05-01-2019, 01:36 AM
Mara’s smiled broke the shadows hovering her room. Nimeda’s jovial presence was refreshing as cold water, and she laid a hand on her friend’s knee as she scoot near. With the other, she pat her own and three little nightmares lifted their heads. Two of the nearest were lazy, circled about her feet. The third pounced high, its little body buzzing with slumber near the warmth of its mistress.
Nimeda’s line of thought pulled at her own, like tangles tugging on knotted hair. Her gaze distanced itself as though searching for someone unresponsive. “He does not hear my cries,” she whispered beneath the sheet of her hair. Nobody heard her cry. Only Nimeda.
Which was why she smiled so bittersweet when Nimeda explained the lengths she’d gone to seek help. Mara knew nothing of hidden ones or vengeful seas, but the howling ones pricked her attention. Almost as if he was summoned from some moonlit crevice, her pets roused all at once. Their fur stood on end, their eyes gleamed in the same direction. One of their kin streaked into the room, climbing to her lap for protection. Mara swept it into the crook of her arm and sat on edge. His shadow devoured the door. An outline of terrible, monstrous fright. She shivered, drawing her pets nearer until they almost obscured her from view.
“Flee,” she whispered. With the one word, dozens of pets lept into the distance, squeezing through cracks that appeared in the walls of her prison before they sealed themselves back together.
She rose to her feet, hair and dress falling to stillness along the slender line of her shape. “I am sorry my pets frightened you.” She did not know him, but there was an intrigue that followed him, as though his shadow did not align with the spirit within. Her eyes trailed the paints decorating his body such that her fingers itched to do the same.
Nimeda’s line of thought pulled at her own, like tangles tugging on knotted hair. Her gaze distanced itself as though searching for someone unresponsive. “He does not hear my cries,” she whispered beneath the sheet of her hair. Nobody heard her cry. Only Nimeda.
Which was why she smiled so bittersweet when Nimeda explained the lengths she’d gone to seek help. Mara knew nothing of hidden ones or vengeful seas, but the howling ones pricked her attention. Almost as if he was summoned from some moonlit crevice, her pets roused all at once. Their fur stood on end, their eyes gleamed in the same direction. One of their kin streaked into the room, climbing to her lap for protection. Mara swept it into the crook of her arm and sat on edge. His shadow devoured the door. An outline of terrible, monstrous fright. She shivered, drawing her pets nearer until they almost obscured her from view.
“Flee,” she whispered. With the one word, dozens of pets lept into the distance, squeezing through cracks that appeared in the walls of her prison before they sealed themselves back together.
She rose to her feet, hair and dress falling to stillness along the slender line of her shape. “I am sorry my pets frightened you.” She did not know him, but there was an intrigue that followed him, as though his shadow did not align with the spirit within. Her eyes trailed the paints decorating his body such that her fingers itched to do the same.