Rachel Elizabeth Dare studied the face in front of her. A stern jaw coated in perfectly bronzed skin. Curved lips pursed in concentration. Down cast eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. She knew all the features well, from the straight nose to the perfectly molded blonde hair. If it weren't for the eyes she would have mistaken this boy for the god himself. Every now and again he would glance up from his hands resting palms up on the table and meet her gaze. And every time she felt her breath catch as if she'd just been struck by some unseen force. His eyes were impossibly light, so pale that they seemed to lack any color at all. They would wash over her face before settling on her eyes, staring until she felt uncomfortable enough to protest, but each time, before she had the chance, his eyebrow would knit together in a mixture of confusion and something else she couldn't quite
identify before returning to his hands.
And he hadn't stopped staring at them, his hands. Aside from the times of their brief staring matches, his eyes never once left his hands. Not when she led him into the restaurant or when the waiter came to take their order. It was as if he were transfixed by them, like today was the day he discovered their existence and he wasn't quite sure what their purpose was.
They'd sat in silence for nearly half an hour when the waiter returned to refill Rachel's coffee mug. His eyes followed the waiter's movements carefully and it was then that she decided now was as good a time as any to get some answers to the millions of questions flying around in her head. She leaned forward slightly in her seat, preparing to address him when suddenly he spoke, killing her words before they could even leave her mouth.
"You're a seer, no?"
"Ex- excuse me?" Rachel stammered, caught off guard by his sudden words.
"You see things that mortals can't see, know things even the gods don't know, correct?" His voice was like liquid, low and steady, powerful.
"Yes." She replied. She was more than flustered. There was nothing she hated more than being thrown off guard, especially since she was used to knowing more than those around her.
"Then tell me, Oracle, what is wrong with my hands?"
She opened her mouth to make a haughty quip about how she was an Oracle of the gods and not a palm reader, but stopped short upon meeting his weighty gaze. She dropped her eyes to his upturned palms. Nothing appeared wrong with them. They were warm and slightly rough as she examined them with her own fingers. But nothing was out of the ordinary.
"I don't see-"
Before she could finish, matching cuts appeared in the center of either palms. Dark blood seeped out of the wounds.
"Do you see now. It is red not gold. I'm bleeding blood not ichor."