At Night the Living Dance With the Dead
Pairing: Nyo!America/Belarus
There may exist a ghost who will help Amelia overcome her fear of the supernatural. A very beautiful ghost.
~o~
"H-hello?"
Amelia thrust the flashlight in front of her, the object shaking in her hands. She knew this had been a bad idea, a very bad idea! Why would anyone want to go to a place that was haunted? There was nothing to gain! Well, aside from respect and proof that you were among the bravest in your group of friends, but right now Amelia seriously regretted ever taking the challenge.
If only she didn't have to go alone, knowing her friends were waiting just outside the door, probably betting on how long it would take before she came running back outside, screeching like a little girl and with wet panties.
The grip on her flashlight tightened as she steeled her resolve. Well, she'd show them! She wasn't named after Amelia Earhart, one of the bravest women in the history in America, because she was a coward! Oh, she'd show them!
Something creaked behind her, and Amelia let out a scream. Her only source of light tumbled to the ground, flickering and dying with a harsh thud. Amelia quickly went down to her knees to retrieve what was currently her most precious treasure, breath ragged as it flew in and out of her throat, heart fluttering anxiously like a small frightened bird.
"Come on, come on, work already!" she whimpered, shaking the object wildly up and down, slapping it with her free hand, everything to get back her light, her safety, the one thing she absolutely needed right now.
Another flicker, and dim light flashed over the walls before her. She sighed in relief before letting out a victorious titter. See? No ghosts were going to get her tonight! No, she had enough sun to chase away the night; she was going to win this challenge!
With a more courageous smile she stood up again, whirling around to continue on her way, before freezing completely. Staring right back at her was a shadowy figure, creeping up on her youthful naivety, most likely ready to devour her.
Amelia let out another choked-out whimper, before fainting on the spot.
~o~
"...ake…"
Amelia let out a small groan, eyes shifting beneath closed eyelids.
"...ake up... irl…"
"Five more minutes mommy," she sighed, tilting her head to the side, frowning slightly when she couldn't seem to find her pillow. And why did her head hurt.
"Wake up. This isn't a hotel."
Amelia's eyes began to dance open, slowly regaining sight of the dark room around her. Then they snapped fully open, falling onto a figure crouching over her body, sitting far too close for comfort.
For a moment, Amelia forgot how to breathe.
Her eyes shot up and down the other's figure, down and up again, following her slender dress-clad figure to pale skin to beautiful almost luminescent blond locks and finally landing upon dark blue eyes in a porcelain frame, cold and distant, yet not in an intimidating way. She was only a child, after all. About Amelia's age, in fact.
But then she moved in and Amelia felt a gush of cold fall over her, and where there legs seemed to touch there were only itchy goosebumps.
Amelia moved back, mouth agape in a silent scream, trembling before this both beautiful and terrifying apparition. Something broke in the other's gaze, and for a moment she seemed exactly like the little girl she once had to have been, small and afraid and most importantly, so, so alone, but then her expression hardened once more, and she protectively tucked her chin into her collar, frowning at her feet.
"Go away," she mumbled, more to herself than to her visitor. "If you only want to shout at me, just go away. Leave me alone." She was so tired of seeing everyone run, every chance of friendship or affection fly down the stairs taking five steps at the time, leaving to never return.
Amelia still felt adrenaline being pumped through her veins, still felt icy sweat trickle down her spine, was still very afraid. But for some reason, her legs didn't want to move, didn't want to lift her up and take her far away from this place of misery. After all, it wasn't her prison. It was this girl's, this ghostly child's.
Thus, instead of escaping just like everyone before, she moved forward, almost like in a dream, and placed a hand on a frozen shoulder.
"What is your name?" she spoke in a tiny voice, yet perfectly audible in the empty room. Their skin seemed to contrast like sun and moon, day and night, dark and healthy tan on sickly disease.
The other flinched at their touch, not because she could still feel the contact, but because no one had ever willingly come this close to her. Not for as long as she could remember, at least. Looking up, icy glare now replaced by confusion and an almost childlike curiosity, she hesitantly spoke.
"Natalya," was the name falling from her lips, and Amelia gave a hesitant smile, realizing the girl seemed far cuter when not giving her dead-stares.
"My name is Natalya."
