Hello dear readers! I know, it's been months since the last update and I am so sorry for that. You're probably thinking that I've given up on this story. I haven't! I still plan on finishing it. If you are reading Orange Sky, you probably know some of the reasons why this update has taken so long. TROS mentally ruined me for a bit when it came to Star Wars and writing. My muse up and left. But I am getting my mojo back, even though TROS still bothers me. But I don't want that movie to take away my love for writing fanfiction! Second, I put more focus on finishing the previous semester of school. Things got stressful there for a bit, but with summer break, I am planning on writing more. Third, I have been sewing a lot of face masks since this whole pandemic hit, trying to balance that with school. I still sew face masks, just not as many as in the beginning. Fourth, I was trying to also finish Orange Sky so I could put all my writing focus on this story. I have one more chapter left of that fanfic, but I thought I should update this one so you all know that I am still writing it and planning it out. It is always on my mind.
I know I usually respond to reviews, but I am just going to post the chapter so it is out there faster. Thank you to everyone who has left a review and lit a fire under my rear to get back to this story! I literally go back and read the comments to help me get motivation to write. It helps soooooooo much! I appreciate all of you who are still here reading, you have no idea.
This chapter is mostly a flashback, with a little bit of modern day at the end. It had gotten so long that I had to cut the chapter in half and I focused on editing this portion.
I apologize for any grammar mistakes in this chapter. Things do slip through, but I hope you can look past it to enjoy!
Chapter 6: An Unquiet Mind
London, 1909, Early Summer
Lorraine's dripping entrancement with London was epitomized through her delight of everyone bustling about their activities, the carriages and motorcars bellowing along the dirt path, and street performers livening up the atmosphere with upbeat entertainment. Was London a bit dirty, as her mother's friends would say? Yes, probably more than a bit. But Lorraine didn't mind the clouds of exhaust from the automobiles or the churning of the dust that was thrashed into the air from the tires – all that could be ignored as she was whisked away on a magic carpet to a place more daring and passionate than what the rigidities of country life could offer.
Cities were where people truly lived, and where they were truly heard. She had read that in the Daily Mail just last week.
Bond Street had changed so much over the last five years. And Lorraine would know – it was a tradition for her family to visit the area after a night at the symphony or theatre. Over the past few years, more shops had opened, popularizing the block with those who had money to spend and time to squander.
But tonight, under the promises of a rare cloudless sky, the sun dimming as it began to set, Lorraine didn't walk the sidewalk with her parents.
She glanced up at Ben, eyeing the way the light of dusk cast a shimmering glow on his raven hair. One day, she would run her hands through it, fulfilling a deep desire to know if his tresses were as soft as they appeared to be. Questions like that should not be left unanswered.
Her stomach churned, twisting deeper into her gut. They were to marry in a little over two years – at which time, she would have to say goodbye to London and move to a country she'd only ever read about. Why couldn't they stay in England? Where she was comfortable? It was something she never had the courage to ask Ben. Mother told her that a wife followed her husband and his employment. But is that all her life would be? Following Ben around and tending to him like a wife should?
Her friend Charlotte was no doubt getting in her head again, giving Lorraine ideas. To say women were free to think for themselves and shouldn't be tied to a man's desires was a radical thing to believe. The union of man and wife was what a woman should aspire to have. But why did the man get to keep his title of 'man', while the woman was given the title of 'wife'? Seemed a bit too erasure on the woman's part.
But why think of such things? Two years was far away.
Lorraine's thoughts went to a happier, more agreeable place… like being so close to Ben.
Arm laced through the crook of his elbow, she sighed silently, a small smile playing across her lips.
Ben noticed her exhale. "I take it from your smile that you're happy with your performance tonight?"
She skipped giddily a few times, unable to restrain the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "It was like I was living a dream, to be able to be a guest performer for the London Symphony. It's something I've wanted since I was a little girl."
