Finally, she could see his eyes, and in that instant she forgot to be startled by his answer. Pitch black stared back at her, glassy with unshed tears. He took the last few steps toward her and knelt as close as he dared, cane in the crook of his arm. Ila watched his every move, afraid, numb, and flinched when he raised his hand.

The stranger paused. Long fingers clenched then released, his hand hanging in the air, before he extended to touch her temple.

Ila didn’t move, a doe caught in the headlights, and he rubbed the back of his forefinger and pad of his thumb along the soft hair there. His touch was cool, and she fought the urge to lean into it, to soothe the ache in her skin.

"Someone who has loved you for longer than you have been alive," he whispered, trailing his rough knuckles down her cheek, his thumb gathering the tacky moisture off her flushed face.

"I… I don't understand. I -" Ila craned her neck to look up at the man, heart hammering under her ribs, "h-how do you know my name…?"

"Darling, you gave it to me," he crooned, smoothing her white hair behind her ear.

"How?" Something pinned her there. She couldn't move - she could only flick her gaze between his eyes, his mouth, and back again. His hand moved to her jaw, and he tilted her chin up in his thumb and forefinger.

He grinned. Sharp, stark, eerie. His teeth caught the light, and it made her hair stand on end, it made her breath catch. It made her wonder if he might grab her and never let her go - and if that would be so much a terrible tragedy.

"You summoned me."

---

Idris belongs to my husband ♥

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