II

Travis drove, nodding with a new drive. His train of thought on what the voice that came from within him; from his consciousness had said. It was from his consciousness. To be enchanted means to be unconscious. To be able to think for a moment but the thought thrown away into the deepest part of the mind and shredded from existence and a blank plate of mind presented, which will be scribbled the needs and wants of your enchanter. The voice was his conscious mind speaking to him and he knew he must trust it. Not only trust but follow. He knows why she was pensive of him, he was not like the others. From Cobly to Elvish to Buck, you could see it from the gleam of their eyes, to the words which poured out from their mouth. They spoke the same language and now possessed a general nature. Anytime they tried to speak, you could be certain what they wanted to say. They might be adoring Miss Jovic, they might be wondering aloud what mood Miss Jovic is inflicted with and the cause of that. They might be wondering what could possibly make them useful to Miss Jovic. Whatever it was, you could be certain that every word had a Miss Jovic. Their whole being was for her. But there was something subtly wrong with him. The magic had not taken complete control.The barest minimum was a saving grace. This was his biggest advantage.

His thought went in on how to begin what his consciousness had suggested. "Make her rely on you," the voice had said. No one had ever had any reason to rely on him. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. Now, he had to make an effort. For himself, he would do this and overcome this. He will do just about anything, anything to get out from this mess, and the first step has just been presented to him. He look at the rear mirror and his body was filled with longing. A longing to be free.

****Hello…old friend

Shopping. Cloth shopping. The moment of ecstasy for every woman on the planet. This applies to men with great taste. Just loads of fun. Not for Jovic anymore. Now all alone, fun was misery. Going through hanged clothes– yellow, slitted, pink, purple, different variable colours, skirts, coats, designer bags, without friends, without their discernible chatters voicing their opinions. it becomes one of those hanging moments. No friend to tell you what suits you better or what cloth transforms you into an ugly step-mother.

Jovic doesn't waste time anymore going dress shopping. There was no substantial value for that anymore. Get in, get out quick strategy, the best: ordering online.

The truth can't be covered. Her truth reflects like the sun on a shinning metallic surface. In her antagonizing nose, in the habitual unrest of her hands, it's reflects. The rumors changed what remains of a person in her. And now surrounded by her toys: Elivish, Colby, Buck, she still feels this deep emptiness that threatened to cover her up. Her toys were robots, but without them, the black void will grow, will turn into another monster, eating everything in it's path; her brain and all the mush included. The excitement of being feared, the trills, it carried a heavy price.

The store was a little scarce of people as they entered. Jovic like Travis wore shades as they marched over to the men's section which displayed proudly different brands of suits, jeans, shirts, of the top wrist watches, accessories that came in different shapes and sizes. The store living up well to its hype.

A female employee with a slim build and sandy hair tied up neatly walked up to them. Signs of body weariness etched to her face dissipated on reaching talking distance and she accessed them both over, a grin tore through her black face, showcasing small white teeth.

"Hi," she said, her feet crossed in a business manner. "Welcome to Hida. What can we do for you? We have different kinds of wears. Is it causal wears or formal attire you wish to buy? Anything you want," she launched on in fake glorious joy.

Jovic in suspect that this female was one of those new to the job kind who asked too much question that irritate. But before she could be waved off to go find someone with a cool leveled head, Travis was already walking towards her.

"Do you really mean those words: 'anything I want,' he repeats, giving her a smile.

"Yes." She said. "We have what will match your taste?" she finished, giving him a flirty smile.

"Let talk what I want. A bit of everything, your store can afford. And you are part of that store." She gave a giggle while he continued, "Grandma behind me can afford it." He glanced back to Jovic. His voice seemed to mock, "You can afford it, right?"

Jovic could have said something in the words of "piss off," or "yes it never a problem," but Travis had waved her off and was moving close side with the attendant. Picking up a jacket from it's rack, he moved forward, one of his arms around the salesgirl shoulder which she didn't seem to mind, her face if not olive brown will be painting the floor red.

Jovic face a mask of indifference. She doesn't mind. He can chat up anyone he wants, after all she doesn't own him...wait a minute, she does. Yes she does. At the end of it all, he belongs to her.

Those thoughts. She doesn't mean to come out all posseivess or sound like an old balding witch. He just annoys her. Everything annoys her.

She turns to exit, having the need to use their facilities. Her abrupt turn bumps her into another person. Her glasses falling to the floor. The other clothes and hangers chittering to the floor, a squeal accompanying the noise.

"Sorry, sorry." She was blond; bleached blond– the squealer. The woman who now stoop low packing clothes, mouth running quack-quack with different words of apology.

Jovic picked up her item with a thought of stepping over the clothes and walking towards her destination. She wanted so much to do that. Her body having a mind of its own, coming to terms with the floor. She grabbed some of the clothes cautiously. Absently, her eyes going from the clothes to the squealer, her eyes unexpressive before going bulger-sized. Jovic realized with a new fear, Darspeak wasn't large enough. She'd thought it was, she was wrong.

Those callous rough fingers picking up these clothes, Jovic could recognized anywhere. Those callous hands has braided her hair many times, those hands, the cause of many jokes. And the face that was now staring at her in overcame with the same emotions, she recognizes.

It was Linzy.