My hand. It had all started with my hand. From the first awkward moment, when the heel of my palm brushed yours, assuredly accidental, the push of connection shocked me. I had never felt a strong exchange of wills before, pushing and pulling forth a deeply ingrained need to keep touching. Shocked, I pulled my hand away from yours, holding it to my chest as if your skin had burned mine. I cradled my tender, shaking fingers against my breast while a creeping shiver rolled down the bones in my back.
Thoughtlessly, my eyes snapped to yours, catching a similarly startled expression upon your hard, chiseled visage. An exhale escaped your lips and I could taste your thoughts dancing over it, while I simultaneously inhaled a shocked gasp. Our eyes met and, for a short interlude, I found myself lost within the whirling storm of icy silver contained therein. Had you noticed the goosebumps prickling over my arms, raising tiny, silken hairs in alarm? Your observant eyes felt transfixed upon me.
“Who are you?” Unspoken words crept from behind your silent lips, sliding languidly into my thoughts, eliciting another surprised expression from me. The inquiry danced behind my eyes, imploring a response.
I answered sharply in return, my mind’s voice responding indignantly to the intrusion of yours with a cutting tone. “Who are you?”
As if we had engaged in this form of silentious communication a thousand times, our very first conversation continued wordlessly, as it was effortless. I hadn’t quite yet realized we weren’t speaking allowed. Why would I? Thought-speak typically requires months of practice with a very dedicated partner, one who you had already displayed a certain affinity for - most often siblings or lovers. I had never seen you before this encounter, and yet neither of us struggled to speak. The realization crept over me slowly, and forced an even deeper shutter in my deepest core. I did not know you, but you knew me.
Your eyes broke from mine to flit over my shape for just the briefest split-moment, before returning to hold my attention prisoner once again. I felt the tickle of your mind in mine, invading my innermost quiet, caressing, tempting, soothing, and searching. Our silent battle of wills escalated with the murmur of your name on my lips.
“Dreamwalker…” I breathed the name aloud, my voice soft, quiet and anxious.
I, then, moved to break free from your captivating gaze. Turning sharply away, I retreated and stumbled back into the pooling crowds of street people behind me. I sought escape, urged on by anxious fear, and hoped to end our interaction as abruptly as it had begun by disappearing into the swarming mass of bodies.
The roiling crowd swallowed me easily. Drifting in one direction, then another, I followed the undulating multitude to navigate my escape. I drifted along with a hastened stride between individuals, doing my best to blend in without looking hurried. I dissolved into the bustling city market, encouraging the ruckus din of merchants to drown my existence. Your mind continued to echo mine, chasing me through my escape, unrelenting. Our minds spun around each other. Your mind’s voice pressed against mine like a thick, dark, velvet tongue, urging for more connection. You coaxed along the pairing of our minds, encouraging your thoughts to entwine with mine, maintaining our silent bridge. It was already too late when I realized you were working intentionally, keeping our connection in place.
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I discovered the intrusion, and it felt as intimate as it was firm. It wove a web between our two minds, connecting thoughts and feelings as surely as if we had practiced hundreds of times. I didn't understand how this could happen. I had certainly never seen you before. I would have remembered a strong, predatory presence.
“What are you doing?” I whispered in your mind while side-stepping laden carts overflowing with goods. “Leave me alone.”
“Where did you go?” You responded teasingly with your breathy voice, your mind brushing against mine. “You know I can find you.” Your voice resonated confidently at the base of my skull.
Earnest now, I continued my sidestepping weave through the surrounding people, flexing my fingers that still resonated from a brush with yours. “You cannot touch my mind, Dreamwalker. It’s not allowed.”
“I can and I have. Aren’t you the one who touched me first?” With a tsk, your voice burrowed even deeper still into the recesses of my mind, seating yourself firmly against my attempts to dislodge you. “Invite me in. This is much more pleasant if I'm invited.”
“How are you doing this?” My mind’s voice quivered as I failed to hide my rising panic, trying to force you out while you wound deeper inside me.
And then, there you were. Your slithering, serpentine voice turned predatory, echoing a hunter's satisfaction with cornering his prey. You used my own fear against me to keep me in my place, my bottom lip quivering with fear. Your eyes held mine securely, as if they had never parted from mine. Despite all my efforts to keep away from you, only a narrow, filthy, cobblestone street separated us. I swallowed, forcing my hitched breath and trembling lip to steady. The silver of your eyes, laden with intent, glimmered in the heavy, smoky atmosphere of the market. Your plush lips contorted into a wry smile.
I found myself mesmerized, unable to move my own body, unable to shake the panic you heightened into my mind. While I was certain I had never laid eyes on you before, I felt as though I could almost remember you. My eyes flittered over your face, analyzing your pleased expression, and resting on your lips. Your tongue darted to moisten them before arcing them into a devilish grin. The carved sinew of your physical form shifted impatiently beneath my gaze. I counted the breaths we shared before I spoke again.
One, breathe. Two, breathe. Three, breathe. Four, speak.
“How do you know me?” My voice trembled, shaking aloud. I felt my anxiety ripple, blossoming anew with the use of my voice. My voice, mine, suddenly felt foreign.
You crossed the cobblestone roadway with easy strides. I watched as your black boots trod upon each stone, deftly avoiding each crack between the next cobble. Confident and poised, you moved with the skill of someone well versed in the art of balance. Your knowing grin curled and tugged at the corner of your mouth, displaying an intimidating, pearlescent fang. You had closed the distance between us in moments, and successfully captured the wrist of my thrumming hand in your fingers. I felt trapped, tethered to you, while the painful shock of your touch arched down my hand and crept into my arm. Your firm grasp was unrelenting. Despite a few tugs, I was unable to break it.
Cradling my fingertips in yours, you brought them to your mouth and gingerly kissed, the touch lingering. “How could I not?” The words purred from your mouth, deep and soothing, dusting the tips of my fingers with your warm breath.
You studied me. Your crystalline eyes held mine. You tasted the salt and fear on my trembling fingertips, my flavor lingering in your mouth. If you felt the same shocking pain as I, you didn't reveal it. “I’m here for you.”