>>5788904You blinked a few times, staring past the others. Their voices faded t background noise, to birdsong or to a babbling brook. The works of man seemed to part and to separate, the wooden planks of the farmhouse peeling back and away to reveal the fields beyond, and the stretch of endless star-speckled sky. Frame din the warping and wobbling doorway was…
“Izirina?”
Indeed, it could be none other. Izirina Henzler was a rather hard one to mistake, with her oak-brown skin and peculiar eyes—eyes which drew you in, like those of the golden-haired dancing girl had before. You staggered forward a step, squinting in confusion. Why was she here? And weren’t her eyes hazel, rather than this rich brown marbled with what looked like serpentine, roiling coils of vibrant, unnatural green?
“Hey, Tips, you alright?”
You felt a hand clap you on the shoulder, a large and strong hand you couldn’t mistake. Without thinking, you reached up and entwined your fingers with Logan Pearce’s own, squeezing his hand gently. He pulled away rather abruptly, laughing nervously. It brought you a sense of stability, just long enough to prevent yourself from falling over—or perhaps from barreling out the door at a full sprint.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Sorry,” you mumbled, “I’ll… Be back soon.”
You were unable to look away from those strange and eerie eyes for even a moment, peeking out from the deep, dark shadow of Izirina Henzler’s hat, obscuring her face as she back up a step beyond the door. No longer quite so disoriented or frenzied, but still pulled by those eyes and the mystery which they embodied, you followed her out onto the porch. You passed your fellow students and the other party-goers-some conversing, some kissing, others arguing minutiae. It all washed over you, a haze, while the stars and the wind in the grass and all the cosmos seemed to frame Izirina Henzler, now standing close to the field.
You hopped daintily down off of the balcony, dexterous even now, and followed after her. You didn’t call out—there was no need, with both of you maintaining broken eye-contact. The eyes of an elf are adapted well to the dim light of dawn and of dusk; by the moon and stars, augmented by the ever-more distant lights of the farmhouse, you navigated nearly as well as if it were daytime…
Until you couldn’t.
You found yourself bobbing up and down in an ocean, rising and falling with the tide of your won heartbeat, surrounded by an ocean of grain. Had it been so tall before? Did it ever stretch so far, on your carriage-ride in? And where was Izirina. You pivoted, trying to get your bearings, but the stars here were strange and the moon had vanished.
“Where are you?” you asked.
“Here,” came a voice from beside you, a soft whisper next to your ear that made you shiver.
