#whitlockx

-- well.

In a universe where everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to when they'll meet their soulmate, send me 00:00:00 for my muses reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours.

           She's been traveling for hours. Perhaps, it's to escape the decreasing numbers on her wrist, but there's no escaping. No matter which way she turns, they keep going down. Every train, every bus, it's only taking her toward the inevitable. And then, she resorts to running. Running, throat aching, thirst burning her to the core. She can't meet whoever is at the end of those numbers, because he might be human, and she might be the monster which makes him not.

     She can see him in her head. Little flashes of a man with blond hair. Curls. Oh, but she can't see his face. She can't run from him if she doesn't know who he is. What he looks like. But he's racing, too, and there's the flash of a place that she just can't avoid.

            Alice stops herself, but the timer keeps ticking, keeps pulling her toward it. The end of all ends; she's a monster and he's alone, and she wonders if he's running from her, too. She hopes. The pixie vampire takes off running again, and she feeds on several hobos leaving in a boxcar. She's preparing for the moment she meets him, because she's not going to kill him, not her soul mate. Does she still even have a soul?

       That clock just keeps going down. She's less than an hour away. The visions are more frequent, and they're visions of her own deciding, because it's no longer him she sees. There's a woman, and it's her. And look at her, smiling, as if she's so happy. Secretly, she is. She wonders if he'll love her, because the closer she gets, the more in love she becomes. He's crooked smiles, and blond curls, and pieces of a face she just can't put together.

                    He'll make the loveliest ne---

                                             red eyes.

             And she finds herself at the entrance of a diner.

                      Thirty minutes.

                                Twenty minutes.

                                             Ten minutes.

                                                     fivefourthreetwo---

                                                                     one.

           When she sees him, she knows he's a soldier. The way he carries himself---his mama taught him well. But those red eyes speak volumes, and when she hops off her stool, there's all eyes on them. She takes his hand as if she belongs, and lifts it to look at their wrists.

                                         00:00:00.

                                                   "You've kept me waiting an awful long time."

                 She lends him an easy smile, red eyes twinkling.

                                   He's honestly note even sure                                    what he's doing anymore. The                                    day is absolutely wonderful                                    and he was going to relish in                                    that fact. It was very rare                                    that he even ventured out                                    in his homeland.

                        "You're horrible at hide and seek."