Song of The Chapter: Fearless ~TaylorSwift
Chapter: 7
*******
PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark
*******
Evelyne is just as excited as I predicted. She's all but bouncing on her toes as I meet her in the school grounds. No hugs today. Only questions. So many that I actually start feeling guilty for pestering Lloyerd with questions every night - questions that he is bound to not answer.
Till last night. I now know his name; and the thought makes a victorious feeling course through my veins.
"How was the date? Did he pull the chair out for you? I hope he didn't sit before you! What did you guys have? Did he get you something cooked by his mother? Did you actually see his mother? Oh wow, if you did! -"
Before she can ask anything more, I plug my index fingers into my ears. The gesture luckily makes her stop, and frown. I start her tonnes of questions one-by-one.
"The date was nice. We didn't sit in chairs - we sat on a mat, by the lake. He didn't sit before me, because we sat together. His mother had baked the buns herself and she's a wonderful baker, putting Sheroa to shame, I have to say. I didn't see his mother because we didn't go to his place. Happy?"
I raise a sarcastic eyebrow at her and she wraps her arms around me.
"I'm so happy for you", Evelyne whisper-yells in my ear, but as she pulls away from the hug, all I see in her eyes is a strange gravity. She's worried about me. More specifically, she's worried about my future as Andre's. She's worried that just like none of us ever see the Andre's mother, she'll never get to see me again once I'm with Andre, officially.
But I won't let that happen. I can never let go of my independence - no matter the price or the prize.
I give her a reassuring smile - a smile that she needs at the moment, a smile that tells her that I will never change. For I am no nefarious shifter.
I am dragged out of the comfortable yet pregnant silence by Andre's soft call, "Aizea." The softness is suddenly so loud that it feels oddly dangerous to be this close to him, even when the sun is up. But, he is right behind me and I can feel his warmth through the layers of fabrics and thin air separating our skins.
I turn around to face him, my apprehension building.
There is nothing malicious about these clear blue eyes - just like the clear autumn sky, or like the deep, blue ocean - only care and affection. I blink, as if that will help me look into some probably non-existent malice in those clear eyes.
I do know better, though. I know what the fall of the night morphs him into. But, what if love is all that is required to conquer even the beast?
I myself am utterly shocked at the confusing turn of my line of thoughts. I have no idea why I am suddenly painting Andre as the good hero of this story, when I very well know that he can be nothing but the villain of the tale.
I stop thinking. That's the best that I can do in order to stop my thoughts from running too wild and confusing me way too much.
"So you're coming tomorrow, right?", Andre asks me hopefully during the lunch break, as the three of us sit under a falling maple - thanks to the fact that he and Evelyne finally seem to be coming to terms with each other.
"Why?", I ask almost reflexively, and the very next moment a string of 'sorry's spill out of my lips. How could I forget the most important day of Andre's life? Andre's shocked expression is quickly replaced with a smile as I say, "Of course."
However, it does take great efforts on my part to let the 'Of course' rip its way out of me, when every instinct of mine screams 'Of course NOT'.
"Thanks for always being there.", he whispers, and I smile and nod in acknowledgement. My brain isn't even working enough to say 'Ditto', or something like that.
All my thoughts are now clouded with fear. Fear is no foreign emotion to me, but I hate it with a passion. That's why althroughout the day every fibre of being had been asking me to choose to finally grab his hand tonight. It will even be an easy choice now - now that I know his name.
But that's not the real choice - the real choice is the one of leaving behind my friends and my family. I would love to leave behind the nightly terrors, but what about the pleasant experiences and memories that the days often bring and create? I will have to talk to him about this tonight.
He has never betrayed me till date, and I can only hope that he'll be a neutral adviser tonight as well.
Still, the old raw fear is clawing its way out of the darker corners of my heart. What if all my earlier fears prove to be true tomorrow? What if Andre's shifter finally takes complete control and...
I stop my own thoughts on their tracks for the second time in a while.
Today, as I hold onto Sheroa's hand while exiting school, I make a deliberate mistake of turning around.
The sheer suspicion brewing in the coppery-bluish depths of Andre's eyes look like they are almost confirmed. And suddenly, he takes a long and deep inhale - as if trying to sniff me out across the distance. I make the second mistake - not deliberate - of waving to him in a failed attempt of thinning the thick air, and then quickly turning back. I can only imagine how much larger a whiff he has got than he initially was asking for.
