"So I got messages from Molly and Shannon last night while we were sleeping. They kept me posted the entire night, and even afterwards when they went back to Molly's house," Evangeline said after swallowing a mouthful of toast. She was wide awake now, shoveling food into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in days. Very few ever saw this side of her. "For most of the night, they both said pretty much the same thing. That Christy continued to make the night a competition for attention, trying to draw as much to herself as possible. She kept kissing guys left and right, yes kissing them, to make Josh jealous I suppose? Rather immature if you ask me. Not to mention unsanitary. I danced with a few of those boys and they simply can't be trusted."
She scooped up some strawberry preserves with her pinky finger and popped them onto her tongue greedily, chewing the fruit to mush before continuing. "If it's not too bold, I think it was you who made Christy that insecure! Josh thought you were outstandingly beautiful and noticed you before he noticed her. Unless of course he was trying to make her jealous from the beginning. That's what Molly thought, at least, and honestly it wouldn't surprise me. But even if that were the case, it is a bit of an honor that Josh targeted you. I mean after all...it was Josh. And it says something about how great you looked and how good of a job we did since-...uh...Lydia? Are you even listening?"
Lydia was immobile. Her head was dropped as if she were surveying her breakfast. French toast with strawberry, some scrambled eggs on the side, tiny little sausages. It looked exquisite. But the teen was too absorbed in poking the yellow bubbles of egg with her fork prongs, eyes totally glazed over, to bother actually eating any of it. Her appetite was nonexistent. Sometimes her head would jolt to the side out of paranoia, but she'd been still like this for a while. Saying nothing, giving no sign of registering anything. She was an empty capsule. It just felt better for her that way.
"Lydia!" Evangeline prompted, pounding the table with her fist. Everything atop it rattled and broke Lydia free of her concentration, sending life back into her body. She looked up dazed and with heavy confusion, her fork dropping.
The redhead raised her eyebrows. "You're awfully good at being weird," she said outright. It hadn't even been a joke. "What's on your mind this time?"
Lydia's face contorted. She was shocked, outraged; not at her friend but at the conflicting emotions suddenly raging within her again. She remembered why she chose to sink so deep into a happy place during their meal. Her friend demanded explanation, but she would never accept what she had to say. There was a demon clown ghost in her house, bothering her, chasing her from reality, to her dreams, and then back to reality. What sane person would buy into that garbage? It's not like Reala had specifically told her she had to keep him a secret. Surely even he knew doing so would be stupid.
"I don't know where to begin," she finally concluded, scowling down at her breakfast again, but with excessive defeat. "And you wouldn't believe me either way."
Evangeline sighed, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. "Well I'm sorry! I'm trying my hardest to be a good friend and level with you. But give me some credit, Lyds! You always go on about the strangest things! I mean recently, it's been about falling stars outside your window that were never actually there, and then your head gets pulled by a bloody poltergeist, a lamp gets hit by nothing anyone could see. Do you see the pattern? And this was all in the span of one day!" Her eyes narrowed. "Where do you even come up with this stuff? Is this because of your nightmares? Maybe they're following you into the real world and causing you to see things that aren't really there."
"You're half right," Lydia spat, eyes darting towards the ceiling and glaring viciously. She felt her temper building more than her fear. But perhaps it was because Reala wasn't in the room with her right now. No, he was somewhere above. Hiding. She silently dared him to come out. In fact, she was surprised he hadn't. Now would be a perfect opportunity to toy with her in front of Evangeline.
Evangeline shrugged and mindlessly bit into her toast again. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. If your nightmares are troubling you that much, it might help to see a professional."
Lydia's eye twitched. It felt like she was being talked down to. "A professional what?" she asked bitterly. "Jester wrangler?"
"Pardon?" Gray eyes flickered to brown ones, each pair of two different emotions entirely. Lydia had lost control of herself for a moment. Thinking about it too heavily, and too consistently, caused the teen to jump out of her chair and slam both hands on the table. She leaned over her plate and began shouting at the only friend she had.
