05-27-2014, 08:57 PM
The train carried onward, and Elias swayed gently with the movement. Her answer gave him pause. The mist had a chill about it, but not one born of droplets hovering in air, the sensation was mental, as though the creature twined those smokey fingers through their brains rather than their hands.
Yes, he shook his head in agreement. Cold disorientation was an apt description for the Ijiraq. Tehya's expression suddenly shifted; a warning before a proclamation.
Her words, "It spoke to you, Elias. It vowed to come back,"
were feathered with the sinister sounds of dark premise. For the first time in the conversation, since they exchanged looks when Connor jumped the tracks, he was uncomfortable with her attention. It shivered like fine hairs brushed on the back of his spine.
"Connor gets to walk away because he can. Because he should. You can't. And I won't."
Words of wary invoked suspicion. With the warning came the urge to rise to the occasion. To what end, other than continuance of their conversation, he did not know. Tehya was the sole connection to another human being he had in Moscow that lasted more than the few minutes it took to pass a store register or scan a passport; brought together by a series of strange circumstances, and locked in a steel subterranean tube.
"I hope it does return. I want to try something."
His hand curled into a fist; not of anger, as no accompanying expression darkened his features, but one of power. Of control. "It was like holding a raging storm in the palm of my hand."
The murky glaze faded from his eyes, refocused upon Tehya. His arm returned to his lap. "Imagine the power to turn a hurricane the other direction."
His voice trailed. Curious.
Yes, he shook his head in agreement. Cold disorientation was an apt description for the Ijiraq. Tehya's expression suddenly shifted; a warning before a proclamation.
Her words, "It spoke to you, Elias. It vowed to come back,"
were feathered with the sinister sounds of dark premise. For the first time in the conversation, since they exchanged looks when Connor jumped the tracks, he was uncomfortable with her attention. It shivered like fine hairs brushed on the back of his spine.
"Connor gets to walk away because he can. Because he should. You can't. And I won't."
Words of wary invoked suspicion. With the warning came the urge to rise to the occasion. To what end, other than continuance of their conversation, he did not know. Tehya was the sole connection to another human being he had in Moscow that lasted more than the few minutes it took to pass a store register or scan a passport; brought together by a series of strange circumstances, and locked in a steel subterranean tube.
"I hope it does return. I want to try something."
His hand curled into a fist; not of anger, as no accompanying expression darkened his features, but one of power. Of control. "It was like holding a raging storm in the palm of my hand."
The murky glaze faded from his eyes, refocused upon Tehya. His arm returned to his lap. "Imagine the power to turn a hurricane the other direction."
His voice trailed. Curious.