"I would know it in any world, any life, any form, anywhere in time and space. I would die for these lavender eyes to glitter with warmth - anytime, anywhere."
His words constrict around my heart like golden barbs. The beauty of them excruciating.
...
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When in the throes of love, it is difficult to decipher which one of all those tiny little things that make the one you love who they are, you like, which ones you dislike, or which ones you downright adore or loathe. Every feeling about that one person is so heightened, so incomparably intense that it is difficult to distinguish one emotional opinion from another amidst all that burning depth.
Or maybe it is just me.
Because I am certain that there is nothing about my lavender that I can ever hate, and yet seeing her here, now, stepping into the club - which still thrums with the bone-rattling beats of loud music - dressed in a black turtle-neck, skinny jeans, zipped up leather jacket, boots and leather glovelettes - all black, just like the rest of us who are preparing to end a few lives whenever those witches decide to attack - with her blonde waves pulled into two braids and then clipped into a single tight bun, I am nearly furious at her stubbornness.
I can see the lingering hints of trepidation occasionally flashing in her eyes as she talks to Rauld. I am making no attempts to tune in and eavesdrop on their conversation, as I discuss ammunition preparations, civilian security and offense-and-defence strategies with Vance and a dozen other top warriors and guards.
From the outside, nothing has changed in our thriving, elite community life. Even the fighting ring here is open and has people bursting around its seams with enthusiastic shouts and hollers.
Drinking, betting, dancing, partying, fighting, cheering - nothing is off.
Every other public facility in here is also open and just as crowded as usual - I can hear that in Elliot's words through my earpiece. Vance has one too. Elliot is currently working from his office at his own place. That's the sliest sort of no-security security.
I tear my eyes off of Elle as she makes her way towards our table at one edge of the club, where the noises are the most tolerable.
"We need to station someone with Elliot.", I say as I run my eyes over the list of guard and warrior names for the umpteenth time.
"Even someone without training and with basic defence arms.", Vance adds, because Elliot always has the upperhand of being able to see just what is going on althroughout the packlands, and beyond.
"Someone who can keep an active eye on the footage, too.", Cole, a warrior from our secondary school friend-circle, comments.
Elle knocks on the table twice, making her presence known, since I suppose the clicking of her boot-heels wasn't audible to anyone here except me. I am beyond merely tuned into her every movement even when I am not making an additional effort to be. And the moment she makes her presence known, an automatic air of command surrounding her, every nerve in my whole body stands on edge.
Her scent is everywhere and her presence thickens my blood. My eyes gravitate to her as soon as the table falls perfectly silent. Esmerauld stands right next to his sister, his posture perfectly leisurely and perfectly ready to lunge at anyone who dares so much as scoff in his sister's presence.
