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Lavender Mystery Wind
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Anna looks frightened and grabs your arm. You try to stay calm, shaking off the sudden feeling of cold dread, and scan the gaps in the walls for any sign of Elle outside. "Elle?" you call out, "I don't-"
"Twenty one," she says, cutting you off. Her voice is unnervingly upbeat and singsong, made even more discomforting by its apparent lack of source. "Twenty one times you've called me by name in this conversation. I came running to your side for the first, of course. I will always come when you call, my love."
Something about her intonation in that last word chills you. "Elle, it's not that I don't appreciate what you're doing for me, but-"
"Of course it's not!" she says, cutting you off a second time. The cheerful quality of her voice seems especially forced now. "You're just hiding in your little playhouse, talking about me behind my back. I think I'd like to join the conversation. May I come in?"
You and Anna both meet each others' gaze with equal quantities of wide-eyed unease. You know that would be a bad idea, but a flat refusal seems unwise, too. "You said I was terrifying because I think like a human, right? I needed to talk to someone who wasn't one of you. I want to trust you, but I feel like you've got some other goal, like I'm just a piece in a bigger game you're playing."
"Oh, what does it matter, darling," she asks. "I'm giving you what all you people want. A tale to tell, a thrill, secrets, sex. Men fall in love for less. I know they do. Evan, you're going to invite me inside now."
Your heart skips a beat. She doesn't want you to have a choice, but you do. Inviting her in seems like enough of a bad idea. "No," you respond.
She laughs, quick and sharp. A low rumbling sound rises in intensity on all sides. "Evan, love, you have a much nicer home. You have a real fortress, a place where you are truly safe. It is not this place. You are sitting in a pile of sticks and string."
There is suddenly a loud and terrible rushing noise. Everything starts to move around you. Anna screams. Without even thinking, you grab her and duck, shielding her. The branches of your fort shatter and crunch, shards and splinters rush by in a terrible gust, and all is silent once again.
Elle looms over you. The light of day is not kind to her. Her pale skin seems sickly or dead, her white hair seems several shades too far from anything natural, and the sunlight glints off of too many teeth in her much-too-wide grin. "I was just being polite," she says, calm and quiet. She reaches down and traces one hand down your jaw, and puts the other one roughly on Anna's shoulder. Anna recoils and whimpers, and Elle jerks her away from you. You don't let go. "It's time for the whore to go now," Elle says, nodding her head as if miming her desired reaction from you.
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