Tap. Tap tap tap tap tap.
“God, can you stop
that?”
“What?” He looks up from his rhythmic tapping at the
piece of fractured glass, messy brown hair nearly obscuring the equally brown
eyes. Based on coloration, he wasn't the
least bit remarkable.
Me? I know better. Behind those eyes is a personality as inquisitive
as a cat and with all the survival tendencies of a lemming. Thankfully, Marcus
has the intellect to back up that curiosity or else he would be liable to drive
me completely insane. Because he was gifted in the manner of
science, I could rationalize suffering him to live.
Most times. It by no means completely allayed my desire
to punch him in the face sometimes. Like
now.
“Marcus,” I began, my thin
patience fraying at the edges of his name.
“I still have a splitting headache from the last go.”
“Oh.” There’s a slow blink, the idea that what had
been going on being sufficient to give me a migraine being integrated into
whatever else went on in there. He turned his attention back to the glass
fragment, spider-webbed with minute fractures.
Tap. Tap tap.
I take a deep, bracing breath. And then two, just to convince myself that I really am trying.
Tap tap ta-
"Marcus!" The force in my voice causes the fractures to glow briefly and catch ghostfire in some areas. Even that much gets a response from my pounding skull, the pressure ratcheting up a few notches. It also causes Marcus to drop the glass and sit back from the scarred wooden table a little, laughing incredulously.
"Brilliant, Stella! You can still commit that much energy, even after today!" Marcus' tone is excited and pleased. Sometimes it's hard to remember that he's my Keeper. But then Marcus will go and do things like this and it sort of serves as a reminder. We balance the line, Keeper and confidante. Kindler and . . . well, whatever else I am to Marcus. I might be little more than a source of first-hand information for what it's like to be what I am. But I've chosen to trust Marcus.
Sometimes I question that, just the way I question the stylish network of necklaces and bracelets I was placed in by his family when I was made a gift to him years ago.
"Yea, great." My voice sounds grouchy even to me as I press my fingertips to my temples. The hard work was done for today. But tomorrow was the Month Summit.
Tomorrow I would be stuffed like a trussed pheasant into a dress and shown off, an expensive piece of a wealthy family. I sort of prefer the headache.
I take a deep, bracing breath. And then two, just to convince myself that I really am trying.
Tap tap ta-
"Marcus!" The force in my voice causes the fractures to glow briefly and catch ghostfire in some areas. Even that much gets a response from my pounding skull, the pressure ratcheting up a few notches. It also causes Marcus to drop the glass and sit back from the scarred wooden table a little, laughing incredulously.
"Brilliant, Stella! You can still commit that much energy, even after today!" Marcus' tone is excited and pleased. Sometimes it's hard to remember that he's my Keeper. But then Marcus will go and do things like this and it sort of serves as a reminder. We balance the line, Keeper and confidante. Kindler and . . . well, whatever else I am to Marcus. I might be little more than a source of first-hand information for what it's like to be what I am. But I've chosen to trust Marcus.
Sometimes I question that, just the way I question the stylish network of necklaces and bracelets I was placed in by his family when I was made a gift to him years ago.
"Yea, great." My voice sounds grouchy even to me as I press my fingertips to my temples. The hard work was done for today. But tomorrow was the Month Summit.
Tomorrow I would be stuffed like a trussed pheasant into a dress and shown off, an expensive piece of a wealthy family. I sort of prefer the headache.
I like their dynamic. I'm excited to see what comes of them (if anything does).
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