A/N: I know there are some strange names in here, but bear with me. I will provide a list and phonetic pronunciations for all of the odd ones. Or you can just pronounce them however you want! :oD Please, if you read, review! We like the reviews – whether they be accolades or constructive criticism! If you like it, rec to a friend!
Eavan – Ee-ay-vahn (say quickly lol)
Michkal – (may be self-evident, but whatever J) Meeshkyell
AND, as always… Enjoy J
-1-
She paced back and forth in front of the mahogany fireplace mantle. It was full of frames; wooden and metal alike; that enclosed long-forgotten memories. She had known these memories were hers, but could not recall the day any of them purported to have occurred. The cold she felt inside, even to the depths of her being, served as a constant reminder that she would never again feel the warmth of the fire said hearth ensconced. Her mind covered so many different things at once, any one piece of information failed to process. She was a damned good judge of character now; but back then, such a talent had been unattainable for someone like her.
There was no chance of going back now. She had come this far – run this far away that she could never go back. What excuse could she use? She should have known better to begin with. All that research over the years had taught her valuable skills. Yet, when it had happened to her, she had no way of knowing what that meant. She thought of how it had all began so innocently...
She was in love; there was no doubt about that. Yet, as all unrequited loves go, she could not have him. He was the forbidden fruit; the temptation she knew we all had to give into at some point or another. Standing at the edge of a pier that overlooked the Hudson River, she was faced with a dilemma: should she jump? The wind whistled around her and she pulled her cloak tighter to herself, seriously contemplating taking the plunge into the icy cold water. "Eavan." She heard her name whispered on the wind. Turning her head from side to side, she wondered if she had begun hallucinating in the wake of her misery. She heard her name whispered again, this time closer to her ear.
The snap of a twig broke her from her reverie, and she shook off the despairing misery that had seeped into her bones from the recollection of that night. It was so long ago, she was surprised to discover how crisp and clear the details were. Slipping behind a large chair, she looked around her – tentatively – just in case anyone was following. There was no need to catch her breath, as her heart would continue its unnatural beat forever, whether or not it received oxygen. Normal human dietary and cardiovascular needs were not what her body thrived on – had not thrived on for... She could no longer remember how long it had been. That particular memory had taken flight with most of the rest of her experiences as a real person. She truthfully pitied anyone that viewed her as such.
It took her a moment to fully realize she was indoors; and the twig she had heard was probably an ember escaping from the fire she no longer felt the heat of. Her panic subdued, she began to recount her steps, pacing once again in front of the hearth she had once known as her own – had once called home. Instead of thinking back to the night it all began, she tried to concentrate on whys. Why would this house still be here after all this time? Was there a caretaker she had been unaware of in her human life? After all, she had been oblivious to so many things back then. Oblivious to everything and everyone except – "NO!" Her own voice made her shudder in the darkness. She did not want to go back right now; did not want to recount those days when everything she knew vanished in what seemed to be an instant.
Instead, she ascended the old staircase – also clad in mahogany, with gilded railing. There was no cause for fret of frail boards; for falling through them would be a mere inconvenience, rather than a death trap. Though she knew this to be true, she lightly traced the banister with her fingertips, knowing full well that should the floor fall from beneath her, she would be able to clutch to the sturdy spindles in less than a heartbeat. Not that my heart beats anymore, she thought, ruefully. She was surprised to find a tingling sensation making its way up her arm, with each step she took toward the second floor.
