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Wilting in her sorrow,
Cold and hungered, she stands,
Dreading for the 'morrow of dawn.
Rumbling cries lay at her feet,
As a presence beckons,
Her to the heat.
A dagger rests in its palm,
And an evil simper beats,
At the throbbing of her own heart.
The killer, she must had thought,
Stands lone at the creaked door,
With a child's figure at best...
With a horrible shriek, I sprung in the air in fright and panic. My heart matched to the twittering of a bird's song, rummaging through my nerves in a panting reck. Once the beating of my heart returned to its normal pace, I soon found myself laying back in the large archaic bedroom, drenching me in hollow air and crisp thoughts. The strange home caused goosebumps to rise on my pale skin. The room had looked the same; light still poured from the window on the left hand corner, jumping off the walls as if it were a mirror. I still wore the same clothes from yesterday, yet no one laid at my side. The room was empty and lonesome, filling me with bewilder and doubt of the reminiscent night I shared.
The doorknob clattered and rumbled swiftly before me. My heart battered as I stared at the opening door. With a quick ponder, my mind suddenly drifted to a sleepy Harry with messy hair and pajama clothes that were an inky black, a smirk would play at his lips as if he were to say a smart remark. The grip on the bedsheets tightened as I waited impatiently for his arrival.
Disappointment drained my raging heart as a man with blonde hair and dark eyes had stepped into the room. His appearance wasn't modern, yet it was similar to a man who had immense wealth in the early nineteen hundreds. A dark velvety suit was his attire, hanging around his hips and shoulders in elegant confidence. He was the one who talked with Damien yesterday morning, speaking as if he were vain and discerning. His choice of words reminded me of Harry.
He carried a tray in his pale hands, containing a steaming bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice. His glance fell on my own once he'd closed the door. He seemed confused of my stare, almost as if he wasn't sure to why he stood in this room at all. I too felt confused, and uncomfortable of his cold eyes looking at my own. Reassuringly, he smiles a professional smile and sets the tray on the round table.
"If you are comfortable, you may join me at the table." He spoke softly.
I blinked slowly, but soon unwrapped myself from the bedsheets and walked towards the round table. My thoughts immediately mused to how he presented himself. His appearance seemed to draw me into another world, a world filled with dazzling old-fashioned parties; words of wisdom and gossip roamed the rich atmosphere. He made me feel pocketless, as if I were his loyal henchmen ready for another order to oblige to. His aura gave me a strange feeling, and I wasn't sure why.
"To stare at one soul clearly isn't civil," He muttered as he plopped down on the wooden chair. Even as he sat he looked professional. "So, I advise you not to do it."
I immediately flushed and looked down to my bare feet. I fiddled with a loose string on my tank top. "Sorry, but...who are you?"
"Oh, I suppose we didn't have a proper greeting, did we?" He said, unclasping the button from his thick coat. At that, he smiled, showing his purely white teeth. "My name is Chalice, Chalice Rein. And you must be Laihla."
YOU ARE READING
Seraphic||H.S
Fanfiction"Trust you're heart," E.E Cummings had said, "If the see catches fire." But the flames grew with the storm that was soon to pass. Living in a life where stars walked backward was such a simple time, to never feel the luminous glance they had shared...