I don't dwell on it as I walk home and go through the motions of the evening, before finally seeking the comfortable refuge of my soft bed and blue quilt.
****
I can smell the tension in the air as if it's a physical stench. It makes me stumble a step back.
But, I am caught right before my back hits the ground. He helps me stand with care that makes me shiver. His touch is electric but the care and love seeping through his actions almost feel like he is handling some touch-me-not glass.
I frown. I hate being weak, or even being treated like I am weak. But that's all that life is giving me.
"I know", his smooth cadence is slightly pained, as if he can not only read my mind, but feel my pain too.
I give him an incredulous stare and his features melt into a smile that can win thousands of hearts - mine included - and light up the night sky.
It's almost as pretty as Andre's, bit prettier yet.
How stupid is it to compare them!?, I scold myself.
"How?", I ask him softly. "You are my Adelfí Psychí, princess. Of course I can read every minute change in your expressions and their respective implications.", he says it as if it is the most obvious thing in the whole world.
But, there we go again!
"What is Adelfí Psychí?", I ask him, honestly curious. A flash of pain crosses his bright amber eyes, darkening them a shade. "You'll know princess, you'll know this and a lot more. But I can't tell you anything before you take my hand to your real home. I can tell you anything before we enter Jameille."
Jameille!
"But isn't that place what we call The Forge Of The Evils?", I ask, my pitch rising.
"Not we, princess, they. Those vile creatures have nothing better to do than calling Jameille, and us, names.", he grits out the words with venomous rage.
Lloyerd is incredibly handsome - more so than any man I have ever seen in my seventeen years of life, Andre included - but when he is furious, rage morphs all the handsomeness in something vicious and scary.
But, I am not afraid. I am not afraid of the boy that I have seen growing up with me through every night's dream. I am not afraid of the person that knows me better than any one else. I am not afraid of my biggest support system. And, I'm very certainly not afraid of the electricity that his touch is capable of eliciting, or those dazzling amber eyes.
"Lloyerd.", my voice is low with a commanding undertone that makes me sigh and then take a deep breath. In, out, in, out - I count on my fingertips as he does a calming breathing regulation, and when he finally opens his tightly shit eyes again, he does look a lot calmer.
A smirk pulls at one corner of his lips - like, he is privy to some internal joke that I am clueless about. I don't like it.
"It's not an easy decision for me to make.", I tell him, letting the sliver of vulnerability make itself visible in my tone.
"I know.", he says with understanding, but not defeat. The smirk had lessened but it stays. I don't mind it that much now. It looks good on him. "But you will take my hand, princess, I just know it."
I am blown away by the confidence in his words. What makes him so confident that I am going to go with him? What makes him think that I will choose him over Zaayes? And, what him know that I have no other way?
I don't say anything for a long while, as we stare at each other. The wind whistles softly as we are almost pulled into each-other's gazes. Why does it feel like it is the last time we are sharing our last dream together?
"Is this out last dream together?", I ask him. The light in his amber eyes dim. "Yes.", he says, but agony is evident in his voice.
The agony makes me rethink. Had he been happy, I would have thought that now on we will be able to meet outside of the dreams and thus these dreams will, finally, no longer be a necessity. But, the agony speaks otherwise.
This may very well be the last time that I am seeing him.
And it all depends on my one decision.
I don't like making decisions. So, I won't. I'll let time decide. Tomorrow will decide everything.
Somewhere deep down, I know it as a fact that if I see the day-after-tomorrow's sun, alive, then I will have to take his hand.
Still, for once, I let my survival instincts take a momentary back-seat. For once, and for the final once.
I hope so.
"Why have you told me your name?" I have been curious for quite a while. He didn't tell me his name out of his own free accord. It means something bigger.
"So that you can call me if and when you need to. But, apparently the offer is valid only till tomorrow night.", he finishes with a playful wink, trying to lighten the atmosphere. But it doesn't work.
If I don't finally choose him tomorrow, I can never even call him after that. I will very probably perish hopelessly.
No, I won't!, my subconscious fights back.
Yes, I won't.
I look up and deep into his dazzling amber eyes. I know that my eyes shine with determination and he sees it. His face is lit up by a soft smile that makes my heart melt, before, abruptly, we are both expelled out of our small private bubble - for a final time.
****
I jerk awake. My palms and feet are clammy and I slowly move the quilt away from me.
I look around, trying to memorize my room - the room that has been my home for all these years. But, now that I feel my real home calling me, I'll let my survival instincts choose as and when required.
