1 | Quake

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Before Thorn knew what he'd done, he'd wounded up at the front of a door. Not just any door; it belonged to another's room, where the three oldest elementals lived.

The wooden door was worn down, and the edges were splintered and dry. The brass knob began to rust, creaking loudly as he turned it.

The lights were on. A figure was sitting in the front of a table, but he turned abruptly at the sound of the door's opening.

Quake's eyes darkened when he recognized Thorn's face.

"What are you looking for?"

Quake's voice was soft, but the exhaustion in it was barely hidden. Despite barely having the energy to continue a conversation, he looked up to face Thorn's eyes—innocent and stubborn, just how he was before the wars.

"Do you know where they are?" Thorn asked like it was obvious. "Our friends, I mean."

"Thorn," Quake growled firmly, standing and leaning over to Thorn's head, "how long has it been?"

With a finger, he brushed most of Thorn's hairs away, but he can't seem to find what he was looking for.

"I don't know, why?"

Quake sighed, taking his hand away from Thorn's hair. He folded his arms on his chest, but his eyes didn't meet Thorn's. Whatever he was looking for wasn't found, and it seemed to change his perspective on Thorn's figure entirely.

Quake's silence infuriated Thorn—he could barely remember him ever being so dismissive towards him. The only memory he had involving Quake was his warm, kind smile he always showed to him. Now, it was like he could care less about him and the world around them.

Sinking back to his chair, he looked more of a mess than ever. His clothes were clean, and so was his hair and face, but it was the mere sight of him that led Thorn to think that he was a total mess.

Thorn's stature remained firm. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, mouth running dry. "Did I do something wrong?"

He remembered that Quake would always be beyond furious whenever he and his close friends screw up in front of him. But now, Quake barely uttered a word. It frightened him.

"Nothing's wrong," Quake snapped, turning back to his table. "Just leave."

Thorn didn't understand Quake's behaviour one bit. It was as if he was replaced by a completely different person. An alien, perhaps. An impostor wearing the face of his dear friend.

Ooh, what's this feeling in my chest? Hurt? Fear?

Ah, yes. The cat in the nightingale's nest. Poison in the guise of beauty.

How peculiar.

When Thorn left the room, however, he was greeted by a destroyed house. The roof was falling apart, and the floors were shattered and dusty.

Somewhere, on a forgotten wall, hung a frame. There were only few glass shards attached to the frame, dusty and barely see-through. The picture was torn, exactly where the faces were supposed to be.

As he left the broken and battered house, the picture frame finally fell of the wall, and shattered on the ground. 

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘺  [✔️]Where stories live. Discover now