Thought

Chapter Seven

Word Count: 1613

~Luella

I've never been so unsure of what to say.

It took myself so much courage to bring myself here, on a complete and utter whim. Now that I'm here, facing off with the immortal I never thought would be so important, I'm unsure of what to think, what to do. He knows all the thoughts coursing through my consciousness right now, and there's nothing I can do about it. So I simply stand in the foot of his doorway, dumbfounded.

"Maybe I should go," I say immediately. My best shot is to escape the situation as swiftly as possible. The last thing I need is to add to this by making an enemy with a powerful immortal. It seems so stupid, now that I think back, for coming here like this.

Thought shakes his head, and for some reason, it's enough to seize me into place. I'm not about to go anywhere until he tells me to.

Is this what magic feels like?

"Why don't you come and sit down? You've drove so far to get your point across, why not join me to discuss it?" Thought offers, motioning the seat opposite him, which just happens to be perfectly situated in front of the fire.
And I am cold. And I did drive all the way here. Turning back now would mean more days, weeks or months of worrying about this condition I have.

Warily, I step forward, watching him through the corner of my eye, as I sink into the leather chair. Immediately, the warmth of the fire hits me, yet fails to quell the chills that plague my skin. I can't help but be nervous. It's even more debilitating that Thought can look into my mind.

"Is there even much of a point me talking?" I ask, focusing on the blazing fire, watching it lick up toward the hearth, failing every time to touch it.

"Of course."

I focus on the immortal, fully. It's not only striking how perfectly my mind conjured up his physical picture within my mind those two instances. I had never seen him before, but now I almost wish I had. However, what wasn't involved within my strange hallucinations, is the aura he seems to produce from just sitting there, watching me. It's almost cold, detached. He's a frightening figure sitting in a perfect body, under a dark jacket and fringe of ebony hair.

He sits forward, clasping his hands together in a smooth, defined movement.
"It's not as though I can read your thoughts as you speak me, so whatever you say to me is a mystery as it touches your lips. Or maybe this issue could be solved by your simply trusting I won't look into your mind."

I blink a few times, trying to process that information. "If that's the case, how am I meant to trust you?"

He bites the edge of his lip and shrugs.

It takes all the power within me not to narrow my eyes on him skeptically. I have a feeling this is how he gets his power. People are forced to blindly trust him, as there is not many people who possess powers akin to him. As he stares at me, the silver veil of mist floating around his eyes, taunting me, I almost feel resentful.

Most prominently, I feel exposed. And I don't like that.

"As you are probably aware from your deep dive into my personal thoughts, I've come here because recently, I've been having strange hallucinations about you despite never having met or even seen you before," I tell him, leaning back into my chair, letting the cool leather touch my warming skin.

Thought opens his mouth, before closing it again. My attention suddenly focuses on the fullness of his mouth, how graceful his knowing smile is, that steals away that precious impassive expression. He seems open with me so far about his own emotions, but how truthful he is being is another case.