The Colour of Your Eye

 Ignoring Stuart's demand,  Darragh stared intently at me. He didn't release my fingers, he just clenched them tighter, then let go briefly, instead grasping the whole of my hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles into my palm; his eyes on mine, seemingly oblivious to the attention from the entire room. I stared back, dazzled, the heat emanating from his eyes holding me there, I couldn't explain why there was no chance I could look away, it wasn't a possibility. I lost myself within the gleaming green, my mind spiraling, all I could think of was the green, the green. I could feel my heart racing, my mouth dry. 

And the moment evaporated, the heat in his eyes cooled, I felt my heart rate slow somewhat. The heavy emotion hanging in the air thinned, and the others hadn't seemed to have noticed what had happened, if something had  indeed happened. Stuart sat, impatient at the other end of the table, his glare the only one pointed towards us.

"Well, what do you propose, Darragh? Some brilliant plan to get us out of this mess, have you?" He sneered, and I recoiled at his oily tone.

Darragh turned his head slowly, his eyes still fixed on mine, until he eventually tore them away, and I felt I could see the traction, see the liquid green tear from mine, each minute movement a small stab to my well being. 

"Well yeah, actually," Darragh said cooly, his voice detached, sounding as if it had travelled from somewhere far away.

"Well, what is it? Or want to keep it to yourself, do you?" He goaded. I wasn't registering anything, I could only think about his eyes...

"We're going to attack them, head on. We'll settle this as it should be settled, a battle, not a series of weak, despicable trappings."

Stuart sat back in the dark wood chair, his eyes portraying the shock and contempt he felt, I imagined the metallic taste of anger on his tongue.

"And how do you plan to attack them 'head on'?" He said quietly, the anger bubbling beneath the surface of his air. 

"Liz?" Darragh questioned calmly.

"Wh-what?" I stammered, pulled from my dreamy observations, aware of every detail yet so oblivious to myself. 

"Tell them about the mansion," He urged quietly, his face lowered, looking at  up at me with a firm resolve.

And so I told them, repeated everything I knew. And something was tapping quietly at the back of my consciousness the entire time, telling me that this would end, in more than tears. I was barely aware of the humming conversing around me, I was still in oblivion, gladly. 

So I was surprised when I noticed the light footfall from behind the door, and heard it push softly open. I turned around, and heard the twisting movements as everyone else did the same.

Connor stood there, a shell of the man he had once been. His skin was a pale grey, his hair disheveled around his face, clumps sticking to his skin with rain. His eyes were what caught my attention, though. Heavy purple bruising tinged underneath them, highlighting the cold, hard ferocity within the irises. 

The End

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