"Then it would seem I need to find out who the master is you serve. And kill him before he can kill me." Selene remained where she was standing behind him. It had been so long since they had been this close and he hadn't moved away from her.
It reminded her of times much more simple. A time when she had love and family. "Shadows. Can you find out more about them? My offer stands, I will pay you double whatever they are offering. Help me find who wants me dead."
Because she was a creature of survival. She would not go down so easily, he was right, there would be a pile of bodies to clean up.
The box in question sat on display along side several ancient Hungarian texts and an ornate vase filled with dark flowers. Inside were peices of the life she had lived. Of the loves she had lost. The mother and father she buried. A ring. A brooch. A lock of hair. Scrap of leather. A note so old the paper was falling apart. When she missed them most she could be found sitting in one of the leather chairs, box in her lap, peering through the items, lovingly letting her fingers touch each of them as if feeling them would make it real. Would make her life feel like less of a dream.
Just like feeling the muscles of his arms tighten and watching the light in his eyes was doing. He was not a dream, not imagery she conjured up in her head, he was real.
She let her hands move from his arms to sneak under them and wrap around his chest. Her face pressed against his back and she took in a breath. "You are real. And not lost to this world. I'd lock you in that box if it were bigger."
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It reminded her of times much more simple. A time when she had love and family. "Shadows. Can you find out more about them? My offer stands, I will pay you double whatever they are offering. Help me find who wants me dead."
Because she was a creature of survival. She would not go down so easily, he was right, there would be a pile of bodies to clean up.
The box in question sat on display along side several ancient Hungarian texts and an ornate vase filled with dark flowers. Inside were peices of the life she had lived. Of the loves she had lost. The mother and father she buried. A ring. A brooch. A lock of hair. Scrap of leather. A note so old the paper was falling apart. When she missed them most she could be found sitting in one of the leather chairs, box in her lap, peering through the items, lovingly letting her fingers touch each of them as if feeling them would make it real. Would make her life feel like less of a dream.
Just like feeling the muscles of his arms tighten and watching the light in his eyes was doing. He was not a dream, not imagery she conjured up in her head, he was real.
She let her hands move from his arms to sneak under them and wrap around his chest. Her face pressed against his back and she took in a breath. "You are real. And not lost to this world. I'd lock you in that box if it were bigger."