Immortal Tales #Wattys2020

Chapter Eight

Helen

Helen almost collapsed on the wooden floor of their momentary house. The ground was dusty and disused, but she felt so grateful she almost kissed it. Her legs were wobbly from the effort, but she forced herself to continue until Andre's bedroom.

She let her friend fall onto the covers as delicately as possible and the tucked his unconscious body in between the covers. She knelt next to his bedside table in search from one his miraculous ointments. As she opened the cabinet she cursed him for not being more clear with his stupid labelling.

Helen grabbed the first vase that said "Kind of useful" and smelled it. If it was as useful as it was disgusting, then Andre would feel amazing. Is this were the dead pigeons that they found in their backyard ended up?

She took another labelled "Probably not a smart idea", while another one just said "Hahahahahha".

She swore on her immortal life that she would slap Andre as soon as he woke up.

The boy had stayed silent until then, a shadow in the night. -I think I can help. - he said with his soft words.

Helen growled so low it could have been a wolf sound instead of human. Helen? No, this wasn't Helen. This was the immortal soul inside behind the mask.

-I could have killed you already, don't you think? - he asked leaning closer to Andre's body. The girl let him pass.

He put his hand over Andre's forehead and with the other grabbed the ointment that said "Probably not a smart idea".

When he opened the cap, a pungent smell of ashes was released into the room. The girl looked as he spread some over his fingers and then onto the Andre's lips.

His mouth was black with the dye, but his eyes fluttered as magic was transferred onto his body. Helen noticed the immortal heart beat fastening in reaction. The sweat rolling down his neck onto his still naked chest.

The pressure in the room seemed to stop abruptly as Andre took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

The guy released him immediately from his hold and took a step back.

Helen would have thrown herself onto the bed if she hadn't known that her friend might have still been hurt.

-How are you feeling? - she asked quickly.

He eyed her with a familiar grin on his face and looked sideways at the other person in the room. -Confused, hurt, and a little bit amused by the fact that you have brown hair for the first time in two centuries and I am not sure how I feel about it. -

Her hand travelled to the wild hair than the had tied in a ponytail. Somewhere in between the caos she must have switched it back to her original colour. She focused her magic back and they turned blonde. It must have seemed like a frivolous act, but something about it always unnerved her.

-And for the love of Nature, give this guy a shirt- he added. - I find it hard to plan ways to murder him if his six pack keeps staring at me. -

Despite the situation, the immortal blushed. He comically tried to cover himself up with his hands.

Taking pity on him, Helen threw him a pink blanket at the end of the bed.

-You are exiles- he said simply, his words driving a knife through her chest. - I was told to beware of your kind -

-The mist people told you about us? - she raised an eyebrow. She hadn't known about other failed path-changers before becoming one.

The guy nodded. -They told me about the mark, and how you went mad and tried to destroy the human world. -