On the sixteenth step is when the world came crashing down on her. It wasn't the world of the present life she now fled from every second she could. It was the life that once was, long before she was robbed of all her memories – good and bad. That was the part she hated most of all. One small touch and everything it remembered, she remembered. She vaguely recalled a comment being made that walls had ears, and every inanimate object that was touched kept a memory of everyone that had touched it – and the emotions they were feeling when they did so. She didn't believe it until now, though. Her "heightened senses", as her creator called them, Michkal by name,
Long before that fateful night when she became the creature she was now. And what was she, really? All of her research on the "farce science" they called it then, cryptozoology, did her no justice in this new life. The many manuals, encyclopedias, and pulp fiction did give her an upper hand in survival skills; any and every companion she had ever traveled with had perished. She was thankful to take credit that they did not perish by her hand, however. She momentarily wondered why that was – why did she retain all the knowledge she gained from books, and the basic motor skills of her human life, when nothing else remained? She did not have time to think this bit through. As she lifted her hand from the banister, an entire flood of visions danced before her eyes. Everything was so amazingly real – the colors, the smells, the sounds; even the emotions of the people surrounding her. She listened to the cicadas from the open windows of the lavish home. A glint of gold here, the laced stitching on ball gowns there, the swish of flamboyant dresses everywhere. She crossed in front of a mirror that had once hung in the hallway and gasped.
Of course, none of this was actually happening. In her new reality, she was standing in front of a mirror that had rusted and was riddled with stains of various origins. The hallway was cobweb laden, years of dust covering everything. The wallpaper was faded to nearly invisible pictures, and tattered in some areas. Eavan was lost in one of the many visions that had nearly overtaken her life since the night she was overlooking the icy black waters of the Hudson; darkness surrounding her, as it seemed to consume her at that time in her life. She had lost her sister – taken away to live in a padded room – and her one, true love. At least, she thought she had loved him at that time.
Whenever or wherever she was now was the most beautiful of all the images that had been projected to her over the years. Also, it was the most vivid by leaps and bounds. There was a sense of overwhelming happiness in the room; even after her sister had been carted away, not two days prior. She, however, was not elated in the slightest. Overwhelmed by the ornate surroundings, yes. Happy? Not at all. "Eavan, darling; what are you doing!" An overly joyful voice spoke into her ear. This was a real voice; nothing like the voice she would encounter on the docks, not two hours from now. This voice was very prim and proper; would never a foul word, and vowed to keep up appearances at all costs. It was the voice of her mother.
"N - Nothing, Mother. I – I was looking after my appearances. It's as you always say, Mother, "A hair out of place is a sign of disgrace." She curtsied and squeezed her eyes closed – she was tired of constantly looking at the floor and was also silently praying that her mother would grant clemency for the recital of one of the most important lessons in life.
As soon as Eavan's eyes opened, she was back in the dark and dank hallway. Attempting at tears she knew she would never be able to muster again, she grabbed her chest and fled up to the attic – rotten floorboards be damned. Before she had reached the doorway to the stairs giving access to the attic, she had time to process the vision she had been in the clutches of, and store it away with the other pieces of memory she kept. It was important to her to retain and recall all of her visions. Perhaps one could be of use someday.
Amused, she pondered that she had just exemplified two more attributes of this strange life she had chosen over – the alternative. Extreme speed and a highly advanced thought process were what enabled many of her kind survive. Now on the rooftop, securely balanced on a beam, she mused at how Darwin's Theory could span over all species – especially those as nefarious and unnatural as hers. She decided none of it mattered anymore. Everyone she had loved was dead and gone; and she was still walking this earth – seemingly forever. She sat gazing at the beauty of the ocean, its surface resembling that of a black pearl. She was aware of the impact the waves made on the rocks far below her. She vaguely wondered if the impact of her head against those rocks would even agitate her. Would it kill her? Would it crack the rock instead?
It suddenly occurred to her that Kegan had not yet arrived. She considered this odd, as they had agreed to meet here over an hour ago. As quickly as the thought entered her head, she caught the scent of his fragrant skin. She would know it anywhere. The scent of honeysuckle and sandalwood drifted on the air, and when she turned, she could make out his silhouette hurrying toward the rundown yet still ornate home. She thrust her chin into the air and took in another whiff of that intoxicating scent. Then, lowering her head, she smiled devilishly and jumped from the beam, landing soundlessly behind Kegan.