"And at the age of fourteen, you're one of the youngest to ever have such an honor," he admonished. "I heard so many people talking about you afterward, calling you a prodigy. A genius." His free hand came up to cover hers, giving it a squeeze. "I'm proud of you."
She couldn't keep eye contact with him, fearing his soulful stare would make her combust. "I don't know about any of those things. I just practice a lot."
He chuckled. "No need to be modest. You're very talented, Rey. There's nothing wrong with voicing it."
They had to squeeze their way through a thick group of people taking up most of the walkway, Ben glaring at one particular man who shoulder-shoved at Lorraine. But that was London for you.
Once the traffic pacified, Lorraine asked, "How do you think I did?"
The corner of his mouth ticked upward. "You were beautiful."
She rolled her eyes. "I meant my playing." Though the compliment made her stomach flutter.
He took a moment to answer, waving away a plume of dirt that was trailing a passing automobile. The fact he was mainly trying to clear the air in front of her rather than himself did not go unnoticed.
Ben cleared his throat. ""A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness." That's how I feel about you playing, and about who you are. The music you create will never not stop my heart."
Her chest warmed at his words, growing a little too hot. "You do so love your poetry."
"John Keats is a marvel with words."
"Oh, I recognize that name."
"You should. He's from London."
She felt a bit of embarrassment at not knowing a famous poet lived close to home.
They quickened their pace to cross an intersection, Ben's arm firmly folded so he could keep a hold of her. When on the other side, she felt a need to explain her lack of knowledge. "I know I should read more. But it's hard for me to give up my practice time–"
"Hey, we all have things we love to do, and they're not all going to be the same. Keep playing your cello," he told her, eyes impossibly kind. "Never stop. Alright?"
Lorraine swallowed. "If you insist."
"I most certainly do." He curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear, finger trailing down her cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind. "I'm glad your parents agreed to let me take you out tonight."
"Well, it's not like we are alone." They both glanced over their shoulders, seeing a rather bored Armitage trailing a bit behind them. "We have our token babysitter to make sure we behave."
"Mmm," Ben mused. "What if we don't behave? You think he'll tattle on us?"
Before Lorraine could respond, Ben grabbed her hand and darted across the street. Lorraine gathered her dark blue skirt in her other hand, laughing as they wound through the thickening crowd. In the distance, she could hear Armitage calling out to them.
A few disgruntled bystanders yelled in offense at their raucous behavior, which just made Lorraine laugh even more. Ben slowed their pace, halting the hurried cadence of their steps before tugging her through a door. A bell rang overhead, announcing their arrival, but Lorraine didn't have time to see if anyone noticed. Ben's hands went to her waist as he positioned them behind a pair of mannequins wearing the latest in women's fashion.
They were close. Thanks to her recent growth spurt, Lorraine was almost flush with Ben's chest, their heavy breathing intermingling in the small space between them. There was a flame in his eyes that burned brightly, his stare bouncing between her cheeks, nose, hair… and lips.
"Do you think we lost him?" she whispered.
"What?" Ben blinked and took a step back, looking as if he were mentally traveling back from somewhere deep within himself. He glanced around the mannequins, peering through the window. "Yeah, I think so. I don't see him."
"Can I help you with something?" a feminine voice came from behind.
Ben and Lorraine whirled around, both looking as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't have. And by the way the sales associate eyed them, she had her suspicions.
Ben recovered first, a hand running through his tousled hair. "Yes, I was wanting to purchase a dress for the lady." Lorraine's eyes snapped to him. "Something sophisticated, but could be worn during the day. Preferably a deep, rich green. Do you have anything of the sort?"
The woman's eyes narrowed, doubting they were here to actually make a purchase. "We do. Some are more expensive than others–"
"Money is not an issue," Ben interjected with slight annoyance.
The woman's interest seemed to spike from his comment. "Of course. Let me show you our latest collection. All made from the finest materials. Cotton has come back in popularity, but silk and chiffon…."
