Velencia Malvosin
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of the old, rickety rocking chair that sat near the fading fire vibrated throughout the room. With crackling embers flaring up into the air in a final attempt at catching ablaze, the embers glowed bright before vanishing into the shadows. Velencia paced over the carpet that covered the creaking wooden boards of the home, head downcast as if she was in deep thought.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
The wind of the cool evening blew in short gusts through the open window, rattling its panes in quiet yet hollow screams.
Twitch.
The nerves in Velencia's ear crackled as she tried to block out the distractions and her head quivered involuntarily. She wrung her wrists repeatedly, a letter clenched tight between the tanned skin of the distressed Ithanian.
Pop. Pop.
The popping sound came from her limbs as she stretched them, curling her fingers inwards before extending them out into the dim light. The muscles in her wrists tensed as the dying fire popped in vain, wanting to be rekindled before it took its last intake of the oxygen. She inhaled, a deep raspy utterance of stress and worry.
Creak. Creak.
The boards underfoot continued their redundant arguing as weight was placed over them in a replicated fashion. A deep exhale and her eyes finally opened, the pupils twisting before enlarging into their natural cerulean orbs that were overshadowed by lips of rose color, pursed tight together in folded fine lines of wrinkles upon wrinkles of the slight skin on her lips.
Swish. Swish.
With every turn of her pacing, Velencia's dress skirts pivoted about, colliding into one another in rolling waves of fabric on fabric. The grating of the cloth would be heard upon Velencia's delicate ears, and another twitch would occur in her tensed neck, a bead of sweat rolled down before disappearing into the recesses of her dress, absorbed by the thick material. The vision of the Ithanian bounced over the letter still trapped in a death grip between tanned fingers of confinement, the refusal to let go of it the only thing that seemed to be holding back the overall stress the lass held upon her shoulders.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
She breathed deeply but with each one, another crease formed in her brow, her uneasiness becoming more and more apparent.
Shuffle. Shuffle.
Her footsteps brushed against the fibers of the carpet before stepping onto wood.
Turn.
Her feet met carpet once again as she turned and paced a new path around the dimly lit room.
She stopped.
Her head tossed back a loose strand of hair that slipped from the finely constructed confines of her golden hair. With a gaze of dread and slight hostility, her wiry fingers finally unclenched the rumpled paper, tearing into it with a delicate yet unsure break. Words tumbled out from the paper's custody, illuminated barely in the soft light.
Tap, tap, tap, came the sound of the rocking chair once again as the wind blew it as gently as a mother lovingly blows onto her infant's fingers in order to hear a giggle sound rise faintly from its mouth. Velencia grit her teeth, annoyed by the trivial noises of the night.
Rap, rap, rap came the screams of the windows, the wind gusts rattling the panes into screams of agony it seemed, their displeasure almost as evident as Velencia's. Her eyes skipped over the words, reading them to herself as her jaw clenched at their meaning.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Twitch.
Crackle. Crackle. Twitch. Twitch.
Screech. Squeak. Pop. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.
Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.
Pop goes another vein and the taste of iron filled Velencia's mouth. She had bitten near through a small part of the tip of her tongue.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A shrill scream sounded through the black of the night, a maddened face turned towards the chair that had caused such an outburst. With hands outstretched, dropping the letter from their hold, Velencia crossed the threshold in 3 steps, her hands gripping round the handles of the chair and with a sudden rush of adrenaline, the chair was picked up from its rest and violently beaten against the fireplace. Into splinters the old wood burst, shattering across the room as though it was nothing more than twigs thrown into a fire. The sudden gust of air that followed the violent attack on the rocker swept up the paper that the assailant had dropped and brought it into the ashes of the fireplace that was being bashed against. The greedy fingers of perishing flames licked at the paper's edges, turning it to a crisp black as it began to fold in on itself, aflame and curled like a lifeless spider. In the hands of the fuming female lay the wooden corpse of the rocker's remaining limb, bloody from its revolt against Velencia's hands now infested with splinters of all sorts.
Inhale. Exhale.
She breathed deeply, uncaring for the damage caused onto her home as the adrenaline high faded, along with the remaining flames of the fire.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
A vexed snort leapt from her throat and the adrenaline rush was picked up once more, the remaining limb that was still clutched in hand was thrown viciously into the wailing window.
Smash.
The night was mute for the remainder of the evening, save for the occasional, agonized scream of other windows when the wind howled through them…
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