"What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness, and say, 'This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you, all in the same sequence. The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned and you with it, dust of the dust!' Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon? Or would you answer, 'Never have I heard anything more divine'?" – Friedrich Nietzsche
…
Divine
There had to be a painting, somewhere, perhaps in another world of this precise moment. Of this moment where Erik stood, insolently rooted to the spot; a tree that had sprouted roots into the depths of clay and dust. She could see the horror within his eyes; he could sense it, no…he could feel it. Not simply a passing or fleeting glance, but a direct opening into the depths of his soul. She could see it clearly. And if the daylight had not shown its face, if he had stood in complete darkness; Christine still would have seen the glimmer of melancholy that was swinging like a pendulum between the strings of his heart.
Her eyes had dropped to his hands rather quickly; she had seen the tight wrappings, the nightmarish white against the skin of his hands. She had looked back up then, but it was more than a look; she was seeing him, all of him. And she still stood in front of him as she had in the field; fiercely, without pity or fear in her eyes. She stood with a simple glow of something infinitely more beautiful; a feeling he could not quite place or describe. It was perhaps the feeling of being home, when the evening light had settled in, and he was alone, and the fire was blazing in the hearth; and Magnus lay at his feet…
But now, home smelled different to him in this moment. Was she there now, in the parlor of his mind? Would she clean up the shattered remains of the shredded designs; could she look past the terrors of the night that screamed from within his very spirit?
Home now smelled of a lavender field. It smelled of her; of her warmth, of her embrace in the cool night air. And here she stood in front of him, misplaced within the commotion of the workers that surrounded them. And she had smiled at him. And then she stepped forward, grabbing him suddenly into a tightly bound embrace.
"Erik," she whispered in his ear. He almost broke down then, in front his workers, in front of the twins who were eagerly calling out Magnus's name, over and over. He bit his bottom lip to keep the tears from rising up, and squeezed her arms tightly to let her know…
Something happened. I have done something terrible.
Christine pulled back from their embrace slowly, drinking in the entirety of the emotions that betrayed the hardness in his eyes. She grasped his hand softly, for it was tender and bandaged; but she gave it a little squeeze. It was a symbol, their symbol; for travelling through the dark forest path.
I am here, with you.
He took a deep breath. She would understand. Her eyes spoke this truth into the atmosphere, as plain and simple as rain fell from the sky during a storm. She was here, holding his bandaged hand lightly. She was redemption, she was salvation; she was simplicity, she was divine. Did God give him this, after all that had been done? Did even demons deserve forgiveness?
"Erik!" Lillian's joyous song of a voice rang out, grasping him from his thoughts of God, of Christine; of darkness and redemption. He released Christine's hand carefully, but not before returning her gentle squeeze from his wrapped up hand. He saw the creases of her mouth curve into a delicate smile.
Erik knelt down in the dust, planting his large hands on his hips. "What can I do for my angels today? Would you like to walk around the site?" his voice was playful now, with all sense of sorrow gone from his eyes.
Lillian and Marie jumped up and down, ecstatic from his gentle invitation. "Yes, we want to see what you are building!" Marie exclaimed, spreading her arms wide like a tiny sparrow about to take flight.
"A knight that builds things," Lillian answered her sister thoughtfully. "Do knights always build things? Is that…your job as a knight? Besides killing monsters," she giggled. Erik raised his eyebrows; one perfectly dark arc and the other, pink with overlapping scars. "A knight can do many things, my princesses. Architecture is simply something we must all learn; it is a…prerequisite to knighthood, I suppose you could say."
The twins stood with mouths agape, eager to have uncovered another secret about their mysterious protector. Erik threw back his head and laughed; a laugh that was so deep and melodious that Christine's heart fluttered violently. She smiled, smoothing her hands on her skirts to keep the continuous sweat from dripping down her palms.
