11-03-2021, 09:48 PM
E
yes, eyes, eyes has replaced the chant of not yet, not yet, not yet, inside her heart. Elliana follows, gripping her red cloak tighter around her for a moment, before she no longer is holding the cloak against her body, but it is strewn across her shoulders and her back as she returns to her own shape and form. The hood of the cloak drops onto her shoulders to join the rest of the shimmering, red fabric. He laughs (she tries to remember where she has heard such a laugh and who laughed it.) She thinks she can almost smell pumpkin. But he laughs and those glacial blue eyes drop to his claws as they extend before her. There are words echoing inside of her, Jack’s own. Morning has almost come, and thus ending this wicked night, and then with the sun it will break them free from whatever hold Jack seems to have on them (a hold Elliana walked into when she could have turned away). It would seem there was one final challenge, a choice none-the-less, and for a girl who has made too many decisions she now questions she feels pinpricks at the back of her skull.
Maybe it is some deeper choice, or maybe it is purely instinct, or reflexive, or a well thought out plan.
Or maybe it is simply after such a journey, nothing sounds better than something sweet on her tongue.
“Treat—please.”
She speaks like this.
some are ghosts before they are dead.