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31.81% The Call Of The Night / Chapter 7: CHAPTER 5

章 7: CHAPTER 5

Song of the Chapter: Not Afraid Anymore ~Halsey

Chapter: 5

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PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark

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Warmth engulfs me in his embrace, but the electricity that I feel so vividly with the man in my dreams, is absent. As the strange guilt rises from the pit of my stomach and tends to overwhelm me, I gently push Andre away.

He doesn't give a single negative reaction. Even if he is angry or disappointed, the corresponding expressions do not leak into his bright facial features. He grins and the boyish charm that radiates off of him is nearly swoon-worthy.

But not for me.

His scent of woods and mosses do not overwhelm me either as the lovable fragrance of the man from my dreams - fallen pine needles and home - returns.

But I don't show any of these wayward emotions either. Instead, I give him a friendly smile.

"So, we should get to the real business, now that that is over.", he sighs witha big smile that reveals his relief. "I honestly expected father to sort of overreact. You know, economic stuffs that I don't give a damn about etcetera.", Andre finishes with a flirtatious wink that makes me want to try and like him in that way, but I can't.

Not when the memory of those exquisite amber eyes is so fresh in my mind.

I smile again, as a very mild blush creeps onto my cheeks - from Andre's wink or from the memory of those amber eyes that are always so searingly fresh in my mind, I don't know. Andre takes the blush as his cue to let out a handsome laugh, that should officially be declared as swoon-worthy, and the date begins.

Though, I wonder, when it turned into a date from a supposed 'hang out'.

I tense as Andre slips the blindfold on my eyes. Let's face it - I don't trust a single person out her blindly. So, when Andre asks, "Don't you trust me, Aizea?", my name rolling gently off of his tongue, as I let out a little scared squeak in response to the sudden appearance of the blindfold; and I nod, it does turn out to be one foremost example of irony. As of now, I can only hear the soft crunch of dry grass change into that of fallen leaves, under my feet, as Andre has his warm palms placed on both my upper arms, guiding me towards our destination.

Andre's touch doesn't give me the electric tingles that his does. Instead, I feel pure dread wrap it's filthy hands around my throat - threatening to constrict the life out of me. So, I keep utterly silent all the way. I am afraid that if I speak, that fear will swallow me whole, or something as gruesome as that. I try to fight the fear and the accompanying idiotic thoughts with as much bravery as I can muster, which is nil.

Thus, apparently, I am currently of no help to myself.

"Here we are!", Andre lets me know, trying and failing to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. The blindfold is removed almost immediately, and so is my fear. I know that I should've been, or atleast should have tried to be, a little more trusting, but one cannot blame me after what I have grown up hearing every single night.

I slowly open my eyes to one of the most beautiful scenes that I've seen in my whole life. The lake, the singular natural water-body in Zaayes other than the ocean, is a sight to behold, more so with the way Nature has decided to deck it up for the sake of a golden fall. I stand there, stunned.

"It's good, isn't it?", Andre asks nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, while motioning at a mat with a basket laid on it, just a little away from where we stand.

"It's beautiful...", is all that I manage to whisper out. It truly and utterly is. I look to Andre. He is staring intently at me, his expression blank, and yet I know that he is smiling, without actually sporting a smile. I notice again, that he has beautiful eyes.

As we slowly sit down onto the mat, cross-legged, Andre remarks, "You really should talk a tad more, Aizea. I know that your voice, just like you, your laugh, your smile and your heart, is beautiful. You really should let me hear some more of it."

I know that my brain, recently, is working in some oddly convoluted way at times, that makes me feel, for a fleeting moment, that his words have an untold selfish undertone. But, I shove that chunk of negativity away, and his words actually feel like the rarely huge compliment that they are meant to be.

Well, not rare from Andre.

I clear my throat and realize just how much underused my vocal chords are. "What am I supposed to say?", I think aloud, and Andre chuckles softly. "Even that will work.", he says approvingly. "That should. You were eager to hear my voice, after all.", I retort playfully.

"That's right. But now that you've started speaking, I think hearing some more of your witty retorts can't hurt.", he says, making exaggerated expressions that widen my grin further.

"Good enough. We can stop trying to test the tea's patience first, and talk later, then.", I say, motioning towards the teapot resting right next to the cups and plates.

