One Man's Treasure - 35

A choked sob escaped her, and she squeezed her eyes tightly closed, willing the world to go away. Unbeknownst to Kestrell, his hand descending on her frail back was as a hammer, sealing her fate. The pieces slid into place. Kestrell placed her trust into this knight, with his shining car and elegant business suit. She had no where else to run to, and no reason to hide, aside from the knot in her stomach and the fear in her heart. The worst that could happen was that he’d think her crazy- or so she believed.

Her poor heart wrenched with missing and pain. She clung to him for a moment longer, shoulders drawing up to her neck in a protective motion, blind emotion flashing through her mind- memories of fire, of Their laughter, of pain and tears, of Dante’s face as her hand twisted the knife, of blood and suffering… all these things, she’d known in her short span of memories that consisted of ‘life’. She hadn’t grown up as others had; she didn’t have memories of childhood, or parents. Just a long grey fog, and then a short, vibrant burst of color, of light and feeling. She only knew the past year of her life, as it had occurred. All of the pain and fear, and joy- her existence was one of extremes, and then quiet nights tinkering with drafts, sketching extravagant plans, pouring hot metal into molds and bringing brilliant creations to mechanical life…

Maybe she was crazy. The thought had crossed her mind more than once, and this newest incident did nothing to dissuade it.

With a deep breath, Kestrell opened her eyes, and looked up shakily at Adrian, searching his features. A tear leaked from her one green eye, and she cautiously lifted the handkerchief to wipe it aside, then glanced apologetically at his suit.

“Oh… I- I’m sorry… I seem to have gotten you wet.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she looked away, a flush on her features. Her skin burned, and she looked out the window quickly, though her body language betrayed her. She was still angled toward Adrian, and the remnants of her unease had been ripped apart. Kestrell was an open book to his intentions…