FALLEN | rowan whitethorn x oc

CHAPTER FOUR - lorcan is a little girl

Isabella was awoken by the sound of laughter. Her eyes shot opened and her whole body tensed, instinct and habit kicking in. She stood up as fast as she could and looked around for somewhere to hide or something –anything- to use as a weapon. The sound of another laugh startled her so her gaze followed the place to where the sound had come from: soldiers. Two of them were standing in the tent's opening, and they were talking with each other cheerfully. She relaxed a little bit as soon as the memories of the last day flew through her mind. Another sound, someone clearing their throat. She tensed again and looked behind her.

Rowan was standing behind her, his chest popped out, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet separated. There was no doubt of his career, he didn't just look like a soldier but also behaved like one. Which totally made sense, but Isabella'd had bad experiences with soldiers and, even if she had a huge crush on him, the reminder of his nature made her feel wary. Lorcan was leaning on one of the tent's pools while Gavriel stood close to the only table in the tent.

Any bit of relaxation her mind and body had grasped after remembering where she was, was soon replaced by a flame of fear burning inside of her. She went tense again and tried not to look like it. If she had learned something in the last three years as a prisoner was that it was better not to appear afraid. Because predators loved it when their prey feared them. They could smell it. And she was sure that fae could, too.

They are animals, she told herself. They didn't look like it, not much at least. They appeared to be humans, only their ears seemed to give them away. Their unbelievable attractive looks were a distraction. Once they opened their mouths anyone could see their unnatural long and feral fangs. And the way they moved, more gracefully than any human could; and when they stood still, it was as if they weren't even breathing. Only they could stay still like that. It was a bit unnerving.

Even if they hadn't harmed her, -well, Rowan did treat her rudely and ordered a soldier to grab her but it hadn't been Rowan the one to leave a mark in her wrists- it was not too late to suspect them. She had been too shocked, too confused, and too distracted by their little acts of decency to fear them. But she did now. Her mind reached a place of alarming calm and her whole body went on pilot. For three years, she had survived because she hadn't trusted anyone, because she had been always on alert, always ready to jump; because she had always been in danger. Now, her body was more used to her instinct taking control over her than behaving the way she truly wanted to. And it was a good thing, because it meant that she was not completely blind here.

Nevertheless, she wasn't shocked anymore. She was fully awake, attentive, and vigilant. But they had been standing there while she slept. It was so creepy that Isabella had to suppress a shiver. Crush or no, she didn't trust them. She cursed herself for behaving so carelessly the night before. Careless people didn't survive.

Gavriel took a tentative step towards her, he had obviously noticed the shift in her attitude; his hands opened and slightly raised in front of him. He moved as if he was dealing with a wild, scared animal, not her. She couldn't help the annoyance that rose inside of her. She was not a weakling that needed to be treated like a wounded animal. Did she have some issues? Sure. A couple of traumas? Of course. But that didn't mean she wanted to be treated as if she was about to explode in any second. Gavriel moved his arms slowly and her gaze followed to where he wanted her to: a plate of food resting on the table. A plate of food for her. He moved one of the chairs and left it close to where her food was, as if he were inviting her to sit. She didn't move. Gavriel left the chair in its place and walked to where Rowan and Lorcan stood. She noticed what he was doing. He was trying to show her that they were not a threat, that she could take her time; that they wouldn't force her to do anything. She felt the sudden need to punch them for being so nice when she was trying to be cautious.