Forbidden Fruit; ᴇʟιᴊᴀʜ. ᴍ

0.3

{Forbidden Relationships}

She sits outside along the rubble of what could have been a beautiful home, but had fallen victim to a tragic love story of desperation and betrayal. Potential laid in the roots of her mind, the memories of glimpsing at old drawn out designs on aging paper, engraved for an eternity. Marcels one un named love, The most tragic love story he had ever told her.

Her fingers ran along the length of her own biceps, sitting silently with the moon as her companion and her art the stars. Her breath laid stagnant clouds of mist in the cooling air, while she waited in an dreading silence for her company to rejoin her from his duties. Her chest hurt, feeling the lost of the party still fresh when she closed her eyes.

Finally a set of forceful footsteps appeared amongst the ruins of cobble and unused wood, slowly ascending an annoyed and seemingly grief stricken kind as he left his hidden dungeon of betrayal.

Her gaze found his, her body stilling as she ignored the sympathies he shared for her. She wished for sorrow, she believed it would be easier, but she was lifted towards resentment, to anger. "Did you do it?" Her voice was not soft as silk, it were curt with bile lining her tongue.

"Nyla," it took him a Monet to find what could only be comforting words as he walked slowly towards the still well dressed woman. Eventually it seemed to dawn on him that she looked for no comfort in him."He betrayed us."

"There is no us." Her response was to quick, it gave the vampire a head ache. He understood women were complicated, but surely this one could be reasonable. "I'm not a vampire Marcel, I'm not apart of the war your fighting." She stood from the stone she had been perched off, swatting her back of the dirt it had procured."Thierry killed someone for the woman he loves- loved. Now he'll rot, with the memory of her death ingrained to his mind. Do you think that is fair." It wasn't a real question, she didn't want the answer.

"He knows the rules. You know the rules." He gave her the answer any way.

She were flippantly angry, it were not picked solely for Thierry, it were not solely picked for Marcel. It were frustration, over copious years and months of endless confusion and denial she had built up. It were the nights she spent in her bed, cursing herself as insanity for questioning the good will of the people she made family.

Turning her back to the Gerard male, she reached down and quickly began taking her heels of to his confusion. Eventually she had them both slipped of and squeezed between her fingers, as she walked briskly through the shrubbery of the residence land. Her feet connected her to the earth, connected her too her strengths, as he followed behind her like a lost duckling.

"Nyla, what are you doing?" He was tired, Marcel did not have the patience to deal with Nyla's outbursts.

She could have asked any question she liked in the moment, she could stop, pivot , yell. Ask the lingering of her mind from dawn to dusk, not leaving even when asleep.

What did you do to my memory?
I can't remember anything before you, before vampires, or witches. I should, but I don't.
Why am I not scared, why have I never been scared?
Why am I so unhappy when I have, everything.

She could have asked any of them, but her voice betrayed her for the better. Because at this moment she didn't wear her anklet, she didn't drink her teas, she didn't have the strength to believe the man she e saw as her brother, wouldn't compel her if she asked. So she stirred in her body like a storm caught in glass, her lips only forming one sentence.

"I'm taking the car."

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