So new story, I promise I'll update Project Wessa soon, but for now here's a story about some of my favorite characters... THE HERONDALES!
Disclaimer: I'm not Cassie Clare. If I was Ella would be a bigger character (or at least have lines)
WILL
It was the silence that woke him. For years he tried to find out what had woken him in the minutes between November 10th and 11th. The night had been perfect cool, calm, and silent. Silent. He knew now.
She had never slept a lot, his sister, so at the time he supposed he should be happy that she was asleep. But somehow he knew something was cosmically wrong. Her violin was always pouring out beautiful music in the early hours of the morning. Always.
Perhaps if he had checked on her, her bed wouldn't be her tomb. It tortured him for years that he knew something was off and he didn't act on it, because he didn't want to believe something was wrong. He sometimes wondered if she had already been dead, when the silence of violin had woken him, or could she have been saved?
ELINOR
Darkness. Then flashes of light, piercing her mind. The smell of poison, and blood, her blood, filled her nose. She was paralyzed with pain, and fear. She would not, could not cry out. She was too hot, too cold, every part of felt as if it were on fire. The poisonous fire burned through her veins, until she couldn't remember what color her eyes were, how old she was, or her name. Then...Darkness. She welcomed death.
Her eyes opened. She found herself gasping for breath, and honestly she was very surprised by fact. She had died, she knew that. So why was she here? The poison no longer scorched her veins, and she was able to raise her head.
She was in a room with cracking flowery wallpaper, and furniture that may have once been grand, but now was falling into disrepair. Letters were on the table beside her, correspondence between friends, she guessed.
Dearest Elinor,
We must get together soon, for it has been too long. I wish to bask in your most glorious companionship again, dear girl. So pray tell, when shall we meet?
Love Jane
She must Elinor, of course, though could remember a thing about her, or Jane. So she searched the letters. After, a few minutes had passed, she found a signature beyond "Elinor." It read Elinor Lisette Hightower. Elinor Lisette Hightower. Was that her name? It held no significance to her, but it was the only name she could find, so she took it. Elinor walked over to the peeling vanity and looked at her reflection. Dark blonde curls fell around her shoulders, her light blue eyes wide in her freckled face. She looked about eighteen or nineteen years old, and her dress suggested good upbringing. Still, Elinor could not remember a thing about her past. It was as if someone had wiped clean her memory in death, and then shoved her back into the world of living with no idea who she was, or who was mourning her.
London. The word came unbidden to her mind. Go to London. You'll find your way in London. The voice in her mind wasn't hers. It wasn't human either, it was ethereal, and otherworldly. Elinor straightened her dress, tucked the chain around her neck into bodice.
"And how would I get to London, per say?" She called into the empty space. "If I were to go?" The voice was silent. "Right."
Elinor found a dark grey traveling cloak, with a light blue lining, pinned and braided her hair, put on a pair of silk kid gloves, and walked out of the house. Within a few minutes she found the stable, and a beautiful chestnut mare inside a stall marked May. She saddled the horse, with no idea how she knew to do it, then climbed onto her back and rode out onto the countryside.
Elinor and May rode for hours, until they saw an inn, where they stayed the night (Elinor pawned a necklace), then continued to London.
So? Is it okay? Elinor is to have to go through Hell, though. xoxo Ella