Shards of the Eclipse

By Darkness Arts

Authors Note: I know it took me 4 years to update this fic, and I apologize. This new chapter is also 4 years old, and would have been posted then had my computer not committed suicide. But now that I've finally been able to recover my old work, expect this story to pick up once again. :D This chapter is mostly filler, but will also be the end of the 3rd Person POV I was using. From now on the chapters will be narrarated by Blue. I hope everyone doesn't mind!

And as per usual, I LOVE REVIEWS! Let me know what you all think, and I'd be happy to hear any ideas or suggestions you may have!



Well now, doesn't this suck…

Blue's thoughts weren't of the happiest pretence the moment she managed to pry the front door open to her new house. The living room before her was dark, even with the light let in from the sunny afternoon peeking in through the open door. Ignoring the perpetual emptiness of the large house before her, she nudged the door further open with her hip, before she retrieved her unbelievably heavy backpack from the porch. Kicking off her loose laced boots in what she thought to be the direction of the couch,- it was too dark to tell anyway, damn it!- she proceeded to slam the door shut behind her.

Allowing herself a few long moments to adjust to the little light, or the lack thereof, she then moved on to the equally as dark kitchen.

Sighing, she dropped her bag by the bar-like table that jutted out from the wall immediately upon passing through the opening, and waited to move on until all of the echoes that the distinct "thunk!" of her backpack hitting the hardwood floor had created.

Giving herself a minute to take in the bare and pathetic surroundings of her not-so-shiny and neat, new kitchen, she started towards the fridge. Praying to a God she had never before believed in to have some form of edible nourishment among the contents of her olive green fridge, she pulled the door open hopefully…

…Only to be thoroughly disappointed. Damn it, pops! She thought bitterly, as she crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned back against the counter.

It was then that the annoying, flashing red light on both the caller ID, and the answering machine caught her attention. Rolling her sapphire eyes skyward, she leaned over to push the button to review the messages on the answering machine. When at first, all she heard was static, she slapped herself on the forehead. Dear God. We haven't even been here a day, and already telemarketers are calling us. Satisfied with her conclusion of things, she was about to turn it off, when a familiar voice took over the static.

"It's Quent. I'll be home late. Buy groceries, and fix your brother dinner. There's money on the coffee tabl--"

Incomprehensible static resumed once more, before the next message picked up. It was Toboe.

"Leara and I are going swimming after we finish at the library. Tell dad I'll be home later tonight after we study, and that I'm at the library still. I'm on Leara's cell phone now, and I'll call later if we need a ride."

Sighing sharply, Blue clenched her fists. So Quent was at a random bar some place downtown, and her brother was out having a good time with his girlfriend. Great. That means ramen noodles and Pepsi for me, and a solitary evening of pretending everything is okay.

Walking to her room at the end of the hall, and dragging her feet angrily the entire way, she picked the lock on her door, before entering. Content to see that it was in the shape as it had been when she left it, she pushed her door shut before moving to her nondescript dresser to find something more comfortable to wear. Rummaging through the meager contents, she came up with a pair of lime green and black, plaid pajama bottoms, and one of her favorite Metallica shirts, that portrayed illustrations depicting the song "Fixxxer".

Slipping into the new clothes, and depositing the ones she had worn to school promptly on the floor, she kicked them towards one of the several empty corners of her room, before applying a thick coat of black eyeliner to either of her eyes. Checking her reflection in the mirror once, she dragged a comb through her short black hair before leaving her room.

Grabbing her car keys from her bag, as well as the twenty dollars her oh so loving father had left on the table, she left the house, headed once again towards her car. As the engine revved, she glared in annoyance at her fuel meter which was nearing the ugly, red mark that denoted a lack of fuel. Making a mental check to stop and get gas, as well to stop by a few bars in town to find Quent and give him a piece of her pissed off teenager mind, she shifted the car into 'reverse', and backed out of the driveway.

Turning on the radio she caught the end of a commercial giving details on a club in town where several local bands would be playing tonight. Cranking the volume as the familiar intro to "Awake" by Godsmack came on, she pulled out and lit what she saw to be her last cigarette. Giving herself a minute or so to enjoy the nicotine that was now coursing through her veins, she sighed and knocked the ashes from the end of the cigarette into her ashtray, before she continued on her way to the store.

The Godsmack song had ended and another from one of several newer bands that wasn't important from the lack of originality came on, by the time she pulled into the parking lot of Wal-Mart. Spending a whole of ten minutes in the superstore picking up a case of various types of ramen noodles, eggs, bread, milk, and soda, she was back out to her car and heading to the gas station. Frowning at the outrageous, $1.89 Unleaded fuel price, she begrudgingly filled the tank and paid for it, before climbing into the drivers seat once more, now in an even worse mood.

Finding a long line of seedy looking bars hadn't been very hard, she noted with the stubbing out of her cigarette. Slowing her speed to a steady 15 mph to try to locate Quent's truck, she idly read the names of the various clubs off, and stored them in her memory for later use. Several of them were hiring, and it was then Blue realized that she desperately needed a job.

Bright eyes lighting up with some semblance of happiness as she spied what she knew to be Quent's rusty black, '85 Ford pickup, she sharply pulled into the decrepit lot, parking right beside the aforementioned truck. Grabbing what was left of her cigarette, as well as her lighter, she shoved the said items on her back pocket, before she entered the club called "The Wolves Den".

Of all places the crazy old man had to pick to drink at, this would be it, of course. She rolled her eyes, as she pushed the door to the club open. The smoke filled atmosphere appealed to her greatly in every sense, and made her wish that the window or door in the front hadn't lacked a "Now Hiring" or "Help Wanted" sign as so many of the other bars had sported. Gently pushing the door shut behind her, she stepped further into the dark, smoky room, her slipper-clad feet carrying her automatically towards the bar in the back. She could feel the curious eyes of the other club goers following her every move, stabbing like a thousand knives into her back, putting her on edge.

…So she wasn't technically supposed to be there, but they didn't have to know that. It wasn't as if she was going to purchase anything aside from surprised looks from her old man. Nobody there would ever know she was only sixteen.

Music blared from speakers she couldn't locate by sight, playing something that sounded vaguely like heavy metal, mixed in with a lot of random screaming, and incomprehensible screeching. By the time she made it to the bar, and knew that none of it's occupants was her father, the "rock" music had ceased playing. Assuming they were changing the CD, Blue was definitely surprised as she heard a few indiscriminate cords struck from a bass guitar. Looking around for the source of the sound, she spotted a small stage across the bar, and was sure that she sounds of the guitar tuning had came from there.

Deciding that Quent would show up sooner or later, Blue seated herself and pulled out what little was left of her last cigarette and lit it. Leaning back against the bar, she was savoring her oh-so-loved nicotine, when a few drum beats reached her ears. So there is a band, she thought with a smile. Whether they are a good band, or not has yet to be seen.

After a moment of watching the stage, a teenager stepped out.

Shifting on her barstool to a more comfortable position, Blue leveled her namesake gaze on the teen on stage. His neck-length ash brown hair feathered around his slender face, as he finished setting up the guitar amp he had brought out. As he made a move to mess with the microphone stand, she saw that his eyes were large, and a turquoise green color, that only helped enhance his devil may care appeal. And his ragged blue jeans, tight black t-shirt didn't necessarily offset the aforementioned look.

Blue liked him. Immediately. But what she liked the most, stepped out from behind the curtains next, a set of drum sticks sticking out from the pocket of his yellow hoodie, sporting a large grin which made his cherry brown eyes glow.

It was Hige.