Be My Champion

Chapter II - Turn Around

Taking a step back from her work, Arlett takes a deep breath and just stares. It's definitely time to rest. It'll dry by morning for pickup, so some shut eye was definitely earned. She tries to turn to get in bed, but her body won't move. Nothing is pushing against her, but a part of her knows something is there. It's surreal. Panic starts to creep in, as what she thought was wind begins to sound like faint breathing behind her. Uncertainty and controlling fear catch her throat. Words start to form in the air and into her mind, as the breathing turns to whispers. "Don't... move..."

Arlett's mind raced with questions, 'Am I crazy? What's going on? Is someone here? They couldn't be, the door and window are both locked, neither opened!' In her peripheral, she can see it's true, the door is still shut, and the window is untampered with. "Don't... try... anything..." the whispers warn once again, more real than last time. 'This is crazy, there's no way this is real, how could it be real?' Her thoughts are in a frenzy at the task of discerning reality from her tired mind, when time seems to stop, as the whole world seems to go silent. The wind is has died down, but the presence is taking shape. Someone is here, and at the soft creak of her bed, Arlett can tell whoever it is is leisurely watching, judging her every move.

Whether a burst of courage or fear, she chokes up a question, "What do you want from me?" Her voice is muffled by caution, the last thing she needs to do is ask too many questions. Her hope is to try and negotiate, maybe whoever's on her bed will listen to reason. A sigh. An all too real sigh answers the question, followed by another creak of the bed frame. There's silence for what feels like hours, but it's broken by a voice, the whispers of the wind showing their true tone. "What do I want?" Repeating the question, the voice is fairly low and feminine, with a tone that Arlett could barely grasp. It was sincere, but all the while a terrifying kind of comforting. The kind that could convince you that it was your friend while it held a knife to your throat and pressed.

"I just want a bit of your time for now, okay? Maybe I'll want more later." The voice trails off as it seems to be getting closer behind Arlett, but there were no footsteps to match the closing distance. A tiny movement flickers in the right corner of her vision, but it seems to slide out of view in a snakelike motion as fast as it entered. The next words get caught in her throat as the air surrounding her suddenly feels heavier. She can tell a body is almost up against hers, as a faint wind lofts against the back of her neck. The voice behind her continues in the same hypnotic tone, "You're quite talented, did you paint all of these?" Only now did it occur to her that she was about to put everything away, and that she was still holding her supplies. A small puddle of purple was beginning to form on the floorboards from the drops from her brush. She hasn't had the time to think about anything but the stranger who's holding her hostage. "Did you?" The voice repeats itself in a slightly firmer tone, now off to Arlett's right.

She hastily nods, worrying for the worst as she's made the threat repeat itself. A glimpse of the voice's figure is in her vision now, but she wouldn't dare look for details. Definitely humanoid, they seemed to be fairly slimly built, with what looked like shoulder length hair with various details and features protruding from their head. The lantern across the room had them painted like a silhouette, with sharp and round features in a contrast that Arlett would paint in her free time. It would be oddly beautiful if the situation were different. Suddenly, a faint movement from the figure causes the feeling of an intense gaze to wash over Arlett's body. She tenses, knowing she's never been bothered by a gaze before, whether threatening, judgmental, or otherwise.

"Are your arms getting tired?" The voice questions in a more caring voice than Arlett was ready for. She nods again, much less rushed and exaggerated than last time. "Stay where you are, but relax your hands for a moment." Confused, but without a reason or method to fight it, she does. Just as her brush starts to slip, a soft scarlet glow emanates from her hands. The brush rises as a translucent hand with color akin to the glow lifts it to the desk, gently placing it down, then returning for the palette. Arlett's eyes widen, as she takes in the surreal feeling of the hand taking her items. "Oh don't tell me you've never seen magic before," the voice remarks, "You must've at some point!"