Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Tides of Wine ❯ Amelia ( Chapter 4 )

Lysanthy

~Amelia~

 

I was frozen in shock and amazement.

This stranger, no matter how incredibly hot or threatening, was leaning carelessly on my shoulder. His hair was pooled in my lap as I sat crossed legged on the dirty ground. And now, it seemed, he was whispering to himself. His breath was brushing my skin dangerously. I had chills from head to toe.

Refusing to remove himself from my person, or so I'd like to think, he talked to me. "Amelia, I am sorry." I frowned at his words. It had been a petty argument, nothing more and nothing less, yet he acted as if it were the end of the world. "Please, forgive me." He continued. "I do not want you to hate me." My mind kept replaying his words over and over in my head, like ocean waves battering against a defenseless beach.

He talked like a noble. His words were swift, logical, and yet unbroken. He spoke with "do not"s instead of "don't"s. I thought it was pretty and pathetic at the same time.

"I want your help." I wondered why he was still talking to me. I had insulted him, after all. "Please speak to me." He added. I knitted my brows together in worry. He was a complete stranger to me. I knew only his name, his first name, if that was really what it was. He could have been a pervert or a murderer, but I couldn't stop the words that were escaping my mouth. "Okay. I'm sorry too." I don't know if it was instinct or horomones that made me lay my chin on top of his head.

"I'll go with you." I said, finally letting my exhaustion catch up with me. "I'll go with you." I repeated, unsure if I hadn't said it already.

I left the conscious world with the whisper of his voice gracing my ears. "Good."

 

* * *

 

I woke up, and I was alone. Groaning, I thought it was Monday again, but a familiar voice stung me into reality. Elliott, I remembered, turning to greet him. "What did you say?" I asked. We were still in this filthy alley. It was night time and he fit the part of a prowler perfectly and illy at the same time. His cloak, more like a cape, I saw, fluttered out around him in a breeze that wasn't there. His eyes were glowing vaguely.

There was a marking, now visible, on his cheek. From my place on the ground, I reached out to touch it. He sighed at my groggy weirdness and came onto his knees for me. "I said Good Morning." He said, dryly.

"What is this?" I asked him, running my fingers over the green symbol on his left cheek. "I didn't see it earlier."

He shrunk back from my bold behavior and grimaced. "It is just a marking that appears on me in the moonlight."

Still half asleep, I pointed out, "But it's cloudy."

Elliott rolled his eyes at me. "The clouds may clutter the sky, but they cannot eat the moon."

I frowned. "Clouds can't eat anyway. Wait. Are you saying that they can eat the sky?"

His lips twitched, agitatedly. "Forget it. Are you ready to go?"

I titled my head to the side, letting my disgusting mess of hair fall over my shoulder. "Go?"

"Nevermind." He stood up again. "Let me know when you are awake."

"Ah, but I can't sleep anymore." I started trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. "It's too cold." That was the truth, I realized. I woke up because I was cold.

"This town is on the edge of a desert." He told me. "It is bound to get cold at night." I gazed up at him. That odd tattoo wasn't the only thing amiss with him at night. His ears had gained points and his fingernails were shining far more silvery than before. They were longer too, I noted. His skin had gained a glowy sheen and it looked paler. I had the greatest urge to ask him not who but what he was, when I surmised that it might not be a good idea. We needed no more "petty" arguments.

I pulled myself to my feet. My mind was fully awake now. Straightening my poor excuse for clothing, I told him what he needed to hear. "I'm ready to go, Elliott."