I'm a ghost of a girl that I want to be most
I'm the shell of a girl that I used to know well
Dancing slowly in an empty room
Can the lonely take the place of you?
I sing myself a quiet lullaby
Let you go and let the lonely in to take my heart again
Too afraid to go inside
For the pain of one more loveless night
But the loneliness will stay with me
And hold me 'til I fall asleep
~The Lonely (Cristina Perri)
Chapter 8
Beneath the Armor is a Heart
A humid night, as always. The moonlight galore spread across the lake, its reflection calmly rippled on the surface of the water stopped at the corners where it kisses the soil. The land elevated from the body of water, matted with soft summer grass where tiny grasshoppers clung into its microscopic blades. The warm breeze breathed across, playing with the strings of branches on the weeping willow tree, creating a soft cracking noise as each vine swayed with the leaves crossing each other. Along flew white dandelion seeds, one which landed on Thanea's white hands as she offered a crown of laurel leaves between two tomb stones.
She looked courageous. No trace of tears can be seen on her face, no sign of pain filled her eyes. As can be thought by anyone. She wore the same grey tunic she had worn since yesterday, and had forgotten at least to braid her long hair. It had been rough and unruly like a child abandoned on the streets. A smudge of dirt surfaced her cheek, and she looked lightweight since she was left alone.
As she let go of the laurel crown, her dirtied fingers patted its fresh leaves with a faint smile, and imagined stroking her dear Daphne's chocolate brown hair. She can almost hear the nymph's sweetest laughter, and the image of her came into view.
"I will take care of you as much as you took care of me…" Thanea whispered, as if someone was hearing her. Finally taking in a few spans of breaths without any thought coming onto her mind, she remains still as a rock. Unmoved. Inside her, she felt stiff and drained. She had no emotion whatsoever. No reaction. No regrets nor sadness. She felt…unimaginable. Her eyes then fed on the tombstones. Her parents for twenty-seven days were buried beneath.
Thanea folded her knees to her chest, and let her hair flow with Zephyr's breath. She moved a tired hand on one of the tombstones. It was plainly an arched rock which was planted on the ground. Her fingers ran through the inscription embedded on it. Dorcas. How she longed for her mother's voice. How she hungered for a maternal embrace, a soft whisper of care and compassion, and a simple laughter of joy from her mother is enough to tear Thanea from her sadness. She moved the same hand on the other tomb stone. Her father's. The one who saved her from the lake just behind her, and who taught her, at least to chop a piece of firewood.
Her lips trembled with the slightest cold, and felt the familiar suffocating choke on her throat. Her visions distorted with a well of tears. Again. It was sickening to cry. She was tired of the tears, of all the spasms on her palms, of the hiccups, and the muffled cries. She was disgusted with how she lived like a muse of tragedy without a total recall of who she really was. She bit her lower lip, and despite the hunger reeling on her stomach from avoiding her own stew, she moved to do what she had always been doing since her mortal world began: cry.
Why won't anyone of you up there hear me? Thanea bit her lip as the thoughts crossed her mind. She tried hard to control the flow of wretched tears from her eyes but there was a certain lump which grew on her throat whenever she tries to stop herself from crying. She raised her head and spoke to the dark heavens though scarred with no hope she will be listened to.
"Why won't anyone hear me?"
She felt stupid for talking in mid air. Inside her mind, she was desperately aware that prayers were only heard at temples, but there she was, with nothing to offer, and raising her voice upon the skies.
"You gave me a second chance to live…but you shouldn't have done that," her shaking fingers gripped on her scalp, forming a fist on her hair. She tightened herself in a ball as she sat on the grass. Her bare toes dug on the dirt and she shut her eyes as her face marred with tragic pain.
"It would have been better…" she shook her head, "if I had drowned than to live without memories. Yet no…I accepted I will live without memories of who I was, so long as I had my parents…
No words can express how grateful I am for the gift of their care…they were wonderful people…"
Thanea rocked as she dug her face on her open palms, poisoned by grief.
"And when they were murdered I have never cursed you at all… I have never vowed revenge towards the heartless beast that sent their souls into the underworld…
And I am very thankful to anyone among you for sending Daphne to comfort me, to keep me alive despite me having no knowledge of life's simple works…
But still… how can you bless me with gifts and then take them away from me?
