The *** and the Parliament
Lauren
"What is it?" Elliot asked as I stared into the complete blackness of the room before me.
"Dayvision," I murmured to myself, taking the glasses off. "You're an Owl." I started backing away from Elliot, feeling adrenaline course through my veins and my wings preparing to rip through the flesh of my back. All this time, the scar, the whole story, it was a trap. How could I not have known?
"I don't know what you're talking about," he feigned innocence.
"Take another step and you'll perish where you stand, coward."
Elliot lifted his arms up in defense and lied again. "Th-those aren't even my glasses."
"Don't play games with me," I demanded.
"I'm not," Elliot said. "My glasses are broken. They're in there." He aimed a shaking index finger at the stall he was beaten up in.
"I don't trust you," I declared, not bothering to look in the stall. I couldn't take my eyes off him or I'd be giving him a chance to strike.
"Lauren..." Elliot pleaded, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with worry. I swallowed nervously as Elliot evoked emotion in me. He was a damn good liar.
"Turn around," I commanded. His arms still held above his head, Elliot obeyed, and I walked up behind him and ran my fingers across his upper back, feeling, as I had been trained, for the cavities formed by wings. When I discovered he didn't have them, I spun Elliot around the other way and looked into his eyes. I tried to peer beyond the fear, but there was nothing else. I had been mistaken. Elliot was not a Owl.
"Dayvision," I murmured to myself, taking the glasses off. "You're an Owl." I started backing away from Elliot, feeling adrenaline course through my veins and my wings preparing to rip through the flesh of my back. All this time, the scar, the whole story, it was a trap. How could I not have known?
"I don't know what you're talking about," he feigned innocence.
"Take another step and you'll perish where you stand, coward."
Elliot lifted his arms up in defense and lied again. "Th-those aren't even my glasses."
"Don't play games with me," I demanded.
"I'm not," Elliot said. "My glasses are broken. They're in there." He aimed a shaking index finger at the stall he was beaten up in.
"I don't trust you," I declared, not bothering to look in the stall. I couldn't take my eyes off him or I'd be giving him a chance to strike.
"Lauren..." Elliot pleaded, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with worry. I swallowed nervously as Elliot evoked emotion in me. He was a damn good liar.
"Turn around," I commanded. His arms still held above his head, Elliot obeyed, and I walked up behind him and ran my fingers across his upper back, feeling, as I had been trained, for the cavities formed by wings. When I discovered he didn't have them, I spun Elliot around the other way and looked into his eyes. I tried to peer beyond the fear, but there was nothing else. I had been mistaken. Elliot was not a Owl.