Author Games: Castle

Task Four Entries

EMERE LANE

There was a slight smokiness to the air, dust floating, created by the cracks of walls against the ground, destroyed by the sheer force of falling. The rubble in itself was the cause of the somewhat murky atmosphere, and with every step, Emere cursed the fog in his eyes.

I need to feel something.

There had been a lot of death- that part had been obvious. But what he didn't expect was the emptiness that came with seeing someone else die, watching as their bodies stilled and their souls were left to cope with something new. Emere didn't really understand what was happening, but he knew he wasn't himself. And he wasn't alone, either, having Jenae there to notice how different he was too. There had been less than a few words spoken between the friends, mostly because Jenae was still upset with him.

"It's because you left me, you prick," she had said when they were reunited after the bloodshed, her arms hesitatingly wrapping around his shoulders, hand slapping the back of his head in the middle of the hug. All he could was apologize, but he didn't. He refused to, because then their relationship would be mended.

He wanted them to feel broken; it'd mean more when one of them was to die.

Emere laughed every once in a while, deteriorated. They were in a closed off room, a scruffy-looking bed sitting in the corner and aged decorations adorning the four walls. Jenae sat on the mattress, and it erupted into a cloud of dust. She choked on it and coughed, her balled hand flying to her mouth, instinct attempting to close off her throat entirely to prevent the dust from crowding her lungs.

It was then, Emere laughed. He watched as his best friend fell to her side on the bed with a red face, and he laughed. Jenae seemed angry at first, but then she followed, softly chuckling until both of them were tired. People watching must've thought it was morbid; if anyone were to see them like they were, the only word able to describe the two was empty.

I need to feel something.

Of course, a smile came to both of them as a result of the dark amusement, yet both knew how void of feeling they were. Emere knew how lackluster Jenae was feeling; Jenae knew how dissatisfied he was. And they both knew how much of a terrible idea it was to come to the castle. For both of them, at this point, they were staying alive because the other was with them.

If Jenae were to die, it'd become different; Emere would change.

The bed they were on wasn't soft. It was hard against their backs, the red blanket doing nothing to appease the discomfort. The two were holding hands, a level of friendship- one nobody wanted to reach- showing itself. They were turning on each other, losing interest in each other, but neither would acknowledge it yet. So, the pair lied together with disinterest.

Until Jenae flinched, hand escaping Emere's and going to her arm. She had felt a sting; it was small, but the shock factor of it made the pain escalate. She sat up, causing Emere to follow, his eyebrows rising at her disgusted expression. She rubbed her palm back and forth on her skin, hissing every time her fingers grazed over the red mark itself.

"We should go," Emere said, trying to get a better look at Jenae's arm. She nodded, and both stood to leave- but there was no created plan of what to do when they really did leave the sanctuary of the dark room. So, they both sat back down, autonomously listening to the doubts in the other's mind.

Then, Emere flinched. His reaction came with a gasp, breathy with an abrupt rasp. He didn't go to rub his shoulder, but scratch it, confusedly looking down to see what was there. Immediately, he saw something black flit away, leaving a pink circle in its wake.