What have I done wrong?
What…have I…done wrong?"
Her eyes were beginning to swell, and she finally let out a muffled cry. A cry which equaled the pleas of homeless children, of the bereaved, of a goddess who lost her sanity. With every push of her voice paralleled tears streaking down her cheeks to her chin. She was too indulged in her pain that she never noticed an arrow strung by a bow readying to shoot her from behind the tall grasses.
Zeno was silently giggling as he held the string of the bow. A smirk crossed his jaw while positioning a clear view to his prey and he shut one eye to focus the target. His fingers held the bow and arrow, and he defined an antonym on Thanea's grief. He felt rather amused to watch Athena drowning on the agony of pain, and his heart jumped at the sight of his beloved enemy down on her knees and pouring out her tears and blood to have the people she loved most rise from death. He stiffened his chest and counted for a shot on her heart. It will not kill her immediately, though. He won't allow her to die easily.
"To any god who is listening out there!"
Zeno suddenly paused and felt petrified at the call, brows furrowing with wonder if she had sensed that he was spying on her from the moment she began to look pathetic in front of the tombstones. He withdrew the bow and arrow slowly, trying to catch any other clue if she would next call out his name. Of course, he thought, he was among the deities she had been beseeching.
Thanea drew a breath between swollen lips before giving further her demands.
"I only needed…only need a companion…whomever it may be, whatever its state…
Just a companion whom I can talk to…who can hear my sentiments, my joys, and my happiness…I only ask for a friend…a loyal confidant who will forever remain by my side—"she was cut short by another jug of salty water pouring from her tired eyes. She felt weakened by the desolation drying her from within, rejecting her of a minute of cheerfulness.
Meters behind her, Zeno's lips were left parched and agape. A hasty weight pulled his chest, making the familiar deliquescing emotion envelop his thoughts, gradually burying the angst on his mind. He was unconsciously pushed to the edge of his conscience, and the strength of his fingertips drained. There was this abrupt feeling of discomfort on the sound of her cries. Do it, Ares…this is a trick…do it…now… he encouraged himself to draw the arrow once more, and slowly he repositioned himself to plunge the deadly tip on her flesh. But still he trembled, and the humidity of the air dipped him into another confused state. His mind battled with his heart, unable to choose whom he would obey. Finally he paused, and his arms lowered with a panic of revelation.
Between the dark and cold columns of the temple, two shadows emerged: twin boys. They were of the outward appearance of a youth; young and vibrant having all the energy and might as robust as sunrise. They are distinguished by a certain hue dominant on their hairs: one of dark purple, and the other, of deep blood. The sound of their names causes some whispers and clamor, sending chills down to anyone's spine: Phobos, the prince of fear, and his twin brother Deimos, the embodiment of panic. Both boys had the image of masculine youth and beauty having been born from Aphrodite's womb, yet possessing the in-depth devilish characteristics licking through the veins of the patron of bloodlust. They were children of adultery, and as much as they wanted to live peacefully, both were haunted by the continuous neglect of maternal love. Although their father had agreed to raise them, he had raised them as if soldiers born on barracks by amazons.
That night, as any other night, they crept upon their father's armory and took hold of his swords, sabers, and shields. There was no other thrill than to feel the power enveloping within the artwork of Ares' war weapons. The god had been absent for too long, and their lonesomeness caused them to experiment on mimicking a real battlefield. They made the silent night air clutter with clashes of blades and grunting, enjoying the time to be free from their father's constant nagging. Although laying a finger on a simple ball-and-chain from their father's armory will cause severe punishment, they were too engrossed with the idea of war that they are risking half of their lives. Being too busy had caused them to lose consciousness of the faint footsteps coming into their way.
"Gotcha!" Deimos swiped the sword on his brother's shield, completely tackling him on the ground. The red-haired adolescent god took joy on his twin brother's defeat. He continued to wrestle with Phobos, who was now pale not because of his fall but because he is looking at the caped shadow with raven eyes peeking out of its face. Deimos followed what his brother was looking at, and both were petrified to see that their nemesis had arrived from his earthly visits and had caught them in the act of playing with his weapons.