"Oh, I'm the new fan of your way with words!", Andre exclaims with a short laugh before reaching to the tea pot.

I volunteer to pour the tea, but he simply shakes his head and gets to doing it himself. The first cup is peaceful and disaster-free, but as soon as he goes to pour the next one, his hand shakes out of nowhere and the scalding liquid falls straight on his our hand holding the cup.

"CRAP!", he curses, and is immediately about to drop the tea pot. But I get hold of the intricately-designed ceramic vessel and rescue both it and Andre from the impending accident. I place it aside and quickly take his hand in mine. I grab the water-bottle and holding his hand out of the mat's perimeter, pour the cool water on the wound that is already reddening.

That's when I see the strangest thing happening. The red seared area of his skin is slowly returning to it's actual semi-tanned colour. In matter of probably minutes, the whole skin is healed and as good as before, or maybe even better.

My eyes automatically snap to his, and there is a proud glint in those clear blue eyes. He notices my incredulous stare and a look of confusion crosses his features before he asks, "Hasn't Sheroa told you?" I don't know what he is talking about or what troubles telling the truth can lead me into. I just know that not everyone else heals like this, and that basic information gives me enough courage to say, "No."

"Oh...", Andre almost says this like a question, before explaining, "Actually the strongest shifter of every generation is gifted with immediate self-healing properties. It is one of the characteristics of being the strongest one of the lot. It's because they are meant to be the protector of their people." He says this with an undertone of the pride that he should rightfully feel, before adding, "Maybe, Sheroa didn't want my identity or list of obvious 'features' to influence your opinion of me."

"That's very understanding and thoughtful of you, Andre.", I reply as politely as my wild-running internal storm would let me sound, after this grand revelation. But, I do admire how understanding he was being.

Then again, when has he been anything but understanding to me?

But that is probably the least of my concerns right now. Because, with this apparently small information, all my previous concerns come crashing down. I am made to re-realize forces of just what magnitude I will need to reckon against, if not now then someday, in order to survive. And I fully intend to keep my heart beating till I truly wish so. The last thing I would want is to be devoured by wild beasts of the night who were once my best friends.

The thought makes me shudder.

"Is it too cold?", Andre's questions brings me back to the reality. "No no, it's fine. I just got a bit distracted.", I quickly reply and add a silly smile at the end. He simply smiles back.

But after a few moments of external calm and internal mayhem, I start feeling his scrutinizing gaze burn holes on my head as I finally reach out to pour him his tea. As our eyes meet again, I see his gaze clouding over in concentration. The perception that I know he possesses, scares the mind out of me, but I try to play it casual and raise my eyebrows enquiringly at him.

He takes his tea and his head slightly tilts to one side, as he finally speaks, and my heart races in tension. "I am having this strange feeling whenever I am around you nowadays, Aizea. I just can't precisely put my finger on it." He sounds frustrated and maybe even angry to a certain extent, and I do what I do best, although I know that it was probably one of the riskiest things to do at the moment.

I keep my hand on his knee and slowly, unnaturally slowly, his anger dissipates, by the time the warmth of his skin has warmed up my otherwise cool hand across the barrier of his pants. However, the suspicion and scrutiny don't leave his piercing gaze.

A while, a few buns-and-apples later, Andre again enters the risky-zone that only contains questions that I so don't want to answer. "I was wondering, why I've never seen you one of these nights. Not once.", he says almost cautiously, as if fearing that some great secret of his may leak.

I want to laugh. He has no idea. And ironically, I am alive because he has no idea. Firstly, I know why he's being cautious. He is baffled. He wants me to come across him one of those night, so that his shifter can take charge of this whole affair. Letting the shifters sort out these feelings does sound easier than doing that by one's own self. Secondly, he wonders that if I've actually noticed him and he hasn't - which is impossibly unlikely - why I haven't ever approached him or even talked about the night's during the days.

I never do, to no one. Because, me talking about the nights would mean me describing either my sweet dreams with him, or the horrendous sounds that haunt the dark hours, or both. Well, that's an impossibility, anyways.

So, now when he's asked me that very-dreaded question, naturally, I am rendered speechless.

I internally square my shoulders and let the opaque lie slip out, "I try not to venture out." It is simple enough. I remember Sheroa telling me during one of our rarest of the rarest discussions about the night, that the female shifters are by nature more docile creatures than the males.

