Hello, chaps! Yesterday night I was listening to some Ed Harcourt and this happened so I thought I'd upload it anyway as a sort of mini-almost-chapter. I really don't have any other explanation for it, sooo...here...
Neferet sat in the darkened corner and scraped at the back of her neck with her talon-like fingernails as she squeezed her eyes firmly shut.
Everyday it became worse and worse. The squeezing pressure. Building up in the deepest depths of her mind.
She flinched and suddenly whipped around to face the joining of the two walls and sucked in a shallow breath.
'Nyx be damned!', she internally screamed. She would not allow the Goddess to haunt her like this. She didn't need her. Emily Wheiler was the girl who placed her freedom and her faith in the hands of others. Neferet placed her faith in only her own hands. Because she was stronger and fiercer than any Goddess.
So why did she feel so scared?
She pushed her palms over her ears to block out any sounds, even though another part of her strained, desperately, to hear something other than her own uneven breathing. Perhaps the breathing of another?
'No. Stop. There is no other.'
She was lying to herself. Despite how lonely she had felt as a girl, when struggling to avoid her fathers gaze, she had never truly been alone after her mother's death.
From that point on another presence had always kept her company. Regardless of whether or not she wanted it.
Neferet scraped her nails down her face and her hands came away wet. She couldn't be sure in the darkness, but she had a sneaking suspicion that only some of the wetness was blood.
Even Goddess' cry.
But she was not a Goddess. She would never lower herself to become a mere Goddess. She was Neferet. She was greater than a deity.
So why was she crying?
She tried not to, but she could still remember a time before her mother's death when she had been happy and fulfilled and vain and hadn't had to think of anything outside of her narrow world.
Many nights she spent thinking back to these times. Remembering.
Even more so lately. Now that she was close to her goal. So close she could almost touch it.
Neferet reached out her palm, forcing herself not to release the scream that she could feel rising within her throat, and touched her companions soft, silky cloak. It was almost comforting. Almost like a friend. But unlike a friend, this one would not hold her back. Or reprimand you. It wouldn't show any emotion at all in fact but Neferet occasionally got the impression that it felt...playful. Playful in the face of pain. Her pain.
Would a friend enjoy another friends pain? She couldn't remember...
She'd developed a habit of forgetting things recently.
Something that greatly pleased her companion.
It gazed down upon her with empty, black holes for eyes, it's ragged...hair? sweeping around it slightly, leaving the air around it undisturbed. If it didn't touch anything, did that mean it wasn't real?
Did it matter?
What mattered now was Neferet's goals. Kill Zoey Redbird and take what is hers. Hers by right.
Then and only then could she be happy.
So, like I said, no real explanation. Review?