Chương 7: CHAPTER 5
Song of the Chapter: Not Afraid Anymore ~Halsey
Chapter: 5
*******
PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark
*******
Warmth engulfs me in his embrace, but the electricity that I feel so vividly with the man in my dreams, is absent. As the strange guilt rises from the pit of my stomach and tends to overwhelm me, I gently push Andre away.
He doesn't give a single negative reaction. Even if he is angry or disappointed, the corresponding expressions do not leak into his bright facial features. He grins and the boyish charm that radiates off of him is nearly swoon-worthy.
But not for me.
His scent of woods and mosses do not overwhelm me either as the lovable fragrance of the man from my dreams - fallen pine needles and home - returns.
But I don't show any of these wayward emotions either. Instead, I give him a friendly smile.
"So, we should get to the real business, now that that is over.", he sighs witha big smile that reveals his relief. "I honestly expected father to sort of overreact. You know, economic stuffs that I don't give a damn about etcetera.", Andre finishes with a flirtatious wink that makes me want to try and like him in that way, but I can't.
Not when the memory of those exquisite amber eyes is so fresh in my mind.
I smile again, as a very mild blush creeps onto my cheeks - from Andre's wink or from the memory of those amber eyes that are always so searingly fresh in my mind, I don't know. Andre takes the blush as his cue to let out a handsome laugh, that should officially be declared as swoon-worthy, and the date begins.
Though, I wonder, when it turned into a date from a supposed 'hang out'.
I tense as Andre slips the blindfold on my eyes. Let's face it - I don't trust a single person out her blindly. So, when Andre asks, "Don't you trust me, Aizea?", my name rolling gently off of his tongue, as I let out a little scared squeak in response to the sudden appearance of the blindfold; and I nod, it does turn out to be one foremost example of irony. As of now, I can only hear the soft crunch of dry grass change into that of fallen leaves, under my feet, as Andre has his warm palms placed on both my upper arms, guiding me towards our destination.
Andre's touch doesn't give me the electric tingles that his does. Instead, I feel pure dread wrap it's filthy hands around my throat - threatening to constrict the life out of me. So, I keep utterly silent all the way. I am afraid that if I speak, that fear will swallow me whole, or something as gruesome as that. I try to fight the fear and the accompanying idiotic thoughts with as much bravery as I can muster, which is nil.
Thus, apparently, I am currently of no help to myself.
"Here we are!", Andre lets me know, trying and failing to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. The blindfold is removed almost immediately, and so is my fear. I know that I should've been, or atleast should have tried to be, a little more trusting, but one cannot blame me after what I have grown up hearing every single night.
I slowly open my eyes to one of the most beautiful scenes that I've seen in my whole life. The lake, the singular natural water-body in Zaayes other than the ocean, is a sight to behold, more so with the way Nature has decided to deck it up for the sake of a golden fall. I stand there, stunned.
"It's good, isn't it?", Andre asks nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, while motioning at a mat with a basket laid on it, just a little away from where we stand.
"It's beautiful...", is all that I manage to whisper out. It truly and utterly is. I look to Andre. He is staring intently at me, his expression blank, and yet I know that he is smiling, without actually sporting a smile. I notice again, that he has beautiful eyes.
As we slowly sit down onto the mat, cross-legged, Andre remarks, "You really should talk a tad more, Aizea. I know that your voice, just like you, your laugh, your smile and your heart, is beautiful. You really should let me hear some more of it."
I know that my brain, recently, is working in some oddly convoluted way at times, that makes me feel, for a fleeting moment, that his words have an untold selfish undertone. But, I shove that chunk of negativity away, and his words actually feel like the rarely huge compliment that they are meant to be.
Well, not rare from Andre.
I clear my throat and realize just how much underused my vocal chords are. "What am I supposed to say?", I think aloud, and Andre chuckles softly. "Even that will work.", he says approvingly. "That should. You were eager to hear my voice, after all.", I retort playfully.
"That's right. But now that you've started speaking, I think hearing some more of your witty retorts can't hurt.", he says, making exaggerated expressions that widen my grin further.