But I know something for sure. Lloyerd is the only person, who I'll choose over my own selfish motif of survival, any day.
Today is eerily silent - like the calm before the storm. I decide to take a small bag. Just in case.
No one is awake, I sense, as I arrange a few necessities into the small sling-bag. A small water-bottle that always rests on my bed-side-table, along with a paper-wrap with four cookies. A candle and a box of matches. A paper and a pencil.
That's all.
I take out a crimson summer-dress. It is slightly flowy and fits me well. I quietly open the door and make my way to the washroom. Today, I take sufficient amounts of hair-wash and wash my golden-brown locks through and through. The smell of the minty body-wash pervades the air. I vigorously towel-dry my hair and let the lotion moisturize my skin plentily. Then I slip on the dress and finally step out with the night-wears in my hands.
Still, no one around.
I go to my room, keep away the night-wears in a laundry bag, and begin combing my hair.
I start humming. But, this song, I'm hearing for the first time, the very first time.
In the wind,
I choose you, dearest.
In the wind,
As you hold me, dearest.
We let the wind wrap around,
In our own secret world - and it's just us.
It's just us,
Your burning eyes and my burning love,
It's just us,
With the depths of your passion
And the depths of my trust.
I only hope you told me,
I hope you told me more than your name,
More than just those eyes,
More than just no lies,
More than just our destiny.
I only hope you told me, who am I to you,
Dearest, who am I to you.
We let the darkness swallow us,
In our own secret world - and it's just us.
It's just us,
Your caring touch and my racing heart,
It's just us,
With the depths of your care
And the depths of my trust.
I only hope you hold me,
I hope you hold me in your arms,
More than just those touches,
More than just almost-kisses,
More than just our warmth.
I only hope you told me, who am I to you,
Dearest, who am I to you.
In the wind,
I hold you, dearest.
In the wind,
As you tell me, dearest.
Who am I to you...
As I finish singing, I realize that I just made that up. For him. Yes, for him.
Because...
Because, I have already chosen him. But, no. I won't let my guilt put me down for the whole rest of my life.
I'll make my own self see the darkness that I'm so scared of.
Because, I won't let fear tarnish my soul any longer.
___________
Song Of The Chapter: Bad Blood ~TaylorSwift
Chapter: 8
*******
PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark
*******
By the time I have prepared the sandwiches - an action which required an immense amount of courage on my part, this early in the morning - it's just past seven. I am so calm this morning that I am scaring myself.
I wonder if the anticipation is taking a toll on my sanity. It must be. I sigh.
Today is going to be a storm. But, I will survive. Because, I'll have to. I have no way other than surviving. Even more so when I know that he's waiting for me - just the way he has for all these seventeen years. Deep down, I know that it's his acceptance that has not only kept me going for all this time but also instilled this fierce determination to keep going even now.
To whoever the Almighty is, I send a quick prayer that the grand escape plan that I have in mind, finally does work out.
The door to the master bedroom opens. It's Sheroa and Melinda together. Their smiles are bright but in the depths of their eyes, I see a strange gravity. A gravity that makes my heart thrum an oddly uneven rhythm.
Why do I feel like something is seriously wrong? More wrong than I already know.
I say nothing, though. It's Melinda who speaks first. Rather, gasps.
"Oh my, Aizea! You make such amazing sandwiches!", she exclaims, the smile on her face leaking into her voice. Sheroa laughs, but all I can manage is a smile.
Because suddenly my brain is working an overtime, trying to decide if it really is ready to run away from these two people that it has grown up calling parents. These two generous, warm-hearted people who have risked their everything simply for the sake of ensuring my survival. For a moment, I think that maybe they have thought about my life - just as much as I have, just as much as he has.
I immediately halt my thoughts where they are. I can't afford to go all softie now and risk my life so very largely in the absolute final day.
"Just thought that I could be of some use.", I murmur, strongly commanding my lip muscles to curl up into a smile. They do, but of course the smile doesn't reach my eyes. Still, I look up at my parents anyways.
"When do we need to be there by?", I ask the question I am dreading the most at the moment.
"By ten.", it's Rubelle who answers, as he excitedly skips out from his room. "I can't believe it's really happening!", he shrieks excitedly. "I have been waiting for Andre to become the Mayor since... Forever!"
Maybe it's just sad, but I don't feel one bit of the excitement that has Rubelle almost skipping in joy all the way to the table.
