A/N- right so I think we've all established that I have no self control with you guys, so enjoy! I worked really hard on this one!
∞
I shoved him off me, before shouting, "Are you crazy?!". My tears were gone as suddenly as they had appeared. I spun around, refusing to face him as I pressed my slender fingers to my mouth. My eyes were wide as I touched my lips. Were they swollen? Everybody would know. Everybody would know if we came back out with swollen lips and flushed faces.
I refused to turn around. I refused to face him, knowing the second he laid eyes on my expression, it was over. He would know. There would be no plausible deniability. He would see the panicked look in my eyes and the bright red shade of my face and know. My whole body was hot. I didn't know if it was from the embarrassment, or something else entirely. I did not want to know. My heart was racing so loud, that I was horrified that he could hear it. The pulse at my temple throbbed with the rapid drumming. Could he see it? Could he hear it??
"No, I am-" Paris began, but I quickly cut him off.
"Drunk, Paris. You are drunk and wanted affection and I just happened to be the person present. And that isn't even considering the effect of Lupercicallus. Everyone's acting out tonight. It's okay. I understand" I quickly blurted, clarifying the situation for him. This was all a big misunderstanding. Clearly it was. There was no way he actually liked me. He was lonely. He missed Aline. But I was not Aline, and that kiss had to have proved it for him.
I needed to calm down. I needed to crush down this terrifying feeling of panic and...and...something else, before it burned right through me. It would burn me to ash, surely, with the heat that it sent rippling through my body. My face was most definitely on fire. I felt short of breath as I inhaled quick, short pants of air. My hand was on my diaphragm, resting above the tight corset that restricted my lungs as I tried to breathe. Shockingly enough, I faintly realized my throat wasn't flaring up.
"I am not drunk" Paris stated bluntly, his voice filled with a twinge of bitterness. I froze. Why would he admit that? Why? I flew back around, looking at him as one might to a ghost. I assumed I looked as pale as one, with the way my stomach dropped at his proclamation, all blood rushing from my face. My eyes were wide as I tried to summon an appropriate response.
"Then why...why did you..." I began, but found myself unable to finish my question. My mouth tasted like sandpaper, as I swallowed deeply. It proved to be increasingly difficult. I inhaled a shuddering breath. Paris stared down at me, his mouth set in a grim line. I quickly shot my eyes back up to his, afraid to be caught looking at his lips. The seemingly innocent gesture was entirely inappropriate now. It held double meaning. It held insinuation.
"Is it really that hard to understand? Or is the idea just so absurd to you, that you can't even reduce yourself to think about it. I guess we all have lines we won't cross, yeah?" He asked me, giving me a crooked smile. It was entirely off-putting. Resentful. I had never seen him smile like that. It made my stomach twist. I was going to be sick.
"What..? I don't understand what you- " I told him, my voice breaking half way through. I didn't understand what he wanted from me? My hands felt clammy and hot as pressed down on my individual knuckles, opening and closing them multiple times. I wish I had something to occupy them with, something to hold so that there might be a barrier between Paris and I. So that I could hide myself from him.
He ran a frustrated hand through his curls, messing up his laurel wreath. He threw the thing to the ground and tugged at his roots. Paris turned around, before looking back at me, as if to see if anyone was witnessing this absurdity. As if he could not believe me or my delirium.
"You are so smart. Unbelievable smart. You know how to summon horrific demons, you founded your own magical subcategory, you know more languages than I can count, and yet you still can't piece together what I'm trying to say?! Can't, or don't want to?! Which ones is it, Eulalia?!" He half-shouted at me, inhaling in a frustrated manner. He tugged at his roots again with both his hands, glancing up at the ceiling. I couldn't find the words to reply. I had never seen him this worked up before. The only time that came close was the library...
I subconsciously stepped back, the unpleasant memory sending a strike of panic up my throat. He inhaled sharply, as if gathering up his courage. We he glanced down at me, anger in his eyes, he stated, "Do you not- for the love of Araw, Eulalia, I like you! Do you understand? How else should I say it so that it might get through to you?"