"Good enough. We can stop trying to test the tea's patience first, and talk later, then.", I say, motioning towards the teapot resting right next to the cups and plates.
"Oh, I'm the new fan of your way with words!", Andre exclaims with a short laugh before reaching to the tea pot.
I volunteer to pour the tea, but he simply shakes his head and gets to doing it himself. The first cup is peaceful and disaster-free, but as soon as he goes to pour the next one, his hand shakes out of nowhere and the scalding liquid falls straight on his our hand holding the cup.
"CRAP!", he curses, and is immediately about to drop the tea pot. But I get hold of the intricately-designed ceramic vessel and rescue both it and Andre from the impending accident. I place it aside and quickly take his hand in mine. I grab the water-bottle and holding his hand out of the mat's perimeter, pour the cool water on the wound that is already reddening.
That's when I see the strangest thing happening. The red seared area of his skin is slowly returning to it's actual semi-tanned colour. In matter of probably minutes, the whole skin is healed and as good as before, or maybe even better.
My eyes automatically snap to his, and there is a proud glint in those clear blue eyes. He notices my incredulous stare and a look of confusion crosses his features before he asks, "Hasn't Sheroa told you?" I don't know what he is talking about or what troubles telling the truth can lead me into. I just know that not everyone else heals like this, and that basic information gives me enough courage to say, "No."
"Oh...", Andre almost says this like a question, before explaining, "Actually the strongest shifter of every generation is gifted with immediate self-healing properties. It is one of the characteristics of being the strongest one of the lot. It's because they are meant to be the protector of their people." He says this with an undertone of the pride that he should rightfully feel, before adding, "Maybe, Sheroa didn't want my identity or list of obvious 'features' to influence your opinion of me."
"That's very understanding and thoughtful of you, Andre.", I reply as politely as my wild-running internal storm would let me sound, after this grand revelation. But, I do admire how understanding he was being.
Then again, when has he been anything but understanding to me?
But that is probably the least of my concerns right now. Because, with this apparently small information, all my previous concerns come crashing down. I am made to re-realize forces of just what magnitude I will need to reckon against, if not now then someday, in order to survive. And I fully intend to keep my heart beating till I truly wish so. The last thing I would want is to be devoured by wild beasts of the night who were once my best friends.
The thought makes me shudder.
"Is it too cold?", Andre's questions brings me back to the reality. "No no, it's fine. I just got a bit distracted.", I quickly reply and add a silly smile at the end. He simply smiles back.
But after a few moments of external calm and internal mayhem, I start feeling his scrutinizing gaze burn holes on my head as I finally reach out to pour him his tea. As our eyes meet again, I see his gaze clouding over in concentration. The perception that I know he possesses, scares the mind out of me, but I try to play it casual and raise my eyebrows enquiringly at him.
He takes his tea and his head slightly tilts to one side, as he finally speaks, and my heart races in tension. "I am having this strange feeling whenever I am around you nowadays, Aizea. I just can't precisely put my finger on it." He sounds frustrated and maybe even angry to a certain extent, and I do what I do best, although I know that it was probably one of the riskiest things to do at the moment.
I keep my hand on his knee and slowly, unnaturally slowly, his anger dissipates, by the time the warmth of his skin has warmed up my otherwise cool hand across the barrier of his pants. However, the suspicion and scrutiny don't leave his piercing gaze.
A while, a few buns-and-apples later, Andre again enters the risky-zone that only contains questions that I so don't want to answer. "I was wondering, why I've never seen you one of these nights. Not once.", he says almost cautiously, as if fearing that some great secret of his may leak.
I want to laugh. He has no idea. And ironically, I am alive because he has no idea. Firstly, I know why he's being cautious. He is baffled. He wants me to come across him one of those night, so that his shifter can take charge of this whole affair. Letting the shifters sort out these feelings does sound easier than doing that by one's own self. Secondly, he wonders that if I've actually noticed him and he hasn't - which is impossibly unlikely - why I haven't ever approached him or even talked about the night's during the days.
