[AW] little ghost, so forgotten and small

[Isra]

There is small part, buried deep inside the cracks of her soul and in the thump of her heart that goes on, that chants over and over again. Survive, it says. Sometimes it overlays the sound of run, run, run as it whispers in and out of her bones like the wind through valleys. Other times that word, survive, is on it's own. It's quieter in those moments, as if it is only the part of her soul that longs, that whispers. Those are the times she longs for something and the gnawing in her belly feels like it needs more than food and  water. That's when the hunger feels like it could devour the moon, the stars and drink the sea until it's dry. Even then, she thinks, that rabid hunger might not be satisfied. Isra is never quite sure what it wants with her, that soul that even the sea-god could not touch. Perhaps she knew once, perhaps her soul like her body was long ago familiar to her. Now she is little more than a machine, flesh that eats and moves and talks when the world requires it of her. She looks at Acton, forgetting already what it was that kept her from the shadows, kept her next to him when silence was so soothing to her. Her eyes skip over him again, remembering all the things she's already noticed about him. Already they've slipped away, away with the memories she cannot recall (doesn't want to recall). He pushes her too much and she's not sure how she knows this. But push her he does and when that box rattles and creaks and the lid starts to open she forgets how she came to be. How did she get here? Who is he? Why does he terrify and soothe her all at once? There is nothing for her to say when he promises that there will be no other free meals. That survive word is too loud, clamoring around as it does behind her sea-blue eyes. Instead she can only offer, a whisper that tastes like honey on her lips, a false sweetness that has little to do with her. “I have no direction in mind.” To the sea, she thinks but she doesn't say the words. The sea calls to her, distant and deep, and she wants to go. But part of her knows that to go is to vanish forever and she doesn't want to leave this golden boy, not yet. Isra thinks no more on it, she just takes it for what it is. She will not leave Acton, not tonight, not by her own choice. “There is no one here that I know. Only you, however shallow that knowing is.” There is more that she wants to say, just on the edge of her teeth. But it's heavy and slick like oil and she can't hold it long enough to know the words before it slides back down into her belly, back down into that needy hollow soul she doesn't know what to do with. “If you could go anywhere where would you go?” She asks even as she decides that it is the direction she will go in. His dreams would have to be big enough to hold her. Isra has none of her own, none that she wants to recall dreaming at all. As long as it's not towards the sea she will go as terror free as she could ever be. * * * * * come tomorrow i'll be in the sea @Acton