I was stunned silent, my mouth gaping into an "o". I blinked at him, inhaling a shaky breath through my nose, and quietly choking out,
"No. You don't". My voice sounded wrong. Short, strained, as if I were wasting my last breath to say it.
Paris recoiled, as if he were slapped across the face by the statement, "Yes. I do". He furrowed his eyebrows and leaned forward, as if I were delusional. Was he trying to gaslight me?
"No. You don't" I repeated myself, continuing after a shaky inhale, "Look, I don't know the psychology behind it works, but it's pretty obvious that you lost a huge female figure in your life when Aline died-"
"What does this-" he demanded, but I interrupted him quickly.
"And then you were circumstantially forced to spend all this time with me. It makes sense somehow, that your mind got accustomed to the idea of me being a replacement for her" I paced quickly, unable to stand still and hold the full weight of his gaze, "It's psychological. But you need to realize this, and stop trying to pretend I'm her. You don't like me. I'm not her. I know you wish I was. But I'm not"
Something in my own chest strained at the thought. I had to say it out loud though. We couldn't just ignore this truth. We needed to approach it logically and honestly. After all, they didn't call it "woe from wit", for nothing. He didn't want me. I'd rather him realize this now than later. It would hurt less if we ripped the bandaid off straight away.
Paris' face twisted into disbelief and rage, "This has nothing to do with Aline!"
"Yes, it does!" I shouted back at him, exasperated, "It has everything to do with her! I know you see me as some kind of replacement for her! It's psychological. A trauma reaction! Something- I don't know! I know you do though, and I don't blame you! But I'm not her and you just keep disappointing yourself when you realize it. Stop pretending I'm ALINE. I am not her"
"I KNOW YOU AREN'T. YOU ARE DOING IT AGAIN" he fully screamed at me this time, but I didn't falter.
"NO- YOU DON'T. You DON'T know. If you did, you wouldn't have done that. You would know I'm not positive, or charming, or sweet, and above all, I AM NOT HER. Stop acting like I'm some kind of second-rate replacement for her, and trying to force your feelings for me because of it!" My chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths, nearly tearing apart my corset with how aggressively I was breathing.
"YOU- YOU-" He stuttered, too enraged to continue his sentence. He stormed up to me, grabbing my face in both his hands again, slamming his lips to mine. His mouth was warm and tasted sweet like vanilla, with the bitter alcoholic aftertaste following closely after. His body, flush against mine, was hot. Ridiculously hot, like one of my baths, burning against me like a furnace. He held me in place, and I was horrified to realize I did not make any efforts to move.
My entire body felt tingly, my mind fuddled beyond comprehension. All I knew for certain, was the feel of warmth spreading through my body in flutters. My heart was beating so fast that I felt like it was going to fly out of my chest. Paris stepped back, still holding my face, forcing me to look up at him. I couldn't do anything but stare up at him with wide, dazed eyes.
"The only thing I am trying to force" Paris began, "is for you to understand that I have feelings for you. I'm trying to force this fact through your thick skull. That is the only thing I am forcing. I have feelings for you" he said in a low whisper, "I go to bed thinking about you, I dream about you, and wake up with you being the first thing on my mind! I don't know how else to say it! You are driving me crazy"
I tried to pry myself away from him but he held me in place, "You are the one who is forcing feelings! But you can't force me to not feel something for you! You can't force me just because you don't like it! And besides accepting the words I am screaming in your face, you find every reason on the surface of this earth to deny it! You did what we just talked about, and you tried to ruin it. You tried to scare me away. But that's not going to work, because I like you way more than I fear you. So you're going to have to find a new tactic from now on"
I blinked at him, my eyes wide at the proclamation. I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut me off, chest rising and falling heavily,
"Let me speak. I have been trying and trying to get this across to you for ages. The dates, the compliments, the finding excuses to be with you, the waiting at your door every morning, just because you are always the first person I want to see! I wake up early and wait for you, hoping that maybe I might be the first person you want to see in the mornings too. Praying that you might return a fraction of what I am feeling for you. And if you don't, which is completely obvious by the way you avidly deny my affections, It's fine!"
"I-" I attempted to interject, but he gave me no chance.
