::: CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE :::
Last night's sleep had been a fitful one and full of yearning for the morning, thinking somehow that it wouldn't be appreciated if I just stumbled in on Riddick during the middle of the night. I was probably right, seldom I was wrong. However, when the first teasing rays of sunlight crept up my leg, shining gold on pale white, I almost recoiled and went to clasp the screen down on the tiny window.
Sighing with something close to indulgence, I splashed cold, dripping water on my face, watching it make its cleansing course down my cheeks. I quickly brushed my teeth, not daring to smile at the mirror, and brushed out my hair also, something that I felt hadn't been done in a long time. I didn't take the time to inspect myself more thoroughly for the morbid fear that I wouldn't like what was staring back. Never having appreciated a mirror's verity, I just opted to conceal myself.
Slight ghost, slight memory, slight girl I was walking around the increasingly warm ship, making my way to Riddick's room. Morning seemed foreign to me...had I ever woken up this early before? The intensity of it's light, the truth of the sun, the slow time of morning's were amazing...amazingly creepy.
I crawled into Riddick's bed, nestling in the cool sheets, before planting myself on top of his covered form. Laying my chin on his chest, I waited until he opened his eyes.
As he finally acknowledged my non-morning presence -- he had know I was there way before -- I took the liberty of blatantly staring into silver orbs, that told no story that morning. In all it's honesty, daybreak still had nothing on Richard B. Riddick. Extraordinary concealment...I bet he had no problem with mirrors. Staring at mirrors with mirror eyes couldn't be that bad, anyway -- just one reflection to another...until it all exploded somewhere in the middle.
Swallowing the silver down my dry throat, it fueled me with just enough hidden energy to make my words real. "Got a question for you," I stated quickly.
"Shoot," the languid creature said.
"Remember when you left me with Imam at the hotel for a few months..." I raised midnight gilded eyebrows at him. "...where did you go?"
Riddick sighed heavily, shuffling the dawn's glitter interlaced through my hair, and moved as if to get out from under me.
"Oh, no you don't," I said, placing a well traveled (night vacations) hand on his chest. "I wanna know."
We stood like that for long seconds. Sunrise and sunset had passed us in those few moments. We were back to not knowing if it was light or dark though, so I had to use my own skills to decipher candor from deception. I was pretty well-honed in that area, so no worries.
When Riddick finally spoke, it startled me. Stars and rays...both piercing in their own right. "I tried to find a way to find some extra money," he said quietly.
"Is that when you came up with the Zemi idea?" I asked as if I had just been a passerby in the whole situation. There was no emotion in my voice -- regulatory detachment was something that Riddick would have to get used to.
Riddick's jaw tightened for less than a second but I, like a good little girl, noted it. His arms came to rest on the small of my back, as if that was enough misdirection for me. Huh. Nope.
"No, that's when I tried to find an alternative," he finally answered, with maybe just a pinch of more emotion than I had held in my voice.
Something didn't click. Because when I looked into Riddick's eyes they were somber like the night, not mischievously glinting like the day. He was lying and trying too hard to shed some light; instead he cloaked me in raven. Why was he going to such lengths to not hurt me? So what?...He came up with the idea to sell me. I didn't care, but I was curious. I never expected him to lie -- not when I needed the brutal, flashing truth. Like biting pebbles in the bottom of the ocean...like slippery soap clinging to skin...like the sudden illumination of a pitch black room. I needed it.
I gave him a chance out. "Are you sure?" my voice came distance, distracted.
He held me close -- too far for genuine sable between our bodies -- and kneaded my back for a comforting while. "I didn't want to sell you so I was trying to find a way out for you," he said, almost perfectly, had it not been for a tiny hesitation.
"Said the serial killer," I joked, but inside I was wounded.
This was how it had all started -- with my parents trying to guard me by taking away the things that would make me feel pain...that was a betrayal of feelings though, because I needed my suffering to make me strong.
Was Riddick attempting to make me weak? Didn't he know that I could screen myself, that I didn't need him to do that for me?
I had never felt such a sharp contrast between incandescence and solid dusk as I did at that moment, laying on Riddick encased in an aura of arctic white coming in through the window.