"F-father…" Phobos' lips immediately turned cold, "…you're back."
Both of them carefully laid the weapons on the floor with thundering pulses and terrified eyes. They remembered how they were locked for several days because of not being able to locate where they have thrown Athena's mortal body. The only thing they can be able to do is to wait for the appropriate punishment that Ares rewards to slaves.
Ares' godly form towered over them, his shadow signified the valor of his jubilant magnificence and glamour. His eyes scanned at his twin sons, and even he himself cannot determine how he felt noticing how their little fingers silently trembled. He can hear their nervous heartbeats, and can smell the fear sucking their bodies. His mind was in deep turmoil, acquiesced with the many on-goings of emotional changes licking through his synapses. He parted his lips, and a streak of sweat formed on his scalp. The twin boys waited with teary eyes, but had suddenly felt their hearts stop beating when their father took a step away from them with a puzzled face.
"Don't hurt yourselves…"
Ares' fingers curled into a fist, and sighed as he continued towards his chamber after speaking. Phobos and Deimos exchanged looks and stared at Ares' chamber doors as they shut with a loud thud. In their hearts they were refreshed that for the first time their father had spoken sweetly with a paternal advise. For the first time they felt at ease, they felt they had a father.
A white butterfly fluttered its delicate wings and lightly laid its tiny legs on the surface of Thanea's cheek. She stirred and placed the tip of her fingers where the butterfly had landed. The insect flapped its wings as it flew swiftly, evading the touch of Thanea's fingers. She slowly opened her eyes and felt the tickling sensation on her cheek disappear as she tugged herself to sit up from lying on the soft grass. She looked around with less focus. Her eyes felt heavy and it stung from the tears she had begotten. The soft breeze touched her skin once more, and she was struck with the chill. She saw the moon still high upon the black heavens, and it was then she reconciled herself how her eyes passed out from exhaustion of grief.
She wrapped her arms around herself and stood with a knee following the other. Her tunic was darkened with more dirt and she smelled like earth, yet her beauty can never be concealed although intrigued by her sadness. Her bare feet passed through the soft grass and she forced herself to move home although expecting nothing but pure destitution to sit by her side until the morning comes.
As she looked up at the house which sheltered her, a familiar suspicion drove through her and she moved slowly to examine. The lamps inside the house was lit, and she noticed that her door was ajar, indicating a presence of someone inside. She clenched her fingers and searched around for a weapon to at least protect herself. Finding a wooden club beside the log where she used to sit on lazy afternoons, she entered the house as cautious as a mouse. The silence was overwhelming, and the only sounds that sip through her were the cracking of flames on the fireplace. She positioned herself on the posts of the entrance through the kitchen, silently prayed for courage, and even though a cold sweat ran through her brow, she gripped on the wooden club which lay on her shoulder. She breathed out and eventually seized the kitchen with fierce eyes determined never to let herself be pulled by weakness. She searched swiftly for a robber, holding the club with cold hands but was met with such a miracle.
Thanea lowered the club upon seeing bulks of delicacies raw on her table. She swallowed and her hunger swerved within, creating a soft noise from her tummy. Her face turned into pure confusion as she walked to touch each edible material lain before her. It wasn't as grand as a buffet, but enough to feed her for four full days. She eyed the colorful fruits: watermelon, bananas, and most of strawberries and pears; a warm plump pastry, of grains and barley ready for the pot to boil.
On the edge of the table she found a note scribbled on a parchment and the feather pen beside it. The ink was smeared all over each imprint but enough for her to read such simple letters which caused the last tears she will be able to shed as of the day. Yet tears caused by comfort and joy as she smiled.
I must see you fat the next time I come…
Looking forward to taste more of your experiments.
Zeno.
To be cont'd on Chapter 9: Remember Your Hatred
~"Something's wrong with me... I know it. Something's just not right. I feel different...and it feels so wrong."
A/N: Ahhh... I can't believe it took a week for me to write this... (-_-) Please bear with the inconvenience of long updates x( I'll be updating this every week end from now on. And thanks for the responses, I won't need to cut chapters then! :D
Please Review! xD Thanks!
~AthenAres~