[ COMPLETED ]
German Translations Provided By @vanessanats
BOOK 1 of the ORPHIC series
ZEITGEIST
/ˈtsītˌɡīst,ˈzītˌɡīst/
the defining spirit or mood of a particular period of history as shown by the ideas and beliefs of the time.
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"You deserve someone who is intentional and very clear about their feelings for you."
Brooklyn, New York June, 1943
"I'M SORRY," LUCY SAID WITH a nervous chuckle, "hand slipped."
She crouched to the ground and picked up the glittering pieces of shattered glass. She tilted her head to gaze at James, who merely flopped against the couch and buried his face into the comforts of her pillows. When he heard nothing but silence he lifted his head an inch, eyebrows furrowing as he observed her, staring. Then he shut his eyes and smacked his face into the couch again.
Lucy breathed in sharply and she looked down at her hand. She'd been distracted by James and a blade of glass had lodged itself into her palm. She grimaced at the blood dripping onto the floor and clenched her jaw at the glare of pain traveling through her arm. A part of her screamed she was weak, while the logical part was outraged by her low tolerance of pain. She, on the other hand, was relieved by the feeling because it meant her pain threshold wasn't being tested daily. She moved the molecules of the shard and watched as it dissolved into water, before grabbing a kitchen towel, which was hooked onto her oven handle. She covered the blood and grabbed the rest of the broken glass. If she really wanted to, she could turn all the glass into water, but the point of living in Brooklyn was to live as normal as possible, not use her abilities whenever it became convenient.
Besides, if her neighbor saw a floating pot of stew stirring itself, she was sure they'd call the police or figure out if she was a witch- which she wasn't.
She straightened and turned to the sink, running her hand over cold water. It didn't take long for the bleeding to stop, and she could see the halting healing process, molecular structure of flesh mending together at a rather fast pace.
"James?" She said as she turned back to look at the couch.
He replied with a tired grunt and pushed himself to sit up. He looked back at her and placed his chin on the top of the couch.
"Yes'sm?" He mumbled.
Lucy looked back down at the faucet as the water ran clear, the blood from her hand slowly draining in a diluted color of pink. Her hand trembled slightly and she gripped it tightly to stop the motion.
"You're just saying that because you're drunk, aren't you?" She started slowly. "You don't actually think you love me, do you?"
The questions seemed to clear James's mind a bit as he leaned back and stared at her. His lips curled into a soft smile and he shook his head.
