This is a scene from a fiction I'm writing called "Destined." I am looking for unbiased opinions/critiques. That meaning not saying "it totally sucked" or "this is the best thing ever." Both of those are incorrect.
The room was dimly lit by white bulbs under slanted shades jutting from the monstrous pillars that seemed to disappear as they made their way to the ceiling. It was nothing but a black abyss beyond 15 feet upwards. The spacious compact was filled with silence, the plastered white walls holding in the unsettling atmosphere. Below was a beautiful white marble floor that reflected the pillars’ never ending stretch into nothingness. There wasn’t much to this garishly white room, for the walls were too high to place anything on and it seemed unfit to decorate it with furniture. Although, at the wall opposite to which a huge set of doors were imbedded, were a series of steps that stretched from either wall to its right and left. At the very top of the few stairs was a canopied structure with two thrones underneath.
Upon those thrones sat two very elegant-looking characters dressed in white robes. Seated on the left was a male, looking about the age of 25. His was hair long and blonde, his eyes green and very cat-like. Next to him was what seemed like his twin sister. She held the same features as he, only her legs were crossed and she slowly kicked her foot back and forth. They both held unsatisfied frowns as they stared down before them.
Kneeling obediently on the marble floor, a yard or two from the very bottom step, were eight people. Men and women alike, though their ages varied from at least 10 to 30. They all stood to their feet and straightened themselves out, placing their hands behind their back. Not one held a smile or a frown—just blank expressions. This was to be expected in front of their superiors.
The female blonde on the throne stood as well, still holding a very disappointed frown. "As you know, we are short one member," she said in a very womanly, yet strong voice. Her eyes were cold and piercing. "It is my obligation to announce… That our MIA Number III, will be hereby marked as dead."
Her last word sent a stab through the members below. They didn’t move a facial feature, or any part of their body, but you could see the pain that welled in all their eyes.
"I am very disappointed in him, seeing as though he was one of our best," the woman went on, now pacing a bit to the right. "Let this be a lesson to you. Do not underestimate the enemy. I expect you all to live through this and not shame this organization any further." She took a pause to turn her back to the people below. She lifted a hand in dismissal. "You’re free to go."
They all exited silently and not a bit hastily in front of their superiors.
A fist slammed into the sky blue wall, followed by an angry "Damnit!" It was a young girl, around 15, who adorned aquatic tresses tied up in a ponytail. On her left cheek was a roman numeral II. She wore a sleeveless blue minidress with a thick white zipper going down the front, gloves and boots of the same style. She was in her own bedroom, a blue and white coloring everything. Her face was completely wrinkled with frustration and sadness and all wet with tears. She gritted her teeth and slammed her palm against the wall, slowly sliding down to her knees. "Damnit, Number III! Damn you! Why did you leave us?! Why… Doxyll…" She clenched her dark blue eyes tightly, her brows furrowing and her body shaking as she became quieter in weeping. "You no good…"
There was a long, empty hallway that had a white and gray color scheme, a high semi-circular ceiling and intricate woodwork lining the lower half of the walls. An older female leaned against the wall. She had a short black ponytail and looked 20 at the most. She wore a shoulderless baggy blouse; a pair of leather pants and black heels clothed the rest of her. She drooped her head, but then lifted it upwards and placed the back of it against the wall, staring at the ceiling. She had pain in the eye that wasn’t concealed by her bangs, her placid lips twitching into a very weak smile. "Doxyll, you dope…" She tried her very hardest to hold back tears, but she could only lower her head again to let one hit the floor in a soft plit.
In another room, loud cries of a young child echoed through the walls. A tanned girl with pigtails, dressed in a pink and purple dress with a big pink ribbon on her back, lay crumpled over the lap of an older woman. The adult had long, straight black hair and a yellow and green dress with yellow bell-bottoms. She was crying as well, but stroked the child in her lap gently, trying to comfort her. They sat on a large bed that was on the same wall as the open door, adorned with chick yellow sheets with a lighter yellow canopy. The room was brightly lit by the sunlight that came through the window, so there was no need for light from the square-shaped dish on the ceiling which concealed a bright bulb.
The pigtailed girl sat up, revealing a wet face and straight-cut bangs. Though her big eyes were a mysterious black, they held innocence. She looked up to the older woman, "Stelexce… Why did he have to die?! I want Doxy to come back!" She broke out in sobs again, her words choppy. She brought her arms, which adorned pink and purple striped cuffs, to her face and wiped her tears.
Stelexce, the older woman, placed her gloved hand on the girl’s back. "Oh… Naexia. It’s alright… He died fighting for our sake…" She tried to search for the right words to tell such a young child, but to no avail. She merely scooped the girl back up in her arms and rested Naexia’s head on the breast plate of her uniform. Stelexce patted her head gently and her eyes remained closed, as always.
Floors up, on a semi-circular balcony, lingered two men. One looked in his late teens, the other about 30 years old. The younger male gripped the metallic balcony’s railing, staring angrily out at the vast black forest with deep purple eyes. The mangled forest was lined by a great canyon at its right, just where the huge castle that they were all living ended. He gritted his teeth and tch’d. "I can’t believe that he got himself killed! We were all expecting him to get rid of them… But this happens! How could things have gone this way, Xaine?" The young man closed his eyes and exhaled some of the steam through his nose. His right hand and forearm was coated with a metal garment; an auto mail arm of sorts. A roman numeral VII was carved into the plate on the back of his hand. The young man wore a white and purple suit-like uniform, giving him a stiff look. Though he expressed only anger, he felt terrible to have lost Doxyll—they were close friends. He flicked his long black ponytail off of his shoulder and let it hang down his back.
