"Why are you here?" he asked, the black hood covering his face. Cecilia didn't bother to try to answer, knowing what the full hood held.
A boy, looking the age of sixteen or seventeen, though he claimed to be ageless. He had silver white hair that looked akin to the coloring of the moon and the palest shade of blood-red eyes she had ever seen. Not many could find him, but Cecilia had always been persistent; she had walked through countless cemeteries, looking for the one in the black hood, and the scythe strapped to his back. This certain cemetery was in the outskirts of her town; headstones littered as far as the eye could see, and the center of it was different from the rest. A small building had been destroyed for unknown purposes, revealing hidden tunnels. No one had traveled through, especially once the gnarled roots of dead trees began to grow over the entrance. But Cecilia was no quitter; she brought a sharpened hatchet and made her way down, traveling by light of an oil lamp she had found. It was strange; the object had been placed there as if the person who had put it down knew she would need it. Cecilia felt goosebumps run up and down her arms, and she chalked it up to the weather; though it was summer in Ovylian, down in the tunnels was much cooler. She walked on, the smell of dust and water strong in the air. When she made it to the end of the tunnel, two entrances awaited her. Both looked the same, and Cecilia chewed on her lower lip, wondering which one was the correct one. Deciding to go to the left, she shielded her face as a blast of cold air hit her, almost taking out the oil lamp from her hands. Please let this be the right one, she thought, trudging on forward as her flats kicked up small pebbles, and they bounced around making echo noises. Though the oil lamp offered light, it was very limited; it was just a bit around her, the rest of the tunnels in inky darkness. Cecilia had her hand on the wall of the tunnel as a bit of balance and guidance. Something grazed her palm, and she let out a curse, shining the lamp down on it. A cut that ran from the end of her palm to in between her first two fingers formed on her right hand, and a small trickle of blood dripped out. Disgusted, Cecilia set down the oil lamp and ripped a strand off her long skirt, wrapping it tightly to stop the bleeding. Although Cecilia wasn't fond of long skirts or poof dresses, she would admit they were handy when she would cut herself up by accident in her many adventures. She knew the family's seamstress was going to give her an earful for this, but to be honest, there were more pressing matters at hand. When she looked up, there he was. It was his hair that brought her attention to him; there must have been the faintest of light somewhere, yet it reflected on his silver white hair. Faint red eyes stared at her bored before drawing up his hood to cover his face. If this was Death, he was quite pretty; sharp cheekbones, elegant long nose, and lips that looked like they were kissed by roses. "Why are you here?" he had asked, and as he moved, Cecilia saw the faintest glint of metal. His scythe that he kept strapped to his back. She had never known if he ever used it as a weapon; Cecilia had gathered very little information about him whilst searching for ways to find Death without dying. "I want to make an easy deal with you." she said, pulling out a rolled up piece of paper with straggles of ink on it. Death walked to her, his steps silent as he took the rolled up paper and read through it. When he looked back at her, the hood fell off, and he looked slightly amused. "You said the shaman decreed this?" he asked. "That's what the paper says." she replied, taking a step back. "But you're a full-blooded human." Death said, looking like he wanted to say something else but decided against it. "I know my true mate is this person, though. Even the shaman saw it." Cecilia replied, standing up straight and tall. "For enough money, you can get the humans to say whatever you want to hear." he said, sounding like he was suppressing laughter. Cecilia glared at Death; how dare he say such a thing at true love? And sure, it was strange love; her being human and mundane in every way possible, and the person she wanted to wed, and marry with was the alpha of the southern wolf