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Posted: Fri Mar 10, 2017 3:48 pm
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Shiloh's footsteps slowed with her, and he allowed his eyes to close, allowed his ears to listen. He hadn't heard anything before, but...
"I can try to? But I didn't before. I really don't hear it." He took a deep breath, "You said if you follow it, you feel like you'll get lost, right? You'd never come back?" He was vaguely recalling their conversation from before, his voice tense, his posture tightening. He tugged her forward again, trying to speed up.
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Posted: Fri Mar 10, 2017 4:29 pm
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He listened, and listened, and listened until his ears strained. He could feel Melany's reluctance as he kept them forward down the sidewalk, but the voice he heard cut him down like a knife. He stopped—froze—eyes wide and glassy as his breath caught in his throat, like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs, like he was drowning, like he was—
"No—" His mouth felt dry. He couldn't speak, couldn't form words, couldn't, "I hear—it's her." He looked at Melany, the expression on his face panicked, "It's her. It's her. It's— no, no no no no no—"
He seized forward, his gaze spinning around in the direction of the voice, his own tone an aggressive snarl, "<******** off." He looked like an animal when they got caged, when they got cornered, when they had nothing to lose because it was between death or death. He felt sick. The sickness showed on his face, the paleness, the emptiness, the way his eyes swelled, the fear in the taut lines of his mouth. His eyes kept staring forward, flicking backwards, staring forward again, "We need to go. Where is it coming—? I—" He shook his head, his lungs wheezed.
"We need to go."
But go where? He couldn't even tell where the voice was coming from. Panic grasped at his throat and he turned to run, his arm and his hand still viciously clasped around Melany's.
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Posted: Fri Mar 10, 2017 5:06 pm
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Melany's voice might have regained it's normalcy, but in Shiloh's head it was still cold and clear and commanding. He let go of her like she was iron hot, looked at his hands like they might have been burned. He nearly stumbled over his own feet, but the motion was fluid and he caught himself without so much of a second thought, his magic keeping him poised and upright. His head was pounding, his heart was pounding, something was threatening his eyes. They hurt. He hurt.
"I'm sorry." He choked, "I-I'm—" He looked around frantically, jaggedly, "Where is she? I heard her, I heard her." He stopped very suddenly, his head slowly turning to look at Melany.
"She's still there." He said this in a breathless realization, his memories flickering back to the eldritch face from the coffee store. The pain in his face was unmistakable. "She's still—I-I have to go, I—" He looked over his shoulder, looked across the street, looked everywhere but at her. It was like their first meeting at the mall all over again, except somehow this time it was worst. His feet couldn't move. None of his muscles could.
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Posted: Fri Mar 10, 2017 10:19 pm
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Melany hesitated. A long moment, a hesitant face, something like agony in the tautness of her mouth, and she turned her extended hand over and snapped her fingers. The sound was sharp, a gunshot in the stretched-out silence, demanding attention. She snapped again. When she was sure Shiloh was looking towards her hand, the source of the only sound, she pulled her hand up to her face. Her normal, soft, sweet face, with her sparkly navy eye shadow, freckled cheekbones. There was nothing eldritch about her.
"Hey," she said, sinking to her knees. As small as he was. Smaller. "She's not here now. I don't hear her. Listen, okay? Breathe with me, and listen. It's okay, Shiloh, it's, whoever it is she's not here. Listen." She took a deep breath, very obviously. Her eyes stayed on him, a soft girlish gray.
The only sound was Melany's deep breath, held to her chest for moments, and then released. "I'll keep you safe," she said. "Shiloh. Do you need me to call someone?"
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Posted: Fri Mar 10, 2017 10:36 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 10, 2017 10:46 pm
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It was not instant. What's instant, anyway? There was the snap-second gesture, the Spinel Lady saying I don't want blood on his clothes. The fetches, their fists. Noeh, watching, blank-eyed behind her mask. Her teeth all black. Melany offering her hand. Instant rice took five minutes, instant pudding an hour. As far as she knew, their friendship had taken years to build. Now it was gone, washed away in the thundercrash slap of a wave as Melany understood what Shiloh only just said. An instant. An instant of blinding pain.
It didn't feel particularly instantaneous.
Melany looked away. "I won't leave you here alone," she said. "I don't know what I did, but I, I'll do what you need, but I can't leave you like this. You're my." She stopped there. She didn't say it. Her hands twisted uselessly in her lap. "You deserve better than what I did to you," she said. "I'm so sorry."
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