An Eternity to Love ~
Chapter one: Fresh as snow...
When fresh snow falls it symbolizes change. Changing of seasons, weather temperature, and a few other times a new beginning a fresh slate for spring to...well spring forth. This time around it meant a fresh hopefully clean slate for Olivia. Well when you live forever you have plenty of choices to clean your slate even if you can't forget the old tarnished ones...
Crunch crunch crunch. Olivia always appreciated the sound of snow under her feet, being home made it much sweeter. Although the memories of her Russia made it bittersweet. She never forgot the sweet smell of Russia nor its primal call.
' Olivia....its time to come back to me. '
Olivia smiled to herself and her pale eyes lovingly surveyed the lonely Russian street she had been lackadaisically strolling on. She stopped on the sidewalk and turned her face to the sky, letting the white snow melt in her fiery red hair. She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh filled with happiness and remorse.
" Oh Vincent, its as lovely as ever."
She let his name slip past her lips for the first time in 12 years and it still managed to taste sweet. Olivia bent her head down and continued down the street. She passed by countless faceless mortals, they all seem very unimportant after 62 years of the same type of faces and stories. She barely noticed the sun setting on another day and the night made the crisp cold air eat away at her lungs. She stopped under a street light to make out where she was.
" Ah of course I would come here."
It was once the grandest place in all of Russia, home of the Czar and his family and court. After the revolution it had no use and had been boarded up and decrepit after all these years. Olivia lightly shook her head.
' It used to be so lovely too. Look what has happened my love.'
She carefully walked toward the old memory and reached a boarded window or was once boarded. It was wide open now, probably from vandals or thieves looking for a quick rubel. Curiosity is a human trait you never loose, immortal or not, and Olivia was no excuse. She quietly crept through the window onto the dusty floor into the grand entryway. Old paintings or the royal families still hung the walls though they had many tears as well as a layer of four inch thick dust on them. The floor was dirty and had scattered debris on it. The chandelier lay shattered and forgotten in the center of the room covered in new homes for spiders much like everything else in the room. Olivia closed her eyes and tried to remember the glamor his old room once held in it finer years. She saw spinning colors and a sparkling chandelier but nothing substantial. Memories from before her everlasting life faded quickly and took an effort to remember clearly.
She crossed the floor to the grand staircase that lead to the open hallway above leaving cold wet footprints to mingle with the dirt and dust of the past. Step by step she climbed the grand staircase to the portrait hallway above. These portraits were all of the royal families that at one point in Russia's history ruled the country. Her beating heart filled with pride as she gazed up these regal faces. Faces of the czars and their families, sharing their stories just through their expertly painted eyes. Olivia walked slowly past them all until one stopped her dead in her tracks. This family was not a royal family but they were certainly important enough to hang with the best. It was a large family, a handsome father, an enchanting mother, and five painfully beautiful children aging from seven to twenty years of age. Three lovely girls and two striking young men. They all had one thing in common besides the mix of red and dark hair. All of their eyes were all a very striking blue, almost white or without pigment. As if the artist had forgotten to paint in their eye colors. Regardless of their ages all of their eyes were old., timeless. Olivia's mouth raised at a corner and lifted her hand to dust off the old family. She slowly ran her fingertips over their wise faces and stopped at the eldest girl. She stood proudly nest to her younger sisters wearing an elaborate dress with an almost smug grin on her face. She looked no older than nineteen but her eyes suggested otherwise. Olivia stroked her face lovingly as well as her painted fiery hair.
Suddenly and unfamiliar hand shot out to touch her painted face as well. Olivia immediately tensed but did not move. A low masculine voice spoke inches from her ear and blew their sweet breath onto her neck.
" Do you often admire old paintings of yourself?"
End of chapter one.