They followed the worker throughout the shop as she rambled about the latest fashion trends and fabrics, the woman giving them plenty of options to choose from. Lorraine was drawn to the one that had beautiful embroidery on the bodice, while Ben was more attached to a more simplistic style of green velvet with no added flare.
"But the work on this one"–Lorraine lightly touched the leaf pattern–"is stunning. It really catches the eye."
"It is beautiful, but we don't need unwanted men staring at you," Ben simply stated. "And the cut will show a little too much of your chest." He pointed to the one he preferred, addressing the employee. "We'll take this one."
And that was that. Decision made. Her opinion overlooked as easily as the beggars on each corner of the block.
Lorraine's eyes stung, because…. Well, she couldn't immediately place the emotion she was feeling.
"Fine choice," the sales woman cooed as she grabbed the dress. "You can come up to the front with me while our seamstress gets her measurements. Wait here, dear, and Ollena will be out in a moment."
Ben followed the worker without even a glance in Lorraine's direction, looking to be pleased with what he had picked for her. It was such a little thing, what he had done… choosing what she would wear. But why did it tear at her so? It really shouldn't even matter. He had sent her plenty of dresses and skirts and blouses from New York, spoiling her while they were apart. He would even throw in the occasional piece of jewelry, hat, or a pair of shoes.
He had bought her things before. But this was the first time she had actually gone shopping with him.
And from the small exchange a moment ago, her soaring happiness had fallen to a despair so quickly, it clawed right through her bones. It was an emotional whiplash she wasn't used to.
"This dress was better, if you ask me."
Lorraine spun around, seeing Armitage standing by the dress she had wanted, his fingers lightly touching the sleeve of the fabric.
His brows furrowed. "Did you get something in your eyes?" There was a tinge of concern in his tone. "They look to be watering."
"Oh." Lorraine turned her head away, patting at her lower lash line to alleviate the moisture. Self-conscious. "Yeah, you know… the dust outside… it's everywhere. Getting in my eyes. Such a problem."
She met his stare, trying to stand tall. He didn't say anything, his eyes trailing up and down her form. Ben would do the same sometimes, but it was different when Armitage was taking her in. While Ben was tender with his gaze, Armitage seemed… calculating.
Almost fifteen, Lorraine was beginning to bud into a young woman, her figure changing and her face maturing. It was a common occurence to find more and more men staring at her, some even complimenting her beauty. She was growing used to the attention… even sometimes liking it. Craving it.
But with Armitage, she just couldn't figure the man out. There were times when it seemed he didn't care for her, and others where she was his sole focus, his stare not quite unnerving her, but not making her feel comfortable either.
"Looks like you found us," Lorraine said, attempting to fill the silence between them.
Armitage nodded, his eyes switching over to roaming about the shop. "Ben loves buying you expensive things. Especially dresses. Wasn't too hard to figure out where you two had run off to."
Just then, Ollena made an appearance, asking to get Lorraine's measurements. The older woman was quick with her tape measure, writing down Lorraine's sizes in a small booklet she had taken out of her skirt pocket.
Armitage watched the whole time.
When Ollena got everything she needed, she scurried away and disappeared through a door that was only for employees.
Lorraine glanced to Ben by the register, seeing that him and the sales associate were going through the jewelry that was encased in the glass display. He hadn't called her over to ask her about the additional adornments. She knew he'd end up choosing what pleased him the most, something he would want to see her wear.
"If I were filthy rich, I'd buy a pretty girl nice things, too," Armitage commented, also watching Ben.
"How long had you been listening?" Lorraine asked, disregarding his remark. "Before Ben left with the sales woman," she clarified.
"Long enough to hear how Ben disregarded your opinion entirely."
That stung.
"He–he isn't wrong," Lorraine weakly argued, an attempt to soothe her pride. "The dress was too mature for me."
