Emory pauses at the sight of herself, her silver hair is a bird's nest and her skin is so sickly pale she looks like she rose from the dead. And she can't forget that she's not wearing the clothes she passed out in. Emory will ask about that later, and if not then, she just hopes it was a lady who changed her.
Her shoulder throbs, her skin on fire and she whimpers and clutches at the top of it. After the flare eases to a dull ache, she blinks and realizes she's fallen to her knees. Emory pushes herself up, pausing so her legs can stop shaking, and takes off the plain T-shirt she wears.
She turns around so her back faces the mirror and looks over her shoulder as far as she can to see the curse in the reflection. There's medical gauze taped over it and she frowns.
Of course someone would think it was a wound, but whatever medicine they put on it wouldn't work. It's not a wound or infection or disease. It's magic. Dark, evil magic. That much she knows. Full of bitterness, she rips the gauze off her skin and clenches her teeth to keep from crying out in pain as the sticky tape pulls at the cursed area.
It festers at her, growing and popping purple warts at the sight of her. The black area surrounding it spreads outward, dark veins stretching towards her neck and down to her waist.
If that siren out there really wanted something ugly to look at, Emory will show him this. She can imagine his face of disgust and she smirks. Oh, she'll definitely show him.
She glares at the dark magic on her shoulder, it wasn't always this big, or ugly or painful. It used to be a small dark spot on the center of her left shoulder blade, that she originally thought was a mole. Until Mavis, who was still her friend at the time, noticed it was getting bigger. And when it started to fester, Priestess Promilia took her to a witch doctor.
He told them that she was cursed with something dark and foul.
Emory doesn't know who cursed her, when they did it, or why. One day it wasn't there and then it was, and she was a kid no less. What could a child do to warrant a dark curse?
She sniffs and rubs her nose. She can't stay here forever. She has to go at some point, so she pulls her big girl panties up, despite the heavy dread stuck in her stomach, and walks out of the bathroom.
The siren is still there, in the same spot she left him, and he drops his arms to his side from where they were crossed over his chest.
"Hello, my name is Vai'an. Vuh-I-ahn." He pronunciates.
"I'm Emory." She sighs and gives in, "Em-or-ee."
"Now that we are introduced, let's get food."
She jumps when he grabs her arm and links it with his. The feel of his moist skin rubbing against hers makes her shiver and she quickly pulls herself away.
He frowns back at her and she forces a smile, not wanting to insult him, "I'll just follow." she gestures for him to lead the way.
Outside the room, the hallway they walk down reminds her of a hospital. There are men and women in blue uniforms with the word security written on the back. Even now, there are two waiting outside the room and are now following them.
When Emory asks Vai'an why, he tells her, "Those are our escorts. A fancy word for guards."
"Why do we need guards?" she asks.
"To make sure we stay in line and don't cause problems." He says. Her eyebrows shoot up as she glances at the one behind her. He eyes her, and then glances away when he realizes that's all she's doing.
"The man who brought me here," Emory starts again, facing forward, "The blond with green eyes -"
"Rome?" Vai'an sneers with absolute disgust. Her eyebrows raise, apparently she's not the only one who has a problem with him. "No doubt kneeling at his master's feet now that you're here."
Her brows furrow, "Kneeling at his master's feet?" she repeats.
He chuckles, the sound full of bitterness, and she wonders what happened to make him so upset with the guy. Then again, after what Rome did to her, to Walker, she can assume it's probably just as bad as that.
"Roman is nothing but a vicious lap dog who does the Directors bidding." He mutters as he turns a corner, Emory following after him with two guards on their tail. There are other patients walking around. They wear the same clothes as Vai'an and Emory, also trailed by guards. "Everyone here despises him."
"What did he do to you?" she asks.
There's a moment of silence between them as they walk, and she starts to think he isn't going to answer.
"He killed my father and brought me here against my will." He says, his voice so soft Emory almost doesn't hear him. Her eyes water and she blinks the tears away, but her heart is breaking for him. For both of them.
"Why would he do that?" She whispers.
"Because the director told him too." Vai' an says it as a fact, and herbeyebrows furrow. "He doesn't need any other reason than that."
"Blind faith?" she comments under her breath. She shake her head, it doesn't matter. What's done is done. She sees him standing there in her coven's basement, the blade of his dagger ripping through Walker's neck right in front of her.
Her hands clench at her sides. Emory pushes it away for now. Tonight when she goes to bed, she'll have hours to think about it.
She follows Vai'an into the dining hall, where guards line the walls and a buffet of food is lined up, only a few women in white aprons serve behind it. There's only a few others that aren't guards sitting at the table all wearing the same thing as them. Grey sweats and a white T-shirt.