"A professional can't help me, Evangeline! Not with this!" Lydia cried out, her chest stinging. "They can't, you can't, no one can! I don't know what's happening to me! It has nothing to do with my nightmares. Those stemmed from my mother's passing; this stems from something else. I don't know what. I want it to stop, but I can't do it myself. I'm trying to escape it. I truly am. Telling you will not make it any easier. Not when you think I've made up everything else!"
The redhead only stared, horror-stricken and in silence. Lydia had brought her mother up. The two never mentioned Lydia's mother. Not just because she was dead, but because something else about her loss deeply plagued the girl in a way she'd never been comfortable to share. She'd lost her parent as a toddler, and seemed to have never moved on. There was another layer of hurt hidden deep between the lines in ink too fine for most to read. Everyone healed at their own pace, but Lydia's scabs were constantly peeling. Just when the scars were starting to fade. They bled now. So freshly.
Lydia tried to calm herself. She wasn't helping her case at all. Coming up with such oddities to spew at an unprepared Evangeline. And then she just decides to snap at her? After she cooked breakfast? No wonder the girl was so hesitant to clue herself in to what Lydia was experiencing personally. How could she take it out on her? It wasn't her fault at all.
The girl slowly retreated back into her chair, a wave of shame rolling over. She took a deep breath and cupped a hand over one side of her face, then moved it down to her chest to check her heartbeart.
She felt it flutter when a male voice broke the quiet in two.
"I see you're yelling at her now."
Reala had drifted from the upper floor and into the dining area quietly and without disturbing the scuffle below. He'd grown bored with watching Evangeline's parents start their morning. One minute they were crashing knuckles into a weird beeping device next to the bed. It was much like an alarm egg but with sirens in place of chimes. And then they climbed out of bed, joints popping grotesquely, sluggishly hauled themselves to the bathroom, stuck pieces of colored plastic in their mouths, and white foam happened. It was disgusting. Not even worth the lesson on how humans operated at sunrise.
Then he'd heard shouting, and immediately realized whom it belonged to. He'd abandoned the ugly scene in the bedroom only to be blinded by orange sunlight on the floor beneath him. This is where the teenagers sat. One was the girl with red hair and a dolly face. The putrid Visitor's friend. Then there was the Visitor herself. Leaned back, breathing heavy as if to console herself. He'd missed the climax.
After speaking, her eyes popped open and focused on him. She jolted upright, growling on cue. Evangeline's face floated from east to west and gradually grew more and more curious.
"Are you...seeing something again?" she asked. It almost sounded like she genuinely cared and was trying to be more than just polite. "Is it over there now?"
Lydia caught herself almost instantly. Reala was watching her with intrigue, awaiting her response. She crossed her arms and puffed air out through her nose. She refused to play his game.
"No, I was just remembering something and it made me mad," she grumbled.
Reala couldn't help but be amused at this. For the very first time it what felt like ages, he smirked. It wasn't an actual smile, but there was definite pleasure involved and it felt almost alien to the Nightmaren. This Lydia character was indirectly going to be quite a joy to work with. Not because her personality was endearing, but rather it'd be nice to watch her be driven mad by his presence alone. That way he knew he wasn't suffering alone.
"What were you remembering? That I still exist?" he teased loudly. "Is that what you really want to tell your friend? How I'm flying right in front of you as if I have not a care in the world?"
Lydia knew exactly what he was doing. She considered going after him. After all, she could touch him. She could interact with him and prove that his matter was really there and not only conjured up from her insanity. But that's just what he wanted her to do. He was testing her. She knew having a physical reaction wouldn't work here. The bastard would simply fly away like the twit clown he was, and she'd be left to explain herself for the umpteenth time. Sooner or later someone would admit her into an asylum. She saw straight jackets in her future. They'd lock her up while she spun in circles and repeated gibberish about flying jesters for hours on end.
