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Nausea threatens to rise up within her system just as small slivers of fear creep up the sides of her neck. With much effort, she swallows down the dizziness and slight horror that had sparked in that very second. Vera can taste the bitterness on her tongue- the unwelcoming flavor of dread and something else she could not defined. Her nails are digging into the soft flesh of her right palm, the only sensation that is not foreign to her.
Vera's other hand lays outstretched in front of her, bright crimson ink woven into each and every single curvature. The lines are a vibrant red against her pale palm, deeply contrasting with the rich blue fabric of the table cloth beneath her hand.
She retraces the red trails, wondering what power they could have possibly possessed that enabled the woman to tell her future. This is a scam. She'snot really going to tell you your future...is she? Her eyes refuse to meet the ones of the woman, and the question that she had asked earlier remains hanging in the air, unanswered.
Vera wants to answer. Words are crawling up her throat, begging to be freed from her unforgiving lips, but she only bites down on her bottom lip to prevent them from escaping. She could feel the two gazes burying themselves into her body, one that is rather familiar and the other that is oddly supernatural.
There is nothing to be afraid of.
Stop being so scared of nothing.
Eventually she forces herself to raise her eyes and meet the unnerving iridescent blues of the woman. They are almost neon like, so bright that they almost hurt to look at. The woman's eyes remind Vera of postcards in convenience stores and the unrealistically beautiful oceans that were printed on them. The woman herself is unrealistically beautiful, her elderly age not yet taking a toll on her appearance.
"Yes." Vera's voice is unrecognizable, even to her own ears. The single word stood unwavering and solid, two things that Vera's other words had usually lacked of. "I am ...ready." This time however, her voice sounds unsure- which gave her an almost relieving sense of familiarity.
The woman remains inhumanly still, frozen in place as if she were frozen in stone by Medusa herself. Her glowing blue crescents continue to hold Vera's gaze for a few agonizing seconds before her eyes snapped shut in the following heartbeat, startling Vera. Even from behind her veiny eyelids, she can see the woman's luminescent irises.
And then Vera hears it. The tinkling sound that could not be described precisely, one that sounded strange and peculiar and breathtaking, one that made her blood run cold and hot at the same time. Her vision begins to blur and is replaced by speckles of blue and plum. The splatters of color in her sight begin to spread, the same way that watercolor unfurls on a canvas. "What...what's happening?" Vera sputters as she finds herself unable to move from her seat. Her body feels light and nonexistent. It's like one of those dreams where you can't move and breath and wake up.
