SNUGGLED UNDER MOUNTAINS OF FLUFFY AND CHUNNK BLANKETS IN FRONT OF THE FIRE PLACE LAY THE SMITH SISTERS, Yona hummed lightly in her sleep and Gola leaned into her tenderly as she skimmed a book. With a huff of frustration or rather defeat she slammed her book closed, unable to focus on a story of foolish young high school love when her mind was running rampant with the events of earlier that day.
"Little bear?" Gola whispered to yona, rubbing her thumb in circles on her cheek.
Yona stirred lightly, pulling the blankets closer to her chest. This made Gola chuckle in adornment. She pressed a kiss to Yona's forehead before slowly slipping from under the blankets. Her lace night dress drizzled in mint chocolate macaroon crumbs.
Shamelessly she popped one in her mouth as she began her decent down the steps.
Much of the mansion flickered with a dim orangish glow and smelled richly of floral fragrance and vanilla.
Although only one candlelight danced in Gola's bitterly wintery room.
Why was it always so freezing in there?
Not that it mattered, she wouldn't be staying in the ice box with a bed for long. She just needed her laptop so she could watch a movie.
Frantically she stormed around her room, throwing, huling and heaving anything in her way. Despite trying to, it was hard for her not to notice the bedroom loosing it's last remnants of heat which were draining rapidly.
"Found it!" she cheered, whipping an imaginary cold sweat from her brow and slinging the computer for her backpack wide open. And thank god it's fully charged!
Swiftly she slammed it shut. Rushing to her feet in a feeble attempt to avoid seeing or hearing anything that she didn't want too. Anything that shattered her mundane panorama.
All in vain of course. As soon as she turned around she saw 'him' standing idly in her doorway.
Waiting.
He was waiting in the wind.
Anyone else might have mistaken 'him' as her shadow or theirs but he was always a little off. Not because he couldn't slipp into the mold of you seamlessly and soundlessly. But more because he wanted you to see him. He wanted to taunt you into terror, he wanted for you to cower in his shadow of dread.
Just one of his wicked games.
Though her breath caught in her throat she clenched her fist. "I'm not afraid of you." she snapped, absolutely terrified.
He chuckled. A low husky sound that melt into the night like a silken breeze.
The shadow that stood in front of her once looked like the silhouette of herself, with the outline of her breast, long fluffy hair and hips but now they contorted and warped uncannily. The shadow grew to outline a leggy gentleman with one hand held sagely behind him and the other reached out to Gola.
'take my hand.' The wind seemingly demanded or pleaded. it was hard to tell. 'take my hand.'
Fleetingly she wondered if it was he who spoke with caress of the wind. Then immediately after she remembered the urgency of the situation.
Why does it matter if the shadow demons voice sounds like the whip of the wind, he's a shadow demon. A monster.
Instead of taking his hand Gola bolted past him, clutching her colorless nightgown tightly.
The shadow glided seamlessly after her. His low laughter filling the empty house in echos.
No matter how far or how long Gola's feet looked to carry her she couldn't manage to get anywhere near the end of the hall. At first she considered that the aged dingey hall was merely redundantly large. Smartly—though not fast enough she recalled from her mother that time was just another one of the shadow demons playthings.
"I know what you are. I know who you are." she warned, trying desperately hard to sound assured. But there was always that damn whimper hiding in her voice. That irritating shadow of hopelessness.
"Then call me out my one and only." He laughed with a passion that can only be described as madness. "Command me to you."
Gola's mother had told her about told her about the shadow demon as a girl, about a demon parading as man. This man—this demon showed up in darkest parts of young girls rooms, lay lace hexes over their eyes, enchantments to hide the ugly truth and bring forth the most beautiful of silken lies. He then wrapps that elegant loll around their waist and pulls them out of their lives to be his wife. So soon those pretty souls are swallowed whole by the night. Never to be seen again alive.
'command him by name and little one' Gola's mother poured water over her head to wash away the remnants of watermelon shampoo. 'he'll have no choice but to go away.'
She had never stopped running even though she couldn't get away, even though he was now dangerously close to her. "Demon prince, king of the night, man of many brides I command you away. Leave me be." She sputtered breathlessly, oh so tired of running, oh so frightened of his growing closeness.
He laughed again. Awfully, Gola found herself thinking what melodious madness it was.
Finally they were two ends meeting. Finally intersecting. "And which demon prince do you call upon. there are many. you know one. You love him too." There was undeniable venom in his voice when saying 'you love him too.' A growl spilling all messily over words.
Gola's eyes doubled in size if not from the news that a man she loves might be a shadow demon. Or from the fact the the present shadow demon attempted to gasp her in his arm. Attempted . She dashed aside of course. As if dodging a bullet. She might as well have been with a man this dangerous was trying to trap her in his arms.
"There isn't an ounce of truth in you."
"I do not lie." He hissed, as she dodged him again. The king of chaos was growing tired of this game.
" Elanora, it is you who knows nothing of the truth. You'll come to learn that not even you are you've been pretending to be."
He snagged her waist. Snaking his hands around it tightly. Histouch felt oddly real. Callused flesh, bone and silvers of warmth.
Gola sounded as if she had stopped breathing entirely. She felt as if the world had stopped spinning entirely.
Then it started. The waltzing. They became to twin flames tangled in tango. And now her world was upside down.
When Gola came back to herself she fought against him endlessly to escape, if he noticed he didn't care. He moved gracefully. Fluidly. Whirls turning like velvet rolling waves of the ocean.
She stopped struggling due to being a little ( vastly) out of breath. Despite herself Gola couldn't help but wonder if this what it felt like when the stars danced. If this is how it felt to float. She looked up at the man-demon through her lashes. Color bloomed on him like ink spilling into paper.
They were no longer polar opposites of innocent white linen and lace stark against an inky outline of a man. The demons jaw was sleek enough to cut, his hair bundles of the midnight sky, his lips rosey pouty things set in a firm straight line. He was lot more classically human than she'd expected. She, little more demonically divine than he had remembered. They were aligned. Melting into each other.
This was how the stars danced before they crashed. Colliding.
'The most beautiful of silken lies.' Gola remembered looking into his crimson eyes. Alight like blood moons. The wrongness of it all crashed on her, anchoring her back to the ground. She pulled away from him as if he burned.
His lips curved into a wicked smile, the lovely rosey color already rapidly draining. "You haven't won just yet." He laughed that great terrible laugh, teeth—no, fangs bared. The sneer didn't reach his eyes which were pools of crimson sadness.
The man—the demon vanished. To the dismay of Gola's already thudding heart he reappeared mere meters in front of her. Again at the top of the staircase leaving a trail of flames in his wake.
'Let the games began!' the wind cackled. or was it the fire? 'let the games began!'