The eyes turned in the cottage, rotating towards and away from her. Unnerving, but never blinking, never daring to miss a single second of her life less it be the moment that changed the course of her life. The eyes, their blind spots, and the center of their focus in the small little alcove of the world where she wasted her days grasping vines to hold onto her life with. Eyes that trained away from her when she closed her, betraying the home and venturing beyond. Daring to leave and waste away in a place with no eyes, but people who gazed onwards, towards, before glancing away lest they were caught.
She could almost lie to herself and pretend that the weight of the eyes were gone from her, that she freed herself from those unblinking servants who made sure there was never a hair out of place. But then she ventured into a town and cozied with strangers, she salted her room and spoke of before – the strange before that had never been before before – calling the windows to frost as if laughing at her. Laughing as she uncoiled, relaxing into the warmth of a room and bed again, to the familiar language of people rather than plants or animals that she had long turned away from. Only one person spoke to her (only one person she could speak to before.)
But the window laughed behind the salt and she stayed tense, and in the darkness of the forest she almost convinced herself that the figure looked almost the same. Not human, but spiders, still chilling. Mocking her as she turned away, shutting her eyes and smiling on, painting happiness and freedom onto her features.
And the worst part of it all? She almost convinced herself it was a fluke? Nothing more. Paranoia that went too rampant in her head. A product of her nerves as she delved into a world she never ventured before. Her brain reeling her into what she knew rather than what she wanted to experience. Because it couldn't possibly be true, could it? There could be no grasp on her now. She was gone. She had traveled far and wide, she existed in another realm now. She spoke little of before and only of herself if it came down to it, and nothing else mattered. Nothing could harm her here.
While she may be traversing a precarious situation with the law, taking up a smuggling job to Demia, she was safe from what would hurt most.
Until the eyes came back.
She had relaxed, too much, far too much, she realized now. She deluded herself into believing she was safe. Gallant looked around for who was staring at them, and almost like a joke, she shrugged. "I always feel like someone's watching me." A little giggle would've escaped her lips as well, perfectly nonchalant and unaware, shaking off her traveling companion's worries for being watching because it seemed nonsensical.
A ridiculous notion as her lips curved upwards until the ripples of the water slowed and the conversation around her muffled like her hearing was being lost. And then the low voice: Fynn...
Begging her, drawing her in.
The grin on her lips dropped, and she could've sworn her heart skipped a beat as well. Her name – that voice. The same, sickeningly sweet and soft tone that drew her in. My Fynn, the voice of her mother beckoned, eager to draw her into conversation – hers. It was always too sweet, with the tip of her finger on Fynn's chin, holding her close and so close to nurturing, acting as if she cared.
My Fynn.
The fair girl, her fair girl. No – not anymore. No – she was her own. She chose to keep Fynn, and it was hers, no one else's. And she wasn't anyone's either.
I'm worried.
The voice was so far away, but so close. Like the laughing window and the spiders. It kept its distance but was still too close, she was still too close. In an impossible way that shouldn't be. There was a realm between them, and yet that voice was still in her ear calling her home in a way that she acted in ways she didn't want.
It's real, but not here – there was still distance and denial. She ignored the sweet voice calling her home, though she called her mother, she didn't want her. She wanted out, and she wanted to stop being watched.
Submerging under the water, she covered her eyes as if to cover the others. The window and door were salt lined again and she held Monty to her chest. No one could get to her lest she wanted them to, and she could keep them far away.