The older man, stood straight in a crisp gray army-like suit with his hands behind his back. He sighed and brushed some of his messy white bangs from his face with a gloved hand. His eyes, boring and black, stared out over the balcony at nothing in particular. "I didn’t know him well enough to show much remorse—but he’s a fallen comrade," spoke Xaine in a very calm and deep voice. He closed his eyes for a moment or two, as if he was thinking up a prayer for the death. "Now we have something more than duty to fuel us—we have hatred and thirst for vengeance." The man’s jaw was square and his eyebrows thick, which gave him a tough, yet wise-looking appearance. He took a step or two towards the balcony’s edge and placed his hands on the railing, the crisscrossing strings of chains about his torso jingling lightly.
A knock at the door: the aqua-haired female turned her head quickly from the window towards the door. She quickly wiped her face with her hands to rid herself of the tears and straightened out her hair. Her whole body now spun around to face the blue metal door as it slid open with a gentle swish of air; behind it stood two characters with worried looks. They both hurried in after there was enough space, calling the room owner’s name: "Leader!"
Axera stood her ground, trying to look as serious and calm as she could. "Hello, Number IX, Number VIII. What are you doing here?"
The first new face was a young man around 17 years. His hair was very unusual: a pinkish red, cropped on one side and spiked about on the other. The other was female and she had a dark green bob for hair and wore a green, legged leotard.
The female bounced forward to Axera and latched to her arm, "Leaaader!" She sniffled a few times, trying to hold back tears. "Xeilla’s so sorry you died, Leader! Xeilla wishes she could have saved you~!"
The room fell silent as Axera and the red-haired boy stared at the sniveling girl in complete disbelief.
Axera raised a brow, "Xeilla… If I’m dead… Then how am I here?" Anger began to peak in her words, but she managed to control it—though they all knew Axera was like a volcano.
Xeilla blinked innocently as she looked at Axera. "What do you mean, Leader? They said that Number III is dead!" She sniffled again, still not wanting to accept it.
Axera twitched some and the boy snickered from the side. "NUMBER IX!" Axera yelled, shaking the whole room. "I am Number II, you IDIOT!" Axera huffed as Xeilla’s form melted off of her in fright.
Xeilla puddled in a pile on one of the short steps that led up to Axera’s elevated bed. She whimpered with tears welling in her eyes, "Since when is Leader Number II…?" She looked at the boy. "Did Denaix know about this?!"
The boy, now claimed as Denaix, stuck out his tongue and giggled, "Silly Xeilla. Look at her cheek!" Denaix pointed to his own cheek, right under the beauty mark below his eye, to model for her.
Axera crossed her arms and glared at Xeilla as she tilted her head to look at Axera’s cheek.
Xeilla’s eyes widened and she placed a hand over her mouth in surprise, grabbing at the short pink tutu on her leotard, "Oh, Leader! When did you get that tattoo?!"
Both Denaix and Axera fell over, legs in the air. They twitched and Xeilla merely blinked at them, not understanding a darned thing.
Denaix stood to his feet, looking rather serious as he dusted himself off. "Leader, your eyes are red. You were crying," he stated bluntly. He held his brown eyes on the young leader, Axera, before him.
Axera’s eyes flashed open and her face reddened a bit. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She tried again, "I was not crying!" Of course, she was to deny it in order to keep her strong-willed, cold-hearted facade. The last thing she wanted was to be seen as weak.
Denaix smirked at her, and then closed his eyes as he went on rather tauntingly, "It’s funny that you’re so upset over this…"
Xeilla chimed in, nodding to what Denaix was on about, "Yes, Leader! It’s strange, since you hate him and everything! Always calling him names and whatnot… "
"I don’t hate him!" Axera blurted out, surprised that it came out as loud as it did. Her face was still a bright red and she spun away from the two to face the window. She gritted her teeth, her fingernails digging into her palms. Axera glared angrily out at the sky, then closed her eyes and said softly, "I don’t hate him…"
Denaix frowned, understanding completely now. He placed a hand on his hip, a finger wandering to play with the chain that hung from his red and orange plaid shorts. He shifted his weight to one leg. He looked a bit hurt in his own eyes at the revelation, but he needed confirmation, "So you love him, hmm?"
Something shot through Axera at Denaix’s question. Her eyes flashed open and she stared at nothing in the sky’s direction. Love him… I… She slapped her hand against the window and quickly turned her body halfway so she could look at Denaix with a blushing, frustrated visage. She forced a smile, trying to play this off, "Hah! As if I’d ever be so weak as to have feelings such as love! That’s ridiculous! I would never fall for a flirtatious, flippant moron like him! How insulting!"
Denaix’s brows furrowed and his jaw tensed, his digits grabbing the chain. He pulled both hands behind his head. It was so obvious now—he should have expected it, but something still ate away at him on the inside. "Xeilla… Let’s leave Miss Leader alone for now, ‘kay?" His eyes lingered on her for a short moment as he began to turn back towards the door, exiting.
Xeilla leapt from her seat on the step and bowed hurriedly to Axera, "B-Bye, Leader...!" She sputtered nervously and skittered out behind Denaix before Axera had time to explode again. The two left into the hallway and the sliding door closed automatically behind them.
Axera still had her hand on the window with her body still twisted a bit. The anger fell from her face, replaced with sorrow. She closed her eyes and slowly went to face the window again, her thin digits curling gently into her palm as she lowered her head.
At times like this, I wish this darn editor would make indentions...