I never do, to no one. Because, me talking about the nights would mean me describing either my sweet dreams with him, or the horrendous sounds that haunt the dark hours, or both. Well, that's an impossibility, anyways.
So, now when he's asked me that very-dreaded question, naturally, I am rendered speechless.
I internally square my shoulders and let the opaque lie slip out, "I try not to venture out." It is simple enough. I remember Sheroa telling me during one of our rarest of the rarest discussions about the night, that the female shifters are by nature more docile creatures than the males.
I know that there's this one certain secret that everyone hides, inspite of everything. That one secret that I know exists but don't know anything more about. That one secret that is much more outrageous than anything else I'll ever know. That one secret that make the shifters times more dangerous than even the regular carnivorous wildlife that probably would've prowled the forests near Zaayes, if not for the shifters.
"Have you never been hunting, either?", he asks further, trying to get to a certain point where he could finally put his finger on that particular thing that he finds odd about me. I won't let him, though. But I'm curious too. Sheroa has never talked about going hunting.
"Umm, no.", I say, trying to make my undercurrent of question sound like shyness or nervousness or whatever.
Andre's eyes widen.
"Never?", he asks incredulously. I go back to shaking my head. This is why I prefer gestures over words. They risk giving away so much less.
"Tell me, have you never craved something certain so bad that you have wanted to have it by any way or the other?", he asks me. I frown almost invisibly and then shake my head, but only after letting my eyes meet his. If I have to survive this, I will have to be a confident liar. Or atleast, act like one.
Honestly, I have craved my dreams. So much that it almost hurts when he leaves everytime and my dreams end. I always crave the sense of peace and security and assurance that he gives me. I crave to finally be able to let my guard down some day. I crave to finally have someone to whom I can bare my soul. I crave to see a day where I won't have to lie and keep calculating my very next footstep to ensure my own survival.
Yes, I do crave something so bad that I want to have it, any way or the other. Freedom.
But I don't say a word of all of this. Nor do I let these emotions make themselves visible on my face.
Andre laughs lightly. "No wonder I and you are a supposed good match. You are just so composed, and I can rarely hold onto even a sliver of my composure once it's dark.", he says, gazing into my eyes, still trying to dig in for the answers that he did not receive from me.
The rest of the day rolls into afternoon with small talks about school, homeworks, other potential couples in the class, baking, our parents, Evelyne, Lily and her cuteness and finally, the coronation.
The dread that I'm dreading.
"I'll be waiting for you on the day, Aizea. I hope you realize the significance.", Andre says, as I notice the coppery tinge beginning to leak into his previously clear blue eyes. I do understand the significance, but I am absolutely unwilling to let that significance be fulfilled, ever.
I am too eager to meet him tonight and get some answers, so that by the coronation day, I can seriously consider letting him lead me where he will.
"And, I hope today means something to you.", Andre adds hopefully. The hope in his voice makes me want to cry. If not for him as well as every single person here being so bipolar, I might not have had to consider having that discussion with him tonight itself.
"It does Andre. But, I also hope you understand how I feel.", I say, finally being able to be honest with him for once. His name sounds good on my tongue, but not as good as his might.
The possibility reminds me - I'll have to know his name tonight.
"Come, I'll walk you to your home.", he offers, but I'm already back to my declining mode. "That won't be necessary, once you take me to the Town Square. I don't want to trouble you, further.", I reply, trying to minimize the hit with friendly politeness. However, I probably should've known that the sun had already begun it's descend.
"It's no trouble.", Andre says only three words. But they contain such a weight that I don't dare retort.
Survival is my priority. It always has been. Otherwise I wouldn't have survived seventeen years of the life that I live.
The whole walk home, we are both silent. Andre, because he is probably trying to figure me out even more now, when his shifter spirit is slowly rearing up its nasty head. And me, because, as I said, survival is my priority. We reach home when the sun's rays are significantly oranged.
