I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING BY DP AND LC
Aging papers, a thick comforting smell in a well furnished library. Luxurious carpets graced the floor, and above them sat fine Victorian chairs, love seats, and a fine oak coffee table and desk. Lit with fine lamps, the walls were dressed with floor to ceiling shelves, packed with books and odd specimens. The Penumbra mansions very library, and Diogenes' area of work and relaxation.
Upon a window seat, the fine light of the sun just filtering through to illuminate the pages of Vladimir Mayakovsky, sat Diogenes. Leisurely thumbing over a page and basking in the sun, these were the moments he always relished. Solitude and escapism was in and of its self was a time of healing and rebirth. In it, he could wipe away his racing thoughts and worst nightmares, only to resume later on in his devious contemplation. It dueled as a room of experimentation, as well. Seeing that most of his family, minus dear mother, kept far from him, they dubbed this Library primarily his. With that privacy, it was easy to sneak the cats and dogs in, and stash his tools and cleaning supplies. Plus, the windows always help ventilate the smell.
School had just ended, and it was the last of it he would ever see. Mother had hired tutors, and home school was an official must after the last day. Dear Aloysius' poor eye was graced by a lovely dark mark. He wouldn't much miss school, the teachers were obviously incompetent and the students a disgusting hierarchy of nitwits leading even lower beings. The rudimentary aspects of the day, class-to-class, basic literature studies, common lessons of math, the universal fashion of history… every day was the same, and material was hardly ever different. A waste of life, a day care for the rich to rid them of their mistakes.
He would miss one thing, how ever. Unable to help himself, his knobby white knees slid down, the book falling with it. The blue of the sky he could not see, the fluffy clouds that looked more flat like cheap cardboard clouds in children's theaters, and the receding land as a series of values of black, white, and grey. He was out side, running with in the great land beyond, the fine air tickling his skin and lifting him from any shreds of sorrow that he always denied. It would be odd, it was the one routine he really enjoyed at school, and with the tutor, how could one return to the table, the swings, the slides.
Shades of grey began to fill the sky; the sun peaking down over the horizon. It used to be so beautiful, so full, and so alive; and now it just looked dead. The sun, the sky, the land, everything was dead. Frowning, his hand slid under the back of the book, flipping it shut with a soft flop. Gingerly taking it between skilled fingers, he threw his legs over the side of the seat, sighing gently to take a final look at the ominous sky. Everything was dead.
A soft, thud, thud, thud, of feet, hardly able to hear of the hush of white noise, he paced briskly to the shelves. Reluctantly, he slipped the book back into its home, brushing its spine with tender fingers. How he wished he could relish in them for days on end, but there was work to do.
Tip, he paused.
Tip, it came again.
Tip, he turned.
Tip, a small fleck on the glass pane where he was only moments ago.
Tip, pebbles.
Cautiously, he traced his steps to the wall just beside the window, pressing his figure against it before cautiously peering around its edge.
Tip.
With purposeful movements, he eased himself on to the window seat and began to push the window open.
Tip, he paused, and then in a moment of silence resumed his work.
Eyeing them as they creaked open, he slowly peered over the edge. Thwap! Shooting back wards, Diogenes clutched his head; his boyish body so astonished he bolted upright likes a soldier. Removing his hand from his pounding forehead, a small red dot, was forming on his head, and the soft pink flush spread over his pale face. Flustered he shoved his head out the window, scowling down at the part bellow. How dare they! It was probably just those evil children from school. On countless occasions they had showed up in the dead of night, or with out any one home, and set tricks up- TPing, ringing bell repeatedly, graffiti, and other menial acts. But the site bellow was far from your little demon.
"Antoinette!" he shouted, surprised, "You witch!"
"Dear me," she teased, "Did I give you a sudden concussion?"
With the smallest laugh, more of a passionate smile then anything, he was off. Out the door, down the stairs, down the hall, through the Grand Parlor, and straight to a series of glass doors- five times he almost tripped in his mad dash. Fumbling with the door, he finally swung it open it barreled out of the door into the nights chilling air. The oddly crisp smell of water, and freshly cut grass, pressed him with the faintest hint of the still over bearing smell of the swamp lands just beyond. The beating of cicadas, the chirping of crickets, the howling of a soft wind, the rustling and bustling of life were all distraction for the real attraction- his Antoinette, standing before him in a flowing summer dress and her hands clasped just behind her back.
Motioning to wave her in, she grabbed his arm and pulled him out, turning and running off toward the middle of the lawn before she paused in her journey outward. "Come on now?" she whispered loudly, waving her hand at him. Furrowing his brow, he trailed after her, catching up as she began to run off toward the woods. Grabbing her arm, they both pushed through the brush into the city of towering trees.
Fireflies gliding by they're faces, his hand trailed slowly down to hers, gripping it tight as she led the way? Deeper and deeper into the forest they trailed, crossing mud patches, thick areas of grass, croaking frogs, nocturnal beasts, and the oddly crisp smell of rushing water. "Almost there," she assured, squeezing his hand.
