Death is immortality.
Death is your second chance.
Velian Terrashine belongs to a classless society of equality, art and democracy; a land full of creativity and mindfulness. It is in that perfect political system that one wrong movement, one carele...
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HELL WAS MISERABLE. Hell was disgusting and unchangeable. At least that was the opinion almost everyone I'd met over the past week had. From Ian and Vanensera to her male friends with whom I'd spent a few sleepless nights with, drinking stale ale and eating whatever we'd been given to. If I'd been here for decades, I would have had the exact same opinion. But I wasn't and I didn't want to stay here for a day longer.
After my short talk with Vanensera, I'd been restless, in need of something to take my mind off the things that had happened here and made everyone either turn to weeping mourners of their luck or drunk crooks. I took the long way to Ian's room, giving myself some time alone. Staring at the creaks in the floor, a cold wind brushed my cheeks and I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my coat. God, I'd been wearing the same exact clothes for weeks and the last time I'd taken a bath was nine days ago. At least now I knew why the whole building had that horrid reek dancing in its atmosphere. I'd almost gotten used to it as well.
"Damn, miracles can happen even in Hell!" I almost shouted in excitement as I walked into Ian's room and found him not holding a blade or a knife, which was surprising since his terrors had been more intense these days.
Bracing his hands on his hips, he cracked up a reserved, tired smile and said, "Sometimes I wonder why I still let you sleep in my room."
"Because you're kind, and I'm awesome."
He blinked, then took his casual spot on the floor. I watched him turning his back to me, unzipping his black jacket, handing it to me without even turning his body, and then taking off his black shirt as well.
"Is that a new way of torturing yourself, or what?" I asked when he was left shirtless, his hands visibly shaking from the cold. He didn't reply.
How tired I was of his mindless games . . .
"What's wrong now?" I asked, knowing that I was being annoying. But that had to stop. He would freeze here.
I flicked his wrist, urging him to look at me, but he was stronger and bigger and he didn't even shift. So I crawled myself to his side, giving him no other option but to face me.
"Why are you shirtless?" I asked again. His blue eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightened, but he didn't reply.
Stubborn. Stubborn. Stubborn.
I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "I'm not bringing Vanensera here tonight."
She couldn't deal with his nightmares all the time, especially after the way I'd seen her today. So downhearted.
"I'm just trying to follow your damn advice. So stop looking at me like I'm crazy and you're the only reasonable here," he hissed.
Gritting his brows, he put on his shirt and then snatched his jacket from my grasp again. His movements were swift, like I had infected it by touching it. He put it on faster than he'd taken it off.