"It's fine. I'm fine because I adore you and I would never force you into something you don't want! I would never want someone I adore to be miserable! So no. I'm not trying to force you to return my feelings! I'm not trying to trap you, or trick you, or hurt you! I just like you! And you don't like me! That's completely fine!"
"I-" I tried again.
"I understand" He continued, stepping back, staring up at the ceiling, "That's how you feel- you have a right to that!" He sharply glanced back down at me, a determined, angry expression on his face, "But don't you dare try to tell me how I should feel! Don't you dare try to force my feelings, just because you don't want to deal with them! You have no right, even if you don't feel the same-"
"I-"
"No, let me finish" Paris began, but I cut him off.
"Oh for the love of Gods, Paris, will you just shut up and let me kiss you" I snapped, before slamming my lips to Paris', cutting him off in the middle of his tangent.
My hands wrapped around his neck, pressing him to me through his jaw. I didn't think about what I was doing, only that I needed to do something! I was desperate to prove him otherwise. To prove to him that he did not make me miserable. That it was the exact opposite, which is why I ran. I did not know how to get it across to him, that I was more willing to be miserable, than to be adored. I was horrified of his admiration, more than I was of his hatred. I would rather be miserable, comfortable in what I know, besides terrified of the unfamiliarity of his affection.
My hands, which initially around his neck and jaw, had weaved their way to the back of his hair. He leaned down so that I could reach him, his soft lips warm against mine. My heart was tremmoring in my chest, tingling in a way that entirely unfamiliar. It was not beating against my ribcage like a hummingbird might against an aviary, but trilling softly, like the wings of a gossamer moth. The soft feeling spread from my diaphragm to stomach, spreading slowly throughout my entire body till I could no longer handle it. The feeling demanded more, demanded pressure to crush it down till it hurt. I felt it in my arms, my neck, my lips my stomach. I bit his lip, hard, and he emitted a grumbled moan, pressing onto me.
I pulled back, breathing heavy as I looked up at him with dark eyes. His expression was shocked and mimicked mine, out of breath as he stared down. I pressed our foreheads together. His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me to his body.
"You do not make me miserable", I admitted to him in a whisper. Paris stilled, and I continued, "You do not make me miserable, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me beyond articulation"
After a moments silence I glanced up, horrified by the piece of vulnerability that I just gave up to him. I caught his eyes, and nearly recoiled by the affection evident in his eyes. I had never seen a look like that before, and yet, it did not terrify me like it should have. Instead, the feeling fluttering in my body become stronger, more excited, like some ancient, hibernating power awakening within me upon the sight.
"I'll make you miserable then, if that is what it takes to please you" Paris whispered to me, his low voice painting goosebumps on my bare skin. I leaned forward a little bit, but Paris did not reciprocate. Instead he recoiled, moving away from me.
It was as though my chest was impaled, all the air leaving my lungs as I attempted to stay calm. To stay indifferent long enough until I could get my walls up again.
I sat back, wiping my mouth before taking a long draw, as if it did not just happen. I calmed my shaking resolve, before a detached, cold look flitted onto my face.
"Whats-" I cleared my throat, cleansing my voice of any audible hurt, instead taking on a jeering threat, "What's wrong? You don't want to kiss me anymore?"
My lips twisted into a cruel smirk. He simply stared down at me, his eyes lidded as he took a wavering breath. After a moments silence, he grit out in a tense tone.
"I want to kiss you so bad, that it's taking everything in me to keep my hands off of you right now" He told me in a trance-like state, his voice hoarse. His eyes closed, as if the mere sight of me was testing his resolve. My heart soared at the statement, again, making me feel as though I was floating. But the deadweight of anxiety and confusion kept me from ascending.
"But you told me not to touch you. You told me that many times, Eulalia. So tell me now. Do you want me to touch you? Am I allowed to touch you, Eulalia. Please tell me I am" He whispered to me, his tone begging. The hair rose on my neck at the sound of it. The realization that he was begging to touch me, instead of simply taking it, stunned me into silence. And because of it, I was willing to do it. I was willing to give up my security and let myself be vulnerable.
"Touch me, Paris. Please" I whispered back.
