No more than whispers they were. The words repeated in her mind almost as lodiously as she’d recited them to the amusent of the guests.
They rang soft like murmurs at tis but blared loud at others, joggling her out of that land where dreams lived.
She tossed back and forth between her bed and sheets, unable to see anything other than the faces that had surrounded her almost all night long.
Older vampires had that air about them, that veil masking the nebulous glint in their eyes. A stillness that brought no comfort to Arabella.
They appeared to cling onto every word she’d uttered, but not in innocent admiration and rather almost as if they expected her to fail every ti her mouth opened in order to articulate the next line.
Although, the one thing that brought the young woman so solace was the bright and warm smile drawn across Lady Persephone’s features. The subtle nods of approval she gave her way made all of it worth it at the end of that gathering.
Arabella turned onto her other side only to wince as aching shot from her still sore feet up the rest of her legs, causing her to stiffen montarily.
Oddly enough, the pain did not co alone. Since misery loved company, those sharp shards traveling her body, brought mories from her conversation with Lord Dragomir along for the ride.
Through so groaning, Arabella pushed her weight to rest on her back, facing the canopy above, shrouded in gloom, just like the sky had been when the Lord spoke about her father.
Despite Silas’ reassurances that Reubon was doing just fine, there was that niggling, chipping at her in the very back of her mind.
A voice that refused to quiet down, spouting the sa questions on repeat; What if it was true? What if her father felt...?
The chronic throbbing continuously trekked under her skin, from the tip of her toes up to the highest hair on her head, little by little until her muscles grew too used to it for her mind to even notice.
Thus, her eyes fluttered shut and before she knew it, Arabella had drifted into a daze that led her as far away from her reality as could be.
The very next discernable thing was that flat, smooth and glistening surface, a few inches above her eye level as the keyboard of that piano lay right beneath her chin.
Her feet wouldn’t touch the ground and dangled while her eyes studied the room around herself.
So familiar, yet so foreign. All grayish and distant as though nothing in that place stood within her reach, not even the piano in front of her.
That music room was part of the house she once called ho.
But why? Why did everything look so much bigger? Or was she... The one that had shrunk?
The windows on the wall were gigantic and wide open, yet sohow, barely allowed any light through. Colorless, void of warmth and coolness alike.
A gleam so weak, the young woman struggled to register whether it was dusk or dawn.
Everything lay exactly the way she last saw it before leaving it all behind.
And then it ca... As a mutter at first but then grew stronger and closer. That voice she did not wish to hear. Not that soon at the very least.
"It is all your fault!"
Finally, the words were intelligible. Although Arabella remained unsure whether that fact was a good on.
That low, strained and bothered tone was one she’d recognize amongst millions.
"Look at you," there was no shift in his timbre, but he sohow sounded less bugged and more disappointed. It was more of a hiss, "Pathetic," Reubon’s voice ca again.
Arabella gripped the edges of the stool she sat upon and had to let go of it imdiately, hurriedly holding her hands up in front of her face only to realize they were small, so small...
As though sothing reached in to give a sudden squeeze and tug at her heart, she threw herself off the seat to confirm it. Sure enough, her hunch turned out to be reality as everything she’d usually stared ahead at, Arabella felt the need to crane her head upwards in order to look at it instead.
Her strides too were much smaller, the clattering of her shoes against the marble flooring echoing louder than it should have and took longer than normal to return.
Towards the door that sat ajar she walked; from whence her father’s voice traveled.
"Hold yourself together, woman!" his rough tone translated clearer the closer to the door Arabella drew.
Along with it, feable, barely audible sniffles followed. Soft little huffs which broke her heart even before laying eyes on their source.
Arabella’s tiny fingers curled around the edge of the door and very slowly pulled it towards herself.
Behind it stood a man, rigid in his stance, over the seated figure of a woman. She’d coiled her face into her hands, leaning forwards to stifle her cries.
So close and yet so far from her she was, the beautiful Eleanor Burchard who was none other than her loving mother.
Arabella’s lips parted but nothing ca through as even her breath hitched in there while her eyes darted between her father and mother.
Heart twisting in its cage, battering against all sides of every surface that had it entrapped.
She tried with all of her might to call for her mother, but nothing happened... Not a word, not a whisper...
All she wanted was to see her face if only for a second... Just one last ti.
Arabella begged and pleaded with any entity that would listen, that would grant her that one wish...
But alas, none answered her prayers. Instead, her eyes opened, landing on that sa canopy she beheld right before falling asleep.
Everything was quiet. So quiet her ears ached. Not a breath or a whistle from the winds. Even the birds refused to sing.
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