across the open skies and dawns of void, seeping light into cracks of the subconscious in psychedelic chromatograms, burning like a supernova. A cataclysm of emotion, thoughts, beliefs, teachings, and all manner of concepts.

Sat alone in a chair, beset in darkness pierced by radiant, blue light, casting shadows upon drawn curtains and morally challenged walls. They held many secrets, listened with ears of thin veiled protection and watched with silent precision. Observing, but never speaking, muted against their own grey, monochromatic purpose. Divide. Seal. Uphold. Binding secrets never to be divulged.

The grass had a certain quality to it. Real and incorporeal to the senses. Soft against the flesh, nonexistent to perception, instead a frayed and worn carpet, eroded with years until the wooden floor underneath expressed itself in feeling, creeping in through the fibres. Soaking through. It was cold. It had the expression of age, of wisdom. It was like the walls. 

Perhaps that's what made them special. And the desk, and the wooden bed frame, and the purple wardrobe, and the pen pot, beside a crowded notepad, illuminated by the monitor mere inches away, and the cable of a keyboard and mouse. Perhaps their history had left them with an impression - they had heard, and they had witnessed, but never spoken. Nothing spoke.

The fresh air was not too dissimilar. They had awoken much the same, unheated in the mornings of winter months. Or had they woken too early? Insomnia plagued the walls, it was true - they had their fair share of issues, much the same as every component in the room. The sum total of their parts made a comforting prison, but their flaws alone were pitiful sights. They could hear everything but speak of nothing. They could accrue knowledge and insight, but never share their wisdom - never leak their... darkest secrets.

This was her reality. Walls of secrets, marking corners of darkness, over a carpeted sea of paced steps in anxiety, adorned with the desk of malicious tendency, and the tools of destruction. The curtains bled through little light, the void of dawn a solemn toned reminder of the hour. They all awoke too early. Such a shame, too - they were just developing a nice little sleeping habit.

But that was in the past now. They were awake. Awake and alive and knocking. A rap against a nondescript door. Knocking, knocking, knock, knock. The walls bustled with life - awake from morning, awake from sleep. Awake from being awake. Knocking, knocking, growing in volume and intensity. Growing from the carpet like vines, like a cancer, the twisting colour of psychedelic illusions. Knock, knock, snap.

Snap? And her eyes opened.

[colour=PaleVioletRed]"..."[/colour] a morally challenged, grey speech. Her eyes flickered open, to windows of purple glass, marked with the black circle of vision. Sprawled out on the carpet. Sunlight streaming through the curtains. Or... she couldn't quite tell. Where was she? The scene was unfamiliar. Such dreams weren't uncommon, but the walls were seldom so imaginative. Seldom so realistic. 

Such dreams were incoherent. The light streaming through the curtains... Morning already? The clouds did naught to spare her vision. Having been closed for so long, they barely remembered what light looked like. She preferred the curtains closed. The carpet had grown, too. No longer did the wooden floor underneath dig its way through their tightly knit fibres. It was soft, but it wasn't her colour. It was too natural. 

Letting her fist clench, feeling returning to her fingers, and the rest of her body, her nails dug into the dirt upon which she laid. She was outdoors... how had that happened? It wasn't so much that she hated the outside, but rather, it wasn't as fun. Sure, there were lots of things you could do, like sport and picnics... but she didn't have much fun with those kinds of things. She wasn't very fit, and the insects always got on the food. The walls were much better.

The expanse of greenery left her dehydrated throat at a loss for words. In the drowsy awakening from dreams, things often blurred together. Nothing was as it should be. Her muscles moved to make sound but none came out. Was it some kind of curse, or had drugs robbed her of speech? Her other hand clenched similarly, but gripped something different altogether; no dirt, but cold metal. The feeling returned, and with it did memories.

And someone was sat in front of her. Was that the knocking, the rapping at her door? How polite, but she was sleeping - it wasn't nice to wake sleeping people. That said it did look like morning... how long had she been sleeping for? The lights must have sung a sweet lullaby for her to sleep so soundly. The metal felt cold to the touch, her head tilting to take it in as she sat up, slowly at first but increasing in speed with each passing microsecond, until her body was upright, knees drawn to her chest,, defensively. 

How strange a place. Such bright colours, a new person... new feelings. But no walls. A brief wave of anxiety hit her, drawing away what little moisture remained in her mouth, but was quickly diluted in further sleep deprivation. Why did they have to wake her up? Why wasn't she at home? Who was this person? Where was...

In a turn of her head, her vision spied the object of her desire, and she quickly reached to pick it up. Rosetta. The walls had gifted it to her, and the lights had bestowed it a name. Rosetta... Worn in places, patched with off coloured white clothe to bring back a whole to the dis-repaired. It was only slightly dirty, luckily, but still in a sorry state. She went to speak an apology to the stuffed rabbit, but no words escaped.

Oh, of course. How silly of her. She placed the rabbit on her lap, and brought the metal device to her face, tapping the screen a few times, before drawing her hand away.
[colour=PaleVioletRed]"Hello."[/colour] the speakers emitted, just one of the many preset sounds that she had added for convenience, [colour=PaleVioletRed]"I am Lilly."[/colour] they were robotic, producing a synthesised female voice, only barely discernible as in their late twenties. 

The walls hadn't gifted this to her. The lady had called it a Vocalised Audio Synthesiser. The lady... the Ultimate Inventor. She had commissioned a device like this in order to talk. She needed to talk. She was mute, after all. The doctors had tried everything, but she couldn't talk. Lilly would never talk. She giggled a little, on the inside, her body mimicking the sound in movement, without producing sound. She didn't hear her name often. It was funny hearing it.

But there was something terribly wrong with the situation. Lilly tilted her head, looking her fellow in the eyes, piercing them with her violet gaze. This wasn't Hope's Peak! She was meant to be going to Hope's Peak Academy, the big school place for people who do cool stuff. She did cool stuff too. She was the [i]Ultimate Hacker[/i]. 

But it didn't look like there were any computers about. The walls would get mad if she didn't practice. Everyday, gotta practice, stop yourself from losing your edge. You're an Ultimate student now. They might accept you, but lose your edge and they'll throw you out. You wouldn't want that, would you? Think about all the benefits having the name of Hope's Peak behind you. Didn't it close though? It's still a great school.

[colour=PaleVioletRed]"Where are we?"[/colour] she typed out on the keypad, the woman's voice mirroring, distorted through the software, but smooth in her speech. Whoever designed the program was a genius. She was so lucky to have the fortune of getting in contact with them! And they were very nice in building it. It must have cost a fortune... but she had the money. Wait, where was her wallet..? The walls wouldn't be happy about that...