Lydia's fists tightened and she forced herself into behaving casually. Trying not to quiver, she picked the fork up with one hand, not breaking eye contact with a snickering Reala, and went on to eat her food after it'd already gone cold.
"Anyway," Evangeline cleared her throat. It was time to change the topic seeing as the previous one had gone rotten quite fast. "Can you just imagine what school will be like tomorrow? Everyone will be talking about you! That's a bit exciting, don't you think?"
Not really, was what Lydia would've said, but she was too busy having a staring contest with the jester opposite from her. He was gliding towards the table slowly. Once he reached it, he realized Lydia's elbow was relaxed atop it and carefully prodded the surface with a single finger-tip. Lydia felt it, her eyes squinted back at his, and he returned the gesture quite wickedly. The tapping was too soft for Evangeline to notice. It was rhythmic, never quite loud enough to be distracting. It drove her mad. He was messing with her just like she knew he would. And this was only the beginning.
Finally, Lydia tore her arm away from the table following it with an agitated noise. The Nightmaren's finger melted through, and with great displeasure he extracted it while looking her way maliciously. He bit the edge of his black lip. How he'd love to knock her backwards for mockingly reminding him of his situation. Even if he DID deserve it.
"I ran out of that club because of Josh..." Lydia thought aloud. She wasn't directly responding to her friend, rather her statement was coincidentally relevant, and more-so directed to Reala. "I was outside, by the railing, because he and Christy humiliated me so much that I couldn't bear being in there with them anymore. That's why I was there. Standing there alone. That's why I was there at all..."
Reala looked forward at her. She was referring to him now; how they'd unwillingly come to interact with one another. She'd made the decision to stand in a spot perfectly coordinated so that he'd see her, fly by and pull out her hair accessory because it'd been waving at him from afar, beckoning him almost. Had it been fate? Was such perfect timing really not choreographed by some greater power?
Evangeline didn't catch on at all. She dismissed the younger teen's rambling as more of her unraveling insanity and pressed onward. "We have English class with both Christy and Josh. That'll be uncomfortable. I wonder if they'll say anything to us. I sure as hell won't be the one to make the first move."
Reala had tried blocking out the conversation since it was so petty and boring, but instead caught on to something unavoidable that lye in store and grimaced.
"Ah that's right. You're a high school student," he said to Lydia. "I'll have to go to school with you until we figure out how to solve this problem. Perfect."
Lydia's eyes widened. The clown had been here for ONE hour and already he was insisting they attend school together?! There was no way she could handle that. It was hard enough with just one person present. But school?"
"You will do no such thing!" she shouted, glaring at him directly. She forgot he was invisible to all but her, save for the last second, and instead stuffed a lump of strawberry down her gullet in response to Evangeline's raised eyebrow, her irises quickly slitting off into space with shame.
"Er...yeah, like I said, I have no interest to stir the pot," the redhead sipped her tea nonchalantly, watching Lydia over the brim. "Christy on the other hand might be a bit less reasonable. If I were you, I'd prepare for a showdown."
"Well that's a bit dramatic." Reala lowered his eyelids after briefly looking to Evangeline. "You humans really are the most boring things in the universe if a "showdown" consists of two underage females squabbling over potential mates."
Lydia mirrored her friend by taking a swig of her own beverage. She felt her heart beating faster. She was building a sweat. He's just sitting in here chatting it up. He's deliberately trying to get to me. Potential mate? Get real. Get real, Reala. If that's even your REAL name.
The cup almost fell from her hand when the sound of a car horn blared from outside and broke her out of a trance. Evangeline jumped. Even Reala turned his head.
"How annoying," she mused, setting her utensils down, not realizing that it was the same way she'd gotten Lydia's attention the morning prior. "Who even is that?"
The car was outside the house. The headlights were round and almost totally busted, and it wore a dirty white dome as its body. The windows were poorly tinted, otherwise the driver of the vehicle might not have been so obvious. Lydia felt like she'd dry swallowed a stone.
