Lisa Bortiforte
She/Her
31
August 30
Camphrier Town, Kalos
Bi/Heteroromantic
Bioterrorist
Underboss
Bury me in the roses and rot; I'll come back thorned.
TAG WITH @elisabeth
Elisabeth Fiorelli
LUMINOUS
POSTED ON Feb 11, 2024 2:11:01 GMT
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It was his footsteps that first caught her attention: that quiet crunching of snow beneath Oxford heels. The seeming lack of hostility in his approach allowed her to remain as she was, expecting that this stranger, like all others, would pass her by unnoticed in his journey home.[break][break]
Then the intruder's movements ceased, and the world went silent with him. The first jolt of fear sang through her as she felt the closeness of his gaze on her, and she tensed.[break][break]
To be observed meant facing unknown intent.[break][break]
Emerald eyes fluttered open to sate her curiosity, but the man she sought stood behind her, not in front.[break][break]
His voice carried to her with the sluggishness of a dream whispering back to the waking, a nostalgic thing unable to be placed for its familiarity. There had been a time that this voice had been a welcome respite, one she'd invited in to pass away her loneliest hours of night. Back then, during that early and innocent spring, she'd been able to name its owner anywhere.[break][break]
Time had robbed her mind of such finesse of detail, atrophying that thread of neglected memory. Regret could be a potent elixir, and she had more than enough of that to spare, all of it drowning the past in a filmy haze of abject denial.[break][break]
"That's just as well. I've never been much for crowds."[break][break]
A crane of her head would bring them face-to-face, too close for her own comfort as breathing stilled with sharp, sudden recognition.[break][break]
Fear pounded frantically in her heart, but her tired body wouldn't obey that screaming instinct to run. This numb terror reflected nonetheless in the horror of her wide-eyed stare, her lips moving though for several moments no sound came out.[break][break]
At long last, she found her voice -- its accusing tenor now possessed of the steeliness of a barbed wire as she glared at him.[break][break]
"What is it that you want?"
[attr="class","ooc"] FERNANDO SILPH[break][break] [attr="class","pkmn"]
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