psionicisms:

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      Now she knew what the demonic lovechild of Tessa and Jean-Philippe would be.  Her shoulders rolled back and her posture righted itself as the very thought itself made her skin crawl.  It also seemed like this new acquaintance was hellbent on the discussion being made in plain sight and open hearing range of the crowd that parted around them.  No, Betsy was having none of that.

      It was an easier mental trick; creating a bubble around them that extended the distance and a smidge more of normal earshot.  It was like reading a book where you read the same line over six times and never retain it, but now anyone passing them held no recollection of the details of their conversation.  There would be no key words that jumped out at them and might draw further attention to them.

      “And what of it, why would it matter if my numbers are atypical or if I function at a higher level?”

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           Little thought is given towards those whom pass them by. Most were too simple to comprehend their current topic, and likely future discussions that they might have right there on the sidewalk. A well placed glare could put the fear of God into the hearts of most of them, at any rate, and he could hardly be bothered to worry over such trivial things now that his target was speaking to him.

           “Because it’s interesting. Finding those that are higher functioning is usually a chore. They are infinitely more enjoyable to talk to than—” He motioned to their surroundings, to the people that came and went. “them. They are boring and mundane in nearly every way.” What was it like, being like them? He couldn’t remember anymore.   

 

Valkov

beautiful things are often the most deadly. beware of winter and her pristine glory

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