It was her father, head turned in an eerie manner as he met eyes with her from behind his sunglasses. Evangeline noticed as well and suddenly wished she'd kept the curtains drawn shut. She'd never say it to Lydia, but her father was an unsettling person. Always gave off uncomfortable aura, always stared at people and objects with such disinterest and yet still drummed in this quiet intensity. She'd tried her best to steer clear of him. He seemed disturbed in a way she couldn't exactly pinpoint. Whatever it was, she hoped sincerely that his daughter wasn't beginning to feel the same effects. Even if it was just from sharing a home with him.
Also...why was he here? He'd never gone out of his way to retrieve Lydia from this house. Especially so early in the morning. It was barely eight o' clock. Lydia wasn't ready to go home with him, not including obvious reasons. Reala was waiting to get her alone again. She wanted to stay where she was. She felt safer from everybody, human and non.
But nonetheless, with a face void of emotion, the young girl removed herself from the table. Her focus momentarily flickered to the stairs. To go up stairs and change out of Evangeline's pajamas, or to not. She didn't want there to be any chance of Reala catching her by herself now. Especially nude. But she couldn't just take them home, could she?
"You can just take those home," Evangeline settled the issue quickly, feeling compelled to do so. "I have plenty of things to wear, which is why I'm also not too upset about the dress with the juice stain. I might actually do better with a slimmer wardrobe. But...I don't know if I want you to go along with them," she admitted somewhat sadly. Though there was more a trickle of concern in her voice that Lydia didn't pick up, but Reala did.
The human was transporting. He was about to do so as well, which would be agitating because he wasn't too fond of early sunlight.
Evangeline stood up and joined her friend at the door to bid her goodbye. Lydia checked the pocket of the sweatpants for her phone before weakly hugging her friend. She looked over her shoulder at the area where Reala resided, to find that he'd left. In the blink of an eye. He was no longer within the mansion, but rather hovering eagerly outside it, ready to follow Mr. Archibold's car. He noticed how awful it looked compared to the others he'd crossed in the city.
"Be sure to call me, or send me a message," Evangeline said as they broke apart. Lydia was opening the door, and her eyes lolled downwards accordingly. "You know, if you need anything. Someone to talk to. I promise I'll be a better listener from now on. And...I'm sorry. For everything."
Lydia would've felt more guilty about placing so much responsibility as a friend on her shoulders if she hadn't been so enveloped in her own worries. That Reala was stalking her now. He wasn't going to go away. He was going to make life far more difficult than it already was. She nodded and struggled to form a smile, before tearing through the doorway and off the porch, to the car she loathed so much.
Once the door opened, and she was inside, and the door had shut, and the seatbelt had been fastened, Lydia didn't bother saying anything to her father. Hilarious to think he'd so much as expect a Good Morning. Instead she kept her eyes averted out, watching with a pang to the heart as Evangeline shut the door, then pinned her focus to the skies where she spotted Reala flying near the rooftops. His form was a strange, angular shape of black and red, and its contrast against the sun made it seem even more like an illustration out of a storybook.
The jester was impatient. He couldn't wait to knock the attitude right out of this Dreamer. He cared not for her personal woes. He just wanted to fulfill whatever task necessary to rid himself of this world and return to Nightmare as his permanent residence. Whatever it was, he wanted to do it quickly.
Still in silence, the car began to move. It went well on its way out of the city and towards the filthy suburbs Lydia called home, with a determined Nightmaren hot on her trail.
Now THAT'S one glaring transition...Reala thought as he fluttered past the bridge between the city and suburbia. They were almost like two different worlds entirely. The human equivalent of Nightmare and Nightopia. Except whereas Nightmare was as least a strong core for dark magic and trickery, the poorer neighborhoods were weak, completely desaturated and honestly quite troubling to look at. The way they'd been placed together in such a tight and cluttered fashion, so carelessly and without passion, with hardly enough room to breathe left him uneasy. Claustrophobic was what humans would have mistaken that feeling as. Every house was painted a different color, at least, which was more than he could say about the ones of Bellbridge. Ooh, even thinking the name sent angry shudders quaking through his body.
