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Summary
"It's not real," he reminds himself; repeats to himself under his breath. "You're not her, I'm not going to betray her."
The monster wearing Elora's face gently moves a sweaty curl of hair out of Graydon's eyes and he flinches at the way his heart wants him to lean into that caress. He clenches his eyes shut, trying to banish the illusion but her scent strengthens in response to his closed eyelids and he opens them again.
/or/
"He's almost mine, you know," the Wyrm says using Elora's voice.
"Get away from him," she snaps, still clawing against the veil, trying to find a pulled seam; a crack in the glass; something to find purchase against.
Series
- Part 3 of Unrelated Willow Fics