I stared up at him in wonder, as I watched something snap in his eyes, like a feral animal released. Concerningly so, I felt the same fervor click into place, all self-control evading me. An understanding passed in our eyes, before we both threw ourselves at each other.
I launched myself onto him, clawing for his exposed skin as I slammed my lips onto his. He hoisted me up onto his waist, my legs latching onto his torso as I aggressively held his face with both hands. I bit down harshly his bottom lip, demanding in entrance with my tongue. He complied eagerly, allowing me to slip my tongue into his mouth. He pressed so hard against my mouth that a dull pain registered, and I pushed even harder. We knocked over vases and tables on our fervored path to a wall, desperate for some kind of support to keep us up. I could sense it; we were both unravelling into quivering, shaking messes.
He slammed my back to my wall, opening his mouth in a moan. I clamped down, swallowing the sound as something lit aflame in my lower stomach. I knew he could feel it, with the way my legs were wrapped around his waist.
I ground my hips against him. There was little relief, if not for the coarse texture of his abs under his toga. I did it again, my hands scrambling under his clothes as I rode his abs.
"Eulalia" Paris moaned in warning against my teeth, but I shut him up with another all-consuming kiss. He groaned against my mouth and I felt tingles shoot up my body. I dragged my nails down his back, and Paris jerked forward instinctually. His hands, which had been clawing at the ribbons that held my corset together, spasmed, ripping the straps completely. That was all the encouragement he needed. Loosing patience with the intricate bows, he ripped the entire back open, only the bottom of the corset remaining tied. He swooped down and littered kisses on my neck and my collarbones, hard enough to know that it would surely bruise.
I wanted to see if I could unravel him completely with just a few touches alone. It absolutely thrilled me, the power I held over this boy. In the most carnal sense, I had complete control of him. My stomach flipped upside down at the thrill of it.
I wove my slender fingers into his hair, turning to kiss his jaw. I littered love bites on his neck, marring his tan skin. He met my mouth with his, kissing me aggressively. My core was unbearably tingly now, as I bucked against his waist, enjoy the sparks of pleasure that shot up my body.
Paris' hand trailed to my lower stomach, holding my corset-bound hips in place. The feeling made me fanatic, as I bit the skin between his shoulder and his neck. He groaned at the increase in pressure on the spot that I had been avidly kissing. A sudden wave of nausea made my head spin.
Tensing, I placed a hand on his wrist. He instantly stopped, feeling the way my body was rigid against his. He looked up at me confused as I hopped down from his waist, wordlessly walking a few feet away. I paused for a moment when I was a safe distance away, sensing an uncomfortable pressure in my chest, before the nausea rolled in again. Before I could stop myself, red liquid errupted from my throat as I emptied my stomach behind the old couch of the lounge.
I gagged, my stomach contracting in on itself as I wondered what I did to be puking up blood again. It tasted vile and acidic, and I soon realized that it was not blood this time around, but simply the cherry jungle juice that they had been serving earlier at the party. Godess knew how many types of alcohol they mixed in to make me cough up my guts behind the couch. I was thankful that I had not eaten anything prior to the party, the hurl being purely the thick juice, resembling a pool of blood. I wiped my mouth, straightening up with the help of the couch spine. I looked over to Paris, who was staring at me in concern and disturbance. I gave him a weak smile, before I felt my feet give out beneath me and the world tilt. Darkness struck me in the face, blinding me as I passed out.
Paris POV
I had no idea what was going on. None of it. First I had told her that I liked her. A lot. Practically tot he point of obsession, considering how many times a day I found myself thinking of her. I had confessed to her, pouring my heart out about the thoughts that had been haunting me for the past few months now, and she replied by trying to tell me that I didn't actually like her, and instead needed to go to trauma therapy. She tried convincing me I was delusional and had issues with my psychosis because I liked her, but then she kissed me. Completely contradictory to her previous statement that I did not like her, nor she me.
Then she told me that she was afraid of not being miserable, which I just interpreted as her claiming she was scared of commitment. It was her way of telling me that she did not actually hate the idea of being with me, but simply scared of the commitment that came with it. I think. I poured my heart out to her about me being crazy for her, wanting to be around her every minute of the day and practically infatuated with her, and she replied to me by telling me that my presence did not make her miserable.
