As Michael and Charice spoke, Willow stood outside of Obsidian's room once again.
A similar fear filled her. Her heart stuttered and lungs shook, she tried to breathe deeply, but her tiny, shaken pupils refused to settle.
She closed her hands into fists, gut swelling with a forbidden surge of denial. Her body felt cold, which made the spirit's warmth so much more conflicting.
'It's okay… I need you to be quiet right now…'
She tried to negotiate, but her heart knew such words were untrue. The spirit knew as well, and as she opened the door to step inside, she saw Obsidian.
His bark colored skin reflected in the flickering light, cast by a bright flame flickering in front of him.
It was a warm orange. In comparison to Obsidian's natural, earthly pupils, Willow's eyes glowed a dim green.
She gulped, hands in front of her hips, fingers locked together.
"Y-You called for me, Lord?" She asked tentatively, not noticing her lesser stutter.
Obsidian said nothing, instead, he looked at the floor, then back to the fireplace. It still produced no smoke, somehow, but that was not Obsidian's concern.
"What did you make of this place?" He asked with a commanding tone, prompting Willow to shiver before answering.
"I-I quite like it-"
Obsidian rose to his feet with a scowl, he stomped over to her, looming over the girl.
His firm hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing it. Willow's stomach rose to her chest before she stopped it.
Obsidian didn't notice the way her ribcage swelled and twisted in the shadow his form had cast. The flame behind him pulsing with a heart of its own.
"Do I look like a tourist to you?"
Her voice crackled and gargled as his grip never broke, never lessened. Her hands reflexively reached for his arm to push it away, to save herself from his control – and he saw them.
"You… Who do you think you are?!"
He threw her away, her body limp against the floor as she trembled. She raised herself just enough to look at his feet, but didn't dare to look higher.
"I-I-I'm nothing! Nothing! Nothing before you I-I swear!"
Consumed by fear, she felt her ribs grow hollow, as if her heart had been ripped out and mind swallowed.
Obsidian, sated by such a sickening sight, nodded.
"Good." He scoffed, spitting on her hair before pushing her head down with his foot.
"Now you listen well. You are now a diplomat. Do you know what that means?"
Willow did her best to nod meekly, suppressing her burning eyes that had swollen with tears. She would have spoken, but a strange lump had crawled into her throat.
It swelled there like a tumor, a growth that stood against her wishes.
Obsidian continued, stepping away to reach for something. The rustling of paper could be heard, and Willow glanced up.
He was now holding a letter.
"Father has a talent for being a bother, so I must leave."
Willow's heart swelled, an immense pressure falling from her shoulders. Her relief was so visible, until Obsidian felt it.
"Stand up." He commanded, and she did so. Her head was folded downward to hide her puffed eyes and shield her neck.
He took a domineering step closer, invading any semblance of personal space. His hand pressing against her stomach.
Something inside her screeched.
"Do not forget who you owe everything, do not even consider betraying me, do you understand?"
She nodded once more, steadying her breath as much as her body would allow. He smelled like nobility, clean, refined, with an aftertaste of oak tree.
"Answer me." He demanded, showing her as she yelped. "Answer!"
"Y-Y-Yes! I won't betray you, I promise! So please…" Her voice broke as she felt her legs fail her, and he rolled his eyes.
"Pathetic, at least you know where your place is."
'I hate you.' Willow felt her stomach pulse, her head swell, her ribs crackle. 'I despise everything about you, you worm.'
She couldn't tell where her thoughts began, nor where the spirit's ended, but she didn't care.
The feeling of his palm around her neck seared into her nerves, the scent of his disgusting presence never to be forgotten. She closed her eyes, feeling her heart, listening to it thundering in her ears.
"I am setting out tomorrow. You know what your job is."
Willow nodded, and excused herself promptly.
This time, however, she didn't collapse, she merely stumbled away with tear stained cheeks. And a look that did not belong to her.
'This cannot happen again.' Her gut rumbled, echoing the words of a good man 'I deserve better.'
And with that, Willow found herself in her room, and slumped against the door – weeping silent tears.