Pushing into a second clearing a small spring, surrounded with pebbles and odd stalk of grass, loomed out of the darkness like the dozens of fireflies that added their light to the starlit sky. It was gorgeous, absolutely breathe taking. Coming up beside her, he held tight to her hand, looking out over the majestic waters. Releasing his hand, fingers brushing over his skin leisurely, he eyed her tiny girlish figure trailing over to the waters.
They were twelve years of age, and oddly enough closer then ever. It had been five years since the accident, and some how at this moment, looking into the eternal waters, it didn't matter. Sitting down with her on the rocks, smoothed with age, wear, and tear. Still one thing did pain him, and it was one thing he would never understand.
"It's the end of the school year…" he began softly, looking out at a distant flower in the middle of the lake.
"Yes?" she simply replied, enamored by the dance of the fireflies.
"Why did you come to see me?" he asked, almost absent-mindedly.
Taken aback she looked over at him, "Why would I not?"
"There is no more school…" he began his justification but faltered, consumed by thought after thought.
Gingerly, she placed the backs of two porcelain colored fingers on the side of his cool cheek, guiding him to face her. Taking in his eyes to her own, she smiled lightly, "I just wanted to."
"That's it," he asked, terribly confused.
"Sometimes, things are just that simple," she smiled and in the swiftest movements, her lips graces his cheek- innocent, pure, and oddly assuring. Placing a hand over hers that was resting on the rock beside her, he furrowed his brow, the flush of pink consuming his face.
"Oh come now," she teased, nuzzling her nose against his, "smile, I came to see you didn't I? I could have never came, but I wanted to." Quickly she trailed her lips over hi, a small flush coming across her own face, "Please be happy."
After many moments of simply staring at her, his lips finally twitched into a small smile, his beautiful eyes glittering with the joy he could not show. Brushing her hair back with his fingers, he allowed her body to slide up next to him, his hand easing to her side.
"Why did you come outside," she teased, nuzzling her head against his chest.
"Because I wanted to," he quoted.
"That's it…" she perused.
"Sometimes, things are just that simple," he teased rubbing her arm lightly, and kissing the top of her head nervously.
"You think we can still spend time together," she asked, a hauntingly solemn tone in her voice.
"I am not sure about during the school year…" he began, his voice trailing off nervously.
"During the summer?" she asked, rubbing one of his legs absently.
"Of course," he assured her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
In a matter of seconds, she stood up, and trailed off into the brush. Standing nervously he began to walk toward the dark mess of trees and tall grasses. "Hey," he shouted, "Antoinette! Where did you go?" A splash sounded behind him, sending him reeling on his heals to face a now rippling bed of water. The fireflies had scattered every which way in fear, and everything seemed to go silent. Cautiously he took a step forward… another… A large gush of water as two wet hands reached up onto the rock ledge. A soft gasp as he caught his breath, he watched as Antoinette's head popped up from the water, taking in a quick breath and shaking the water from her face. "Come join me Diogenes!" she pleads reaching her hands out.
"Are you naked!" he shouted, suddenly shocked, his face paler then usual.
"You are born naked," she retorted, "what is the problem."
Furrowing his brow, he shook his head, and crossed his arms. "Oh," she cooed, "why so reserved dear."
"The ones who own their freedom are the strong ones," she noted, leaning her head on the rocks.
Groaning lightly, he moved into the brush, leaving her in the soft music of the rippling water. It was only a few minutes before a small splash sounder behind her. Swimming around to face the noise, just ripples met the eye.
"Diogenes," she said quietly moving along the edge of the water. "Diogenes," she said a bit more loudly, yet no reply came her way. Whimpering slightly, she turned around reaching up onto a rocks edge. With a sharp yelp, she felt a hand wrap around her waste pulling her back down under the water. Flailing her way upward, she gasped for breath on the surface, meeting Diogenes' gleaming smile. Frowning, she shoved a wave of water at his face, hearing him sputter and giggle in his triumph over her confidence.
Giggling to him self, he whipped at his mouth, "What? I am only embracing my freedom."
Chuckling, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders. Freezing up, his body went rigid at her touch, looking down awkwardly at her as the water between them slowly began to disappear from chest to thighs. Bighting his lip, he wrapped his arms around d her waste, enjoying the flow of water that seemed to surround them like a blanket. Feeling the curve of her back as his hand drew slowly down to the small of her back, he noticed she was looking up at him and his wide eyes. Her black and white features both welcomed and paining him; the longing to see the hues he so vaguely remembered in her- only able to imagine and not receive.
"Diogenes," she began, every sound of his name caressed with a chillingly tender note.
"Hm…" he mumbled, softly, struggling to see the color in her eyes- it could bring tears to his eyes he wanted so desperately to see.
"You're an enigma…" he didn't know if it was a compliment or not but either way he took it as one, seeing that she nuzzled her head against his neck, and small kisses were being laid liberally along his collar bone.
Even with out color, he knew that the scene was more then beautiful.