"Says who?" He got in front of her, forcing her to look at him. "Ben?"
"No." Yes, her mind told her. "I mean… it's just how society is."
Armitage shrugged. "Things are changing. Women are realizing they are no longer beholden to societal standards that were made by men."
"You're a man."
Armitage found that amusing, crossing his arms over his chest as he lightly laughed. "True. But I don't believe a woman's whole purpose is to be an obedient wife and give her husband children. Women have passions and intellect and shouldn't be kept away in a house, being told what to do or"–he motioned around at the store–"what to wear."
"Ben isn't like that." Lorraine wasn't able to keep the doubt from her voice.
Armitage shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers, giving another one of those annoying know-it-all shrugs. "All I know is that he talks about how excited he is to finally be married, to have a wife who can converse with him about literature. Who can plan parties with the other spouses of the men that work with him. Someone to run his house and take care of him and to be there to listen to him after he's had a hard day." Armitage stepped closer, just outside of the circle of Lorraine's personal space. Lowering his voice, he said, "If I was betrothed to a woman like you, I wouldn't hold you back. Your dreams would be something you should go obtain, not hide in journal entries. You could be one of the most famous cellists in the world."
Lorraine was taken aback. Was he coming onto her? Or was he really speaking of a woman he'd yet to meet? She opened her mouth to ask him to be more specific, but snapped her jaw shut when she saw Ben coming toward them.
A smile of satisfaction was etched onto his lips. He clapped Armitage on the shoulder, oblivious to the tense atmosphere. "Looks like we've been caught."
Armitage snorted, his usual air of indifference back in full force. "Wasn't too hard. I just followed the sound of money being spent and it led me right to you."
"I could buy you a pretty jacket while we're here. I'm sure they have your size."
"Funny," Armitage deadpanned.
Ben's attention went to Lorraine. "They said the dress will be done within the week, and I threw in a few surprises that I think you'll like."
"Thank you, Ben." She did her best to sound appreciative. She should be appreciative. "You really didn't need to buy me anything."
"Nonsense. It's my job to spoil you."
"Consider her well spoiled," said Armitage. "Now, can we please get out of here?"
They made their way to the front of the store, Rey trailing behind the two men.
"Anyone interested in grabbing a bite to eat?" Ben asked.
Armitage held the door open. "I think that's the best idea you've had all day. I'm famished from your childish antics of making me run after you two."
"We could go to a pub," Lorraine offered up as an option as they funneled onto the walkway. "I've never been to one before and I–"
"That's no place for a lady," Ben said matter-of-factly. "There was a café we passed a few blocks back. We can go there."
He held out his arm, waiting for her to take it. She did, because that's what was expected of her. Her other hand curled into a fist at her side, the only evidence of her irritation of not being listened to.
Before turning down the pathway, Lorraine caught Armitage staring at her with a knowing expression.
All throughout their meal, as Ben and Armitage talked and joked and praised Rey on her performance, all she could think about was what it would be like to be married. To be tied to a man for the rest of her life. To Ben. Was today just an anomaly? Or was it foreshadowing what was to come?
Ben kissed her on the cheek when dropping her off at her home, lingering a little longer than was appropriate. Not that she minded. He placed a folded paper in her hands, the one he'd been writing on during the ride back to her family estate.
"It's the thoughts I had throughout the night I haven't been able to tell you," he told her, a little nervous.
Rey decided to be a little playful, waggling her brow. "Did you write me some sensual sonnets?"
Ben didn't find her question humorous. "What? No, that would be highly inappropriate. We're betrothed, not married. I would never be so crass in a letter like that." His fingers pushed back his hair. "I just wrote down… some of my feelings, is all."
Rey looked down, nonplussed over her unbecoming query and the way Ben had lectured her. It's their age difference, she told herself. With ten years ahead of her, Ben's maturity was more advanced than hers. She would have to do better at being more proper and ladylike from now on.
