"Truth is by nature self-evident. As soon as you remove the cobwebs of ignorance that surround it, it shines clear."
-Mohandas Gandhi
Volterra was crowded midday. People scurried along the narrow, slanted streets and merchants leaned over the counters of their stands, shoving items at passersby with convincing persuasions. The sun beat down on the small, clustered city. Rarely, cars would slowly creep along the streets, having to wait for the citizens to make a path large enough to pass through.
One citizen was rushing down the hillside, sporting roller blades, long bell-bottom jeans, a sweater, gloves, a scarf, and a large, floppy hat. None of her skin met the sunlight, and the bystanders who had to jump out of her way as she sped down found that utterly confusing and unreasonable. It was nearly eighty nine degrees, for God's sake! But the girl didn't seem to appose to the heat, for she sped on, not stopping. She didn't stop when someone didn't move in time- she simply swerved around them gracefully. She had a credit card hanging out of her pocket, which she shoved back in whenever it hung out too far. It was the only thing she was carrying.
She reached an airport a few towns away in a single day. People had already begun talking about "the girl with the rollerblades". Everyone had seen her flying by on her wheeled shoes, no sign of slowing down, not even for cars. She would simply jump up, skid on the roof, and land –slightly shakily- on the other side. She would still keep going. Once she reached the airport, she slowed. She went at a walking pace through the airport, and reached a random gate. She rolled across the carpets, ignoring the curious, disapproving glances, and stopped by the ticket counter. She was right in front of the gate, and she turned to the man. He held his hand out for her ticket, raising an eyebrow. She slid the scarf off her neck and removed her hat, revealing the most beautiful face the man had ever seen.
Silky, ebony hair tumbled out from underneath the hat, waving down to her waist. Icy blue eyes bored into the man's green ones. Her slim, red lips streatched into a soft smile, and she cocked her head to the side. "Hello," She breathed, her voice sounding more appealing than wedding bells.
"T-ticket, please, ma'am," replied the man in a shakey voice, feeling hypnotized by her. She nodded, smiling warmly. Maybe a little too warm- his heart melted.
She reached into her pocket, and suddenly, her face was covered in shock. She searched her pockets some more, and looked up in distress. "Someone stole my ticket!"
Undoubtedly, he believed her. "Oh, no. That's not good. You need a ticket to get on... But..." He trailed off at the expression on the girl's face. She looked about ready to cry.
"I have to get on this plane!" She insisted helplessly. "My mother is in Forks, Washington. She's dying! Please, kind sir. Please let me board this plane."
After a pause, he let out a breath and nodded. "Okay. I will. Give my regards to your mother. Have a nice trip."
The girl planted a smooth kiss on his cheek and flitted aboard the plane. She heard a thud as the man feinted and her innocent expression morphed into a smirk. "Too easy." That was the only thing she said. She sat in the first isle. She still had her roller blades on. She wrapped her scarf around her neck again, and bunched all of her hair up under the hat. She looked back on recent events.
This girl's name was Ria. She was running- away from the most dangerous group of vampires you could muster. The Voultri. A merciless group of vampires that might as well have been reincarnations of satan himself. Frightening, really.
They had blackmailed Ria into staying with the Voultri. If she didn't, they would find her human sister and kill her slowly, making Ria watch. Ria hadn't wanted to involve her sister in the first place, but the Voultri had given her no choice. As the months had passed, a sneaking suspicion has rose in her chest. What if they killed her, anyway? She couldn't have that, now, could she?
So she did the only sensable thing. She escaped. She escaped from them and was on her way to Forks, Washington where her sister was living. Hopefully, she was safe.
She knew the plane was over Forks before anyone said so. Her nerves were shaking and her eyes were darting this way and that. She felt all but comfertable on planes. However, unless she wanted to swim –which, looking back, would have been much easier- she had to deal.
As soon as she rolled off the plane –which got more than a few questioning glances from the americans- she sped out into the parking lot. The air hit her like a wrecking ball- cold and bitter. Slowing in slight shock, she took it all in. The amount of trees, the bruised sky, the sub-zero wind, and the lack of sun were not common in Volterra. Not that she opposed. It was actually quite refreshing.
She'd been going at human pace the whole time, as to not attrack attention and suspicion. However, the vast amount of trees in the area was a convinience to her. Unstrapping her roller blades, she grasped them firmly and felt the odd sensation of soot and soaked leaves under her feet as she stepped into the forest. It must've recently rained.
She broke into a slow-paced run before really pressing on the speed. The cold air kissed her exposed skin –she'd taken her scarf, gloves, and hat off by then, and had tucked them in her left roller blade.
Ria had been in Forks once before. She'd been dropping off her sister. It was years ago, and Ria only just remembered it. The rain had been pouring and the night had been young. No one was along the streets, and Ria was in pursuit of a certain orphanage. She'd wrapped her sister tighter in the blanket and stared coldly at the orphanage. It was two blocks down, yet large. Visible. The bricks weren't faded in the slightest- they actually looked as if paint had just been coated on. The windows were dark, with the exception of the two on either side of the front door. It was large, and oak, with an unsullied brass knob. Ria had moved forward, almost hesitantly, and placed the sleeping bundle that was curled up lovingly in her arms on the doorstep. She knocked hard, loud, five times. Without hesitating, she ran. She didn't look back to see if they'd answered. She couldn't bear it if she'd seen they didn't, and she wouldn't be able to keep going if she'd seen them open the door and scoop her up. It was the most painful thing in the world.
And there it was. In broad daylight, it seemed almost welcoming. But an orphanage was never welcoming- not in the slightest. Taking in a large, unneeded gulp of air, Ria set forward.