Melinda stands in the doorway, and she gives Andre a respectful smile. I should be used to people showing Andre this kind of respect, irrespective of age and all, but I am not. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything wrong. The last thing I want is for this newfound fear-reduction thing take the ultimate toll of my life.
No words are exchanged and I silently step in, only to turn around and flash Andre my best smile. Yes. My best smile. My new loss of fear is probably going to cost my life. He won't approve, though, and that thought alone makes me turn around.
But not before I notice Andre's eyes flash.
I quickly take my tray of food that has been set on the table for me alone, and place it on my bed-side-table.
I'm grateful for the fact that no one asks me anything. Not even Chorsh and Rubelle. I have indeed answered too many questions today. And I have many more to answer tonight.
Thus, I respect this silence.
______
Chương 8: CHAPTER 6
Song of the Chapter: I Put A Spell On You ~AnnieLenox
Chapter: 6
*******
PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark
*******
After an awfully short chat with my family, as soon as I realize that their eyes are reddening and I am entering the zone of complete risk, I retreat to my bedroom. I follow by the regular drill, change into a soft night-dress and slip under the comfortable duvet. My happy place.
But as I start thinking about the dream that would soon invade me, I realize that I actually can be happier than I am in my happy place. The sense of his scent curling all around me gives me the ultimate comfort and feeling of security that can be rivaled by nothing else.
I drift into sleep before the noises begin, and once again I am grateful to him for letting me enter his world so soon.
****
I don't stand in the usual place. The misty forests are not a few feet away from where I stand, but all around me.
I shudder as a scream almost escapes my agape lips.
But, then his calloused palm descends onto my mouth and I freeze. I am amazed by how secure his simple touch can make me feel, even when we are in the midst of the forests that I have grown up dreading more than anything else. I can't comprehend much else, as my upper arm is tightly grabbed and I am turned around.
Those amber eyes are blazing with ire. Still, his face is more like that of a God's than a normal person's. His features are frozen with rage, no expression leaking onto the perfection that is this creation in front of me. I have always known for certain that he is anything but normal. But the knowledge has never scared me, for I have always known that he is everything that is good and everything that is bright.
But his immense wrath scares me for a moment. "What?", I ask, sounding meeker than a trapped mouse. Well, that's a hilarious analogy, but that's how I think I can best put it.
"What?", he asks me incredulously, shock marring his features, and I almost hear the dam break. "Are you serious now, se agapó?"
I know that it is meant to be rhetorical, but I nod anyways.
"You went out with that beastly chit, on a date, and you are asking me WHAT?!", he pronounces the d-word as if that's some kind of a prohibited curse word. I frown. His grip doesn't loosen, though, and I speak before he says anything more.
"Look, I know that it was risky, but Andre didn't hurt me. I knew he would never consciously hurt me.", I reply firmly.
Afterall, I understand that he calls me some sweet endearments, cares for me, gives me advices that actually prove to be useful at times of dire need, has always been a good friend despite me not even knowing his name, his presence gives me a weird sense of comfort and security - but, my life is still mine, right...?
Our eyes clash like two sharpened swordheads, giving off invisible sparks.
I am angry too. He isn't allowed to instruct me about who I go out on a date or not.
Yet, as he stares right into my eyes, his blazing amber ones setting my comparatively-mundane gray gaze on fire, I feel warmth begin to pool up from the very core of my soul. For the first time, I actually start feeling my own soul.
I feel as if my body and I are distinct - just like I've always called my hair or nails distinct from the word me. And this mysteriously powerful and achingly handsome man is reaching out to my very own soul, wrapping it in relaxing warmth. Securing it with love.
I blink rapidly as the incredulity of this sensation settles in. This is more intimate that anything anyone can ever do for anyone - physical, emotional, whatever. I suck in a surprised breath, and his anger-frozen features finally melt. He's still incredibly mad, I can say.
"Felt that, princess?", he asks, sounding victorious. A winsome smirk finally traces his perfect lips, and my frown deepens.
"What even happened? And what in the world is your problem with me going out with Andre?", I ask again, almost expecting him to shrug without an answer.
