WitchBite

An Unexpected Visit

 It was Thursday, two days after the talk had taken place, and Victoria had scarcely left my side save for the scrutinous hours of sleep, and her work time. She'd float merrily through my bedroom door humming complacently like a spirit locked in a monotonous and bright chain of rhythm. She'd make me laugh and spoil sordid secrets of work place gossip;

"There he was! Legs spread, bent over the box of adult science fiction, getting railed by Jeremy like it was nobodies business. He was all like "Hey baby, I love you" and he was like "Where are we?" That's how Janine tells it anyway and she apparently was the one that found them, and of course ratted them out, like the snitchy little bitch she is. Either way neither of them work there any more..."

She would do all this while running her fingers through my hair, my head rested upon her lap as she laid healing spells across my face.

Her demeanour had rapidly changed, and I had been thankful for it. While in the beginning, after learning what had happened, she was an unbridled force of vengeance and fury. Auntie Janet was worked to the bone removing, interrupting, or convincing otherwise, whatever spell work Victoria tried to attempt in her moments of blinded rage. But like all storms; it passed. The tempestuous sea becoming a calm and soothing creek instead.

My face looked a lot better than it did before thanks to the bath and Victoria's attention. It wasn't entirely healed, and still looked swollen in some areas. The bruising was for the most part gone, but it would be a few weeks for my teeth to return. I wasn't entirely without teeth though, at a cursory glance you'd barely notice where the odd one had been "popped" out by a wickedly strong hand.

After downright forcing me to swallow some kind of soup, despite my protest to the capability to chew solid food just fine, Victoria left. Promising more details of whatever drama was unfolding at work, and I was finally left alone for the night.

I loved the attention I was receiving, it made me feel spoilt and special, and loved. But I am a solitary creature. No matter how much I enjoyed it, it almost always left me feeling exhausted by the end of it. Even if all we did was lay about on the bed talking.

The dark of the night had crept in silently in her absence as I lay on my back staring towards the ceiling. It was cold, my breath catching against the chill let in from the open window, as it rolled faintly from my mouth with a calm and peaceful tempo. The gentle light of a waning crescent moon, fluttered its hues of silver and whites through the transparent glass; conjuring frosted images of knot-work roots and untouched forests possessed with the wilds of freedom, and the haunting loneliness that seemed to run through its trellises.

I sat up, reaching my hand over to close the window when something called my vision to look over the sill and downwards. Which I did, a rise of simultaneous panic and confusion welled within my throat as I stared at the figure clambering their way up to my window. Fingers pressed against the brickwork like it hard no problem gripping its textured surface. I rolled back further into my bedroom, telling myself to get help, to scream, to utter a spell, anything. But I did nothing, even as I watched the fingers of the figure, curl over the window sill, and poke the top half of their head over its ledge. Eyes glittering curiously, like a cats caught in the head lights, but with a shade of silver about them.

Short, black hair, spiked to a point in the front. Playful, and giddy eyes, stare expectantly from the wood, I could see the grin in his expression by the slight creases at the corner of his eyes. Which only confused me more, as I found myself taking a step forward, a single hand clutched to my chest as if it would calm the fervent beating within.

"Hi..." He said, his voice a cautious whisper, like the mere sound was breaking some kind of rule, it was secretive and guilty. I curled myself onto the bed, tucking my legs beneath me as I leaned closer to the window ledge to get a better look at him and his face. Gravity seemed to hold no sway over Aramis here. He clung to the window sill, his arms curled comfortably as he lowered himself slightly to look up towards me, like he was clinging to the edge of a swimming pool, as I studied inquisitively.