"Morning!", he greets me cheerfully as he takes his seat. "Good morning.", I greet him back with as big a fake smile as I could possibly cook up, "Chorsh?", I ask.
Honestly, I am a little concerned that he isn't right here. It makes me have weird, scary thoughts.
"Here!", Chorsh responds as Rubelle opens his mouth to answer, and then shuts it back resignedly. As soon as my eyes meet Chorsh's clear brown ones, I see the concern in their depths. He is worried for me, although a smile - very similar to mine - tries to brighten up his otherwise gloomy-looking face. I scan his pretty, boyish features for any other signs of some emotion that I can't spot on the face of any other member of this family that I have grown up calling my own.
But, everything is all smooth. Chorsh is a perfect pretender - just like me. But his eyes look way-too-eager to say something. As if there's some warning that wants to blurt out to me, against all rules of conduct.
I swiftly look away before anyone spots anything suspicious with me or my behaviour. I can't afford to let everything fall apart in these final hours.
Chorsh silently takes his seat and without as much as another word, bites into his sandwich. I don't say a single more word, either. I want every single person here to retain the image of the sheerly submissive me - there's no bigger upper hand that you can ever have over an enemy than having them thinking of you as too weak. Yes, I remember every single advice that has carelessly slipped out of his lips throughout all these years.
I sit once everyone is seated and I'm sure that I won't need to make any more sandwiches. "This is really really good", Chorsh mutters appreciatively, almost to himself. It's like he doesn't even want to talk with me. Like, he's afraid that if he does, the floodgates will open even before he can make sufficient conscious efforts to keep them closed.
Breakfast is quick with a few appreciative moans from my brothers and some additional comments of admiration from my parents. This the strange feeling doesn't leave its almost permanent spot at the base of my stomach. The anxiety is gnawing at the very apex of my heart and I am almost exploding from the power of it.
I wish he was here. Of course I do.
"This dress is nice.", Melinda compliments as I get up. "Thanks.", I reply, trying hard to sound as sincere as possible. However, I don't miss Chorsh's lingering wary gaze on my back as I make my way back into my room. I don't let my eyes meet his again, though.
I quickly get back into my room and find a cute tiara that matches the dress - with tiny ribbon-roses lining it. I have never seen roses - but I want to. He once promised me that he'll let me see them once I'm back home. And, seeing how nice this rose-designed tiara looks on me - I really want to see them even more.
It was in my dreams that he had first shown me a bunch of ethereal crimson roses, and it was the following night that he had taught me to make tiny ribbon-roses. I had made many and wrapped all those onto this tiara. No one has ever seen this and I can't even imagine how shocked everyone will be when they see this today.
What do I have to hide today? Nothing more. I only wish they would notice it later on - when I was ready to sprint.
I let my hair open, down my back. I'm not going to school - I smile to myself at the small internal joke. I take nothing more. I won't take anything more from this household and this family than I already have and than I absolutely have to.
In Zaayes, corpses are dressed in red during their final rites. The metaphor is frightening. But I stay true to my promise to myself and don't let the fear take a grip over me.
When I step out, my whole family is gathered near the door. Sheroa and Melinda immediately stope their whispered conversation -more like, instructions list - to Chorsh. They don't even look at me, as we all hurriedly set out for the coronation ceremony gathering. Good.
The weather also feels so weird today. The sky is cloudy. It's not so uncommon in Zaayes and I sourly realize that it's me, not the weather. I almost feel like the clouds are too low - trying to collapse me under their invisible weight. But I so won't. I know someone who cares so very deeply for me that it's more than enough to keep me fighting fir a few more hours. I don't even let my doubts rear their ugly heads out of the darkest and deepest corners of my mind.
The coronation is taking place in the Gathering Field only. But, it's far more gorgeously decorated than I have ever had the fortune of seeing it before. There are pansies everywhere, alongside many random flowers that I don't even know the names of. All in all, it's beautiful.
But, fortunately, this beauty doesn't stir all those softie feelings within me anymore. This is improvement.
No one gasps a single Wow. And, I don't see Evelyne. It feels even more strange.
Yet, I simply follow my parents in. The Gathering Field is set up differently. There are no chairs and the crowd stands in two sections on two sides. It's as if it's an aisle made in the middle through which I silently keep following my parents. It's quiet. Too quiet to be an all-good sign.
And just as feared, I peek back a little to see that my brothers aren't there any longer. In front of me, Sheroa and Melinda's heads are bowed in reverence. I notice that they are both dressed in cream-colored garments. Melinda's gown in elegant.
