table © Mel
wc: 3+
SoSuWriMo: 377
He met her questing gaze, and immediately the woman recognized the fallacy of her assumption - No, Jefferson was not troubled by his current lackadaisical lifestyle. She could see within that orb of acid, shamrock green, the tense shadows of fear; an expression that the healer had an empathic connection to, an emotion that she could see within any walls. Alaine knew fear like she knew her own heartbeat.
That seemed to be the only consistency between their fragile lives. Each waiting for an inevitable ending - He, afraid of the shadows within his past, she, afraid of the shadows that hunted her still. Her mind drifted uneasily to a night previous, when, overcome with the power of all things to end her, she succumbed to the sweet allure of his old world, the shadow world. She thought, swiftly, of Gabriel, and felt her body's responsive warmth. Had Gabriel once hunted this man for the shadows in his one eye? The thought was considerable.
Strangely, Alaine didn't want Jefferson to know of that. Of how she had allowed herself to become, however fleetingly, a tainted thing. She wanted him to think of her with the purity she assumed he already did, and so she kept her silence as he spoke.
Her gaze remained avid on his face, attentive to each flinch of scarred muscles, as he clearly relived that feverish fear. Was this why he had endured such mutilation, and not once sought relief? This self-vengeance? She felt torn. On one side, this was a man she wished to heal - Always, the broken found their way to Alaine. But on the other, her imagination conjured heinous ideas of the man he had once been. She could see it still, the slumbering monster within him.
When the Patriarch's gaze returned to her, the healer narrowed her eyes. His words made her feel strangely sick, as though she had started down a path only to be warned of its gruesome ending, too late for redemption. The path was hers now. It would do nothing but doom you.
"Who were you, Jefferson?" Her voice was small, but she held in the fear they both felt. The oppressive graveyard gloom stifled her accented words. "Who are you afraid of becoming?"
.alaine-winter .ooc {font-style:italic; }
.alaine-winter p {padding:0px 20px 5px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;}
.alaine-winter b {color:#c67a52; letter-spacing:-.2px;}
.alaine-winter {background-color:#f5f5f7; background-image:url(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... r_gift.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; -moz-border-radius: 1em; border-radius: 1em; padding:11px 0px 190px 0px; border:1px solid #000000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, serif; font-size:11px; color:#000000; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:378px; text-align:justify; }
.alaine-winter .separator{width:300px; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:0 auto 5px auto;}
</style>