pack. She knew deep in her heart though it was meant to be, the moment she laid eyes on him three years ago. At the time, she hadn't known who he was, as she was just a fifteen year old girl who tried to fight off the maids from dressing her in silly gowns. Her father was a very wealthy and respected Duke; both her and her older brother had to be presentable for the times the family was invited to the ball. Which was almost all the time. This certain ball she had wandered off to the side of the castle building towards the woods, watching a pack of boys wander off from the ball and into the woods. They turned into wolves, a bit bigger than dogs, and disappeared into the night. Cecilia, although aware that werewolves existed, she had never seen one so up close. One of them caught her eye; the boy with the golden eyes, that was the only thing that stayed the same when he shifted into a wolf. "He's the one." Cecilia had said when she was fifteen. "He's the one." she repeated, now at eighteen. Death sighed, but he smiled. "So what's the deal?" "My father believes that I'm making a mistake into agreeing to arrange marriage between me and Mason. I want to prove him wrong." she started, but Death held up a hand, staring at her as if she was crazy. "I'm not sure what you want me to do there. A mutual death between lovers? Because I'm not Cupid; I can't make him fall in love with you." he said, and Cecilia tried not to look too disappointed. "No. I know you can revive someone, though. And that's what I'm most interested in. If I'm wrong, I want a do-over." she said, and Death arched an eyebrow. "For that to work, you'd have to lose your own life." he said, and Cecilia waved off that worry. "Let me handle that. Do we have a deal?" she asked, holding out her hand. "I'll accept the deal if you agree that when I bring you back, I get to choose the time frame. And you'll go on from there." he said, reaching for her hand. Cecilia didn't pull back, but she did think it through. In a way, this was better than him asking for her soul. But at the same time, there was a chance she'd come back as age eleven or a fetus, and that was way far back. "I agree to the terms." she said as she shook his hand. "I look forward to seeing if I'll be a guest at the wedding or at your funeral." he answered, disappearing from sight.Cecilia tried not to move too much as her best friend Isadora braided some pearls into her long dark brown locks. Her face had been washed and applied with powder for her face, careful lip paint, and a light brown shade of eye paint. The top half of her hair had been pulled up into a tight braid, the rest falling in gentle waves past her shoulders. Her wedding was just in two weeks, and each moment Cecilia had spent with Mason had been one of pure bliss. They went on strolls together, had picnics, and once even stayed up watching the stars glitter the sky. Never had she felt such peace and love from being with someone, especially like this. The memory of Cecilia holding on to Mason's hands as they strolled into the duke of the west's castle was still fresh in her mind. She clung to it to settle the nerves that had gathered in her stomach. Now and then, though, she had to press her palms together to control the anxiety shakes she was still having to deal with. Her friend Isadora hu
Death is laughing as he helps up Cece. She scowls, taking his hand, and grips it tight. "I'm going to be honest, I thought it was going to be longer wait than that." he said, guiding her towards a pathway away from her body. Cece was nervous then; she could feel herself aging or shrinking. "Am I going back in the womb?" she asked him, and he laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not sure yet, but seeing you fight your pregnant friend, and your betrothed was quite amusing. Your other friend is trying her hardest to wake you up." A scream sounded behind them, and Death chuckled. "Looks like she shook you hard enough to show the exact spot your neck broke." Cece fought back shivers, staring straight ahead. "Was I that much of a fool?" she muttered, mostly to herself. "No; just because you followed what you were taught, and they didn't don't make you a fool. It just makes them impatient and imponet." Death replied. Cece said nothing, though she felt a bit better at that point.