Last night's sleep had been a fitful one and full of yearning for the morning, thinking somehow that it wouldn't be appreciated if I just stumbled in on Riddick during the middle of the night. I was probably right, seldom I was wrong. However, when the first teasing rays of sunlight crept up my leg, shining gold on pale white, I almost recoiled and went to clasp the screen down on the tiny window.
Sighing with something close to indulgence, I splashed cold, dripping water on my face, watching it make its cleansing course down my cheeks. I quickly brushed my teeth, not daring to smile at the mirror, and brushed out my hair also, something that I felt hadn't been done in a long time. I didn't take the time to inspect myself more thoroughly for the morbid fear that I wouldn't like what was staring back. Never having appreciated a mirror's verity, I just opted to conceal myself.
Slight ghost, slight memory, slight girl I was walking around the increasingly warm ship, making my way to Riddick's room. Morning seemed foreign to me...had I ever woken up this early before? The intensity of it's light, the truth of the sun, the slow time of morning's were amazing...amazingly creepy.
I crawled into Riddick's bed, nestling in the cool sheets, before planting myself on top of his covered form. Laying my chin on his chest, I waited until he opened his eyes.
As he finally acknowledged my non-morning presence -- he had know I was there way before -- I took the liberty of blatantly staring into silver orbs, that told no story that morning. In all it's honesty, daybreak still had nothing on Richard B. Riddick. Extraordinary concealment...I bet he had no problem with mirrors. Staring at mirrors with mirror eyes couldn't be that bad, anyway -- just one reflection to another...until it all exploded somewhere in the middle.
Swallowing the silver down my dry throat, it fueled me with just enough hidden energy to make my words real. "Got a question for you," I stated quickly.
"Shoot," the languid creature said.
"Remember when you left me with Imam at the hotel for a few months..." I raised midnight gilded eyebrows at him. "...where did you go?"
Riddick sighed heavily, shuffling the dawn's glitter interlaced through my hair, and moved as if to get out from under me.
"Oh, no you don't," I said, placing a well traveled (night vacations) hand on his chest. "I wanna know."
We stood like that for long seconds. Sunrise and sunset had passed us in those few moments. We were back to not knowing if it was light or dark though, so I had to use my own skills to decipher candor from deception. I was pretty well-honed in that area, so no worries.
When Riddick finally spoke, it startled me. Stars and rays...both piercing in their own right. "I tried to find a way to find some extra money," he said quietly.
"Is that when you came up with the Zemi idea?" I asked as if I had just been a passerby in the whole situation. There was no emotion in my voice -- regulatory detachment was something that Riddick would have to get used to.
Riddick's jaw tightened for less than a second but I, like a good little girl, noted it. His arms came to rest on the small of my back, as if that was enough misdirection for me. Huh. Nope.
"No, that's when I tried to find an alternative," he finally answered, with maybe just a pinch of more emotion than I had held in my voice.
Something didn't click. Because when I looked into Riddick's eyes they were somber like the night, not mischievously glinting like the day. He was lying and trying too hard to shed some light; instead he cloaked me in raven. Why was he going to such lengths to not hurt me? So what?...He came up with the idea to sell me. I didn't care, but I was curious. I never expected him to lie -- not when I needed the brutal, flashing truth. Like biting pebbles in the bottom of the ocean...like slippery soap clinging to skin...like the sudden illumination of a pitch black room. I needed it.
I gave him a chance out. "Are you sure?" my voice came distance, distracted.
He held me close -- too far for genuine sable between our bodies -- and kneaded my back for a comforting while. "I didn't want to sell you so I was trying to find a way out for you," he said, almost perfectly, had it not been for a tiny hesitation.
"Said the serial killer," I joked, but inside I was wounded.
This was how it had all started -- with my parents trying to guard me by taking away the things that would make me feel pain...that was a betrayal of feelings though, because I needed my suffering to make me strong.
Was Riddick attempting to make me weak? Didn't he know that I could screen myself, that I didn't need him to do that for me?
I had never felt such a sharp contrast between incandescence and solid dusk as I did at that moment, laying on Riddick encased in an aura of arctic white coming in through the window.