Re: Dreaming: Billy & Eames
Billy watched a smile tug at the stranger’s mouth like drawstrings opening to reveal what was hidden inside. The stranger, this pretty person with hair like cornsilk and an obscurity to their gaze, they weren’t afraid like all the others. Billy hadn’t been forced to lie, to give them promises of safety when he could never be sure what would happen to them once he’d sanded their dread down to a fine grain and sent them off to the Prince — who, naturally, had his own version of things to swear by.
“Something else,” he said of the key, after a long moment of drawn silence where his gaze flickered, frowning between the object and the stranger’s face. The thing’s metal teeth shimmered like heat in the air. “It’s for when we get past the door. But I’ve never done that, usually I’m…” He trailed off as he turned to stare up at the clock again, eyes narrowed. Like he could suck out its secrets with the ferocity of his gaze. Usually when the new arrivals showed up, Billy was delivered to the tapestry room straight from the Prince’s bed. Weak, freshly drained so that his skin felt tight like dried leather.
“He hasn’t taken anything from you,” he murmured in echo, and he took a few steps toward the door that had slammed shut behind the stranger. “Not from me, either. Not while I’ve been getting the medicine.” The longer that he went without a visit from the Prince, the more that Billy got some back. The power. “If you can get us out of this room, I know where to go from there.”