Ghost | Eliwood & Matthew
Continued from here.
@waywardthief
waywardthief
Matthew had opted to take a drink with him, and he nursed it quietly as they wandered away from the life and noise of the festivities. Finally, after a long, contemplative sip, he broke the silence: “Nothing quite like a crisp autumn, don’t you think?” He flashed a sheepish grin then. “Hope you don’t mind my dragging you out here, milord. I needed some air and… you kind of looked like maybe you could, too. My apologies if I guessed wrong. But! There’s a place just round the corner I spied last year, hereabouts - a beautiful place! I’m sure you might appreciate it.”
However, something about the woods felt odd. Come to think of it, that wasn’t so far removed from how they’d been at last year’s party. Swatting aside the strange sense of deja vu washing over him, he turned to lead on further, and came up short. She was a wisp in the corner of his peripheral gaze, but that shadow, all too familiar, was enough to stop him in his tracks.
“Leila…?”
Matthew’s drink clattered forgotten on the forest floor and he left behind only the pounding sound of his footsteps as he sprinted away, certain of what he’d seen. “Leila!”
The ginger-haired lord laughed softly, his cheeks tinting a light pink from cold air surrounding them. Though it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was enough for Eliwood to pull his cloak around him just a bit closer, attempting to better retain his body heat.
“Not at all, Matthew. I admit, I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. A brief respite is greatly appreciated.” He replied, glancing at their surroundings quietly, silently grateful for the spy’s guidance. In environments such as this, it was far too easy to become lost. It was Matthew’s sudden stop that captured Eliwood’s attention and the lord turned to him, wearing a concerned expression. He parted his lips to speak, but his words fell in his throat when he heard the spy utter a familiar name. Leila. The image of the maiden’s corpse, displayed as a warning, was burned into his mind forever. The anguish it had brought to the spy mirrored the misery he endured at the loss of his wife. Then, Matthew dropped his glass, sprinting off without explanation.
“Matthew!? Matthew, pray, wait!” He stretched out his arm, but Matthew had already bounded further into the woods, ignoring his calls. With one last glance back, he propelled himself forward, attempting to keep up with the spy’s pace.
When he finally caught up to him, he was breathless, and required a moment to breath, his hands on his knees. He straightened when his lungs stopped burning, studying the surroundings. They had come to a pond, situated in the woods surrounding them. There was a fog that crept over the waters edges, sending a chill down the lord’s spine unrelated to the cold.
On the other side, he saw nothing, but to Matthew’s eyes, there Leila was. Her arm stretched outward, beckoning him forward.
“Matthew, pray, what’s gotten into you?” He asked exasperated, grabbing hold of his shoulder.
