Reply The Lost...what?! {Oct Oso}
Nov 4, 2012 21:10:22 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Nov 4, 2012 21:10:22 GMT -8
Zinaida clutched her face, occum's razor having cut through her arguement. She sourly lifted her eyes back up, pieces of her hair pressed to her cheek. She was still reluctant to admit it was him, and all she could do was look at the man, her eyes zig-zaging over him, defiant, but something was told to her through the pain. In the way he tilted his head as his eyes slide off of hers.
The sand fell away under her feet, and it felt like when she stood on the cold shores of the icy sea of her home, and the waves pulled the sand from under her feet. She ripped her eyes off his ghost to meet those dead fish eyeballs pressed onto her back. Its eye, surrounded by decrepit, leathery skin wrinkled in circles around them, "W-what is that?" she choked, leaping away from the collision of her husband and the undead girl.
She fumbled with her sword, and it thumped as it hit the sand, and then she picked it up and yanked it out. A canteen was thrown at her feet. She could only stare at those eyes while her husband stepped over the two dimples in the sand where she had stood, and then, in front of her. She kept behind her husband's back, using it to shield the death splayed before her. We never see death out in the open. We always look away. Zinaida looked at the sand.
She stabbed the canteen, her sword stiff in its belly. Pierced, she lifted it up slightly, a petty object, some of its contents draining out onto the metal tip and the sand. The very blood in her thin wrists shaking with the magnetism of the voice, a voice that purred through the sand, she pulled up her cloak's hood, evasive of the threat implied.
"Give me back my ring," she said under her breath, her voice broken as it reached between the two men and over the loose, cold dune that had become the landscape.