Wanders: Ascension
By Eve
Part Two: The Goddess Descends
A.C 202
18 January
Madrid, Spain
Death.
It had never been a foreign concept her. She lived, she breathed, and
she saw death. It lurked in the city, in every corner and every body; it
taunted her calling for her to take its hand.
Death.
She and it were one.
She wandered through the city slowly, taking in all the changes that
had occurred since she left. The poverty level had risen as well as the
level of crime and unemployment, yet the city itself remained
untouched. The beauty of the city still shone in full glory to those
who could appreciate it. She marveled at how well keep the old parts
were and how the cathedrals continued to have an aura of mystery to
them.
Madrid.
The city of wonder.
The city of enchantment.
The city that wasn't her home.
She was born in Pamplona, another of Spain's most prized
cities. She was born into luxury, but never really had the
experience of the concept itself.
She was never home.
She wasn't allowed to be home.
She had been banned by contract. In order for her to be reunited
with her family, she would have to serve her required fifteen years.
Bullshit.
She came to the entrance of the graveyard, letting out a shaky sigh.
Slowly she brought her figures up and traced the gold lettering.
The Resting of the Untouchable Ones.
This was her final destination every time she came to Madrid. Yet,
she never could bring herself to enter.
"Que pasa, mi chiquita? Why won't you enter?"
She whirled around in surprise, coming face to face with an old priest.
"Padre...," she stammered. "Lo siento, I did not see you."
The old priest gave her a small smile and motioned for them to enter.
Six years, she thought bitterly. Had she really been that scared to face
everything? She walked in silence next to the priest, letting him lead.
The graves of the Untouchables were scattered all around. She noticed
that very few graves had any flowers or objects of remembrance.
"People are afraid, chiquita. No one likes the past," the priest said as if
he had read her mind. He let out a sigh. "But you, chiquita, you are
different. It is almost as if you are seeking solace from here."
She said nothing, surprised at how close he was to her feelings. He
was right though. This was the closest she was to home. This was
the only place where she could throw away her masks. "Padre, por
favor... Yo tengo una pregunta. Did you experience any of the war?"
The old priest shook his head. "No, I was living under the protection
of the Royal family. Fuiste?" They came to a grave that was located
underneath a large willow tree. It was almost like the tree was
sheltering the grave. They stood at a distance staring at the grave.
She rolled up her sleeve and held it in front of the old priest. Six small
black numbers stood out on her wrist, accompanied by several red scars.
"Then your comments are only words."
She then walked closer to the grave, leaving the shocked priest
alone. She then called over her shoulder, "Gracias, Padre. It's
the thought that counts."
Sighing, she turned back to the original point of her focus. The
grave was worn and dirty. The letters could barely be made out.
She gently lifted her fingers and traced the letters softly.
And for the first time in years, she cried.
She actually cried.
"Adam," she whispered brokenly. "Oh God, I'm so sorry." Her eyes
filled with tears, but they never fell. "You should be here, walking and
talking with everyone and living life to its fullest..."
She sighed, bringing her knees to her chest and her leather jacket
closer to her body. The wind gently pushed her long ebony hair
out of her face.
"I'm here for two reasons," she began again, calming down. "The first
is because it's the anniversary of the war, obviously and I have been
neglecting coming back... I know I could use the contract or even the
mission as excuses. You're probably looking down at me thinking that
I'm totally fucked up. Well, muchacho I got news for you. I have been
ever since I've set foot in the living. I guess I just wanted to say that I
was totally selfish for not coming. But I was afraid..."
She stopped talking and looked down. It was amazing how hard it
was to talk to a dead love one. She took a deep breath and began to
talk again.
"My second reason is more like a question. I have one more mission
and then my contract is over and finally I can go ho... home. But I
have a chance to deny it. The only problem is I'll never see my family
again. Stupid council... I know this is a stupid question, but honestly I
needed to get it out."
To an observer, the young woman was quite a vision. She wore black
leather pants with a midnight blue turtleneck. Over top of it she wore
a knee length leather jacket and a pair of three-inched heel boots. If
closer, one could see her face was expressionless and unmoving. Her
long ebony hair blew wildly into her face, which was obviously Spanish
decedent. But the most stunning characteristic of the young woman
were her eyes.
Sea Blue.
Her eyes were dark, filled with longing and longing only. She
wanted to be free. Free from the eternal prison her parents
had entered her in.
"I just wanted you to know that I haven't forgotten anything. I
just don't know if I can do this. It's too many memories..."
The wind blew even harder than before, reprimanding her for
her statement. She sighed. "I just don't know how I'm going
to become me again."
She was met with nothing but silence.
She pushed herself up and brushed grass from her pants. The
wind began to pick up again, as if it were telling her something.
Remember...
Her eyes closed.
Remember the life before...
For the first time in her life, Hilde Schibecker knew what
she had to do.
The Goddess of Death, Persephone was descending to earth.
**