"Countless of lives slaughtered. Miraeth is still not a free nation." Ishmael ends releasing a long sigh. He glances at Neva and frowns. She's tearing up.
"Neva?" His countenance paints in worry.
"I'm so confused." She whispers, wiping the salty water with her sleeves.
Ishmael hands her a tissue, she takes it from him, wetting it.
"Thankyou." Neva says.
"Do you believe me?" Ishmael asks, nervous for she doesn't seem to remember anything.
Ishmael had been initiating the past of their land. Neva not confident in his words of him claiming of growing up together in Miraakh, unusually surprising herself chose to hear out her abductor.
Ishmael delighted, clarified of her actual home and her genuine people.
"I-I have this vivid dreams of a scene from a different life, differing surroundings, nostalgic faces that I can't seem to recall." Neva reveals her nose and cheeks scarlet.
His eyes softens at her appearance, glimpses of little Neva flickering in his eyes.
"Do you want to know more, about our home?" He asks Neva, relieved that she's sophisticated and is rather calm and easy.
"Our life there, was it blissful?" Neva deliberately asks, her fear of him fading at a slow pace.
"It was for me, because you were there."
Ishmael confesses, a rare feathery smile swaying on his lips.
Neva feels the truthfull gaze of his. His honest words warming her heart. She looks away.
"Your name is Ishmael?" She queries, peering at the moonlit forests layered in ivory snow through the window.
"Yes." He breathes, still in daze by her presence.
"You always wished escaping from the Island. We promised to discover the world, thrive and live together, but you left me all alone Neva." His voice breaks, bittersweet memories hammering his head.
"I wouldn't know." Neva mumbles, her mind hazy.
"Do you want to recover your memories?" Ishmael hesitantly asks her.
"Can I?" She fidgets her fingers, gazing down at her lap.
"If you don't mind." He adjusts himself on the stool nearby the bed, subconsciously inching closer to her.
"But I'm happy with my life here. I don't feel the need to." She lightly bites the inner vermilion of her lips. She knows the tragic of a life she's had, no matter how great she would wish to remember the good little whiles, the fear of the disaster is far more greater.
"You don't feel the need to remember me?'' Ishmael clenches his fists, his sudden change of demeanour emerging the fading fear.
"I don't wish to tangle my present with my past." She voices out gazing at him—veiling the gloominess in her heart, weary of complicating her life.
"I don't want you to forget our past. I want you back." He declares, his voice stern and deeper. Neva creases her brows, in her thoughts, he wants the Neva who was his little friend. But now, everything's different, she doesn't think their past would have the strength to beautify her perception of him.
"I did everything to have you with me. You are not allowed to abandon what we had." His rigid gaze on her alarming, his dark aura could shudder anyone in the coldness of their own sweat.
Neva's heart quickens it's pace, his frightenening demeanour engulfing her whole. "You're still tied up to the past. Even if what you said about us was true, it wouldn't change anything." Her tongue stirs not authorized by her.
"No, I only want you to know, we cared for each other. You were all I had, and I want you to see me the way you did." He softens his voice, he doesn't want her to feel he just wants her for the sake of the past they shared.
He needs her to breathe, to keep his heart beating. He wants to live, without her he's homeless.
"We can still care for each other, be in each other's life as friends?" She returns, as long as he doesn't attempt anything ridiculous, it should be fine to have him around.
"We always had a deep, precious bond between us. I want you to be all mine Neva." He says, his happiness would know no limits if she's forever his. But her turning words, shatters his heart.
"Don't say that anymore. I'll never be yours." She harshly states. Immediately regretting as his eyes wraps off the hurt in his soul.
"You vowed to be my wife." He remarks, teasing her, concealing his pain in a blink of an eye. He didn't want to be reckless with her anymore. He abhors seeing her being afraid of him.
"W-what? You are just making it up!" Neva retaliates, her face heating up in embarassmnt.
"Of course not. We were just kids but it's true." Ishmael retaliates.
"Perphaps, I phrased it as a joke?" Neva persists, covering the ring on her left hand's fourth finger.
"No, it was a serious conversation." He insists his expressions unreadable.
'Is he messing with me?' Wonders Neva, children's talk about marriage could be anything but serious. They say everything, yet mean nothing. Who knows, this kidnapper, was he even speaking the truth?
"I don't trust you!" She states, her register higher. Ishmael suddenly holds her hand, startling her.
"Then begin to know me Neva, and trust me. You'll never have shortfall in anything. I'll provide you everything." He apprises in determination. Neva sits unmoving, speechless from the happenings of the night. She could never be able to suffice his desire.
Ishmael's hands possesing her, he feels something stony on her fingers. He lifts her left hand inspecting it.
Neva's eyes widens, her heart pounding hard.
A dazzling diamond ring in his sight. He feels his chest harden and numb. 'Did she already belong to someone else?' Had she already been away, so far?
"What is the meaning of this Neva?" He inquires, his gaze fixed on the stones arranged to form a flower.
"It's nothing." She swallows anxiously, endeavouring to retract her hands away from him.
Alarming her he grips her jaw harshly. The warmth in the eyes fading, his eyes, cruelly darkens. Leaving one to reflect on the scene the eyes had perceived, was he really the same man just a moment before?
"What. Does. It. Mean?" He presses each words with gritted teeth, his hand tightening it's grip. Her eyes surges tears in pain. He hurt her, once more.
He removes his hands away from her. Standing up he paces away, brushing his hair with his hard fingers out his forehead. With his abuses, no way will he ever win her over. She'll never want him.
Sucking in a breath, he glances at her. "Who is he?"
Neva keeps quiet. No response from her, intimidatingly he strides back to her.
Seeing him approaching, afraid, she hurriedly explains, "I-it's a promise ring."
"A promise to what?" He hovers over her frame, overwhelming her. Neva shudders under his predatory gaze.
"Words Neva!" He raises his voice, distressed. "A promise to marry me!" Neva whimpers, his silhouette suffocating her.
"I will replace the ring. You belong to me, no one else dares to purloin what's mine." He asserts roughly, designing a goal. It's impossible, how can he breathe still and see her with another man, who's not him? He will destroy him.
Neva furrows her brows, why does he keep claiming her as his? "I love him." She proclaims, her gaze sharp, vexed, because of his fit of temper.
"I don't entertain the idea of being with you."
She firmly announces, raising her head up—connecting her eyes with his own. Ishmael's sclera turns red in fury.