He wasn’t…human. At all.
That was my first thought. A young man decked in a long black coat had made his way into the clearing and was half-carrying me, one arm still extended and holding a silver, weird-looking gun. It awed me that he’d killed those creatures with a single shot, but only after I’d overcome the initial shock of seeing him. Again: Not. Human. His narrow (admittedly pretty) face was paper-white just like his pearly, shoulder-length hair. He gazed out of two narrowed, blood-red eyes and all over his face were thick, inky black lines, simple and symmetrical markings that looped and flowed down his neck. He flashed me a white, apologetic smile (no fangs, I thought with some relief) and started talking. Did I say talking? No, he started chattering, fast and confusing; in gibberish I couldn't understand. As I tried telling him that, he carefully set me on the ground, knelt, and reached into a pocket of his coat.
"Hey. Hey. Creepy...goth...albino zombie boy. Tell me, nice and slow, where the hell I am,” I half-shouted, as if he'd understood me if I was louder. He looked up with a little smirk, said a bit more gibberish, and pulled out a bandage. He poured something from a little glass bottle onto it before carefully rolling up the cuffs of my pants and wrapping it around my gaping wound. Almost instantly, the pain began to fade. Good, I thought. He wasn't trying to kill me. Quite the opposite. As the wound healed in seconds with nothing more than a little scar, he helped me to my feet like a perfect gentleman, talking the whole time and making no sense. But he was smiling, and when I stood he got back onto his knees and kissed my hand. Despite all that had happened, I laughed.
"Listen, I...thanks, but who are you and do you speak English?" I tried, a little softer and a little slower.
Finally, a word, a sound, which I understood: "Oh!" He seemed to be reminded of something, and pulled another bottle out, and offered it to me. When I hesitated, he tugged the lid off and drank a little of its pink contents before holding it back out. With a shrug I took a careful sip of the bitter stuff.
"What was that?" I wondered aloud. I knew what I'd said, yet out of my mouth poured something completely unintelligible. With a squeal I clamped my hand over my mouth. "What the--" more gibberish sounds. “What did you do?!”
That was my first thought. A young man decked in a long black coat had made his way into the clearing and was half-carrying me, one arm still extended and holding a silver, weird-looking gun. It awed me that he’d killed those creatures with a single shot, but only after I’d overcome the initial shock of seeing him. Again: Not. Human. His narrow (admittedly pretty) face was paper-white just like his pearly, shoulder-length hair. He gazed out of two narrowed, blood-red eyes and all over his face were thick, inky black lines, simple and symmetrical markings that looped and flowed down his neck. He flashed me a white, apologetic smile (no fangs, I thought with some relief) and started talking. Did I say talking? No, he started chattering, fast and confusing; in gibberish I couldn't understand. As I tried telling him that, he carefully set me on the ground, knelt, and reached into a pocket of his coat.
"Hey. Hey. Creepy...goth...albino zombie boy. Tell me, nice and slow, where the hell I am,” I half-shouted, as if he'd understood me if I was louder. He looked up with a little smirk, said a bit more gibberish, and pulled out a bandage. He poured something from a little glass bottle onto it before carefully rolling up the cuffs of my pants and wrapping it around my gaping wound. Almost instantly, the pain began to fade. Good, I thought. He wasn't trying to kill me. Quite the opposite. As the wound healed in seconds with nothing more than a little scar, he helped me to my feet like a perfect gentleman, talking the whole time and making no sense. But he was smiling, and when I stood he got back onto his knees and kissed my hand. Despite all that had happened, I laughed.
"Listen, I...thanks, but who are you and do you speak English?" I tried, a little softer and a little slower.
Finally, a word, a sound, which I understood: "Oh!" He seemed to be reminded of something, and pulled another bottle out, and offered it to me. When I hesitated, he tugged the lid off and drank a little of its pink contents before holding it back out. With a shrug I took a careful sip of the bitter stuff.
"What was that?" I wondered aloud. I knew what I'd said, yet out of my mouth poured something completely unintelligible. With a squeal I clamped my hand over my mouth. "What the--" more gibberish sounds. “What did you do?!”
“That was to fix your voice," he replied. I gasped again. He still spoke that gibberish but I completely understood him. He seemed really freaking amused at my shock. “Relax,” He laughed again and just stood there, eyeing me. “It’s a…spell, infused into the water,” he explained.
“A spell…” I repeated in disbelief. It really would do no good to explain what was going through my mind, because it was pretty blank with confusion by that point.
“You should be hearing me talk in your language, right now. Are you?” His eyes were quizzical, darting left to right as if he were reading me. I nodded. “Good. A friend of mine made it, I'm no good at this stuff.” He shrugged and smiled again. “Now…your name?”
“A spell…” I repeated in disbelief. It really would do no good to explain what was going through my mind, because it was pretty blank with confusion by that point.
“You should be hearing me talk in your language, right now. Are you?” His eyes were quizzical, darting left to right as if he were reading me. I nodded. “Good. A friend of mine made it, I'm no good at this stuff.” He shrugged and smiled again. “Now…your name?”
“It’s…Chastity,” I mumbled, still baffled. He gave me a wide, boyish grin and started looking closer at me. I stood stock-still as he kept scanning me with those unsettling red eyes.
“I love this color,” he murmured, grabbing a lock of my hair, sniffing it. I stared at him with a puzzled frown. “Auburn, is that’s what it’s called?”
“I…think?” He let my hair fall back down to my shoulders. He put two hands on my face, tilting it downward and gazing at me a little more. Not wanting to offend him and get my neck snapped, I went ahead and let him.
“Green eyes,” he muttered to himself. I thought he sounded a little disappointed. “Well, you’re pretty, anyway. And…” he started running his hands down my sides. Some weird custom, I figured, but I backed away from him just as his hands reached my hips. He looked a little startled that I did, but a rush of pale pink formed on his high-boned cheeks. “I’m sorry…I just…” He went from flustered to serious again. “Right. Just follow me, I’ll explain everything.”
“I love this color,” he murmured, grabbing a lock of my hair, sniffing it. I stared at him with a puzzled frown. “Auburn, is that’s what it’s called?”
“I…think?” He let my hair fall back down to my shoulders. He put two hands on my face, tilting it downward and gazing at me a little more. Not wanting to offend him and get my neck snapped, I went ahead and let him.
“Green eyes,” he muttered to himself. I thought he sounded a little disappointed. “Well, you’re pretty, anyway. And…” he started running his hands down my sides. Some weird custom, I figured, but I backed away from him just as his hands reached my hips. He looked a little startled that I did, but a rush of pale pink formed on his high-boned cheeks. “I’m sorry…I just…” He went from flustered to serious again. “Right. Just follow me, I’ll explain everything.”
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