The One With Silver Scars

Monochrome

It was the man from before, the one who had held her and danced with her, yet...it wasn't.

Dressed in a red turtle-neck, a long pleated skirt, and black high heels was a...woman? The body of a man but the posture and dress were distinctly feminine. Adelais blinked in disoriented confusion, eyebrows knitting downward in a faint frown as she tried to understand what she was seeing. It was the same body that had held her, but...who was this?

"Don't worry," she—he?—said softly as soft blue eyes looked over the four females in the room. A gentle British accent punctuated the words. It was so different from the rougher accent of the man that Adelais found herself relaxing without realizing it. "I'll talk to him; he listens to me," she assured them, eyes finally coming to rest on Adelais's sleepy, confused gaze.

Casey and Claire followed the woman's gaze with brief flicks of their attention, but Marcia was unable to tear her eyes from the one who had snatched her from the room.

"Oh, dear, did they wake you?" came the coo of the British accent, followed by a sharp click of the tongue as she stepped further into the room. Casey stumbled backward toward the bathroom, nearly tripping on her own feet, as the woman came toward Adelais. The older blonde could only blink in shock as the woman suddenly reached out to gently push aside a curl of blonde hair, tucking it behind her ear. "A woman needs her beauty sleep, yes?"

Soft as the woman's appearance and tone may be, Adelais could feel the roughness of callouses when fingertips caressed her cheek. Knowing better than to disagree, Adelais nodded numbly. The woman's hand came to a rest on her head, gently pressing until Adelais willingly lay back down in a similar position to the one she had woken in.

"Shh, back to sleep, dear."

When I tell you to sleep, you sleep!

Her exhale shook faintly as Adelais closed her eyes.

She stroked the soft blonde hair twice before removing her hand from atop Adelais' head, stepping away while folding her hands in front of her again. Glancing to the surrounding teenagers, her smile grew slightly tense as she returned to her position in the doorway. It was a relief to know none of the three had tried to make a run through the open door while her back was turned.

"Now, don't you worry. He knows that he is not allowed to touch you," she continued from her earlier assurances, relieved to see that Adelais had not picked her head up from the cot and appeared to have closed her eyes. She even looked relaxed. Her smile softened again as she gazed at the head of soft hair, but movement from Claire drew her keen eyes away. "He's not well," she whispered somewhat dramatically. "But, as I said, no need to worry."

Taking the time to look between the three teenagers, she finally gave a nod with a whisper of 'good' before grasping the handle of the door to leave. One last time, her gaze fell to Adelais, who—to the shock of the other three—appeared to have fallen back asleep.

Humming softly, pleased with herself, she turned and left the room with the four females behind her.

Hearing the soft click of the door, Adelais lifted her head slowly to see the woman had left. Casey breathed a faint sigh to know that Adelais hadn't actually fallen back asleep under the prompt of the strange man—woman?—that had just left. Claire looked at a loss for words as she glanced at the other three imprisoned in the room, then pointed toward the door.

"What...the fuck was that?"

"Dissociative Identity Disorder," Adelais answered calmly, keeping her voice low, swinging her legs off of the bed. She couldn't shake the feeling of the woman's gentle touch on her hair. Her torso had erupted in goosebumps upon initial contact, yet it was different than her usual reaction to touch. She hadn't felt the need to flinch away, or like the hairs on the back of her neck were reacting to a threat. It was like she anticipated the touch again, and her body was craving it.