author's note;
01/31/14 — For some reason, I really, really wanted to write something with anachronistic storytelling and a completely AU timeline, so here we go. EUNOIA, an experiment in throwing canon events out the window as I flip the the species of the two main leads around

I had a lot of fun figuring out the plot for this one, so I have y'all have fun piecing the events together as well. Enjoy!

(As a very important note: chronological order will be hinted at in the chapter titles. Past for the events of 3 years ago, and present for the events of now.)

There is fate and there is chance. There is luck and there is destiny.

Sometimes (all the time) she wonders what category her life would fall under. Fate, or chance. Luck, or destiny. Simple misfortune—or something that was set in stone long, long ago. Perhaps before he or she were even born. Maybe even before either of them, for all their attempts and all their failures, had a chance to stop it.

She isn't sure. She doesn't know. She will never be certain of it.

But if she is certain of one thing in her life, then it must be—

(—his cheeks are warm against the palms of her hands.
He doesn't flinch away.
Death surrounds them, and there is nowhere else for them to go.)

"I found you," she whispers, voice hoarse and lovelorn. Her hands are cold and damp, covered in dust and grime and the results of days upon weeks upon months of running away. She's certain he can smell the blood on her broken nails, hear the rhythmic drumming of her heart—but she doesn't care. What's done is done. She is 20-years-old and tired of the hunt.

"You did," he replies, both hands reaching up to grasp her wrists but not quite yanking her arms away. Despite their current predicament, he leans into her touch, indulging in what may or may not be the last moment they will ever have. The blood from her fingers mixes with the blood already streaked across his face, but none of it belongs to him.

"Promise," she begins, "Promise me you won't leave again."

He glances at her. There is little warmth to be found in his one, visible eye.

"I won't," he lies.

She allows herself to believe him.

(Promises can be misleading,
and those made in vain even more so.)

She wishes she never met him when she was young and reckless and 17-years-old.

(He isn't the only liar around here.)

( EUNOIA )

( in media res )

This story begins three years ago.