"she was the type of person who'd explain how she was going to stab you in the front before she actually shoved the knife in... and you'd let her.
she'd probably even pass the knife to you so you can shove it in your own chest...and you would."
tom...
К сожалению, это изображение не соответствует нашим правилам. Чтобы продолжить публикацию, пожалуйста, удалите изображение или загрузите другое.
h e w a s n ' t surprised when he found Evelyn fast asleep on the velvet couch in the corner. She had been up most of the night, he knew, her emotions a warring red that had burned into his skin. He hadn't seen the ring react so aggressively since the previous school year. This summer it had stayed consistent, a light glowing blue that had reminded him of reflected tears, but not once had it been red.
Last night he had thought of ripping the ring off altogether. Tom never thought he would be subjected to this relentless surge of emotion when he had first thought up the rings. He assumed that Evelyn didn't feel much at all, like him, but he had been wrong—something he wasn't so keen on being. Evelyn, it seemed, felt so greatly that the ring had begun to stretch the limits of the original spell. Heating and cooling and sometimes even making Tom feel hollow or angry. He had never wanted this to go so far, and yet when he focused back on Evelyn, he had the protective urge never to remove it from his hand.
He watched from just past the alcove at the way her chest moved rhythmically, up and down. Her cat was lying under the couch, matching her even breathing. There was a large stack of books beside the cat under Evelyn as if she had been researching something. A dark tome lay resting open on her lap.
Tom walked a bit closer, trying to read the names of the books. His curiosity surrounding Evelyn's interests never seemed to be quelled. It was hard to see the titles because of the long gauzy sleeve that had fallen off of the side of the lounge. It made his eyes travel back to her body.
She was dressed in traditional witch fashion, with flowing fabrics and opulent patterns. Her skirt was a heavy fabric that swirled with glittering constellations. Suns and moons swirled within the stars, winking at him from within their stitched confines.
Tom hardly ever saw Evelyn in anything but muggle fashion. She seemed to prefer the shorter skirts and trousers that muggle girls had been known to wear. He often caught her watching what the muggle born students wore outside of classes and a few times, tucked between books containing dark magic, he had seen muggle magazines. Tom didn't understand her fascination with the low-born way of living, but Evelyn made muggle clothing look regal. She looked close to ethereal now in witch dress. Her blonde curls crushed beneath her head only added to making her look angelic.
He stalked closer, ready to lift the book from Evelyn's lap to get a better look at what she had been reading. Tom wondered if she had been reading something that concerned him.
"Please don't touch my book with your filthy hands," Evelyn purred.
Tom didn't even startle, he was used to Evelyn always being one step ahead of him. Having that strange awareness of everything happening around her even while she was sleeping. He looked down at her. She hadn't fully lifted her head up towards him, but her purple eyes glittered through her long eyelashes.