"Give BB a good scratch behind the ears for me," said Ben, glancing to her house.
Her smile was quaint. "I will."
"I'll see you tomorrow… our last day together before I have to go back." There was sadness in his voice and eyes.
"You'll be back in October," she assured him. "It will be here before you know it."
"Only being able to see you every few months, staying here for a week… I just want more time with you."
Her palm was being pressed to his cheek before she even realized what she was doing, like her body had this overwhelming urge to comfort Ben when he looked so disheartened.
He was stone still by her touch, eyes wide, lips parting. There was that familiar buzzing current passing between them, traveling from her fingers and down her arm, nestling within her chest. It had happened a handful of times since they first met, each time more connecting than the last. Drawing them in. But unlike the other times, where they both pulled away, they drew near… and nearer… lips a hairbreadth apart…
Lorraine was jolted as Ben grabbed her shoulders and stepped away, her touch falling away from his cheek.
He stared at her, his breathing more labored, eyes wild.
He released his grip on her shoulders after a long moment. "You should go inside." His voice sounded as if he had drunk a liter of sand, rough and course.
But Lorraine, she didn't want that moment to end. She went to grab his hand. "Ben…"
He dodged her, shaking his head. "You're still too young, Lorraine."
Lorraine could read between the lines – he was calling her a child. "I see," she commented meekly.
His face fell, as if he could recognize her dissatisfaction. But he kept his distance. "Soon, I promise," he offered in a way of comfort. Probably more for him than her. "I just need you to wait a bit."
More like he needed her to grow up a bit.
Lorraine nodded, biting her tongue so she didn't argue.
They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. She dragged her feet against the hardwood floor and carpets, the feeling of dejection weighing her down. And it was all because of her age, something she had no control over. Why should she be punished for that? She was ready to be a woman.
As she crossed the dining room, she glanced out the window to see the stable emitting light from the inside. There was only one person who would be out there this late at night. A new sense of vigor ignited within her veins.
BB followed her through the kitchen and out the backdoor, staying close to her feet, but never causing her to trip.
The stable wasn't really a stable anymore. Before she had even been born, their family had moved away from animal husbandry and had transitioned to farming certain parts of their land with wheat, barley, and sugar beats. The stable was remodified to hold her father's various interests, most notably automobiles. Four were housed in there, her father tinkering with the two that weren't driven.
But there was a fifth that was to be delivered any day now, one Rey was eager to see.
Contrary to tinkering with the modern machinery, she had yet to drive one. She probably never would. Women were not allowed. Her father had given no indication of letting her behind the wheel in secret, nor had she the courage to ask him. Sir Kenobi was a stickler for the law. Maybe one day soon, she would find it within herself to posit such a request of him.
Moonlight dimly lit her surroundings as she walked across the thick grass, BB meowing down below. The double-doored entrance to the stable had been modified to allow cars to pass through, but it meant more muscle was needed to be opened. Lorraine tugged and pulled at the metal handle, opening one side enough for her to get through.
"Father?" she called out. Even though the stable had been wired with electricity, it was still subdued enough that she had to squint.
"Down here," her father called back.
Lorraine passed the stalls that housed the individual cars, finding her father at the end, wiping his oily hands on a dirty rag. He faced her in his blue work coveralls, smiling wide. It was one of the things Lorraine loved most about him: he was a part of the upper class, and yet, he loved getting elbow deep in oil and grease and working with his hands.
Lorraine shifted her gaze to the automobile behind him.
"It came?" she asked, almost not believing what she was seeing. A striking color of indigo painted the exterior, beautiful in its appeal and perfectly eye catching. The high boxed cab was slender and sleek, big enough to squeeze three people inside, or seat two comfortably. Toward the front, the large grill stood vertically narrow, silver metal work surrounding the perimeter with two headlights tightly placed on either side.
The hood was propped up. Rey could faintly see the inner workings.
