Sanria knew there was something wrong. Something missing. Something she should have been doing. She'd turn to her boyfriend... no... husband... no.. Velentham and ask him, but his answers were always vague or complicated. They were here to get away from it all - a vacation, but who wanted a vacation spent entirely in a tent? Not only that, but she hadn't told... En... Enm... the silvery woman that she was going anywhere and she had business at... that place... the castle. But before she could truly launch into any reason that she needed to leave, he'd gently touch her face, shine his silver eyes into hers, and like magic, Sanria would utterly lose her train of thought.
Sleep, too, was frought with dreams and scattered tatters of truths. Faces would dance before her and she'd try to call out to them, but she just couldn't remember their names. She chased them through the fog in her mind, the one in brown robes, the one in white robes, the hulking muscular one, the one with pointed ears and armor, the one with green eyes, the young ones, the children, the ones with silver skin - the whole while calling, "Wait! Please, wait!" and they'd call back:
"Remember."
"How can I if you keep running away?!"
"Remember."
Sanria would wake instantly, as if she'd just been pulled out of water after nearly drowning. There'd be her husband... no... enemy... no... Velentham, looking at her with expectant adoration, as if he were waiting on her to do or say something. She'd tried, but she never knew how he was going to react. When she mentioned him getting so much time away from the temple, his smile left, his eyes narrowed, and he venomously said, "I don't want to talk about that. Don't bring it up again! It's just you and me now!" A single name she'd remembered, Matinus, and she'd said it and he'd put his hand on her face, cupped her cheek with a stern glance, and she was suddenly dreaming again.
Her body didn't feel right, her mind was on hiatus, and her emotions were all over. Each time she shot awake, his face was there. The only trouble was, itwas getting harder and harder for Sanria to remember what to think about it. Each time she looked on the narrow, gaunt being, she'd feel a tingle in her skull and something in her mind would whisper in a phantom's voice, "Love me, please, love me." Something else kept fighting back, but the fight was growing weaker and the voice ever so pleadingly present, and the silver eyes kept on watching her with a desperation hovering on madness.
