It felt like seconds or hours before I stopped running, not sure where I was but hopeful it was far away from where I had been, from that woman and her goddamn eyes, somehow visible through the oppressive darkness that I now hoped would hide me. I didn't think the woman had given chase, certainly hadn't heard footsteps. Instead, as I had fled that alleyway, she had simply smiled knowingly - as though we were sharing some little joke - and watched me go. Watched me with those eyes, the ones I hadn't looked away from until my line of sight was forcibly cut off. That impossible red shine that nevertheless cut through any doubt I could muster in its reality. I could not have imagined the hunger in the woman's crimson gaze, nor the ancient contempt that hid beneath her carefully friendly expression.

She reminded me of photos I'd seen of black holes - an entity of such power, age and ravenous hunger that anything lesser could not help but to be drawn in. I shuddered at the thought, and told myself it was only fear.

I glanced around again, shuffling uncomfortable in place as my own painfully human eyes attempting to pierce the night further than a few meters. My breathing slowed a little as I tried to calm myself. If she came again, I told myself, I would run as soon as I saw those eyes. This time, this time, I would tear myself away and run as fast as my aching legs and pounding heart would allow me. I would not stop to listen to her, whatever honeyed words she spoke.

Her voice, too, had been unlike any human's, though I was not sure how. Something in the tenor, the confidence, the inviting tone as she spoke commanded the attention, drawing my focus as her eyes drew mine. It had almost not mattered which words she spoke, and indeed I could barely remember the details. I had simply known that if she asked something of me, I would gladly give it and thank her for the honour. My chest ached with more than exertion as I recalled the feeling of her voice washing over me, gracing me with -

No. No, I couldn't get caught up in the memory. I wasn't safe here, and before anything else I had to get to somewhere that was. Once I had done that, maybe I could lose myself in imaginings, the unnaturally clear memory of the woman's eyes and voice, what she might have done had I let Her.

Somewhere safe. I had to find somewhere safe, but where? My mind reeled with the effort of trying to think about anything other than my encounter, unable to even provide me with how I might get home from where I was. I had to get somewhere I felt safe. Safe... Her voice had made me feel safe, hadn't it? Those eyes had promised certainty, a knowledge that once I had passed the event horizon there would be no coming back.

But no, that was why I had run, had snatched back the little remaining will I could gather and got out of there. Only then had I felt the overwhelming fear, the understanding of just how vulnerable it was. Yes, only when I had made the choice to flee had I felt afraid. Unsafe. It had been my choice that had taken me from the safety of Her presence. Even now the fear closed around me, constricting me with the darkness. I choked on my foolishness at running from the gracious gift of servitude She had offered me. But at least now I knew what I had to do, how to get to safety. My heart slowing and surety returning to me, I turned back the way I came, and allowed myself to return to the memory of the eyes, the voice, the inviting smile that I was sure were still waiting exactly where I had just come from.