I hear the murmur of calm and sure footsteps on the dry grass break the eerie calmness and then Sheroa and Melinda bow further from their waists.
The next thing I know, each of them has each of my bare wrists in one hand each of theirs, and I am being gently pulled forward.
My eyes automatically snap up to meet the pitch black eyes that I hate so much and I wonder how Andre even has such beautiful eyes, being the son of this man. I don't have to think much harder though, as the man, with his huge build, steps aside, revealing the prettiest face that I have ever seen till date.
I can say it from her soft blue eyes and her delicately beautiful features that she is not one of these people. She is a foreigner. She is very obviously not from Zaayes, at least.
She has plump pink lips, smooth cheeks - that are heavily flushed, a button nose - that is just slightly upturned, adding to her beauty, and a complexion fairer than even my own.
And here I thought that I, by far, had the fairest complexion in Zaayes.
And she's young. Not of the age that would identify her as one of my friends' mother. She is maybe more than a decade younger than the Mayor.
But the spell of the beauty breaks when I re-focus on her eyes. The soft blue colour looks so very innocent, inspite of everything, that I can almost feel my heart melting. Still, the depth of sadness within them moves me. It's a strange kind of look. Like her sadness has been perfectly camouflaged for no one but me to understand. There is this hollowness that tells me that she has lost too many pieces of her shattered heart to count.
And yet, she looks so beautiful in the flowy blue dress that is so very similar in design to mine. Her hair, too, is left open down her back. It is golden blonde - like perfect gold even under the dimmed sun - and quite long; past her hips. There's a small collection of lavenders placed in her hair where it flows past the crook of her neck.
My head is spinning and suddenly I have this powerful urge to vomit up every last content of my stomach. She is so broken and so beautiful that I am too overwhelmed to handle all this.
This is Andre's mother. The Mayor's wife, that no one has ever seen. Now I'm realising how Andre looks so different from all the other guys in Zaayes - so much more good-looking. He's so much like me in that regard - even I look somewhat different from these people.
And to think that this broken show-piece of a woman - not even that, for this is the first time that Zaayes is seeing her achingly beautiful face - is what all these people want to turn me into... I don't even know what to think any longer.
I want to run right now. But I don't do that. I'm not that stupid. This is my life that's on the bait, and I'm not willing to take any chances with regards to something that serious. I'll have to know what all this is all about. I'll have to know who these people actually are, and who this lovely but broken woman really was. Then and only then will I make a run for it.
Never dive head-first into the water till you know every wave and ripple and current in it's depths, like the back of your hand.
I won't let all this go into vain. I won't let our patience or efforts or endurance of all these years go waste for the sake of one foolishly impulsive decision of mine.
So, I do exactly what I am expected to do. I bow.
Andre steps into the picture just then.
Fan-damn-tastic.
I can't quite put up with the sight of this traitor. He, just like everyone else, has lied to me for all these years. I can't believe that what my family has been doing for all these years was actually nothing at all. It was all part of the charade.
They must've known all along that I'm something that they're known. Very probably, I'm normal, like this lady in front of me - something that they obviously aren't.
But normal people don't see Lloyerd in their dreams. The night doesn't call normal people this way...
I don't know for sure. But for now I'll have to play along. I'll have to pretend to be the stupefied prey. Two can certainly play the game.
"Aizea...", Andre's voice is soft, but all I can hear is the way my name rolled off of Lloyerd's tongue - his voice wrapping around it like a velvety caress, with more love and care than I could comprehend.
"Andre...", I let his name roll off of my tongue too, the venom so perfectly concealed that I myself am impressed by my own acting skills.
The slightest amount of guilt vanishes from his eyes and his gaze flickers to his father. The Mayor nods and announces something that sort of declares Andre as the new Mayor. Apparently, I figure out, the rituals are done. Which means that there's something about the rituals that they don't want me to know.
But who cares about what they want, any longer? I'll get what I want. I'll snatch it. The truth and freedom.
So, I barely notice the thunder-loud clapping that breaks the uneasy silence as the Mayor puts a hefty locket onto Andre's neck. I don't even notice it's design. I am too busy formulating my next course of action.
But as Andre - the new Mayor - takes a step forward towards me and whispers, "You look beautiful.", I calculatedly whisper back, "You too."
The game has begun. I never wanted to be this deceiving girl that I am at the moment. But, looks like they have made me into this.
______
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