If I Choose You

Buddykilla

Caliban woke to the sounds of the Tunnel Slums, but Farina had vanished from sight. He sat up pondering if her image was a dream or not until a rustling sound pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced down to see a folded paper slipped into the lapel of his coat. He opened the paper to find a letter written in a beautiful script. The letter was addressed to him… from Farina. 'So she wasn't a dream.' Caliban thought happily. He read her note silently, hearing her voice repeat the words on the little page:

Sweet Caliban,

I apologize for leaving you a note instead of saying goodbye but I had an early morning errand in the East End that I couldn't set aside again. I'm happy to have met you and helped you. You have such a pained face my dear, I don't understand it. You have such a strong elegant persona and yet you seem so agonized, but I want you to know that you're not alone. You and I are not so different. Please remember this Caliban if anything else – Everyone has their scars some people are just good at hiding them. You and I are not my body was scarred too. So was my heart with it. Please never lose hope, there is a reason it never left Pandora's Box and I will never leave you. If you ever need me I will be there for you.
Sincerest Wishes,

Farina

Caliban read over the words again and again. Tears fell from his eyes as he read the letter. He never knew that someone could understand and want to be near him. That a woman he hardly knew would care and want to ease his suffering. Farina wanted that too; ending his pain and consuming it. She sensed he wasn't any ordinary human and she was right. She had left him to rest and shifted her form into a crow to follow his movements. She could not have expected him to be immortal, just inhuman. But he was an immortal man brought back from the grave by a man named Victor Frankenstein. A scientist who had dabbled in cheating death more than one time. Caliban had serviced his creator into crafting him an immortal woman, a mate, a bride to be with him forever. Farina flew away at night to the nearby countryside where her own creator had lived. Farina had been an artificial creation, like Caliban, to cheat death but instead of using science her creator was a witch who had used Fairie magic to make her from a corpse. She understood where this would go and a foreboding sensation filled her. She remembered when her creator had died attempting to make her an immortal mate as well. No good comes from tempting fate and the natural order and Farina knew this well. She shifted into her true form as she stepped onto her old homeland. Her ivory wings spread from her shoulders, her dark hair turned silver and her hazel eyes became crimson as her tan skin shaded into crackled clay brown, and brown twisted horns sprouted from her temples and folded against her hair.

"Oh Caliban, you know not what shadows you dance with." She sighed before stepping into her home. She had spells to research and circles to cast.

Days had passed and Caliban had not seen Farina and he began to worry. Her errand must have involved travel or perhaps work of some sort, but he couldn't let his worries distract him. He wandered through the grimy London streets darting his eyes in every window looking for a hiring notice. It was the fourth day in a row he had gone out of hiding in search of work and he was hoping he would be able to find some today. He began to worry though, it was almost four in the afternoon and nothing caught his eye.

"Caliban!" Caliban froze. He remembered that voice from heaven. He turned to see Farina dashing to his side from across the street. She had a steaming bread loaf tucked under her arm and her same black dress swayed majestically around her ankles. Seeing her standing gave him a full view of the young woman. She held obvious curves and moved like a dancer through the mass of passerby. Her midnight locks whipped around her slender neck and gentle framed face. The light outside highlighted her eyes to a brilliant yellow color. Farina smiled as she came up to him.

"I didn't know I'd be seeing you today."

"I was just taking a walk."

"Really; on a cloudy, grim day like this?" Farina gave him a skeptical look.

"I prefer clouds."

"To hide under during the day, right?" Caliban looked at her in surprise. Her expression showed no pity but understanding and sadness.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I guessed Caliban."

"John Clare."

"I'm sorry."

"My real name is John Clare." Farina smiled at that. She stepped to his side and wrapped her free arm around one of his. He flinched at the contact before relaxing. Farina smiled still, her eyes blazing.

"May I walk with you?" She asked weakly. John glanced at her, confused by her sudden changed. It was as if she was afraid he would say 'no' and send her away.

"No. It's fine Farina."

"Thank you John. Or do you prefer Mr. Clare?"

"John is – well – it's fine."

They walked in slow, quiet, casual conversation with their arms linked and chewing a few bit of the bread loaf Farina carried.

Victor Frankenstein left a small flat; with a sick child he recently treated, only to notice the most unusual sight. He saw his first creation walking in arm with a beautiful young woman. An obvious gypsy no less and felt a twinge of anger and fear rising in him. If his monster wanted a bride then why would he be spending such personal moments with a beautiful woman – a gypsy – instead of hounding work as he claimed had been doing for the past week? Victor slipped into a small group behind them and kept pace. He easily picked up on their conversation.

"Well I remember the cottage my mother raised me in. It's a quiet little farming land and it's quite large – enough for eight people – and I go back every few days as an errand but the carriage man who takes me back is only around with the morning growers. So when he sends in the produce for market he takes me back home with his profits. You would adore it there. It's a beautiful place filled with flowers of all kinds and I own a few animals. Cattle, sheep, and a few chickens. I also own three horses; two are fierce stallions and a sweet little mare." The gypsy said, handing his monster a scrap of bread. He smiled at her descriptions, names, and stories as they walked. Victor heard them discuss music, art, poetry, and so many other things together and a sudden thought wormed its way to his active thought. If his monster wanted a bride so badly, why not her? They got along well, she was enchanting for a society scourge, and it was clear that his monster was well taken by her. Victor continued tailing them for another hour before drifting away from them in anger.