we scream our very souls free
It’s that wildness that calls to Haunt. There is too much of the uncivilized in the shadow creature not to be drawn to such a thing. Of course, they know danger when they see it. But that’s the ultimate lure, isn’t it? To flirt with danger and come out the other side feeling so much more alive?
It’s a heady thing. And Haunt had never been one to deny those baser desires. After all, they are, ultimately, the basest of creatures.
Haunt cannot know about boys disfigured by lightning and treacherous prisons and love lost in heartache and betrayal. Still, there is something of it written on her face. An age-old weariness perhaps, that speaks of too much and not enough. It is equally intriguing and repelling to a creature like Haunt. They do not have such stories to tell. But there is a hunger to know all the tastes of life.
She has tasted much of it. And Haunt hungers.
Like her, Haunt does not answer the question she so boldly poses. After all, Haunt could not decide her fear for her. But her next questions stir the shadow. Yellow eyes blink, tilting as a showy head tips curiously. “None I’ve cared about,” they quip, followed by the brief gleam of a smile. Then a sudden, surprisingly lyrical laugh. “Yours are the same, no doubt.” A faint, almost unnoticeable waver, and suddenly Haunt is on her other side. “Is your heart broken? Broken hearts love the shadows. Your dearest love left you, or they never loved you at all, is that it? Or maybe they died.” Pause. “That one’s always my favorite. It’s so bitter.” Another blink, and Haunt is in front of her. After a breathless moment, they ask with a nearly serious sincerity, “Do you think that’s awful of me?”
