DescenT

With her task done, Proserpina gently tugged off of her gloves and half-turned away from him, the shadows already growing to take her home… but Alastor suddenly held his hand out, his fingers very nearly touching the shadow as he stood up, as if intending to follow her. At that, Proserpina wordlessly commanded the shadows to disperse all at once before it stole his. She glared at the stormy skies, her gaze tired and accusing because she was so certain that somewhere out there in the clouds, way up high in Mount Olympus... there was a certain goddess of love laughing while watching Proserpina's current dilemma. Then again, it could be Eros for all she knew… "Are you deaf or are you dense?" Proserpina snapped, not bothering to look behind her, "I am not interested." "Is this because I'm a werewolf?" –Excerpt from Chapter IV: Touch Me Not Descent is created by Ataraxia, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

Ataraxia · Fantasi

Peringkat tidak cukup

54 Chs

Chapter 37: The White Wolf (part 3)

"Yeah... oh, right! Alastor and I share the same nickname, so don't be surprised if we both look up at the same time," ...huh, even with her gloves on, her skin felt ridiculously cold like... not in a corpse-kind-of-way coldness that the vampire seemed to have but cold in a way that reminded him of... when a body gets cold because of fear.

For a moment, as she silently withdrew her hand, Alistair can't help but notice, here up close, that she seemed sort of conflicted with... something.

The sudden flicker of an uneasy expression in her face was so quick, so abrupt as it forcefully smoothed out into her natural stoic look that he was left wondering if he had imagined that change in expression just now.

Was it something he said?

Or does he have something on his face?

"Huh, fate is really something," she muttered quietly, almost to herself, instantly tugging Alistair out of his sudden concern if he should go take a look on a mirror.

He blinked, "What is?"

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