Another Nevermore Varobel (VarenXIsobel) fan-fiction.
It has been a while since I wrote something like this so please go easy on me! O.O
Anyway, this takes place after Nevermore and before Enshadowed. Of course, Isobel is remembering the last moments before Varen was taken by Lilith and the Nocs… and contemplating again about trying to find the Poe Toaster (aka Reynolds)
The Nevermore Trilogy and the characters belong to the lovely Kelly Creagh
Pens and pencils tapped on paper as the clock in Swanson's room ticked slowly, counting the seconds to the end of class. It was very rare for Mr. Swanson to grant in class work time when everyone knew he'd rather have them reading something like William Blake, Mark Twain, John Keats, or Emily Bronte. But no one argued, especially Isobel Lanley. Her pink pen clicked several times, lost in thought and wondering in another land rather than on the English report she would have to give in two weeks prior to the beginning of Winter break.
Images passed in her mind. Dark swirling capes and gowns, horrid laughter and several sneers peeking out from under designed masks... a distant tolling clock counting down to midnight... And in the center of all the commotion, a pair of green-jade eyes watching her from behind a phantom mask.
When Isobel's eyes met the green ones, the stranger pulled her into his arms and danced with her. His nose traced along the curve of her shoulder inhaling her scent as the two clung to each other like a spider to its web. Once the mask was removed, a beaten Varen Nethers appeared before her.
Isobel had been shocked and knew exactly what happened.
Varen's fingers dug into her skin, pulling her away from the crowd and into a small outside office. He barricaded them inside to keep the Nocs out and keep her in. As Varen was doing this, he began babbling about the mistake he made.
He wanted to belong, to be a part of something other than reality, to find another world that couldn't be real… that wasn't real. But at the same time, it was real already in his own mind.
Isobel had struggled to understand what he was talking about… then everything clicked into place.
As the idea slowly sunk into her head, claws scraped along the wooden door and shadows crawled along the floor as something laughed wickedly. They had been found…
Isobel was jolted out of the memory as a paper landed in front of her. Swanson was passing out papers from last week's journal assignment on John Keats' Bright Star poem. She groaned and stared at the paper.
B-
Isobel sighed in relief setting it into her folder as Swanson cleared his throat.
"Alright folks, I know I keep nagging at you about these reports, but I want them done properly. Last year's sophomores didn't take this thing very seriously and the consequences were tough on all of them."
Everyone chuckled humourlessly.
"Also, remember that it must be typed, double spaced, twelve-sized font, and either Georgia, Times New Roman, or Hevelica. Another pleasant reminder, for those of you who are in sports or other activities, the paper is due two weeks from TODAY. Not when you get back from break."
Everyone groaned as the bell finally rang.
As Isobel stood up from her seat, Mr. Swanson called her over.
She groaned. Could this day get any worse?
As she stood before him, Isobel watched him shuffle a few paper around before he raised his eyes to peek out at her over the oval spectacles perched on the end of his nose. "Isobel."
She swallowed hard, "Yes?"
"How much of the paper are you done with?"
Isobel sighed and answered unwavering, "A little more than half-way. It should be ready to turn in by the proper due date."
"Good… but that's not all I wanted to ask you."
Uh-oh, here came the V chat… again.
Mr. Swanson put his glasses down on his desk and rubbed his eyes wearily, "I know that you have been asked a lot of questions since the absence of Varen, but I'm a little worried that you might be over blown by it."
Really? Is this how her teachers started to see her since Halloween?
"Umm… a little. I'm just trying to focus more on the squad, you know? We have that championship game next week in Dallas and we've been practically pushed to the limit. I understand your concern, but…"
"Isobel," he interrupted her, "I just want you to know that if something does come up, let me know. I'm cheering on the team because it my school too, but if you need a break, just tell your coach, I'm sure she'll understand."
"I already know that," Isobel tried to suppress her anger.
Before Mr. Swanson could push her further, she swung her backpack over her shoulder and left the English department.
Isobel let out a loud moan flopping on her bed later than night. Another grueling practice and Coach Anne was still kicking their butts… quite literally.
Her muscles ached to sleep but her mind was wide awake. She turned her head as her gaze fell on the green jacket that hung in her closet.
Varen's jacket…
Isobel slowly stood up and walked over to her closet, pulling the jacket from it's hanger. The note left there by Varen remained on the bedside table next to her. Isobel pulled the jacket over her long legs and unfolded the note, reading and rereading it until the words became a jumble in her head.
As her eyes slipped shut, the memory of the "Poe Toaster" flashed as a warning.
Reynolds… the Poe Toaster, was the only person who could lead her back into the dark world that had come alive from Varen's words.
The power of words is what could let him free…
Fin.
