Characters: Unnamed.
Word count: 563
Author’s comments: I realise it’s not very long. There was room for it to be expanded, a bit of exposition probably wouldn’t go amiss - between introducing her and before he emerges. I was going to do it, but it flowed out this way and I am just too tired at the moment to force my brain into thinking of it. She’s a character I’ve been toying with for a while, a sort of ethereal being with an independent shadow. I’ll probably write some more for her at some point.
It’s cold, rain chilling skin that the wind hadn’t yet reached. Her long coat twists around her legs but she pays it no mind. Superficially, there is nothing particularly strange about the scene. Stares would glance off the lone figure standing against the wall and they would not look back. They would not give her a second thought. Silent. Unmoving. A shadow against the night. She watches.
He emerges some two hours later, collar turned up against the elements. His pale skin seems stark against the dilapidated surroundings, and where the night tries to swallow him, he seems only to stand out more. Blue eyes flash brightly in the glow of the last unbroken street light. Oh, so impossibly bright. He strides down the alley like he owns it, and there is unexpected grace there. She swallows and moves to follow. Her shadow extends towards him. He tenses. She closes in.
At the corner, he stops and turns. She is traces and smoke, he does not see her. Still, he senses something. Her shadow wraps around his, pawing and pulling unseen. His knees buckle and he falls. He scrapes his palm, bewildered as he tries to rebalance. The metallic tang of blood dictates what is to come. He looks up and sees her now, tall and fierce as she stands before him. He thinks Lyssa, the goddess of fury herself, has come to walk the Earth. He also thinks no amount of knowledge can save him now.
Her shadow cradles him close, softly like a newborn, as she stares down at him with eyes as green as the promise of spring. She touches a lock of dark hair, pushing it from his eyes. Eyes which are so impossibly pure that Neptune’s seas could barely compete. He is beautiful, pale and scared though he tries to hide his fear beneath a mask of cool defiance. There is devotion and loyalty beneath the shallow pools of these emotions, hidden depths of so much promise. Her breath catches except…she doesn’t have any. She suddenly loves this man, the antithesis of everything she is.
Her shadow tightens around him; her fingertips graze the soft promise of his cheekbone. She leans close as she whispers, “Call up the Captain.”
At the simple sentence, he recognises her purpose. A shiver wracks through his too thin body. He can’t respond but he still tries, just as he tries to struggle. Brave then, as well as knowledgeable. She traces his jaw as she moves around him, her shadow tightening with every step she moves further away. His posture goes rigid, almost as if he’s drawing himself up. He knows. Oh, how she loves him. Fiercely and proudly as only she could be capable of. There’s so much only she’s capable of.
It’s a soft sound, the tiniest pop that impossibly shatters the back of a skull. She stares inexpressively at the crumpled form, her shadow twisting around her.
“Death to the lover that you were dreaming of,” she murmurs, the corner of her lips twitching.
The dark clouds part for a moment, the pale, sickly moonlight reflects in the spreading pool of dark crimson and an older woman screams as she stumbles unwittingly upon the scene.A silhouette on the roof shimmers briefly, and then disappears from view.
She wishes she still had a heart.
We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied us.
- Francios Rabelais
Music: 'In the shadows' audiobook
Mood: Still cold, even more so in fact
Oooooh... dark and kinda cartoony... I like!
ReplyDeleteI was going for that :D
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