kissing death and loosing my breath

The visions were coming far too quickly for her to keep up. One moment they were standing in a dark alley, looking down at a young woman that was far too destroyed to even be salvaged. Her hand rose to her lips, covering her audible gasp before the scene changed to a classroom with another dead body - one that was surrounded in a thick, dark red substance that had poured from her veins. It took every effort she had to not get lost in those memories - in his mind. It was only the anchor of that spectral hand curled tightly into her hair that somehow brought her some sort of constant reminder that she was still in my basement, surrounded by hundreds of grotesque forms vying for their lives as if it somehow vindicated the loss of the ghosts. The onslaught of images flashing before Serafina's mind only continued, the remains of their bodies - what he had done to them sickened her but there was not a syllable that left the girl's lips as her mentor's baritone voice whispered in her ear that now it was his life at sake if she didn't do something fast.

It took a measurable amount of effort from the young witch to call to her new found ability. She cast the boys from the room, imaging them in the furthest place that she knew of - on the same footstep of that house their heads had been placed at. It had been easy enough to imagine. After all the image had been burned into her mind in a way that she couldn't escape from. She had no doubts that tonight it would be them that she dreamed of, regardless of what they had done to that young girl. She couldn't help the way that her breath hitched, she couldn't help the way that panic had gripped at her soul or the way that her skin had begun to turn a small shade of blotched red in a direct reaction to the stress she was under. Her grey-tinged gaze hardly turned towards the man that spoke her name. Instead her eyes were still glued, still mesmerized by the ghastly forms that surrounded them with out stretched hands and disfigured bodies. Each one, she knew, had a tale to it's death. Each one likely dying in some terrible fashion by the hands of the man next to her. Unfortunately for them all, Serafina didn't have it in her to see more of their deaths. Not if she was going to sleep anytime in the next century.

Serafina hardly noticed the way the man next to her crystallized his own sweat. She didn't notice the salt that bounced off the floor. In fact, the only thin she did notice was the effect of it as her mentor's grasp was torn from her hair, a hiss leaving his lips. Her gaze refocused upon the dead man, her grey tinged gaze blinking ever so slightly as she stared at him. Unlike Davante's kills - her mentor seemed entirely normal. There was a slight translucent sheen to his figure and the slits upon his wrists were the only indication that he had been dead. Her name again leaving Davante's lips caused the girl to turn, her stormy eyes meeting the crystalline ones that stared at her, his words a soft whisper in the stagnant air that sounded them but she only stared at him as if she had not heard him at all. It wasn't until the trickle of blood began to color and taint the shirt he wore that Serafina became aware of just how dire of a situation that they were in.

It took every effort for the girl to look inwards, finding that reckless, unharnessed ability within her to push away all those malicious ghosts that surrounded her - shoving them far back into the corners of the world, as far from her as she could push them. The effort left the young woman entirely exhausted, her limbs shaking ever so slightly, her forehead holding a slight sheen of sweat as she slowly, ever so slowly, fell to the floor in the now darkened silence of her basement.