{✠} You're Not Here
Blue skies winked at her between the wavering branches of an old oak, its effervescent leaves swaying daintily in a sedated gale. Eyelids flicker, as if testing her vision to solidify she was seeing truly. The beautiful sight of the oak arms stretching towards the heavens, cast darkly against the sun was still very much there. Aye, she saw true. Head rolls once to the right. Rolling valleys and hills plowed to see man's needs, sowed with corn, carrot, and potato, a typical farming community harvest slowly growing while their tenders encouraged them silently with action. Lolling now to the left in almost a dream-like cadence, there sat the small town of Westriver, nestled amongst the fields and bustling with more livestock than people. Eyes narrowed. Ciana didn't remember returning to this damned place… she had no need of it since their betrayal. In one, fluid motion the woman sat up, sending a wave of blood sloshing about in her pressurized head - or, at least, that was how it felt. Her body felt extremely heavy, here, though she hadn't a clue why. Many things were quite unclear… Once more she glanced off to the left, startled to find a boy sitting besides her, no older than six full seasons, legs wrapped tightly in his arms, head buried into his knees. He looked emaciated; straw-colored hair rest atop his head in mats and greasy, tousled locks, his clothes and skin were covered with what looked like a film of dirt and grim, and he uttered the first noise Ciana noticed she'd even heard this entire time. A continuous whimper, gurgled with spittle. For a brief moment, Ciana commended herself for not jumping at the sight of the boy who so quickly sat besides her, unnoticed. Then, she considered, why the in the blazes was he coming here? Didn't he know by the look of her she was one not to be trifled with? One not to come to pissing and crying like a babe? She herself even glanced down to her gauntlets, and found that the black metal glinted back to her, as if the refracting the sun just to communicate with the woman. Spikes, blackness, chain mail and all, there it was bolstered about her shoulders. But still this boy sat here, almost touching her, sniveling. One more glance about relayed that they were in fact alone, and all the unrecognizable, undistinguishable faces hustled about in the small town down the hill. The woman couldn't help but roll her eyes as she turned back to look at the boy, but this time did jolt in her boots ever so slightly. He was staring at her, vast, blue eyes pitted with encroaching red veins, showcasing pupils that had an illusion of no depth. Beneath the filth and his rosy cheeks, his skin was pale, paler than even the cave dwelling sort. This combined with the flush of color from those large, staring eyes and blood rushing beneath his skin was more than unsettling. There they sat, staring at each other, eyes locked in some unknown, wordless battle until finally Ciana could take it no more. "What?" Every letter could have been spat on the floor, discarding even the acknowledgement like it wasn't worthy of her attention. The boy only continued to stare, breathlessly, up at her with stark, ice blue eyes. Never once did a single limb of his body move, but rather constructed itself as if a living statue. Hissing an inhale, the woman's brow furrowed, as to create a deep live between her brow that had manifested over her years of anger and resentment. "If you don't have anythin' to say, then shove off, you little cad! I don't have-" "That's not very nice." A dark voice came from the child, unearthly and shriveled with age, yet somehow fluidly spoken with a commanding demeanor. Once more Ciana found herself uneasy, even shifting in her seat, glower evolving into a stare of bewilderment. She knew that voice… The boy stood up, torn trousers and shirt falling on his body, as if one size too big. He barely could look over her shoulder, even standing straight. "Yet, here I stand feeling nothing but content. I'm proud of you. Somehow, even when faced with a situation where there can be no fault or error in even a young child whom obviously is plagued by his own demons, you manage to pollute it further with an oozing grievance. No wonder my armor called to you. A brave heart, though tainted with the utmost blackness." Lids slit, encompassing her eyes in frustration at the boy whose expression remained so blank and absent, as if he were a doll. Who knew? The boy lifted his arm, rigid and mechanical, before spreading his fingers, and closing his palm towards Ciana's bemused face. "Until next time." Flash of white, and Ciana bolted upright, throwing blankets askew. Verlander squealed and retreated from the bed, tumbling over himself, skittering across the wood floor, before disappearing underneath the bed. It was dark outside, but the moon cast a faint shower of light through window. Beads of sweat clung to her skin, making the woman feel sticky and in need of a bath, but she merely glared down at her lap, draped in heavy green blankets. Glancing up, she scanned her room. A vague figure stood in the darkest corner - the furthest from her, gave one, liquid-like wave of a hand, fingers coming to threatening points at the tips, a wicked grin visible even through the darkness, before vanishing.