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Adam snorted at her words irreverently. Udeterred, she continued: 'I have found a purpose in life, and I cannot tell you how much of a difference my belief in the Other has made in my life!'
The words appeared on the page, almost unbidden- These were words that had been stuck inside (hearts, throats, minds - words that longed to be released, to be able to be heard, or seen, or felt (because words /can/ be felt)... but for the most part remained unwritted. Unseen. Unheard. Not felt.).
He leaned forward, and turned his head to the side, silently gazing at Maria. His profile was thrown into sharp relief, an effect of being backlit - his eyelashes cast long shadows across his cheekbone, his one grey eye that wasn't hidden in the shadows seeming almost colourless, his scar-
His hand flew to his cheek, as though it had just occurred to him what the light would reveal, had revealed - but Maria grabbed his fingers before they made contact with his cheek. Her fingers curled gently around his, her hand slowly tugging his down onto her lap. He wanted to resist, wanted to hide his imperfection (Imperfections, he thought, surpressing a shudder as he tried not to think about what must me going through her mind), but this was the girl he'd been in love with all his life, this was the girl who had known him before the accident, and continued to love him after despite his trying his damnedest to insist that he wasn't the one she was looking for, that no one who looked like her should ever be with anyone who looked like him, and-
'You don't have to hide from me.' she whispered, and he could feel her lean closer, resting against his side. His eyes fluttered shut, and he released the breath he didn't know he was holding.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, but they flew wide open in the next second as someone bumped into her from behind.
'Sorry, miss,' a voice apologised, and she looked down to see a little street urchin hugging a bundle of newspapers close to his chest, bearing advertisements such as '70% off total cost of dry cleaning, only today!' and 'Sick of the persons constantly haranguing you at your doorstep? Sign up to get rid of them, today!'
It was a tough ordeal, and yet he forged on. He moved to the next box of items - filled to the brim with trinkets, an unused plane ticket to Spain, a silvery hook, a cap...
It was difficult, but he forged on, swiping at his throat (choked up with words and tears and anger) with the back of his hand. He looked back, back at the pile of things that had belonged to him, that he had once loved - books, trinkets, useless things (trash, really) that brought back memories - a shrivelled apple core - blackened with the passage of time - that he had saved from that one day he had spent with his brother, at Idunn's garden.
She chokes, and he moves closer to her, supporting, lending a shoulder for her to lean on.
'...did you hear that?', she asks, still trembling, her hand fluttering by the side of her face like a skittish butterfly.
She lifted her sunglasses, and used it to push her hair back from her face. Fanning herself, she proceeded to turn towards the direction in which she heard her name being called. She squinted, and then heard it again.
'Clarisse!' Only this time, the voice was coming from directly behind her.
Her hand shot up to her left ear lobe, and sure enough, her earring was missing.
"Damnation, now where did it go?" she muttered, as she fell to her knees, eyes scanning the floor for a glint of diamond.
...he had been bitten.
Ho looked up in shocked, and the first thing he saw - the first expression he saw, was one of utter glee on Alicia's face.
"Alicia?", he whispered, confused.
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