09-11-2008, 11:14 PM
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It was the scent that made her stop, one that was both strange and all too familiar in one breath. A rush of images flooded her mind, but they were hazy, like aged film. Aurèle’s eyes darkened remarkably fast, turning to a malevolent, murky green. The figure was there, she was as Aurèle remembered (except for the right side of her face, scarred and changed). Shifting her feet and feeling the tension seep into her body, the five-year old pointed her ears forward and frowned.
“Still talking to your imaginary friends, I see,” she said smartly. That had been one thing that always drove Aurèle mad, especially since she had never been able to see these so-called ghosts. [/html]