The Second (The Immortal Prophecies: Book I)

IX. Guenevere

Crouching down beside my bed, I blindly felt underneath, reaching for the old journal. One I recognized it, I slid it over towards me, its worn leather cover greeting me again. I flipped through the filled pages, leaning back on the bed, reminiscing all my drawings from the moment I began to experience my nightmares. Though now I realize it could be a side effect, as I led myself to believe.

Or could it?

After my little adventure (and grabbing an application from said coffee shop so early in the morning), I still hadn't worked any restlessness to begin a slumber of any kind and continued my unfinished attempt at art, having nothing else to do.

But now, I felt the need to add more to the mirror and crown--a face. So, grabbing the equally ancient pencil, I began to drag it in an irregular beat around one of the few blank spaces, listening to the hushed swoosh the lead made against paper every once in a while. My mind kept rhythm with my heart beat, urging me to finish the image in my head like it had limited time to do so. Sweaty palms continued the dance between my drawing, my eyes following, checking until a vivid, accurate portrayal took over the page I had gone crazy in.

Her eyes.

They never managed to escape from my thoughts, whether I was going crackers or if she actually existed like he did. The thought made me long for them, whoever and wherever they were, squeezing my heart. Deciding it was enough, I put the journal back to its dusty resting place (where my job application was as well), and dressed quickly. It was another day, I wouldn't let myself get lost in a dwindle of past thoughts.

Princess, I heard him repeat. Blast.

It's another day. And I wouldn't let myself be troubled by any thoughts at all. There.

***

I walked down the stairs, embracing myself in the jumper I placed on, the warmth of my trousers that much more comforting. For a moment, I wondered why I was so anxious meeting Lincoln again--I had managed to get back on good terms with him, thankfully. Plus, he seemed relieved that I had, even if I almost gave him a shiner through his intrusion. The last thing I wanted was to recieve the wrong end of his anger, or worse. Pushing the forming thought away, I began to depuzzle my question, hoping the awful feeling in my stomach would vanish. What could he want to--right.

That explained the Princess moniker.

As much as I hated to admit it, a small part of me was beginning to slowly digest the fact that the stupid myth could be actually true, which nearly caused all my body functions to cease working. And that all logic was going to stop existing soon enough if I kept at it at this pace. Perhaps I should've attempted to sleep before I decided to talk--brilliant! I breathed in and out in an insane fashion before finally holding a lungful and pushing the door aside and facing my living infernal head on.

I found an aspect of it relaxing on a chair, his head leaning back with the figure, revealing his neck out into the open for me to stare at. It was literally all I could do--stare. At first, I wasn't sure if he was actually unconscious in sleep, until I moved closer to find his eyes closed (with shades of violet right under) and a slight sound quivering his parted lips.

I must have taken longer than I expected.

My attention occupied by his snoring, and the curious manner in which he could shut his eyes in the seat, I failed to notice someone enter the room.

"Hey," Alex said, causing me to yelp when he touched me unexpectedly. I spun around, putting a hand over my chest to ease the hard breathing. He showed me a mischievous smirk, to which I responded with a scowl.