Seraphine stirred against the warmth of Malik’s arm, her body taut with the kind of tension that comes from waking up somewhere unfamiliar, wrapped in someone else’s scent, wearing someone else’s clothes. The cotton shirt felt soft against her skin, but its foreignness unsettled her; she clutched at it instinctively, her fingers curling into the fabric as she tried to orient herself. Had he really undressed her? The heat of embarrassment spread throughout her, cheeks burned while she tried to put an inch of decency between them.
Her breaths came fast and shallow, the edges of panic clawing at her chest until the scent of him came in steady, grounding, familiar in a way that shouldn't stir the uncanny calmness, washing over her senses. It was confusing, disarming. The part of her mind that was always on guard seemed to quiet, lulled by his presence. Yet the quiet came with a gnawing discomfort, a struggle against the clarity that lingered just out of reach.
She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper as she tilted her head back slightly to catch his gaze in the dim candlelight. It quickly shifted back to the cot and then the rest of the room.
Her mind reeled with fragments of memory—her own voice, but sharper, more forceful than she remembered it ever being. Hands moving, actions that felt half her own and half… something else. And then the blackness. The abyss that followed left her feeling as if she were hollowed out, her soul brushed by a force she couldn’t name, something ancient and hungry.
Her fingers pressed against her temple, her exhaustion palpable as the curse inside her stirred faintly. It didn’t gnash its teeth or strain against her control. Instead, it rested. It was content, subdued. The strange calmness unnerved her almost as much as the memories she couldn’t piece together.
She twisted slightly in his grasp, her voice trembling as she continued,
She closed her eyes, the weight of the night pulling at her. But even as her exhaustion begged her to rest, her heart thudded with the question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to: What am I becoming?
@Malik Vrai
Her breaths came fast and shallow, the edges of panic clawing at her chest until the scent of him came in steady, grounding, familiar in a way that shouldn't stir the uncanny calmness, washing over her senses. It was confusing, disarming. The part of her mind that was always on guard seemed to quiet, lulled by his presence. Yet the quiet came with a gnawing discomfort, a struggle against the clarity that lingered just out of reach.
She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper as she tilted her head back slightly to catch his gaze in the dim candlelight. It quickly shifted back to the cot and then the rest of the room.
What… what did I do?Her words quivered, laced with dread.
What was that?
Her mind reeled with fragments of memory—her own voice, but sharper, more forceful than she remembered it ever being. Hands moving, actions that felt half her own and half… something else. And then the blackness. The abyss that followed left her feeling as if she were hollowed out, her soul brushed by a force she couldn’t name, something ancient and hungry.
Her fingers pressed against her temple, her exhaustion palpable as the curse inside her stirred faintly. It didn’t gnash its teeth or strain against her control. Instead, it rested. It was content, subdued. The strange calmness unnerved her almost as much as the memories she couldn’t piece together.
She twisted slightly in his grasp, her voice trembling as she continued,
I don’t… I don’t remember enough. Just flashes. And now I’m here, in your clothes, in your bed.Her voice broke, soft and unsure.
Why? What is so wrong with me, Death follows me every… everywhere?
She closed her eyes, the weight of the night pulling at her. But even as her exhaustion begged her to rest, her heart thudded with the question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to: What am I becoming?
@Malik Vrai
Yesterday, 05:56 PM