I was fine with that. It did not mean that she liked me, nor returned any of my affections for her, simply that she found me bearable to be around. Which I guess was an improvement. But then we made out, and that—that most definitely made up for me being simply bearable. And her jerking me over and under my shorts, that completely made up for it too, though it was almost humiliating how willing I was for her. How little time It took. So I tried to repay the favor, make her feel as good as she made me feel, and she threw up. She told me that I did not make her miserable, and then threw up when I tried to touch her.
She had hurled up liquid that concerningly resembled blood, which I really hoped it wasn't. If it was, I would have to add onto the list of the events, that not only did she throw up, she also began projectile vomiting blood. I did not make her miserable, yet one touch from me incited a reaction of internal bleeding and hemorrhages. And when she was done, her upper back completely revealed from the top that I had ruined, she looked up at me and smiled. She smiled with her teeth and mouth completely covered in blood, before passing out.
I had barely managed to catch her before she hit the ground. I was not misery inducing, but extremely quick off the mark, and also sickening enough to induce internal bleeding if I tried to touch you, where you then reacted by passing out. Wonderful. And now I was dragging a passed out girl, with blood on her white corset, who's shirt was ripped open, with red scratches from MY over eager fingers all over her back, through the back tunnels of the castle, so that nobody might see her. I didn't think she'd appreciate all her friends seeing her in this state. Nor I being seen dragging a tiny girl in ripped underwear, covered in blood, throughout the castle. Especially since I had red scratch marks all over me too, courtesy of Eulalia. It would look suspicious to the passerby.
She jerked up momentarily, blinking at me through offset, foggy eyes. Araw her eyes were pretty. And somehow simultaneously creepy. There was something difference about them, making her look partially demonic. She narrowed her eyes at me, patting my chest. Was she trying to feel me out? I was obviously a boy. Couldn't she see that??
"Hey, pal, you better put me down" she slurred out, still tapping my chest. I gently pried her hand off and put it in her lap. I was still carrying her bridal style, and she knocked her head back over my arm. It hung off the side and I subtly moved my arm up so it would have support, like one would with a baby.
"You hear me?" She slurred out again, raising her voice as she incriminatingly poked my chest, "You better put me down before my boyfriend beats you up. He's strong. He'll smear you on the pavement"
"I think I can take him" I told her half-laughing. My lips twitched, unable to stop myself from breaking out into a smile. She had her eyes closed, her head resting against my chest as she nuzzled up to it. Her hand was still splayed out on my chest too.
She mumbled something sounding suspiciously close to "your funeral", but remained snuggling up to me. She was freezing, most likely from her lack of warm clothing, and was probably using me for body heat. She always did have a habit of calling me a hot-head.
Reaching her room, I stepped in, silently closing the door behind me. I knew Beastly wasn't in here, but I couldn't help the shivers that prickled my skin. It always felt like somebody was watching me. Araw her room was so creepy. I placed her gently down on the bed, making sure to keep her face up. I diverted my eyes from her cleavage that was nearly toppling out of her top, thanks to me. I did not make her miserable, but ruined her corset, and made her so sick from the moment that I touched her, that she instantly passed out.
I took a step forward, but instantly stopped. The hair on my neck rose. I was not alone in here. Something was watching me. Something was very very wrong. I quickly jumped around to look for Beastly, but saw nothing. Beastly was nothing but loud. I would have known if he was in here from the moment I stepped in.
"Do not touch her, son of light" A voice growled from all around me, rumbling up from the floor and the walls. I nearly jumped three feet in the air, a scream emitting from my throat. My sword was unsheathed in seconds as I looked for the source of the voice. It came from everywhere.
"I warn you only once, son of light, if you do, I shall release the great beast on you" the voice growled again.
"Where are you? Who are you?" I demanded, spinning in a slow circle with my sword outdrawn. I made sure to stay near Eulalia, in case it decided to go after her unconscious body first. My eyes then strayed to her. Her shadows were awake and slithering up and down her body, as if protecting her. A blob of them detached from her body, before rising up and up and up. They must have been at seven feet when they stopped, taking up the form of a woman. Where there should have been eyes, were blank holes.
