It had been close to week since the new family had moved into the Vertik Manor, and slowly but surely they were all beginning to settle in. Freshly unpacked and ready to experience small town life to its fullest, they wasted no time in buckling down to meet the challenge.
Angel's parents had begun to mingle among the neighbors, already invited to several dinner parties in the evening that were hosted all over town. They worked most days, and now eager to make such accepting friends, they socialized at night.
Aaron, never one to lack in confidence, had already found a small garage group called 'Blue Tremor' to rock out with. He had never been one to lack in friends or social graces, unlike his little sister who chose to remain strictly wrapped up in her own fantastical world.
Angel had really only met the neighboring kids but found it very awkward to be around people who, well, found –her- to be very awkward. She was very under-spoken, probably because her pattern of thinking always made her feel like she was never quite present during conversations. And on days like today, where her brother and parents were out socializing, she preferred to be in her room painting the day instead of experiencing it.
Though her parents had warned her that they had invited a 'nice young boy they had met at church' over, she couldn't help but laugh at the thought.
Her parents were so desperate for her to be around actual people that they allowed what most parents would kill their children for: being home alone with a boy. When asked about this, they simply stated that they 'trusted her enough that she knew what the responsible thing to do was.'
She had no doubts that her parents would actually be overjoyed if she got a boyfriend. That was, after all, the typical and expected part of being eighteen-years-old.
The thing was, she didn't find it that practical to be in a relationship just for the heck of it. She didn't want to be with someone just to be with them. It was so... plastic.
Anyways, the point was a moot one. Julian, though sounding nice enough, had already called to say he couldn't come by, but would stop by later in the week. She, of course, had politely agreed before retreating to her room and becoming absolved with the quiet.
Yellow tinted the sky, and thus her paintbrush fled across the canvas accordingly.
If there was one thing she loved it was being able to see the multi-toned intricacy of the ever-changing sky. No matter where you went it was always different; always perfectly imperfect in its ways.
It was like the way she felt most of the time: it was a range so expansive that it seemed futile to try and capture it with a brush. But she did it anyways... because it was the closest thing was she ever going to get to creating and touching something even marginally approaching perfect.
Her room was already filled with paintings, some of them hers and others of them from around the world. The way they lightened the room was almost forgiveness in itself of her previous thoughts, though she still couldn't shake that feeling of bitter cold that followed her at times.
Light blue—dark blue—violet—
She soaked the brush before bringing it back up to the canvas to meld the water colors into something that she hoped would turn out like the sky outside. She bit her lip in concentration, sliding effortlessly along the board with broad even strokes.
Then it wrapped around her once again, an icy chill that set her hairs on edge, gripping her so tightly and suddenly that it caused her fingers to lose their grip on her paintbrush. It clattered to the floor, pain splattering across the wood.
She bit into her lip, "Too cold..."
Angel stood up from her stool, turning towards her closet in hope that a sweater would lie in waits. It had been so warm earlier that a thin strap shirt and shorts had seemed key: nothing less, nothing more.
Daemon stood in front of her closet, watching as the youth instantly reacted to the change in temperature. His watchful eye had been focused more on the boy this week, but now that all were gone, it was the girl's turn. His tongue traced over his canines as he watched her stretch from the position she had stayed in for hours, shirt lifting slightly to reveal taut pearly skin. Crimson eyes shifted back to hers; lust always there but never sated.
Angel took several strides towards the closet, stopping suddenly as her body came within inches of Daemon's astral form. She took a step back, eyes meeting the floor, before turning around and walking towards the door leading out. Her stomach bubbled. She smacked her head repeatedly as she leaned on the outside of her door, trying to mentally talk herself down from this anxious feeling that was all too familiar. "Gotta stop doing that—what's the matter with me?" she whispered to a clearly empty space. And now she was talking to herself, "God..."
Crimson eyes watched her intently from the stairs as she laced her fingers into her hair before pulling them through the flaxen mess and sliding down the wall. He clicked his teeth together quietly, waiting another movement to prove her guilty conscience.
Her head snapped towards the stairs as she heard a noise. A click.
Recognition sparked in his eyes. Daemon got down on his hands and knees and crawled towards her like the predator he was, not stopping till he was only an inch away from her face. He stared right into those wide blue eyes that were looking straight through him.
Angel could feel her heart pounding in her chest faster then it had ever gone before. Something was wrong. Her thoughts were screaming at her to move, to run, but her body and mind refused to work together to make it happen. She clenched her eyes shut tightly, burying her face into her knees, "No such thing as ghosts... no such thing..."
A cold wisp of air chilled her, setting every hair on edge, and she wasted no time in forcing her body to do what it was hesitant to do before. She scrambled to her feet and off to the side, running down the stairs and practically falling over her own feet as she went.
Daemon smirked, licked his lips as he realized that this was, indeed, a child who knew more then she was supposed to. Felt more than she was supposed to.
Bloody eyes glowed with the promise of what he had been starved from for so long; a chance to create an unparallel fear in the heart of an innocent.
Angel streaked as she grabbed the bottom of the stair railing in order to swing herself towards the door. She didn't know what she was afraid of but, whatever it was, her pumping adrenaline was telling her that she needed to get away from this house. Far, far away. She couldn't stop, she couldn't overthink it. She just needed to get the hell out.
Unfortunately, not everyone seemed to think the same.
Her blitz to the door was halted as a loud cracking sound echoed through the room, the large entrance mirror falling off the wall and shattering in front of her into a thousand glassy shards.
The sound echoed through the house, and the suddenness of it caused her to heart to lurch into her throat.
The attempt to stop ended with her tripping over part of the mirror frame, followed by her falling forward, and then shards of glass piercing her hands as she landed on them roughly. A sharp whimper left her lips as she tried to grapple her way up again, adrenaline allowing her to move through the pain.
Angel somehow got herself back onto her feet, blood seeping from the corners of her unconsciously bitten and trembling lips. She backed up slowly, glass cracking beneath her feet until she reached the farthest wall in the front lobby.
