All Of Us - Part 1: Summer

Chapter 4 - Aline

- Evangeline -

I feel exhausted. I have only been here for a day, but everything about this place is beginning to wear me down. The lack of natural light, the stifling lack of freedom, the gray... The dull, drab, choking gray that is everywhere. It is the ceiling, the floors, the walls - all at once with no respite. I would not be the least surprised if I found out I had turned a colorless gray, as well.

Yesterday... I still cannot fathom that I am a prisoner of the rebels. There are no words to describe my complete and total lack of luck. If Sheso does exist, he is not looking out for me.

They have been feeding me well - and plenty, which is surprising. Where do they get all of this from ? In any case, I will not be here for long. I suppose that they will hand me back over to the King, in exchange for a ransom. What exactly ? I know that the Crown has not been able to take any rebels prisoner, so money, perhaps ? Weapons ?

Suddenly, a thought occurs to me, like an explosion in my mind. Oh no.

When they took me here... They did not bother to blindfold my eyes. I am not sure, but I think that if I was asked to, I could probably bring an entire army back here. I swallow. And that was absolutely no mistake. They did not bother to hide their secret location - because I will never have someone to tell it. They are going to kill me.

A sick feeling rolls over me and settles in my stomach. Quick, Evangeline - think about something else. I do not want to think about this.

The rebel currently watching over me is Aline, the red-haired girl. She has been here for over an hour and all she has done is look at me. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I am not habituated to this sort of attention. Just as she did yesterday, her look is one of curiosity - but some of the hate seems to have eroded away. I tilt my head back and look at the gray ceiling. This girl might be a bit more humane than the others. I do not want to think about this.

At first, when she started to stare at me, I would meet her gaze. But every time I saw those green eyes, I would think back, back to Dame Camelia, the throat, and what we were doing at that castle that night. And I donot want to think about this.

Sometimes, it seems as if my mind is a castle. It has hallways and staircases, secret passages and plenty, plenty of rooms. There are no carpets and plenty of lies. I do not like to go there.

The windows are small and I do not know what is outside, apart from a constantly dying light. I never tried to leave. All I did was avoid the many, many bedchambers, and walk around as much as I could. As much as I could, because often doors would slam in front of me or refuse to open, and because often it hurt to walk. It hurts to do anything. Most of all think.

Yet now I have nothing to do. My hands, my arms, my legs, and especially my brain - they are all idle. So they return to the castle in the back of my mind. But I am sick of slamming doors and forbidden rooms, so I try to forget the lies and - worse - the truths which trail me like demons and instead turn focus my attention on the real world.

My gaze lands on something, something pale and wiry. Aline's hand. I want to look away, but something catches my eye. A... tattoo ? It is unrefined, yet elegant in its simplicity. It is composed of a small triangle split by a thick line, a full and an empty circle bordering the stroke on both sides. Without thinking - without thinking at all - I reach out and try to trace it with the pad of my index finger. But I never even get close. Before I know it, a sword is at my throat and the green eyes burn at me. Ah... I had forgotten. Unwillingly, I begin to fidget.

There is a moment of quiet and stillness as she tries to figure out what I was attempting to do. Then her eyes follow my hand and find hers. "Oh..." she exclaims softly.

She looks at her tattoo for a moment, rememorating, and then she - unexpectedly - puts her sword back in its sheath. I start.

At my sudden move, instead of drawing her weapon back out, she slides from the stone on which she was perched and levels herself with me. I need to look into her eyes, so I do. The hatred is all gone, the curiosity mostly as well, and what is left is something I had refused to see but was nevertheless there, beneath the cold emerald color. Kindness.

She reaches out and touches my hand. Instinctively, it reels back. I do not like people touching me.

But I take a deep breath, and - tentatively - reach out. Our fingers touch, and she gently guides my wrist over the top of her hand. My index strokes a triangle with a single line going through its middle, and two circles at each end. The rebels' sign. I am at the end of black ink- there is nowhere left to trace, so she drops my wrist. Our eyes meet. Her irises must be one of the prettiest pairs I have ever seen. She smiles.

"Aline !"

She shoots up into standing position as Ian turns around the corner. Oh no. Not him.

Aline stands, rigid, and nods at the fellow rebel. They walk towards each other, steadily getting closer till it seems that they are about to collide, and then brusquely both go in their own direction - Ian to me, Aline away. They have not said a word to each other - apart from the curt greeting - but any casual observer could tell that these two are very well acquainted with each other. Despite their drastically different physiques, they look like siblings.

I watch Aline walk away till I cannot anymore. I can hear Ian collapsing on the stone with a sigh, before he looks at me.

"So... We meet 'gain, princess."

I close my eyes to not have to gaze at him. But behind my eyelids, his picture still shines out clearly - his dark face, his darker eyes. His scar.

"Ignoring me, huh, princess ? Or can I call yah Evangleine ?"

He guwaffs far too loudly and I wince.

"Yah right to close yer eyes, princess. Yah right. If I saw 'em, who knows what I might do, huh ? I might, oh, dunno, gouge 'em out ? Oh, and then I can feed 'em to birds, huh. Oh no, better ! Back to yah ! Yah can't see, so I can cut 'em and put 'em in a plate and show eeeeveryone that yah eating yer own damned red eyes. An' then I would chop off yer finger, one by one. Feed 'em to yah as well ? Nah, that ain't original enough. Hmmm... Ah, sell them back to yer Father ! That bastard would get what he deserves, and so would yah. Now, yer teeth..."

I need to get out of here.

I need to get out.