@tribitten, continued from here.
RAVEN BROWS FURROW IN SHADOW, mulling between her teeth the words that she wouldn't dare utter to the tribrid. not here, and likely not ever. hope mikaelson is an anomaly, a nexus vorti that is impossible not to be drawn to, not to be watched. vespera doesn't expect her to know the next thing about her ― therefore, anything she has to say may not necessarily be appreciated. and that is fine with her. just -- i am not your adversary, she swallows down like a too - large bite. i don't care that half the school hates or envies you for power they can't have. it sticks to her molars like caramel and she grimaces, pulling her hand away from the wall so that her trek continues silently. your armor isn't necessary with me, but that's not something you say to nigh - strangers. especially when her own bone chips never stray far from her skin. so she presses her lips firm, silent.
doesn't mean you'll understand it. if she'd felt an ounce more humor from the unintended irony, a hollow laugh would have rattled her ribs.
she doesn't notice the shift, not at first. too entwined in the webs inside her skull. but when hope stops so does she, and in a moment far too sudden for her senses it's overwhelming ― the stench of death, pungent, trying to weave inside of her like a virus. she twists her head away, falling back half a step with a stifled cough. this isn't the sort of death she knows. something about this is wrong, unnatural, vile. she huffs in an attempt to catch her breath, unconsciously pulling at one of the knucklebones hanging from the cord 'round her neck.
“ no, ” she utters slowly, peering down the dark hallway ahead of them. “ we certainly are not. ” so much for turning the lights back on. vespera glances down, drags her hightop over the laminate floorboard before pulling her gaze to hope, the way the power beneath her skin has awakened. her own pupils have blown out her irises almost entirely, a shadow creeping over the edges of sclera. “ whatever it is, ... it's in the tunnels. ” that's where she feels the fragmented pieces of her soul being tugged, a string caught between up above and so below. what is it?
and without another word, she's turning to plunge through the darkness stretching down the dorm halls. trusting hope mikaelson's alertness, her instincts, and to be right in step with her.