With one final glance behind him, he found he could make out the infamous clock tower looming over the urban areas like its queen, surrounded by a haze conjured up from distance alone, while black dots, presumably birds, sailed past its face and off into the lowest clouds. The two humans he was tracking were going away from the tower. Lydia didn't live in the part of Bellbridge that he was accustomed to in the Night Dimension. So there was at least that thin, but still very real silver lining. Now he was safe from flashbacks of his body collapsing through familiar buildings, lifeless, while NiGHTS watched above. For now at least.
Oh yeah, sweet revenge on NiGHTS. That was definitely something to look forward to. Even if the traitor did figure out how to make ideya palaces appear, he'd still teach him the lesson he deserved. How he couldn't wait to get this human asleep again.
Sooner than she would've wanted, Lydia was parked in front of her own house, staring at it like it deserved to be quarantined. Mr. Archibold shifted the car into its stationary gears then twisted the ignition with a single rusty key. Once the rattling engine had become silence and they were left with the sounds of their mismatched breathing, Lydia felt sick. It compelled her to reach for the door handle and exit the vehicle quickly. Just to get away from him. She was confused as to why he hadn't started getting out himself.
But then answer wasn't far behind.
"Say, Lydia," the man spoke gruffly. It was made quite clear that he wasn't the type to usually pull himself out of bed at dawn. What Lydia didn't realize was that he hadn't slept at all. For him it was still yesterday.
Lydia's hand froze on the lever. She didn't meet his eyes, nor say a single word. He knew this meant she was listening, and so he continued.
"Did you remember to bring back your cell phone?"
Lydia's stomach burned at the middle. She didn't understand what he was playing at, but she wished he'd just come out and say what was actually on his mind. Since when did he care if she remembered something like that? It almost felt as if he were searching for a reason to snap, and needed her as his outlet.
"It's in my pocket."
Reala was outside the car now, floating still and waiting for the humans to pry themselves out and enter their disgusting abode. He grew impatient, wondering how long it normally took for their species to enter a household. It didn't take long the night prior when Lydia and Evangeline returned from their party. So what was the deal?
"That's good. You almost left it yesterday, you know." Mr. Archibold's stare was acidic. Lydia didn't have to see it herself. She felt it like sunlight through a magnifying glass, scorching through the back of her head. All sorts of insults and outbursts threatened to spill. If she bit her lip it would've bled.
"Yes, but I didn't," she responded. "What's the problem?"
Mr. Archibold could see she was breathing a bit harder now. He mounted her anxiety like it were a stallion. "There is no problem. It's a very good thing I found it for you and held onto it."
Is it? Lydia thought. I never even thought to use it while I was away. Why is he telling me this?
"Though it's not really in your favor that curious, caring fathers such as myself know how basic technology functions and understand how to work the buttons."
At first his implication didn't register, but then Lydia's fingers unfurled, and her eyes widened.
"You didn't even think to delete the messages between you and that redheaded slag."
No. He didn't.
"You're in a world of trouble. The last thing I'm going to put up with is someone like Evangeline Sawyer turning my daughter into someone like her. You'll be lucky if I ever let you see her again."
He read my text messages. He knows I went to that club. This can't be happening.
"But you're lucky your brother pissed me off first, otherwise this would become something much, much uglier."
Lydia gasped, and faster than she could process her following thoughts, she tore out of the car and ran straight into the house, calling her brother's name desperately.
Reala had curled himself up into a ball, tapping his fingers against crossed legs when he noticed the Visitor FINALLY going into her house after it felt like the sun had already belted up a few more centimeters in the wky. She was unaccompanied, and had left the door wide open behind her once inside, but none of that was of dire importance. With a lifted eye ridge, the Nightmaren finally straightened. "Took you long enough," he sighed to himself.
