#altarexcerpt

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warnings - horror, death mention. characters - aleks, aston

spoiler alert

for NaNo, i’m working on both completing and editing early chapters of Altar -- here’s an excerpt from todays edit!

"Hey, welcome back! Got our keys, we're on the third floor." Aston waves the golden cards in front of her face -- the hotel's name is written in silver decorative font on the side. "Also got a message from the big guy to not get too comfortable." Of course. She definitely will not.

"Won't be hard for me, so I assume it's for you."

Aston gives her a little shrug and goes ahead of her as she trails slowly behind. How can he be so comfortable with their situation? Part of her does find it unfair, he’s so casual with everyone while she just wants to go back to Headquarters and curl up in her room small room, and pretend that Felonde — Aeonia in general — isn’t as lovely as she thought it was. She doesn’t know why her hopes coming true was more scary than them being dashed.

Most of all, she hates Aston for being so carefree, she hates how free she feels within the confines of this beautiful hotel — and how people can go about themselves without any extra concerns or worries. Women are dressed lavishly, men speak so freely and they’re all so happy. She feels under dressed, unprepared, and definitely like she doesn’t belong in her drab uniform of navy blue. Aleksandra unconsciously tugs at her top, the cotton suddenly feels rough, even with her blouse.

“You don’t look at all what I thought a witch would look like,” Matija says as he draws his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs and chin resting on his knees. The witch lets out a soft laugh.

“Oh, and what did you assume I would have looked like?” Isabella asks, half innocently as she strides across the room. He watches her, closely. Since the day she arrived at his little village, he was fascinated by her. She was tall, she was pretty but she was old but she was so nice to everyone. And most of all, she was nice to him.

Matija thinks for a moment and furrows his brows. To be quite honest, he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s the same for her with him?

“I dunno,” the eleven year old says with a little shrug. “I was always told witches eat bad children, not help them.” The woman lets out a laugh that rings through the empty house. “But I guess not.”

“No, we definitely don’t do that! Some of us have our own children,” She hands him a small cup, and Matija frowns. “Now, take this. It’ll help you start feeling better.”

“D’you have any children?”

“What a question to ask someone,” The witch exclaims, feigning offense.

“Well, do you?” Matija impatiently prompts.

“I don’t. Now, take your medicine and get to sleep, little star child,” Isabella says as she gently runs her hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to, but because she’s so nice to him and doesn’t want her to waste her time, he does so. The taste makes him gag, and hurts his already upset stomach. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“If you die, I will be pissed,” She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him.

Thank you! You too!

--

Their knife presses against her throat, and for a brief minute, they are convinced they are about to kill a child. And they find themself unable to go through with it -- and time stops as her fingers curl around their wrist.