[THIS STORY WILL BE TAKEN DOWN ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2024]
He had hunted me, captured me, and locked me in a tower.
Season 3 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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While in RISING, Tabitha discovers something peculiar that may assist Nelle in her plan to escape the...
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Graysen whirled around, but I couldn't see him through the waves of tears. I couldn't speak through the thickness choking my throat. He came to stand before me and I hurriedly brushed the wetness away and gazed upward into a cruel expression. He couldn't comfort me, but I saw the desperation and urge to do so in the depths of his eyes.
So he did what he could, he angled himself closer so no one could see that his hand brushed against mine. His warm fingers curled around my trembling ones and he gave a reassuring squeeze
"It's j-j-just..." I tried to say.
"I know," he murmured quietly.
I hiccuped, rubbing at my prickling nose with my free hand. "I've h-hardly ever b-been out by myself." Only once before, and that was with Graysen too. My family had rarely taken me to the city and I'd never been allowed to roam free.
People flowed all around us and I drank in the chatter of their conversation—Should we cook dinner or go out to eat?; I wish I could, I've got overtime to do tonight to get the damn accounts done for my boss; Watch out Milly, your shoelaces are untied!—and soaked up the thrill of anticipation from those about to enter the market with its electric energy sparking inside. My heart ached in misery, but it also was saturated in radiant joy to finally be part of life.
I used the ends of my scarf to dry my eyelashes and sucked in a deep breath. Straightening my spine, I collected myself and whispered to Graysen. "I'm okay." My skin tingled at the soft stroke of his thumb across the back of my hand, the tightening of his warm fingers around mine before he let go.
Graysen stepped away, keeping that cold, disinterested mask in place, but he kept flush at my side, and together we entered the market.
This was the day market, the counterpart to the Night Bazaar that was held down by the lakeside with its fire breathers and fireworks scoring across the black-felt sky. My pace slowed down as I stared upwards in awe. The pitched ceiling was hidden behind giant papier-mâché clouds. All kinds of birds hung below the fluffy clouds. An albatross with its gigantic wings glided above a sharp-eyed hawk chasing a swift flying swallow. And down below on the market floor were brightly striped tents pitched beside one another. A robin-red tent stood between one in jade and another cheery tent striped in duck egg blue. Some of the artisans were creating their wares while the market was underway, and patrons watched in admiration as clay was molded into the rudimentary shape of a vase on one of those old-fashioned pottery wheels, the pink-haired artist pumping the wooden pedals to make it spin faster.
I left Graysen behind to hurry down an avenue between a row of silky tents, my senses captivated by everything around me. A busker dressed in a mock-tattered suit with a crumpled top hat strolled by strumming a mandolin, and up further came the reedy sound of someone teasing out a melody with pan flutes, while street performers dressed as animals with macabre masks and exaggerated limbs strode by on stilts. Bones were tossed into the air as they juggled them to entertain a gaggle of giggling children.