"You know who I am" she said menacingly. They said menacingly. Again, the voice came from all around me.
"You're her shadows" I said, coming to a conscious, before blurting, "YOU GUYS CAN SPEAK?"
She didn't dignify me with a response. I was silent for a moment, shifting awkwardly on my feet. This was like meeting her parents.
"Uhm. What beast?" I finally asked out. The shadows rippled, loosing its form and slithering back to Eulalia.
"The beast of night. That which burrows in the walls of shadow. That which is the child of our dark maker. I shall release it on you, shall you harm her"
Okay. So Beastly. Wonderful.
"I won't, Jesus"
"Don't patronize me with your false gods, son of light"the shadows snapped, making me want to eat my words, before fading back into the walls, signifying the end of this conversation. How lovely.
I began digging through Eulalia's wardrobe, looking for a large t-shirt that would cover her down to her thighs. A flash of bright color stood out against the shelves of black and white. Pulling it out, I realized it was one of my t-shirts she had swiped from my room. When had she done that? She was always so sneaky. I took the blue shirt and slipped in on over her head. Her body was limp as I tried to her her limbs through the holes. Eventually, I got it on her, the blue making her pale skin take on a blue tint in comparison.
When the shirt was on, I sighed, slipping my hands underneath and beginning to undo the rest of the straps of her top. I flipped her over on her stomach as one would with a sack of flour, and began unlacing the rest. I don't think Eulalia would appreciate it if she woke up and found out that I had completely ripped off the rest of the ribbons. It took a little while to get the tiny knots in the bows out, but when they did, the entire thing just fell off. Alongside a dagger, that toppled out from between her cleavage. Delightful. I threw it onto the floor, before pulling down the blue t-shirt. I didn't bother touching the rest of outfit, seeing that she would not take kindly to wake up with both undergarments missing. She was not the type to believe in human decency much.
I undid her bun, remembering about the time she told me she could not stand sleeping with a pony tail, saying the hair tie jabbed into her skull. I still didn't understand how a scrunchie could manage to poke her head, but I took her word on. When the knot on her head was gone and her white hair was fanning down around her face, I flipped her over onto her back.
I grabbed a washcloth from her bathroom, wetting it under the faucet, before I returned to her. I wiped the red off of her mouth and her chin, and then her forearm were she got some blood. I used the clean side to clear off the dark eye-liner and black shadow from her eyes. When I rubbed it with a wet cloth though, it just smudged even more. My mouth dropped open as the rag just made a bigger mess of her eyes. Resorting to a different technique, I grabbed wipes from her bathroom and wiped her eyes off with a wet-wipe. It did the job a little bit better, cleaning off the majority of the smudges. She still had panda eye-bags underneath, but it was better than looking like the Enchantress from The Suicide Squad. Not that it didn't suit her. Everything seemed to look good on her.
I used a wet-wipe on my own, glittered face, before throwing both the rag and the wipes into the trash. I trudged back to her closet. It was a big, wooden wardobe with lots of clothing. I found that she tended to wear oversize herself. I suspected many of it was mens clothing, though I tried not to think about where she got it all from. She was preppy like Aline, but chose to wear darker colors. It was still the same thing though, with their little tennis skirts and whatnot. But I doubted she was the type to collect other mens clothing, so I wondered why she had so many mens clothing articles in her wardrobe. Maybe the collection in her closet was from Clarimont. I didn't particularly like the thought either, remembering the way he was looking at her tonight when she was on his lap.
I yanked out a ribbed tank top from her shelf that was made of the softest material I had ever felt. It was miniature, but stretchy and soft. I wondered if it would fit me. I unclasped my toga from my shoulder, allowing it to fall on the floor, before stepping out of it and slipping on the tank top overhead. It slipped on like a glove, although the straps went around the neck besides the shoulders, for some reason. It was still comfortable though. Far more comfortable than anything I owned.
