Marilyn took care to note every single detail as the plan flew through the
sky, the wings cutting through the harsh wind like knives cutting through
butter. The sky, an infinite pale azure; the clouds, off-white, the color
of morning doves. Still, most strange of all was the sun, an orb that
simply hung their in the center of it all, letting of an endless light. All
this was quite new to her, though somehow she knew she had seen it before.
Yes, she had most defenitely seen it before, but now she saw it in a new
way, a different light.
No, not a different light. More like a different darkness.
"Exuse me? Would you mind switching seats with my nephew?" The woman sitting next to her asked in an obnoxiously loud voice. She was a rather portly creature, her thin, auburn hair kept in a low bun. A pleasant smile stretched across her face. The fact that this woman had decided such a trivial question was important enough to interrupt her from her thoughts annoyed Marilyn greatly.
"What do you think you're doing?" The woman didn't quite understand what Marilyn meant by this question, which was obvious by the bewildered expression she held across her face.
"I ... I guess I'm asking you if you'd like to trade seats with my nephew, Jordan. You see, it's his first time flying and he's feeling a bit sick, so it would be very helpful if you switched with him so I could give him some moral support ..." The woman gave a weak smile.
"I'm sorry, lady, but I think my problems are much bigger than yours." Marilyn snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously as they often tended to do when she became emotional. The woman seemed to catch this, and shivered slightly before nodding and turning away. She seemed to be trying to make eye contact with the nephew, Jordan, whom was seated about three rows behind them. Marilyn could even hear her whimper some praises.
"Jordan, you're being such a good boy ... Jordan, honey, it's okay ... Don't worry, baby, not that much longer ..."
---
~*~*~
---
"You're Marilyn." A gruff voice stated, a voice belonging to a tall, lanky boy whom looked only a few years older than herself. His eyes were a pure, monotonous black, lacking pupils or irises. They stood out at her, symbolizing all that the Atrox meant.
"Uhh ... yes." Those eyes scared her, shattering her typically charismatic and care-free appearance and replacing it with the image of an insecure, fearful child. Damn. She couldn't remember the last time such a thing had happened to her.
"You didn't need to answer. I already knew." He said, and she noticed that his voice carried the same sort of inhuman edge as his eyes.
"Oh, well, I should have guessed ..." She laughed, quickly regretting it. His face showed now emotion, now recognition, nothing.
"I don't understand why they went through all this trouble. You don't seem worthwhile." He snorted, quickly continuing before she could answer. "Anyway, I'm Caleb. Frankly, I don't care what you call me, but know always that I am your superior in the Atrox. If I ask you something, anything, you will obey. Is that perfectly clear?"
"Yeah ... yeah." Marilyn nodded, shakily, suddenly wondering what she had gotten herself into. This must be exactly how that woman on the plane had felt earlier ...
No, not a different light. More like a different darkness.
"Exuse me? Would you mind switching seats with my nephew?" The woman sitting next to her asked in an obnoxiously loud voice. She was a rather portly creature, her thin, auburn hair kept in a low bun. A pleasant smile stretched across her face. The fact that this woman had decided such a trivial question was important enough to interrupt her from her thoughts annoyed Marilyn greatly.
"What do you think you're doing?" The woman didn't quite understand what Marilyn meant by this question, which was obvious by the bewildered expression she held across her face.
"I ... I guess I'm asking you if you'd like to trade seats with my nephew, Jordan. You see, it's his first time flying and he's feeling a bit sick, so it would be very helpful if you switched with him so I could give him some moral support ..." The woman gave a weak smile.
"I'm sorry, lady, but I think my problems are much bigger than yours." Marilyn snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously as they often tended to do when she became emotional. The woman seemed to catch this, and shivered slightly before nodding and turning away. She seemed to be trying to make eye contact with the nephew, Jordan, whom was seated about three rows behind them. Marilyn could even hear her whimper some praises.
"Jordan, you're being such a good boy ... Jordan, honey, it's okay ... Don't worry, baby, not that much longer ..."
---
~*~*~
---
"You're Marilyn." A gruff voice stated, a voice belonging to a tall, lanky boy whom looked only a few years older than herself. His eyes were a pure, monotonous black, lacking pupils or irises. They stood out at her, symbolizing all that the Atrox meant.
"Uhh ... yes." Those eyes scared her, shattering her typically charismatic and care-free appearance and replacing it with the image of an insecure, fearful child. Damn. She couldn't remember the last time such a thing had happened to her.
"You didn't need to answer. I already knew." He said, and she noticed that his voice carried the same sort of inhuman edge as his eyes.
"Oh, well, I should have guessed ..." She laughed, quickly regretting it. His face showed now emotion, now recognition, nothing.
"I don't understand why they went through all this trouble. You don't seem worthwhile." He snorted, quickly continuing before she could answer. "Anyway, I'm Caleb. Frankly, I don't care what you call me, but know always that I am your superior in the Atrox. If I ask you something, anything, you will obey. Is that perfectly clear?"
"Yeah ... yeah." Marilyn nodded, shakily, suddenly wondering what she had gotten herself into. This must be exactly how that woman on the plane had felt earlier ...
