Puppet Strings || Elsa&Sebastian
[❅] -- The darkness dripped like nightmares hot and sticky around her entire body and it was all Elsa could do to keep breathing. Who knew hell could be so, well--Hellish? Then again, maybe this wasn't even the worst part, and she spared a moment to wonder what could possibly be worse than this oozing, liquid darkness, the excruciating heat that clogged her throat and threatened to flood her lungs with the stench of death.
"I-I want to make a deal," she was no older than eight, a tiny slip of a girl standing in this horrid place, gasping for breath, "I... I want... to save my sister!"
"Anna--" Elsa shot up from her bed, forehead drenched in a cold sweat, palms clammy, her silken nightslip sticking to every inch of her skin. She fumbled around in the darkness for something, anything to hold on to.
It was almost a decade ago and she was really getting too old for nightmares to haunt her like they did. She pressed two fingers to her nose bridge, chest heaving as she fought to calm her breathing.
It's just a dream, she repeated over and over again, just a dream... nothing more.
But she knew well enough that it wasn't. The intricate, circular mark on the palm of her left hand gleamed faintly in the moonlight, as if reminding her, like a wicked little grin, that nothing was ever just a dream.