Erik stood up; a statuesque man in his element. His knees were covered in dribbles of earth, and his raven hair was sprinkled with tiny pinches of dust. "Come, I shall show you the entirety of it. Keep in mind, it is not yet complete. So I beg of you, do not judge my work until it is completed," he said with a wry smile, flashing his teeth to Christine. She blushed profusely, and grabbed the twins by their hands.
"Erik, can I ride on your shoulders this time?" Marie blurted, tugging at her frock anxiously. "Lill got to at the marketplace, and…well, I want to see the tops of everything too!"
Erik turned dramatically and kneeled on the ground, right in front of the little girl who awaited his response apprehensively. "But of course, little rose. It is my honor," he said quietly, through a smile so wide his cheeks dimpled. And again, as if it were a trick of the eyes, or perhaps by magic; he swept her up in one Herculean movement. And there she sat atop his shoulders, her pale hands resting in the dark of his hair.
"Your hair is really soft!" Marie declared, patting its surface with her hands. "Just like a raven's feather!"
"Twin, you've never touched a raven's feather! How would you know?" Lillian laughed from below, swinging her mother's hand back and forth.
Marie looked thoughtful, as if the height from Erik's shoulders had suddenly given her a striking and profound wisdom. "I have in a dream, once," she replied. "Erik, does that count?"
He tugged on one of her legs teasingly. "Perhaps, little one. For our dreams are sometimes more real than the life that we live. But not always," he added hastily, blinking away dreams he had dreamt, yet had wished desperately to disappear. Christine noted his expression and sighed. She would speak to him later, in private. She would find a way to unravel the bandages; to unravel him, perhaps if only to soothe the wounds that lay underneath.
The four journeyed around the edges of the building that was in the midst of being born; but as for now, it looked like a half sketched drawing on a filled in canvas. Erik explained each intricacy as they made several stops, nodding to the workers that were covered in dirt and clay. Magnus had come bounding up when they were halfway around the perimeter of the site, his black fur peppered with gray and white sand. Lillian stopped to hug the dog tightly, and Christine knelt down to stroke him between his ears. His nub of a tail wagged ferociously in the earth as he greeted them.
Christine was listening intently to Erik's descriptions of each structure; the idea that one structure built off another; that one could not exist without its counterpart being in place. Suddenly she touched him on the arm, looking deeper into the vaults where the workers chipped away at the earth. "Erik…what is this building to be, in the end?"
He turned to her slowly, as if choosing his next words quite carefully. "It is to be a chapel."
"How beautiful, Erik. How simply…divine," Christine murmured. "I cannot wait to see its finished product."
"It will take months to complete, perhaps longer," he replied. He looked into her eyes then, deeply, as if forging the unbreakable bond between the two of them with his insatiable and hungry eyes. "You…you will still be here, will you not?"
"Yes," she answered tersely. "We all will. And I would love to get a full tour of the interior…that is, once it's completed."
"Erik?" Marie asked suddenly. "Do you believe in God?"
His body tightened up, and his mouth formed a thin line. "Yes, little rose, I do."
Lillian bobbed alongside Erik, pulling her mother along with her. "Do you believe in Angels? Maman says they're like warriors; with faces like lightning! Do you think that's true?"
"Hmm," Erik answered thoughtfully – he might have ran a hand through his hair, but Marie sat on his shoulders, her tiny hands resting in the spot he so anxiously wished to push at, to pull at. He resisted the urge silently. "I do. I have read somewhere that they are fearful to behold."
"What do you mean fearful? That they're scary to see?" Marie asked incredulously, folding her small fingers on the top of his head.
"Yes," Erik replied, continuing his stride through the bumpy perimeter of the site. "It is said that they are beings we cannot see – that we are not supposed to see. They live in a different place than us, but they only show themselves to us when absolutely necessary."
"Like when?" Marie inquired, eyes wide and struck with a profound curiosity.
"When we need them," Christine responded quietly. "They show themselves only when we need them the most. But they are always guiding us, watching us."
Lillian turned to her mother excitedly. "Maman, have you ever seen one?"