I looked in the mirror, enjoying the way the tank top showed off my abs. No wonder girls loved crop-tops, when they got to show off their v-lines. The white tank top went good with my blue boxer shorts too. The shirt was form fitting and skin tight, and the shorts were on the looser side. It looked quite nice. I flexed my arms, twisting my body into a pose. Nice. This tank top did wonders, showing off my biceps perfectly. I kept digging around in her closet, trying on various headbands, socks, clothing. I only stopped, when I tried to fit into a pair of her white basketball shorts (why did she even have these) and ended up hearing a large tearing sound. Whoops.
I decided to keep the tank top on seeing how comfortably it fit me, considering it a fair trade since she was wearing my shirt at the current moment. I also kept a fuzzy head band on too. It was green and had a bow on top, but it was thick and warm. It brushed the hair out of my face when I put it on, and completely covered my ears. Maybe it was for girls to keep their earnings in place at night? Yeah, that seemed pretty logical.
I dug around her room some more, before finally opening her first aid trunk, and pulling out some hydration patches. She and I would need them tomorrow if she didn't want an absolutely miserable hangover. I plastered one patch on her forearm, and plastered another onto mine.
I bit my lip in contemplation. She threw up blood. Obviously she wasn't well. It would be irresponsible to let her just pass out in this state. She will kill me when she wakes up. She will most definitely kill me, but I was better versed in medical magic than her. Aline did this spell all the time, and it only made everyone feel better.
Coming to the decision, I warmed my hands up, rubbing them together as if they were defibrillators. I didn't whisper any Latin proverbial spells or summon ancient, long dormant magic, like Eulalia would. I preferred simpler approaches. Magic was about intent. I had the intent to heal, imagined her waking up smiling and feeling energized, besides sick like she always complained she did.
I urged magic from the air, feeling as it approached me tentatively but friendlily. I buzzed around me, playing as I pulled it through the veil and into the physical world.
Eulalias magic was different. It gave me shivers and practically hurt when I felt it. While I ushered and befriended magic to me, Eulalia clawed and snatched it in great, big, greedy handfuls.
When I felt the spark of energy in my hands, I shoved it all towards her chest. Her body jerked at the impact, and fell back asleep again, as if nothing was amiss. Some color bloomed into her face, making me stare for a moment in awe. When it was done, I rocked on my heels, deciding to tuck Eulalia in before leaving.
Her bed was cool; it had curtains and everything around it, and had little steps leading up to it. I jumped on the bed. Eulalia didn't shift, sleeping like the dead. I dragged head onto a pillow, making sure her hair wasn't touching her neck. Her sensory issues would less than pleased if she woke up with it clinging to her neck.
I dragged her thick blankets over her, enjoying the way the blanket was so cold and weighted. The room itself was cool in temperature, but the bedsheets felt crisp and fresh, like they were freshly cleaned. She had the shiny kinds of pillow cases. They were grey, like the rest of her bedsheets, and were shiny and silk. They glinted in the dim lighting as her hair fanned around it. I placed my cheek on it, marveling how soft the pillow case was. Girls always had the softest stuff. Eulalia did, Philippa did, Aline used to too.
I collapsed down on the pillow, practically sinking into the soft mattress, and marveling at the canopy above. Eula had charmed it to look like a canopy of stars. You could see constellations above. I knew enough about the constellations to be able to point some of them out. My mom loved looking for them. When I'm home, we would sometimes drive all the way out to the Nevada desert to look at the stars. We used to take her old pick-up truck and lay in the back to search for constellations.
I draft blew in Eulalias room, and I shivered, wondering how Eulalia could handle such cold temperatures. I wouldn't be able to get out of bed in the morning If I had freezing air, freezing tile, and freezing water waiting for me past my blankets. If it was frigid for a Sun Mage, I wondered how her body could handle such temperatures. I yanked up her heavy duvet, my skin covered in goosebumps as I wrapping it up towards my chin. It was extremely heavy, but felt like a hug when it pressed down against you. No wonder she liked it. Again, girls had the nicest things.
I found the constellation Sirius up above...And Pollux...And Jupiter...And Rigel...And Bellatrix...and Saiph...and....Aldebaran....and....Capella....and then darkness, as sleep flooded in and slipped me into oblivion.