"It actually got here yesterday," corrected her father.
Lorraine gaped at him. "And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want you to be distracted before your big debut. You were so focused on practicing all week." Her father glanced down at his dirty attire. "I'd hug you to give you another congratulations–"
Lorraine put her hands up to ward him off, chuckling. "That's alright. You stay over there."
He grinned, eyes warming. "I'm so proud of you, sweet girl. You were magnificent tonight. You were like an angel up there on the stage. I just… I can't believe how much you've grown up. That you can create such beautiful music."
Lorraine's face heated, appreciative to have such supportive parents. "Thank you, Father." She moved closer to the opened hood, peering inside, hands itching to take it all apart and put it back together again.
Her father moved to stand next to her, also pervaying the machinery. "Did you have a good time with Benjamin and Armitage?"
Her gut soured, but she didn't let it show. "Yes. Thank you for letting Ben take me around London."
"Trying to pry that man away from you is like trying to peel a barnacle off a whale." He laughed to himself. "It's damn hard to do."
Lorraine pressed her lips together.
She crossed over to the work table, grabbing and putting on an apron to shield her clothes. BB jumped and curled up next to the tools, head resting on his front paws, ready to watch them.
Rolling up the dark sleeves of her blouse, Lorraine asked, "So this is the Model A, then?"
"Not quite." Her father positioned himself on the other side of the hood, standing across from her. "It's been equipped with the 10 horsepower engine from Model C and it also has a larger six-by-three radiator. Since it's a mixture of both, it's a limited Model AC."
Rey's eyes roamed over it in wonder. "I thought Mister Solo said he was sending you the Model A?"
"Guess he wanted to surprise me."
"A good surprise, I'm sure." The tips of Rey's fingers ran along the metal on the outside, not a scratch to be seen. "Can I help you go through the inside?"
"Oh, no you don't," Lorraine's mother said as she walked in, her expression disapproving. "You shouldn't be tinkering with the automobile, Lorraine. What if you cut your hand like last time? Or break a finger? You have another performance next month."
"Please, Mother," she begged, sounding like a child and not even caring. "I'll wear protective gloves and I won't pick up anything heavy, I promise. I'll be so, so careful. And the last time I cut my hand was two years ago. I've been good ever since."
Her mother gave her a dry stare. Unconvinced.
Her father was the one who took pity on her. "She mainly just wants to watch, Satine. I'll only let her handle a little a bit."
"Yes, I'll…" Lorraine really had to get her hands on the engine, but knew she had to compromise. "... I'll mainly just watch, barely even touch anything. Promise."
Her mother sighed. "If anything happens–"
"It won't," Lorraine and her father said in unison, trying to hide their smiles.
Her mother regarded them, then dropped her arms to her sides. "Fine."
Lorraine rejoiced, clapping her hands together in triumph. Her father tried to give her mother a hug, but Satine jumped away from his advances, yelling at him that it would be his death if he got oil on her chiffon. She settled on giving him a quick peck on the lips.
"I swear, sometimes I feel like I have two children," her mother muttered as she left.
Lorraine and her father stayed out till 2 in the morning. It wasn't until she was swaying on her feet and slurring her words that her father decided that they should get some shut eye.
As Lorraine was lying in bed, BB tucked into her side and sleep pulling at her, she remembered Ben's note in the pocket of her skirt. She decided to read it when she woke in the morning, but the opportunity never came. A maid had taken her clothes and washed them while she slept in, the note morphing into unreadable mush.
When Ben asked her about it that afternoon, she pretended like she had read it, assuming it was similar to all the other letters he had written her. He was none the wiser.
Rey felt guilty for the lie, but she hadn't wanted to hurt him. The last thing she wanted to see were his eyes filling with sorrow. Or with disappointment… in her.
()()()()()
Present Day – May 2nd, 2020
"Rey!"
