shelley_winters | Resumption

Something is out of place in the room. The chair next to the Sha'rah board is moved as if someone is sitting there. A glass of icewater sits next to the board, as does a small journal. The board is set up in a sequence that Shelley is very familiar sequence. The opening to one that won her the most important game of her life.

The air shimmered, and a figure in black is lounging in her chair.

(A pretty man came to me)

He took a sip of his icewater, before he began to applaud slowly.

(Never seen eyes so blue)

The man dressed in all black was older than when she had seen him last, but his mellifluous voice was the same as ever. He licked his lips before he spoke.

"I must congratulate you on your ability to survive... It is most unprecedented."

Her voice freezes in her throat.

As she turns, she experiences the strangest sense of unreality, light headed and shaking because it can't be.

A second, and another as Shelley simply stands there, white and terrified. She knows this. She has been here before, and woke up, and - Oh, please - if he doesn't come any closer she'll wake up again.

This cannot be happening. Not again.

Slowly, Ishamael rose to his feet and carefully adjusted the white lace at his collar before holding his head sideways. He had such a pretty smile. A tone of light amusement in his voice as he turned his palms up to the ceiling in a small gesture.

"Are you surprised, Lady Shelley?"

A quiet, tense excitement hidden carefully in his voice. He had waited a very long time-dreamt of this. As had she.

A sudden draw of breath as he stands, and the spell is broken.

Shelley turns and grabs for the door handle as fast as she can, not making a sound still, she can't.

A raised eyebrow and the doorknob refuses to turn. A cherry red glow from the internal components of the lock briefly. She would not escape him so easily. The heat removed just as quickly as it was applied. He would not have her hurt.

"That door will no longer work."

Shelley turns again, wild eyes going momentarily to the window, hand involuntarily against her throat. No chance. She wouldn't get further than a step or two. There are tears in her eyes as she fight down panic that threatens to drown her completely.

She looks at him in helpless terror, completely at a loss for how to save herself. Her mind seems to be refusing to work.

Ishamael stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. A small smile, and a comforting tone in his voice as he glanced to her face.

"Now, Lady Shelley, I have been waiting over half a century for this, and you don't have the decency to say anything?"

He put a hand over his heart, for all the world like a lover.

"You wound me, Rahamim."

Shelley flinches violently back as soon as he touches her, back hitting the door behind her

(Half a century)

tears spilling over as he smiles down at her

(Rahamim)

and she just shivers uncontrollably. Months later, she can still remember the white-hot pain when he stabbed her, smiling that same sweet smile.

She shakes her head in silent horror.

Ishamael glanced down awkwardly at his hands which he had folded in front of him.

"I think, it best, at the front to say that upon further consideration our last encounter went very poorly, and some things happened that I think we can both regret happening."

He gestured abstractedly as a sheepish look was adopted on his face. This sort of thing was necessary for continued favorable interaction.

"These things never come out as one plans, and I have had a great deal of time to think on it. Well... I suppose that simply apologizing is best, and so I apologize."

She stares at him, incredulous as the adrenaline and panic begins to lessen, and another emotion becomes evident.

Anger.

He has caused near enough everything wrong in her life, imprisoned her, hurt her, tried to kill her, and he...

Shelley knows it is stupid. She knows it can make no difference. But since when has that ever stopped her? Teeth clenched in hate, she lifts her hand and hits him as hard as she can.

A blink of a pause as the mark of her hand stung on his cheek. She slapped him. Blue eyes glanced off in quiet contemplation. He was not expecting it to be that easy.

She slapped him.

His chest shook quietly with laughter for a moment before it bubbled out of him. His head turned downward as his soft deranged laughter went on for far, far too long.

She slapped him.

And he stabbed her. Somehow, Shelley retains the moral high ground.

She swallows hard, backing away again. Fear returns full-force, and her eyes go back to the open window above her bed. How high up is she, and is he distracted enough for her to get there?

She keeps moving, watching him laugh warily.

He doesn't even look up before he speaks. The slightest touch of a giggle staining his mellifluous voice.

"I would not try it, Lady Shelley."

A beaming smile as he glanced up at her. A contented, almost happy look on his pretty face.

"You are every bit as I expected you to be. I was worried that my memory would not serve me well, but you have not disappointed. No, no, not at all."

Shelley halts in the middle of the room, face very pale and eyes almost dilated in the dull light. Her slender hands are clenched so hard her knuckles are white as her arms fold defensively across her stomach.

She feels so very helpless.

Ishamael picked up dream journal from the table as he took to his usual pacing.

"Someone gave this to me in exchange for a small favor, and can you imagine my surprise when I discovered that you are still alive?"

An almost dreamy smile.

"Can you imagine my joy?"

The man in black laughed.

Shelley recognises that journal. It's hers.

It-

She feels suddenly ill, staring at it.

"So I suppose you came to remedy that?"

Her voice, when it finally comes, is small and tense and bitter. She bites out the question as if her tone could injure him.

An incredulous look on his face as he gently caressed her cheek with his fingers. He moves his hand back quickly, but the contact with her face is not shortened at all. He is used to women who bite.

"What a silly thing to ask. Of course I didn't."

He needn't have worried. Shelley turns her face to the side and pulls away rather than bite him. Hit him she might, but at heart the girl is simply not violent - though her glare might give another impression.

"The murder must have misled my thinking."

Ishamael raised a finger carefully.

"Now, there's a small difference of opinion. You did not die. You might have come close, but death cannot be Healed."

A pause, and a glimmering smile.

"And only Shaitan can restore the dead to life, and I am sure that I would have been informed."

"That was the intention, wasn't it?"

She stares back at him, anger and fear now mixed with a thread of irritation, of all things. He still gets under her skin just like that.

He glanced off away and frowned. A rather displeased gesture.

"Well, I was exceptionally angry at the time, and later regretted my actions most sincerely. A crime of passion, if that is the term."

Her expression tightens in fury.

"Oh, of course. That makes it better in some way, does it?"

An almost condescending smile as he patted her cheek affectionately.

"You are cute when you are angry."

An idle remark more to himself.

"I have missed that."

She pulls away again, trying not to panic - there's no use in that. She's prevented from getting far, however, by the proximity of the wall behind her.

"Stop it."

A delicate, chaste kiss on her cheek before he began to walk away from her. A slow pacing stride from Ishamael as he folded one hand behind his back, and gestured with the other.

"As you like... Anything in particular that you would like to take with you? While all your needs will be provided for, you may certainly take things with you that you might particularly enjoy."

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