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find me and follow me
Jul. 2nd, 2011 10:48 amThe wind calls her name as it brushes by Effy's ear, coaxing her eyes open, immediately reflecting the color of the sky. A turn of her head, and something rustles under her hair, a crisp snap of dried leaves and the gentler brush of grass, colors visible even from where the blades stand too close for focus. This isn't the first time that Effy Stonem has woken up alone in the woods, with birds chirping in the distance and sun filtering through the canopy, but her heart hammers in her chest like an unsteady drum, and in spite of the warmth and humidity of the air, her skin feels impossibly cold. There are no footsteps to track; she doesn't know how she's gotten here. She must have dozed off.
Only after a few seconds have passed does Effy stand up at last, brittle fingers clutching a notebook that feels damp in her hands, but there in a way that the rest of the world isn't. Not the rough bark of the trees, nor the ants making their way over fallen leaves— not even the soft noise of voices in the distance, of children who laugh and laugh, or the creak of a ferris wheel that barely peeks through against the sky. Her brows knit as she quickly opens the pages, familiar handwriting still stretched across every line, the scrawl of the words there growing smoother with time. She brushes the pad of a thumb over the ink, and suddenly it smudges, and that's all it takes for Effy to snap the book shut again, tucking it away under her shirt and pressing it against her chest, where her heart still beats against the cage.
At times like this, she still finds herself following Foster's advice in spite of everything that's happened. Her eyes slide to a close and a breath pulls between her lips; a hand gingerly releases its hold against her shirt to weave through her hair, a few curls falling to softly frame her face. Only the slight quirk of her lips pulls Effy through again with a quick shake of her head, her eyes losing the focus that they had only seconds prior. There's only one thing to be done. She hasn't left any trail for herself this time, but that's never stopped Effy before, who turns toward the voices in the distance and the ferris wheel that she can't remember and plants one foot in front of the other with a confidence that she can't afford.
The wind pushes her hair out of the way again and a sudden force tugs her gaze suddenly over her shoulder. "Freddie?" Effy murmurs as she glances through the forest, swears that she hears the ocean in the distance, crashing into a fine mist.
She hasn't been to the beach since Venice.
Only after a few seconds have passed does Effy stand up at last, brittle fingers clutching a notebook that feels damp in her hands, but there in a way that the rest of the world isn't. Not the rough bark of the trees, nor the ants making their way over fallen leaves— not even the soft noise of voices in the distance, of children who laugh and laugh, or the creak of a ferris wheel that barely peeks through against the sky. Her brows knit as she quickly opens the pages, familiar handwriting still stretched across every line, the scrawl of the words there growing smoother with time. She brushes the pad of a thumb over the ink, and suddenly it smudges, and that's all it takes for Effy to snap the book shut again, tucking it away under her shirt and pressing it against her chest, where her heart still beats against the cage.
At times like this, she still finds herself following Foster's advice in spite of everything that's happened. Her eyes slide to a close and a breath pulls between her lips; a hand gingerly releases its hold against her shirt to weave through her hair, a few curls falling to softly frame her face. Only the slight quirk of her lips pulls Effy through again with a quick shake of her head, her eyes losing the focus that they had only seconds prior. There's only one thing to be done. She hasn't left any trail for herself this time, but that's never stopped Effy before, who turns toward the voices in the distance and the ferris wheel that she can't remember and plants one foot in front of the other with a confidence that she can't afford.
The wind pushes her hair out of the way again and a sudden force tugs her gaze suddenly over her shoulder. "Freddie?" Effy murmurs as she glances through the forest, swears that she hears the ocean in the distance, crashing into a fine mist.
She hasn't been to the beach since Venice.