I know that there's this one certain secret that everyone hides, inspite of everything. That one secret that I know exists but don't know anything more about. That one secret that is much more outrageous than anything else I'll ever know. That one secret that make the shifters times more dangerous than even the regular carnivorous wildlife that probably would've prowled the forests near Zaayes, if not for the shifters.

"Have you never been hunting, either?", he asks further, trying to get to a certain point where he could finally put his finger on that particular thing that he finds odd about me. I won't let him, though. But I'm curious too. Sheroa has never talked about going hunting.

"Umm, no.", I say, trying to make my undercurrent of question sound like shyness or nervousness or whatever.

Andre's eyes widen.

"Never?", he asks incredulously. I go back to shaking my head. This is why I prefer gestures over words. They risk giving away so much less.

"Tell me, have you never craved something certain so bad that you have wanted to have it by any way or the other?", he asks me. I frown almost invisibly and then shake my head, but only after letting my eyes meet his. If I have to survive this, I will have to be a confident liar. Or atleast, act like one.

Honestly, I have craved my dreams. So much that it almost hurts when he leaves everytime and my dreams end. I always crave the sense of peace and security and assurance that he gives me. I crave to finally be able to let my guard down some day. I crave to finally have someone to whom I can bare my soul. I crave to see a day where I won't have to lie and keep calculating my very next footstep to ensure my own survival.

Yes, I do crave something so bad that I want to have it, any way or the other. Freedom.

But I don't say a word of all of this. Nor do I let these emotions make themselves visible on my face.

Andre laughs lightly. "No wonder I and you are a supposed good match. You are just so composed, and I can rarely hold onto even a sliver of my composure once it's dark.", he says, gazing into my eyes, still trying to dig in for the answers that he did not receive from me.

The rest of the day rolls into afternoon with small talks about school, homeworks, other potential couples in the class, baking, our parents, Evelyne, Lily and her cuteness and finally, the coronation.

The dread that I'm dreading.

"I'll be waiting for you on the day, Aizea. I hope you realize the significance.", Andre says, as I notice the coppery tinge beginning to leak into his previously clear blue eyes. I do understand the significance, but I am absolutely unwilling to let that significance be fulfilled, ever.

I am too eager to meet him tonight and get some answers, so that by the coronation day, I can seriously consider letting him lead me where he will.

"And, I hope today means something to you.", Andre adds hopefully. The hope in his voice makes me want to cry. If not for him as well as every single person here being so bipolar, I might not have had to consider having that discussion with him tonight itself.

"It does Andre. But, I also hope you understand how I feel.", I say, finally being able to be honest with him for once. His name sounds good on my tongue, but not as good as his might.

The possibility reminds me - I'll have to know his name tonight.

"Come, I'll walk you to your home.", he offers, but I'm already back to my declining mode. "That won't be necessary, once you take me to the Town Square. I don't want to trouble you, further.", I reply, trying to minimize the hit with friendly politeness. However, I probably should've known that the sun had already begun it's descend.

"It's no trouble.", Andre says only three words. But they contain such a weight that I don't dare retort.

Survival is my priority. It always has been. Otherwise I wouldn't have survived seventeen years of the life that I live.

The whole walk home, we are both silent. Andre, because he is probably trying to figure me out even more now, when his shifter spirit is slowly rearing up its nasty head. And me, because, as I said, survival is my priority. We reach home when the sun's rays are significantly oranged.

Melinda stands in the doorway, and she gives Andre a respectful smile. I should be used to people showing Andre this kind of respect, irrespective of age and all, but I am not. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything wrong. The last thing I want is for this newfound fear-reduction thing take the ultimate toll of my life.

No words are exchanged and I silently step in, only to turn around and flash Andre my best smile. Yes. My best smile. My new loss of fear is probably going to cost my life. He won't approve, though, and that thought alone makes me turn around.

But not before I notice Andre's eyes flash.

I quickly take my tray of food that has been set on the table for me alone, and place it on my bed-side-table.

I'm grateful for the fact that no one asks me anything. Not even Chorsh and Rubelle. I have indeed answered too many questions today. And I have many more to answer tonight.

Thus, I respect this silence.

______


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