Cressida has never been in danger—never known what it was to have her movements tracked or her life placed into the open palms of another. She was a creature of the night, like him, but her night was a gentler sort. It was awash with moonlight. A silvery paradise of muted sounds and the soft chimes of starlight. It was a kind place—a sanctuary and a haven for those like herself who found the day to be too bright, too loud, too much of any single thing. The night though? The night was perfect.
Except this night was not the night of Cressida’s influence.
This night was bled dry of moonlight and instead of sounds being softer, they were gone entirely. It was an abyss. An echoing wasteland where there was nothing but the sound of her hitching breath and pulse fluttering beneath her skin. The sound of the shadows creeping toward her and no light for which her to draw and drive them away. There was just the feeling of being trapped, being smothered by the dark.
She hears him coming closer and her heart pounds, thrumming with a wild song that drives her to leave, to run, to flee into the woods. She is paralyzed for a moment, golden eyes peering out toward where she can make out the outline of him, and then everything crashes down and she is sent flying. Her slender legs skitter and then she is leaping forward and into the shadows that await for her—away, away, away.
@[draco] eeeek!