APPLE FESTIVAL DAY THREE. PART THREE.
ONCE GOLA BLINKED NORMALITY RETURNED. Though it did little to comfort her considering that reality was fading away at the seams, melting into pure insanity. While the crowds orbs no longer gleamed as nocturnal beast nothing of the sorts was usual.
life felt like a unhinged fever dream. A genuine nightmare, drenched in corrupt fantasies. Wicked commotion as the awfully concrete inky silhouettes without their mortal counterparts lingering in the back row. The ringing song of a nonexistent opera singer filling the air but no one questions because they believe it apart of the show. And the hefty metallic stench of blood melting with the fragrance of fresh roses profusely wafting through the vents.
All attention rested on the small group of girls elegantly pirouetting.
In the middle of a mid crisis Gola felt the need to make eye contact with Yona. For the first time Yona didn't respond. She wasn't Yona at the moment, instead she was passionately lost in character, portraying a weeping flower. Alternatively Gola sought out Dean.
When her chocolate eyes met his dark leafy they twinkled like stars in the midnight sky. Proud was all to simple a word to describe the swarm of emotions fluttering rampantly about in his stomach. There was pride in the stunning accomplished daughters he'd created. So much adoration that his admiration for his daughters is better identified as reverence and above all else love.
An ocean, a world, a galaxy couldn't contain his love for his daughters.
Mere moments passed. seconds. The time it took for Gola to leap across the stage. But between Dean and Gola time stood at stand still.
The ballerinas entangled their hands, gliding or rather seemingly floating in a circle around Yona while she performed her solo. Acting as a euphoric flower rejoicing in the return of the sun.
The next solo belonged to Gola, she to pretend to be a butterfly gleeful that the flowers are once more joyful. She couldn't help but boast her brilliant faux exhilarated expression towards Dean. Pleading with him to see through the facade, the tears springing to life in her eyes. See that she wasn't ok like Yona did, like her mother Waya used to.
Dean lips stretched, the ends slowly curling slowly while forest in his eyes were overcome by shadow. It wasn't a warm smile it was a cold leer.
Mid leep, Gola felt as if she were falling. Surely she hadn't jumped so high. This was different kind of falling. It felt like not being able to keep her eyelids ajar at night while exhausted. But once she descend into a deep sleep, her soul slips from your body. Falling. falling. falling into a unlit empty void. Into nothingness.
When Gola pried open her eyes, she gasped for air. It felt like she'd been underwater for too long and the ocean had began seeping into her lungs. Also due to the fact that every soul in the opera house had vanished without a trace except for her and the shadow prince. He confidently sat in the same seat Dean had been sitting a short time ago, with the same wicked smug grin painted on his outrageously handsome face.
"Elenora."He sighed, leaning back in his seat, resting his head on his arms and kicking up his long legs. "My Elenora."
It took a minute for Gola to adjust to the situation and another to find words for it. Her first instinct had been to ask how. Instead she clenched her fist tightly and asked 'What has been taken from you?'