But tonight is a night of surprises. "Except for the fact that it was incredibly stupid, that is, right?", he extends my question, antonymizing the meaning altogether. "Yes.", I snap.
"Well, princess, since you owe me an apology tonight, I might as well explain the magnitude of the risk that you've taken, to you, as best as possible, at the moment.", his voice has this serious lacing of concerned anger that makes me want to cower back.
But silly me can't even deny the fact that his amber irises have never been this heart-stoppingly beautiful.
"Do you know what they hunt?"
Such a small question and yet the biggest question that I can ever possibly ask. I have this feeling that my life is on a tipping point where this answer can send me into a tailspin from which I'll never quite come back as this me. Thus, I stay silent; waiting for him to drop the blasting truth.
"Do you, mia prinkipissa?", he asks again, his smirk slightly mocking my lack of basic knowledge about the people that I've been spending my whole life with.
I shake my head.
He shakes his own head in response. "Words, princess, I need responses in clear-cut words. Not in meek gestures. I don't thrive in your weakness like that spineless beastly chit that you went out with." He almost spits out the three words that indicate Andre, but my anger completely dissipates, as fear tries to claw its way up my throat.
I swallow against it's metallic taste.
How much more stupid could I possibly be? I didn't even have the basic knowledge that they went hunting every night.
Well, of course you didn't. Because, you've always been way too coward to speak a word about the nights, my smug subconscious taunts me. I don't have much time to process my subconscious's words, as the intensity of his question crashes upon me.
What did they hunt?
"No.", I whisper out my response, awaiting his answer to my unspoken question with more fear and anticipation than I have ever awaited anything.
"Souls."
His one-word answer gives me a sudden numbness in all my nerves. What is this even supposed to mean?
But, I don't have the time to ask him that question, as I can feel the wind picking up pace. I know he'll be gone before I know. But I can't allow that tonight. I want to know his name. I need to know his name. It feels as if my survival depends upon that tiny, but invaluable piece of information.
An information so invaluable that I no longer care about what they hunt. I know what he said was unrealistic, and there must be a metaphor underneath this. But, I'm no longer interested.
All that I am interested about is to finally be able to give a name to these glorious amber eyes that right now are so many layers deep that I have no idea what all messages he is trying to convey by just looking at me.
"What's your name?", I ask him, like many times before. But this time there is this strange genuineness in his intense gaze that tells me that I will indeed get yet another answer tonight.
"Lloyerd.", his warm velvety cadence rings with such passion that for a moment I am overwhelmed. Like he has just rendered himself somehow vulnerable by giving me his name.
His hand is extended towards me, his eyes asking me to put my hand in his. My hand automatically moves from my side, almost as if it has a mind of its own, but I catch it before it moves further.
Raw pain flashes across his face, and his eyes are burning in it. And before I know it, he's gone.
But the dissipating cool air is still hanging heavy with the sound of his name.
"Lloyerd.", I whisper it, and it sounds like a prayer that rips out all the way from the core of my soul, and I hear a soft chuckle somewhere in my mind.
****
I wake up with a start, my eyes flying open.
Time must be relative, or else it couldn't have been possibly morning already. But, his name still hangs heavy in the air all around. Wrapping around me like a blanket, rivaling the comfort of the soft blue quilt on my skin by a million folds.
I get up slowly, still startled, and I want to take his name again. It's such a uniquely beautiful name. Just like his eyes.
Just like him.
But I don't.
Instead, I creak open my bedroom door and walk into the living room. Today, in the bathroom mirror, I see a girl with flushed cheeks, her gray eyes warm with an emotion so intense that the intensity of Andre's gaze is nothing in comparison.
Yet, Lloyerd's eyes held more intensity than this heart of me can ever bear.
A soft smile spreads across my lips. I vigorously shake my head to clear it.
Once out, I see the kitchen-dining space till blissfully empty and thus pour cereals for all of us. I heat the milk and pour those into Chorsh and Sheroa's cereals. Melinda and Rubelle like their cereals rather crunchy.
