Her honey-brown eyes flutter open, calm washing over her in slow waves.
An arm sits wrapped across her waist. She smiles at the appendage and turns to the owner who is sleeping soundly. His black hair falls around his face, adding to the gentleness of his slumbering form.
Leila gently runs a hand through his soft hair, thoughts slowly pacing through her mind. Despite him overwhelming her as she had asked the night before, the events of that evening leading up to her collapse had never left her.
Fear still had a grip on her heart, and she had many questions she wanted answers to. Worry begins to settle within her chest the more she ponders.
What happened to the guests?
What about her arms? They were no longer that deathly black color, but she could still vividly recall the tone of her skin from that moment when she played the disintegrated violin.
What had Ryu done to her? She needed to know.