She didn’t care when her mother told her off about the social, nor did she care when her mother hugged her for making an effort to connect. When she talked to her aunt, the same thing happened. An un-feeling. Disinterest steeped in the emptiness of her hollow chamber.
At first, it vexed her. Shouldn’t a kiss, a dance, a minor bit of flirtation drum up something in her? Had her violet-colored heart drained of its color? Girls that should’ve made her weak at the knees did nothing for her. They were pretty, in a detached, clinical sense. Objectively pretty, objectively meeting her standards, but, subjectively, they lacked hooks.
No intrigue. Nothing to invite her curiosity. They turned out to be bland; every last one of them had been a waste of her time. Elspeth deserved better than that. She needed someone who could ignite something in her, someone who could burn a fire so hot that its smoke would overtake everything else.
Someone normal, someone who wasn’t her mortal enemy.
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