The Novelist

Borage

Muses. How many of there were there? No, I don't remember much of those tales.

It's strange to think that of all the things that I could come to consider, I had to dwell to believe in muses.

I closed my eyes and summoned the last vision to fill the darkness beneath my eyelids with golds and whites.

I was again seated on the chair, bounded by walls, as the godlike woman stared down at me with mirth And told me how exciting the story was.

She kept mentioning the story. I wonder if she perhaps used it as a metaphor to describe life in general?

Something I'd expect from her maybe.

"It's always fun to intervene in stories like these just a little, however, you know? It somewhat feels like a paradox. Not quite but oh nevermind." She  had chuckled out before the air filled with a strange, frangrance. A loud, sharp yet soothing fregrance. Like a drug. Almost. To say it was intoxicating would be correct.

"Yes. Remember this fragrance Dear. And the colour of me? Yes. That would be right. They are associated. Just like you and Noah." Her voice was very soothing to my ear. Almost lulling, but somehow capable to keep my at attention.

"Noah...?" I questioned.

"Yes. The deciever." She said and gasped and placed her hand on her mouth.

"Oh my. Never mind me." A giggle left her.

Deceiver? I had wondered as my eyes fluttered open to look at the man of the discussion.

I'm not much of a drinker but tonight certainly was different. My body was a wobbly. I was convinced, it was an indication that even if my mind could be persuaded, my body was having enough of the strain. And that was one of the reasons, I was down in the hotel bar, drinking all sorts of heavy highballs.

One of the reasons, must I highlight.

About twenty feet away from me was the same man I have been with for the last 30 minutes and a supposed lifetime, cheerily mingling and having fun. The easiest way to understand my feelings was to declare I was falling for this man but then, even a lie as pleasing as that needs substantial support and I knew I had none. The connection I felt with this man before me...it was not love, or adoration, or attraction or respect.

No, the feeling was strangely close to hate and envy yet not so strong. It was a mixture of feeling the need to not ever see him in my life and the want to study every move he made.

I was afraid of the man before me and at the same time, I knew I was meant to be with no one else but him.

The moment I relived the last vision in my mind, my body tingled and my legs felt numb. It was a strange occurance to me, when I chose to believe a vision over the reality, but my visions have proved themselves to me. Noah Macks has not. I laid my head on the counter, watching the raven shuffle around, watching as his eyes slowly landed on me and his expression changed immediately. A flash of indifference and confusion wisped away and he send a glimmering grin at me before making his way beside me, placing his hands gently on my back.

"Anne. Would you like to go up to your room? I'd say you've had quite enough to drink." His hands petted my back. I nodded my head, unable to move much. His breath hit my face, the heat of his presence made me believe that he too, has been drinking heavily.

"That would be nice." I said. He shot me a genuine smile before touching my arm.

"May I?" He questioned and I nodded back. Softly, he pulled my arm around his shoulder and his other hand snaked around my stiff waist. I staggered along with the taller male, his legs moving quickly on the dark floor that mirrored the changing hues of the colourful lights.

"I've had quite a lot to drink myself tonight. Don't mind me if I seem a bit...tipsy." he spoke before letting out a small giggle. I observed something. His usual nervous demeanor that he held up around me, the way he would block out his exact thoughts when I am around...it was fading to non existent.

It was like a window of opportunity that the fates presented me with. Maybe this was a way for me. To find out what the woman in lavender meant.

"I take it, you aren't used to drinking?" The mirth in the man's tone was transparent. I uncosciously had let myself lose and couldn't find much strength to attain my composure back.
"No." I whispered softly, my hand that wrapped around the male's shoulder, gripping onto the soft fabric of his jacket. The hallways were mostly deserted, and the only people I could spot were the ones, leaning on their doors for a smoke.

"You could have called on me earlier. A sophisticated young lady like you shouldn't get too drunk in an unfamiliar area. Times aren't too good are they?" Macks huffed.

"Times aren't good. People shouldn't be trusted. Everyone lies." My words were a  bundle of murmur. Soft and slurred, altogether. Too heavy with honesty. Too blank with innocence. I felt the closeted liar flinch at my side as the intense sensory overload creeped upto my buzzing ear.

"I cannot agree more Anne. But must I say I am beginning to endear the vocal colour of your personality pallette." Macks was strolling into the elevator, his romanticism seeping through his conversation making. The sarcastic mirth of his rhymes stabbing at me like daggers. He was aware and it scared me. The elevator door slided shut as the metal cage flew upwards and 'Fur Elise' hummed like a swan song to my funeral.

"Macks. The story, of me, may I say...what names have you thought for its title?" I questioned. The drunken raven eyed me. The dim lights created a sillohouette of the male, it's dark emanations, however did not match that of the smile he shot at me.

"I would love to ask that question right back to you. What might you suggest, Anne? Should I name it after you?" He questioned. I shrugged nonchalantly.

The elevator tinged and the man gripped me closer and dragged me out towards the familiar halls.

"I had thought of something different, however." He noted as we walked to towards his door, and mine.

"Pray tell." I hummed, leaning on my door, as we reached it. He gently turned the knob to my door, allowing me in, while he remained outside.

"A trail of Borage... perhaps." He leaned on the door, smirking.

"Borage...huh?" My mind flashed me a vision of a flower. Something I have recently come in familiarity with. Ever since Noah Macks.

The smirk that made its way on his features lead me to believe that the alcohol let him leave clues for me.

"Goodnight Anne." The ravenette straightened himself before walking back to his suite.

"Goodnight Ma... Noah." I hummed before locking in my door. I staggered towards the coffee table to reach the provided notepad. My hands, shaking.
A somewhat comprehensible word stained the blank sheet as I struggled to keep my eyes open and my brain function.

Drunk, horrified, wronged, curious.

My head wove a story that was a strange meshwork of all of the above.

After having written it down, I fell on the large leather couch and allowed myself to be swallowed into the abyss of sleep. My head, laid beside the open notebook, with a clue. A single word. A word that could lead me to reason.

A flower. If I remember right.

Borage.