I hear mixed cries from my maids and Mason as I hold on to the front of Quill's jacket to hold him in place as I kiss him, his body stiff as he's stunned.I need to make this believable, though; I press my breasts against his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck.He seems to relax then, placing a large hand on the back of my waist, his other hand cupping my right cheek where the moon mark is at.I feel him ripped away from me as Mason grabs him and slams Quill against the far wall, honey eyes boring into Quill's calm green ones."I will kill you!" Mason screams in his face, and again, no fear in Quill's eyes."Mason! Release my lover." I ordered, walking over to where they stood. My maids trailed me, nervous chatter coming from them.Mason let go of Quill then, causing him to fall back on the wall, sliding down. Mason stepped towards me, looking like he wanted to hold on to me, either to hug me or shake me."Darling, have you forgotten that you're betrothed to ME." He replied, look
Quill and I decide to go to the gardens, waving away curious stares from butlers, and maids. The wedding planner storms past me, giving me a dirty look, but she stops when Quill places a protective arm around me, pulling me outside. On a whim, I curl into his warmth, forgetting for a moment that he's not Mason; werewolves run on a higher temperature, and since I chilled so easily, it was one of the few things I appreciated. And a bonus; Quill smells like clean clothes and soap. Mason mostly smelled like raw meat, and outside scentst hat I could never pinpoint at times. I snuck a peek at him, wondering what was he thinking. Did he think this was a good idea? Did I think this was a good idea? Honestly, this seemed too fast in such a short amount of time. As I opened my mouth to ask him something, someone calling out my name stopped me. Confused, we both turned, and I felt the color leave my face for a moment. Isadora was there, face flushed from ha
When I awoke, I was crushed against Quill's bare chest, his solid arms holding me in place. He was deeply asleep-I think from his breathing-and I could feel sweat begin to form from how warm Quill is. The urge to go to the restroom grew, and I tried to wiggle free, but his grip tightened, and he sighed, burying his face in my hair. Please, just let me go to the restroom, I thought to myself, and after a beat, he turned to the other side of the bed, sighing as his snores went back to normal. I bolted, rushing to the restroom as I relieved myself, then washed my hands, and teeth. I stared at my reflection, noticing bed marks on my face, and the tangles in my hair. I sighed, knowing that this was going to take some time to fix. Suddenly, I remembered that today was the day of the ball that was being thrown from the duke of the west. In part celebration of my wedding, but mostly he enjoyed throwing them. I wondered if Quill wanted to go, then recalled that he
The guards throw me in the cell as if I'm garbage, and I land on my hands and knees. The bottom of my dress has torn, and I turn to scream at the guards, rushing forward just as they slam the cell on me. I'm so angry as I grip the metal bars, screaming for them to let me out. Footsteps wander in through the dark hallway, and the small oil lamps laid on the floor light up just enough for me to see who it is. "Mason." I say, through gritted teeth. He smirks at me, dusting off his shoulders, his eyes roaming all over the cell. "Wow, my darling, how you've fallen from your grace. The only, and eldest daughter of one of the most wealthy dukes in all the lands." he gloated, eyes going down to the tear in my dress. "And even your dress has suffered from your insolence." "What do you want from me, Mason?" I asked, hands gripping the bars. "To see you suffer." he replied, and his eyes bored into mine, flashing. I laughed then, cupping my mouth to stop th
Death is watching with bored eyes as I land in front of him. His scythe is in his hand, and there looks to be something caught on it. As I get near, he yanks it off, wiping his hands on his black robe. "Sorry, sometimes the souls get stuck on my scythe." he said sheepishly, and I blink before I realize what he's saying. "What are you doing here?" I asked, watching as the space around us turns clear, with only a slight fog. "I just want to say that this; giving you a chance to come back to life was one of the greatest decisions I've made. Not only have you gone off the rails, you also have managed to carve your own source of happiness." I said nothing, as out of nowhere, he began to float, laying back with his arms down to his sides, the scythe keeping him balanced. "But I know you have something up your sleeve. So please, make it worth my while." he said, as a skeletal version of himself walked out from him and disappeared. He must have seen the dismay
My hair is made into a long braid, the ends tickling my lower back. I change my mind many times on what I want to wear, and I decide on a simple light purple dress, that's long sleeved, and some warm pantyhose, paired off with black boots with buckles. Where Quill resides, it's almost always cold, and I understand why he chose that spot; his entire pack run on a higher temp than the rest of us do. Quill comes back from speaking with my father, and heads back in my closet, pulling out a thick, flower patterned blanket. He wraps it around myself, kissing the tip of my nose as he does so. That simple action, so casual, and out of nowhere makes my heart beat faster, and the blood rush to my face. Quill notices, his face switching from embarassment, to teasing, as he kisses both of my red cheeks. "S-stop, you tease!" I say, lightly shoving him back, as I wrap the blanket around myself. "My darling, you are covered from head to toe in clothes, it might b