He floated towards the walls of the Archibold home, nearing the tall, scraggly tree on the lawn before doubling over his shoulder just as the man who'd driven Lydia followed after her with hands stuffed away in his pants pockets. They formed obvious fists through the looseness of the fabric. He didn't look pleased at all. The jester shrugged before melting through the first window he could find, audibly cutting himself off from the outside world.
Lydia stood in the doorway of Michael's room, clutching onto the frame with one hand. Her harsh breathing stopped altogether when she took in the sight before her. Her little brother seated on the bed, hugging his own knees with his head ducked in the valley between them. Surrounding him was a catastrophic scene; thrown clothes, broken toys, a dresser tipped over and with socks spilling out the top drawer. It hadn't been like this before. Not entirely. When the young child finally looked up in response to the sound of his sister, he showed her exactly what had happened. The story was on his face, dark and swollen, concentrated in one area.
His eye was black.
If there were any other markings on his body after the obvious scuffle, Lydia didn't pay them any mind. The stricken eye spoke the loudest to her, as it was the darkest and most prominent injury she'd ever seen inflicted on him, both purposely and accidentally. She felt the largeness of her failure threatening to consume her, starting with her legs and gobbling upwards so that she'd be brought to the floor. But just as they began to turn to noodles, she fought those gnashing jaws, and instead flew across the room, jumping over potential obstacles and buried her brother in the biggest hug her scrawny arms could make real. In that moment, things like Reala and Evangeline and cell phones and night clubs and nightmares and dreams no longer existed. It was just him and her.
She wouldn't cry. She had to be strong for him. She was absent for all of last night. He had no one there to be strong for him when he needed it most. So she'd give him that solitude now; she'd try to make up for it in any way that she possibly could. He took the gesture with great relief, pulling her into a deeper embrace as a silent stream of tears fell from both eyes and matted some of her hair. Her face rested in the crook of his shoulder. He couldn't see that her teeth were bared.
"He dropped a wine bottle in the kitchen," Mr. Archibold said in the place where Lydia previously stood. His tone was very dark and serious, like this type of punishment was inevitable, and well-deserving. Like telling a child why a rabid dog had to be put down.
Lydia didn't look to him for answers. She didn't want his justification. All she could process was how Michael shook against her the moment their father became present, and hugged him tighter, trying to create a barrier between them.
Nobody moved, or said another word. She realized with slowing ease that Mr. Archibold had left the room when she heard his footsteps clicking through the hall and ebbing away. He was far from done with her. Being that he knew she'd gone to that club in Bellbridge, there was a still of bundle of Hell waiting to be unleashed. But not right now, and for that time only, that's all that mattered.
Now that it was just the two of them, a million of questions sprang from Lydia like stars out her ears. She didn't directly ask her sibling any of them, but she wondered them to herself with great sincerity. Why had Michael been caught holding a wine bottle? Was he instructed to bring it to their father? Was he getting it for himself? Would this not have happened if Lydia had been there and not with her friends? Did it happen because her father found out the truth, and he was the closest thing to take it out on?
She pressed her mouth into Michael's neck. Not a kiss, but more an affectionate reassurance. Whether or not it had been his fault, even if he had just been being stupid, or a twelve year old, or both simultaneously, he was not deserving of this treatment. She had to make that clear. The only way she could was wordlessly, and even then it wasn't enough to reassure him nor herself.
Lydia finally pulled away and held her brother's face with motherly tenderness, studying it carefully. No cuts, no unhealthy discoloration anywhere else save for the black eye. It was a deep, rich velvet color and had a disturbing luster to it. She decided to make herself busy for a split second, just so she could look away and console herself. Her reason found itself at the door. She crossed the room to shut it, to break them away from the rest of the house.
When the door had closed, Lydia took another long breath and stared ahead at the empty white paint before turning once again.
