[/html]Bizarrely colored eyes watched the blood soak through the scarfs various layers of fabric, oozing and dripping as it made its way down her arm. The woman’s charming voice barely achieved recognition in the hybrid’s mind; the organ was temporarily incapable of rendering normal thought relevant to this encounter. Instead, a hazy vision of Ezra’s ghost bewitched his senses. The ghost giggled in his mind’s eye, and disappeared. He looked up. His features gave away no sign of emotion. Instead, his expression was blank. Perhaps giving this woman the scarf given to him by his ex-lover would lessen the pain. Perhaps.
When he realized the stranger asked him a question his eyes trailed over to the woman.“An acquaintance I met on the road years ago,” he said plainly, his words as dull as his appearance. However, when the woman gave her identity, his emotions started pouring back into his soulless body. “Wretch,” the word felt strange in his mouth. What sort of mother gives their own flesh and blood a permanent title of misery? The hybrid stood there, perplexed, wondering what sort of world this really was.
“Call me Ezra,” he said after a few moments, concerned at the utterance of sir. “I was in Cour des Miracles for about a year, but my family and I relocated to Halifax during the winter to live with a friend after Eli’s mother…” the word made his throat hurt until he forced it all down with a jagged lie that cut through the air between the Rosens like a knife: “died.” Ezra could feel his son’s burning gaze on his back. He chose to ignore it. “I’m currently in the process of finding a new home, actually. What about yourself?” He had heard of the D’Angelos before. It was impossible to find anyone in the area who didn’t know about the mad family that ruled the north. Still, he did not judge her yet.
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