Christine smiled down at her daughter, but more secretly to herself than anything. She looked up at Erik, who had turned around at her simple response. "Yes," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "I believe I have."
Erik's mouth quivered. He knew what her eyes meant to say, what they whispered through the words she had uttered ever so delicately.
"Well Christine, I must ask you this," he said as he began his stride forward once more, with Lillian, Christine, and Magnus following closely behind. "Did this angel…frighten you?"
"No, not at all. If anything he…he was quite intriguing. He came to me when I least expected it. Like all angels do."
"Hmm," was Erik's soft reply. "Did he wear bronze armor? Or have a face made of lightning?"
Christine laughed. "No, but he wore another sort of armor…upon his heart."
Erik turned back to her, his eyes drinking in the depths of her mind, of the words she had spoken, of the soft love that lingered in the air between them. "I see," was all he could utter, all he could say. He merely stared at her, unmoving for a moment; stuck between the urge to grab her chin and kiss her fiercely, or to stand there with his hands at his sides, with her daughter perched upon his broad shoulders.
…
As the sun began to climb its way down to settle into the horizon, many of the workers had begun to clear out, each nodding to Erik as they made their way past him. Some had stopped to discuss certain discrepancies with him, and Erik had corrected – with certain precision, any of the issues the workers brought to light.
Christine stood with the twins a few feet away, waiting to bid him adieu, yet again. Her heart panged for this moment; she had wanted time to slow itself down so that she could watch him in his element. His eyes were ablaze while talking with a few of the workers; a passion that burned in the charismatic way he motioned with his bandaged hands.
Finally, the last of the workers had left him, and Christine stepped forward, her heart burning with longing, with pain that spoke of their departure from one another. Each and every time she saw him; it was that much harder to let him disappear into the woods – to utter the word 'Goodbye'.
Erik turned and closed the distance between her and the twins, kneeling down into the dirt as both girls threw their arms around his neck. "Thank you for today, Erik. I missed you so much," Lillian whispered into his chest where she had buried her face.
"Me too, Erik, I missed you just as much!" Marie piped up, squeezing him as hard as she could. "When will we see you and Magnus again?"
"I shall come by the house tomorrow evening, how does that sound? That is, if it is all right with your mother," he said softly, lifting his eyes to Christine.
She nodded quickly, trying to hide her smile. "Yes, but of course. And I know Claudia would love to see you."
Erik rose up from the ground as the twins released him from their embrace, parting his lips as he looked at Christine. He closed the distance between the two of them sharply, pulling her into a rough embrace. She almost gasped out of surprise, but instead laid her head in the crook of his neck. Suddenly his lips were brushing her ear, and she shivered at his dangerous and powerful touch.
"I will come get you tonight at 8'o clock. We shall go to Le Déviant," he drawled in her ear. He hesitated near her earlobe for a moment, tantalizing her…then pulled away gently. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips.
"Yes," she said breathlessly, her heart swirling for time with him, alone…but in public? Was he that daring of a man? Surely he only wanted to meet to talk…surely kisses could only be given in the dead of the night…
"It is a tavern, one of my favorite establishments. I shall be waiting at your doorstep, after I wash up, of course," he added, brushing some dust from his hair.
"Yes, I…I will be ready, for you." she whispered. "I…I cannot wait."
"Until then, sweet beauty," he whispered, bowing his head.
And he turned away from her with his beast trotting at his heel, his whisper still on the edge of her earlobe, prickling its way down the back of her neck, chilling her spine devilishly, arduously…
He was an angel, this she had decided. Had she always known? He was simply a bit different; an angel with clipped wings, not nearly as large as his counterparts…with bandages on his hands, leather around his waist, and armor around his heart. But all angels wore armor. And all were God-sent, and all showed up at the exact moment they needed to…and all were exquisitely divine.
…
Author's Note: Thoughts? Feelings? All feedback is deeply appreciated :)