#d:ethan

She is not smooth and silky, woven from gossamer and transparent in her new, unearthly beauty.She does not glide through houses or across fields, singing heart-wrenching tales of despair that frighten the neighbourhood children and turn their cynical parents into romantics. She is not benevolent and kind, a secret set of eyes and ears to aid the good and plague the bad. Nor is she malicious, violent and maniacal in action and image, killing others to feel a minuscule moment of calm. Kimi Olverez is none of these things. Kimi Olverez is nothing. Kimi Olverez is dead. Her body lies in the cemetery on the east-end of town, festered with maggots and worms; the pretty, lipsticked face deteriorating beyond recognition. Kimi Olverez is no more. She is gone.

Yet, she remains.

She finds the last fragment of her consciousness clung to the man she blames for her untimely death; Ethan Humphrey. Another case of wrong place wrong time, this one being at the Lost One’s hangout while the Vipers went out for blood,killing as many as they could. It must’ve been his order that sent the wave of bullets raining down on them, his precious Tamsin locked safely away in whatever tower he’d put her in to assure she’d go unscathed. Kimi could feel nothing, but she stuck to him like a bad cough, seeing and hearing what he saw and heard, alive again only through her parasitic attachment to his form. Only in death, she found, was she able to delve deep into the darks of Ethan.

Her essence watched him move through is life; he displayed no real, honest motivation, cajoled onward by anger and greed exclusively. She watched him eat meals with the sort of coolness of someone who gained little from food other than sustenance. His bites were even and relaxed, ending when his meal ended with no real admiration for the medley of flavours he experienced. Had he ever starved for nourishment? Had he ever hungered for food, not power, for shelter, not money, for comfort not pleasure? She wasn’t sure. It was difficult to tell, based on his cold movements, emotions only lighting his features in the presence of those he felt inclined to offer the charade to.