#elegaria

" as right as it'll ever be. " the dreary, musty air that fills the tavern is one that locke has grown used to. full of drunkards and men trying to find their next bed to sleep in for the night - with or without company, it was all the same. like will o' wisps the space is filled with various essences, joy, peace, frustration, some even lost, others grieving. locke has seen it all, but he does not expect the other to tug on the hind of his cloak. the woman he had saved and the one who decided that sticking around with him was better than finding somewhere safe to reside.

locke doesn't blame her, but it does occasionally put a dent into his plans. a girl like her sticks out, that innocent elegance to her, that instrument she carries. it has proven useful here and there, when she played it drew the attention of everyone around her - sometimes locke included. but safe to say she was a distraction for the eyes of unsuspecting individuals that demons have their eyes on. it pulls them into a lull, where emotions subside and leaves them undetected. it's enough. plenty enough for him to guide them out and tell them to leave.

THIEF. what else could this young woman be? mariela’s eyes, mariela’s hair, mariela’s being had been stolen, placed upon this strange individual who had just now stood upon the very same stage at the theatre that mariela had once played. it was a shame that this stranger could not be trusted to play her instrument solo, captivating others as her true love once had, but still…

was it really just a coincidence that this woman wore her lover’s skin, or something more?

it had been her eldest brother who had pointed out the similarities, curious as to whether nova had even known before the band were to tour in their city. pentakill were on her radar of course, having passively heard a few of their tracks at dmitri’s. but to see her lover among the lineup? it couldn’t be.

heart racing — or perhaps only the ghosts of a memory of such occurring — nova had slipped out of the crushing crowd and charmed a security guard into letting her backstage. the poor soul had imagined a sexy rendezvous in one of the band members’ dressing room, only to find himself locked in one while nova herself rummaged around another.

something in here had to have the answers: witchcraft or cosmic interference, there had to be a reason that mariela had returned to her. she could not believe that in all of her years, fate would be so cruel as to tempt her with something so familiar, yet so unknown at the same time.