From where Rey sat at an open table in the small soup and sandwich shop, she lifted her head to the girl behind the counter who had called her name, holding the bag that held the sub she had ordered.
It was half past three in the afternoon, the lull between lunch and dinner making it so the only customers in the restaurant were her and the man and woman who were laughing and chowing down at one of the tables near the corner. They were obviously a couple from their body language… and the way the man kept finding ways to touch her arm and even at one point, wipe at her mouth with his napkin. The woman was smitten, adoring all of it.
It had to be the beginning of their relationship, when everything felt so new and exciting and extra intimate.
She'd had that with Ben. Eventually.
Admittedly, that first year of their marriage had been horrible, for reasons she didn't like to ponder over. It all led to a mental breakdown that prompted her to take one of Ben's automobiles, illegally drive it, and then get in an accident. She left with a concussion and a broken arm, which was lucky considering how totalled the car was. But after that… seeing Ben rushing to find her at the hospital, paying off the police officers and higher court officials to look the other way, everything changed between them. They were able to find that connection again, and Rey truly learned how to grow up and stop being selfish. Too late, though. Her past had come back to haunt her and kill Ben.
Every mistake has consequences, her mother would always tell her. Time will make you pay your dues sooner or later.
Rey grabbed her order and quickly left, stealing one more fleeting glance at the couple. They were smiling at each other as they chewed their food, cheeks puffed out like chipmunks.
She needed to get back to the theater. Needed to see Ben.
Throughout the week, she found that there were moments during rehearsal where she had to stare at him. She had to make sure that he was really there and solid and that he wouldn't just poof out of existence. She couldn't have him taken from her again.
Guess she was still a selfish human being. She didn't deserve him, not after everything she'd done. But she couldn't give him up. Not for anything.
Her throat was tightening, her pulse quickening from that compulsion to go to him and be comforted by just being in his presence.
Good thing the theater was only a few blocks away.
Rey turned sharply around the corner and barrelled right into another person… and then she quickly realized that it wasn't a person at all. Not in the mortal sense.
There was a prickling sensation that started at the base of her neck and flamed out into her shoulder blades as she looked at the considerably tall woman before her. It was the feeling she would get when a Reaper was close. Having Finn around so much had numbed her mostly to the feeling, like her body had grown accustomed to his presence and didn't react to it anymore. But this woman, a Reaper… Rey had never met her before.
"You should really watch where you're going," the woman said with an English accent. Not as sharp as Rey's, but still distinct.
Rey took a step back, taking the woman in and trying not to be obvious about it. The scowl on her face seemed like it was a permanent facial setting, as if smiling was an unacceptable exercise and she hadn't done it in decades. Cut just below the ears, her short blonde hair added to the sharpness of her jawline, her striking blue eyes doing nothing to soften her expression. And her attire, it was the same as Finns: black suit, black tie, black dress shoes.
The Reaper was both striking and imposing. Rey had to crane her head back to even look the woman in the eye, her height surpassing Ben's by a couple inches, at least.
Rey wasn't sure what to do.
Luckily, the Reaper made the decision for her by continuing on her way, leaving Rey to just stand there.
She hadn't seen or met another Reaper since Finn decided to stay with her back in 1926. As the years passed, she figured that being around Finn so much made it so she didn't really sense Reapers anymore. But this encounter proved her presumption to be false.
Rey ran the rest of the way to the theater, needing to have Ben close, and if possible, talk to Finn as well. Why had she encountered one of his kind after nearly a hundred years of not doing so? Did they know about their close friendship? That they were basically family? What if he was being investigated for being too much in the human world and they were starting to look into him by following her?
Okay, maybe that was a stretch. Rey was a nobody who was simply living with her own poor decisions and a curse. But still… something about that Reaper didn't sit well with her.
A/N
The plot is slowly starting to form, and answers will be given. I hope you all enjoyed the update! I have a goal to get the next chapter out way quicker then this one. Waaaaaaaay quicker. :)