Reala was waiting near her brother, wearing a blatantly stoic expression.
"I know exactly what you're thinking. If you believe waiting here with this half pint is going to save you from me, then you're terribly wrong," Reala said with what could've been mistaken as boredom. He'd given up trying to intimidate her. It was just too easy. He decided he didn't even need to try. But he was angry. That part never went away.
Lydia locked eyes with him and found herself backing into the door again. Her chest heaved dramatically and she shook her head once; twice. Michael noticed this and raised his eyes weakly.
"Sis? What's wrong?"
Lydia didn't answer. Her mouth hung open as she walked back towards him, not looking away from the Nightmaren. She just couldn't tear herself away now. Reala placed his hands on his hips, his glare now sliding over to the boy. He noticed how banged up part of his face was and snickered. "Boy, seems to me like someone didn't follow proper orders," he noted. "I didn't think that this sort of thing was administered in this dimension as well. Sometimes my Master outright killed those who defied him. This one got off easy."
Now Michael had turned to look at Reala. He didn't see anything or hear anyone. He was simply confused as to why his sister was so heavily fixated on the spot where he resided. Reala noticed him staring, even if it was blankly, and examined the wound on his eye. It stood out so much against his pale skin. The Nightmaren reached forward and pricked the surface, only for his ghostly finger to stab straight through the child's face.
Lydia's expression twisted with rage. She jumped forward and collided with Michael, hugging him as if to protect him again. She was lucky Reala had moved his hand away in time, otherwise it would've become embedded in the kid's brain.
"I'm sorry, Michael," was all she could say. It sounded rushed and breathless. She made sure whatever she said drilled into the Nightmaren as well. "I'll stay here with you today. All day. I won't leave you. I wouldn't dare."
She didn't look back at Reala, but she could feel him looking at her. "Oh really now? Is that your plan?" he asked her.
"I promise," Lydia answered hurriedly to both of them.
Michael, much like Evangeline, didn't realize she was talking to two people at once, and nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Lydia." His voice broke a little.
Reala scoffed at how totally obnoxious they both were. Holding onto each other so dearly, and with so much love. He was genuinely surprised that Lydia had never been to Nightopia. She was someone that NiGHTS would've channeled through perfectly. It made him sick.
But, there was a point worth addressing. He really had nothing that he could do here during the day while she was awake. Sure, experimentation might have been of some use. He could have maybe forcefully put her back to sleep himself. The sink idea was beginning to sound better and better.
But all of these different choices bore too much risk. He'd have to wait a bit longer, for her to naturally drift back to sleep. He knew where to find her, at least.
Reala loomed over the two of them crookedly, hanging his head low so that his charcoal lip brushed past Lydia's ear and made the back of her neck tingle.
"Don't think this is over. I'll be back when you've fallen asleep."
She felt his breath swirling through to her head and flinched away. But she didn't argue what he said. She couldn't, even if she found the right words to say. There was no way to escape Reala. He'd see to that.
So without any final retorts from either party, Reala shot out of the room and left the two Archibold siblings to wallow in their own misery, much like they did most of the time in the privacy of their own home. Unbeknownst to anyone.
Unbeknownst to everyone.
(x)
(x)
(x)
You'll probably notice the sickening pattern here. Two chapters have taken place. Roughly ten thousand words in total. HARDLY ANY TIME AS PASSED AT ALL. AND THIS ALL TOOK PLACE IN THE HUMAN WORLD.
But I wouldn't say that means that there isn't much progression. I think this chapter in particular is very vital to the story and sort of an introduction to the kind of struggles the protagonist faces behind the scenes. Some would call this dragging the story out, since I like to highlight things that might not be that important to certain readers. But that's just the kind of storyteller I am. Maybe one day I'll write something with a much faster pace. But this just seems like how it should be. I have quite a bit of story left to tell. There's so much I want to share. I hope it's still enjoyable. Feel free to leave a review and tell me how you feel!
