Chapter I
She walked in the middle of the street, with the swing of her hips, as they bounced from side to side. Her scarlet tresses flew through the gusts of wind and through the point of shoes had stepped every bit of confidence she had. She dressed in posh clothing, nothing ever seen before, and the alluring red lipstick wore across her face somehow enhanced her beauty.
Whispers could be heard, wives gave scornful looks to their husbands, they dared stare at such a women. Although the mysterious beauty paid no mind to them, from the way she walking, you could tell she knew where she had to be. But even so, she stopped by a quaint café, she opened the door and took over the hat protecting her from the sun.
Even summers heat did not phase her one bit. But her pale-perfect skin still glistened with a layer of sweat, but it just illuminated her beauty even more. She took off her black shaded sunglasses and held her designer coat under one arms, her Prada handbag held in the other hand. Just like her stroll through the streets many whispered surrounded her. Even in a small town like this, the word still got around, as if it were passed along the winds.
She took a seat by the bar, although it was still too early for happy hour she didn't mind a simple cup of coffee with just a bit of sugar and crème. "One latte, to go please," sensing she was on borrowed time the violet haired barista hurried her way through the order.
"And who might you be?" a disheveled man with one eye open and peeping cigarette asked, "I've never seen the likes of you around here," he rocked in his chair.
She turned to look at the mysterious man, he had maroon hair, just a few shades darker than her own. He was also tan, probably from days of hard work in the sun, the most notable thing his missing eye, although still handsome without it. She gave a simple smile, her pearly white emphasized, by her bright red lipstick, "I guess its been a while, seems like time does really pass by," she said, "doesn't, Erik?"
His cocky smirk disappeared along with the light of cigarette, many conversations ended just for theirs, "do I know you?" he asked.
"I guess we'll have to wait and see, now shall we," she said, and turned on her heel and was welcomed by a fresh latte drizzled with caramel and speck of chocolate, with one sip she simply hummed in pleasure, "how nostalgic." As rain started to pour down through cloudy skies she put on her scarlet red coat and floppy hat, leaving her sunglasses at the tip of her V-neck. From her bag came out a small parasol, red as well.
"Ta ta, Erik," she said, and made calculated steps to her location.
Once the little bell above the door rang, and the scarlet mystery had left much whisper rang aloud the café. "Who was that?" asked the timid barista.
Erik, who was now standing and leaning against the bar, "trouble, that's who it is."
Down the street, the mystery, as she been called, strolled down to yet another stop, she was just walking by a house, and swinging on her porch behind her beautiful garden was a maiden, with a bumped belly and looks of a silver angel. She was graceful, even if she six months along. She stopped swinging as she heard the creak of her wooden fence, she looked up from her book of baby named and gleamed at her longtime friend. She stood up, only wearing a loosely fit dress and slippers, her once thin figure gone and replaced by the weight of two others. "It seems I've missed a lot, you never mentioned this in your heartfelt letters," the mystery said.
"I thought I would surprise you," the maiden said
"You know I hate surprises," the mystery scoffed, "well? Are you just going to have me stand in the rain?"
…
In the warmth of her home was she welcomed. Pictures of childhood stood tall on shelves of the living room, even along the railing of the way to the upstairs, "so I'm guessing life has treated you well," the maiden asked, as she lay a play of food in front of the mystery, "you went with rags and came dressed in diamonds."
The maiden ignored her insistent glare, watching her mouth was not something she was good at. "Well yes, it has, time away has certainly done me good, more than I could ever imagine," she said, as she tore the bread into small pieces before eating, "and as for you, whom is the father of your children?" she asked.
"Right to the point, so like you," the maiden chuckled as she struggled just to sit down, even more to cross her legs, "he's a nice man, a little rough around the edges but treats me well and loves me with every once of his existence," she said, "and I love him too."
"Wedding vows won't tell me his name," the scarlet mystery said.
Again, the other women chuckled, "Laxus, Laxus Dreyar," she said, "and I assume you came back with a man, maybe children?" she asked.
All the woman in question could do was give a light bit of humor, she shook her head, "no, not me," is all she said, "men were the furthest thing from my mind."
"Speaking with a tongue like that won't get you far in Magnolia," she said.
With a sly eye, the redheaded beauty simply brushed back a dazzled strand fraying from it's bun, "it's gotten me everywhere else though." She peeked at her watch, and got up once more, sliding her arms through her pocket and leaving an empty plate, "I've got to get running, but I'll make my daily visits, as always, my friend," she said.
The young maiden saw her out, but before she could reach the white picket fence she blurted, "why are you here, after all this time, why are you here, Erza?" she asked.
She stopped, her tracks halted as the time kept ticking, as if hearing her name, her real name, for the first time in years, it felt like a crack, a crack in her posture and breath, she seemed loose and her confidence seemed to lessen, she took out her parasol and popped it back open, before leaving she turned on her heel once again as said, "well, my dear Mirajane, revenge, sweet and saturated revenge."
She walked on the uneven road, along the riverbank and across the stoned brick bridge. She stopped and took a single glance into the stream, it was pelted with rain, but she could still make out her own reflection. Although a glance, and that is what all there was. Just a few feet away was what she would call home, although it was old and run down she knew her way around not only threads and fabric but also interior design.
When she stepped in with her gold key she saw dust from top to bottom, old manikins stood strong, still for able-use. Dust practically filled the room, better than spiders or beetles. "Home, sweet home," she said, but in her right home she would stay in a dump like this even if it was for just a night. Prepares should be done by the morning, and the place should be cleaned up by the afternoon, while in the furniture I ordered should be waiting at the station, along with all my other stuff, it should be delivered soon enough. She sighed, the work load she had was nothing the laugh at, and as for the sign, peeked at the glass window, it was filthy, needing of a deep cleanse, some polishing should do it some good.
With that she headed to her luxury hotel, and by the end of the week, she would be living in her luxury apartment, of course once it was critiqued by her. "This can't be too hard." She said, once again her confidence building, "I can't wait."
...
Sitting in his office, he overlooked the town. After the unexpected rainfall the sun came peeking from the grey clouds and once again lit the day once more for the day's last sunset.
Although the beautiful scene could not overshadow the new smell in the air. It was like a nostalgic feeling entering his body much like butterflies. "What is that?" he said to himself, as he blew out a puff of smoke from his cig.
"What'd you say, sir?" a girl with short silver hair asked, curiosity beaming through her eyes.
"It was probably nothing, don't worry Yukino, you can go home," a ravened girl said, she rushed her out of the office, "so what is going on sir?" she asked.
He sighed to himself and ran a hand down the left side of his face, "Erik just reported to me, about a newcomer to town."
"You're still in contact with that street rat?" she asked distastefully.
He gave a light chuckle, "although his ways are a but shady, but he's a pack full of information, plus he's a good listener," he said.
"So, who is this new guy?" she asked.
He described her as a scarlet mystery who wore grief wonderfully, with the tip of shoe stepped confidence and she filled the streets with a strawberry aroma," he described, although most of his was of his own description.
"Doesn't sound like something he would say," she said.
"I made my own observations," he said, "in fact, a "newcomer" would be a bit misleading, it's more like an oldcomer, if that makes sense to you."
"I don't understand, who are you talking about?" she asked.
The handsome young man put on his pristine white jacket, and smirked towards the window, "I winder, is she back for revenge, or for solace?" he asked himself, "but in the end, who shall wind our little game of chess?" he spoke painfully.
When day turned to night and the curtains fell you could hear the claps of the audience, everyone returned to their dwellings with dreams of dance, but the only thing that captioned his mind were memories of the past.