As I am about to plop down onto one of the chairs at the dining table, I suddenly remember my and Melinda's 'interaction' from a morning before, and I move to my room.
Placing the cereal bowl on the bed-side-table, I open the window, taking extra care to be quiet. Outside, the cool pink morning light falls soothingly all over Zaayes. The fringe of the forest can almost be overseen from here, and the mists, making the darkness seem impermeable even in the daylight, seem to beckon me.
I grip the bedsheet, trying to derive power to resist the call of those forests.
I'm pretty early this morning. Quite earlier than usual. Although it's dawn it's quite early. I start regretting the decision to be out and about already. I regret the decision of even getting out of my quilt.
But I know that it would never make me feel taht safe again. Not after I have felt his...err, Lloyerd's... true warmth. I don't care if he was livid or not. The security of his simple presence by my side can be rivalled by none.
I move to close the window, and I almost do it too. But I freeze when I see it. Rather, them.
Three shadowy figures of beasts slowly emerging out from the depths of the misty forests. They have certain similarities with how I've heard wolves look. But I can bet they are much more enormous and wilder.
I don't wait for their shadowy figures to become prominent. I shut the window back into place. Carefully, however - with not even as much as a squeaking noise. I lock them silently and hurriedly, and the door is the next.
I completely ignore my burning curiosity until I am under my soft blue quilt, that no longer gives me pseudo-safety.
The poor cereal-bowl sits waiting on my nightstand as I flick off the light of my bedside lamp.
"Souls."
That one word comes crashing back to me with doubled, or maybe tripled, intensity and I finally feel the nerve-racking terror that I should've felt then and there only, instead of the numbness.
That one word had such a scarily mythical insinuation that I couldn't quite swallow. How do you swallow the knowledge that...
I don't allow myself to even complete the question. I have been asking too many questions for my own good recently. I should instead settle for peace whilst I can still think of affording it.
Therefore, I instead decide to toy with the beautiful name that I have come to know today. "Lloyerd." Although, my heart says that with every beat, I don't.
And then I sing.
The melody is sweet. It's a song that I don't know where I've learnt from. Because I've known it for as long as I can remember. But, I don't remember where I know it from.
Maybe, my biological mother ever sung that to me. But, the implication that comes along - that Sheroa had someone in his life before Melinda - feels just as untrue as ever.
So, I don't think anymore. I just sing. Softly.
"I knew that I had caught a star in my hands that night,
I told you but you never believed.
I told you that I had caught a star in my hands that night,
I told you but you never believed.
Because you never knew that we could be so lucky...
Because you never knew that she could choose us...
But then I told you that our love would make her think so,
I told you that our love would make her feel so,
I told you but you never believed.
And yet, here we are.
Here we are with our princess in our arms...
Here we are with the shining star beating with life that our love made.
Here we are with our princess in our arms.
And I tell you this again, because,
I always knew that I had caught a star in my hands,
I told you but you never believed..."
The song is just too beautiful too have been conjured up by my own mind. I know that I have heard it before. But where, I can't remember.
So, I settle for singing it again, and again, till I finally hear light knocks on the door.
I immediately throw the quilt away, swing my legs onto the floor, and the cool floor again awakens the groggy nerve-ends of my warm soles. I hurry to the door and open it.
Chorsh stands there with a wide smile and his cereal-bowl in his hand. I immediately have this picture in my head of one of those shadowy beasts having his cool brown eyes. I internally cringe, with more disgust than fear.
"Good morning...", he greets me. "Good morning.", I quickly recover and greet him back.
But even as I grab my own bowl of cereals and finally go out into the dining space and slowly the rest of the family takes the rest of the seats around the table, the sound of his name wraps its enchantingly sweet tentacles around my heart - conquering it all over again.
Every morning I am even more into him than I have been the previous one.
However, now I atleast have a name to give to that perfect face and blazing amber eyes.
Lloyerd.
I chant that name in my heart, not daring to speak it out loud, even as I go through the motions of the day.
________
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