Chapter 6
Jean stared at her washed face in the mirror. She looked at it blankly for what seemed like the longest moments she ever lived. Years had passed and so had the seasons. Spring only blossomed once a year but it did so every year. No matter what changes in people's lives, spring would always be there to blossom. The roses would not change their colors and the sky would remain blue, covered with the clouds and touched by the sun. She was sixteen now and two years closer to her wedding.
She always thought a wedding should be about happiness and love. But to her, a wedding was going to be the sentence to her death. Jean brushed her hair quietly as she walked over to her window. She looked at the lightly blowing trees in the distance and wondered what they would say if they could speak. She also wondered why their branches were brown and their leaves were green and colored right now, in the autumn air. She wondered why gypsies were treated unequally when they were like everyone else, why she was betrothed to Duncan when marriage is about love, and why Kurtis Chagner spent time in the church if he did not have faith.
But Kurtis Chagner was the greatest mystery of all. Sometimes they would find him outside with a hat in his hand and they would not come near him. After the day of their encounter with Kurtis two years ago they decided to be sneaky and spy on him without being noticed, although Jean felt that he knew sometimes. Just as she feared her mother knew she went out with Scott all the time. But she feared her mother was beginning to take action. She was growing and able to pursue a romantic relationship whenever she wanted. Her mother could not risk that with two years until her and Duncan's wedding. Jean knew these things, yet could not abruptly leave her best friend behind.
She and Scott would take a visit to the cathedral alone every week to see Kurtis Chagner, but from afar. There were months where Kurtis Chagner was never there. They always questioned each other where he would be. But then they reminded themselves of Kurtis' sister, the Rogue. They had not seen her yet. The solution to that was that she needed light and food now and then and could not retrieve those things alone. But a solution is not necessarily the truth. People invented solutions to rid themselves of fear. Fear of the unknown. Humans always wanted answers, when life answered them in ways they did not realize. Time is one element that answered their questions. Sometimes time would make the questions they asked years before not important in the present.
When she was nine she asked what betrothed meant. Now she asked what love is. When she was fourteen she asked what this man named Duncan was all about. Now she wished to see Scott and no one else. When she was twelve she brought hatred in when she spoke of gypsies. Now she could not understand the people in her home and wished for the home Scott had. One week does not go by without Jean visiting Scott and his family. When she arrived her soul was overjoyed and her green eyes were bright. When she departed her tears made their way into her dim green eyes.
She watched the sun behind the trees and wondered when Scott would arrive. Today was one of those days when they would watch Kurtis from afar. They would watch him doing nothing harmful or questioning. They never had the bravery to see him uncover his face beneath his hood. But somehow she felt today was the day where she had to see Kurtis' face. No more fear. Although she knew it would not come true. Her desires, her outlooks on life would never come true. Scott would always tell her that she would soon be queen and have the ability to make her beliefs reality. But she knew it would not. Not with Duncan by her side. But she still smiled at Scott's support.
He was the Scott she knew when he was with her. But when he was with her Grandfather or his parents he seemed stone-like. He made sure his duties were fulfilled and his love shown not with words, but gestures. He learned how to parry from his father and no doubt he was the next leader in line for the gypsies. Yet they did not discriminate against him because he was not of their blood. Jean knew that when he becomes leader, it will be because he is qualified for the job. Not for the reasons of blood relation. Not because he was the heir to royal blood like in the past, some half-wit stated that you are of royal blood, like her family.
She wanted to think some more because she believed a person's mind is the greatest thing humans possess. But she knew that if she went any further she would be in her room all day. So where was Scott? Had he forgotten? Surprised at her fast beating heart, Jean licked her dry lips and started to tap her fingers lightly against the window sill. What if he had left without her? What if he had decided it was too dangerous for her and left by himself? How could he do that to her? He knew she was capable of anything he could do.
With that in mind, Jean quickly threw the rope that laid on the floor out the window. She made sure her dress was untouched as she climbed down and grabbed the rope to hide it behind the bushes. She wiped her hands together and ran to find a horse. When she found Scott she would be sure to show him a piece of her mind. He knew she had a fiery temper and he needed to watch out when she was mad, yet he went ahead and made her angry.
He would see.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The sounds of high pitched screaming rang through the smoke filled air. The fire burst it's sparks upon the innocent people around it. It ate up everything in it's path, blind of who was there. It swallowed hard without leaving any crumbs behind. The sight burned their eyes and the smoke filled their lungs. Men ran to their women and women ran to their young.
He rubbed his blue eyes stained with red lines from the smoke filling the air. He struggled to see his surroundings but he maintained his hearing abilities. He heard the screams of his people. The footsteps of fear. He felt the heat of the fire upon the side of his face and covering his eyes. He opened his eyes slightly to try and see who was on the horse that he heard the footsteps of. All he saw was a man with a hood over his head. Was the horse white or brown? Was the sky gray or white? He did not know, for he could not see.
"My baby, please stop!!!" a woman cried as he heard her footsteps running towards her child.
"Silence woman!" a high and unmerciful voice spoke. He heard a torch move through the air and screech to the dirt covered ground. He felt straw beneath his feet and quickly, yet quietly, hunched his back forward and scattered away from the straw. He felt the brick covered ground on the deserted area over the fresh dirt again and breathed a sigh of relief. He would not surrender for the sake of his people. But he needed to try and open his eyes. He had to open his eyes. But did he really need eyes to see? He knew death and destruction in his ears, in his heart.
Chains were wrapped around men's wrists and crushed upon their backs. His back had felt something behind it. He turned around and kneeled to the floor to feel and smell what lay there, in front of him. He heard the sounds of whispering cries. Soft, whispering cries. The loud cries seemed like a whisper in the cold autumn air full of disaster and hatred.
He felt the soft caress of tender skin. His eyebrows knitted together furiously. He caressed his hand over the body and made sure it was whole. He sighed relief from his heart and slipped his hand under the head of the baby. He swallowed stale saliva down his throat and made sure the baby's body was lightly lifted off the ground. He lightly wiped away the ash from the blanket the baby was bundled into. He made sure to hold the baby close to his chest. Goose bumps filled his body with coldness. He felt the need to escape as far as he could and never return. But he knew he had duties to fulfill, people to care for and help. His people. His family.
He felt the baby's cries and escaping breath through the heart beats of his finger. He was there to give the baby shelter and health. But the only question lingering in the cold gray air was, where was he supposed to go for shelter and health?
There was no where to run to.
He felt nothing but the cold breeze bump past his shaking body and rain shower down upon him.
Thunder echoing in the distance.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Her flannel dress floated across the cold floor. She held her heeled shoes in her hands and listened quietly with her ears. She was not waiting to hear the footsteps of Scott's but of Kurtis. Scott was nowhere in sight inside the church. Yet Jean still did not know why she was investigating this alone. She felt she needed to know the truth. She felt she could not know the truth when she was not in silence. Silence brought peace and warmth to her soul, which made her look past appearances.
Her alone met the gypsies. With Scott and his family, not her family and her. She could not have really gotten to know the gypsies if she was not in silence and peace with herself. She let her heart decide and her brain speak. Her eyes did not do the talking if they could not look past a person's pupil, and tour the inner circle.
Jean suddenly saw the circle of his shadow across the empty benches. She had never followed Kurtis into this room where people assembled for church on Sundays. She just felt secure with people around, although they were silent, praying. Jean put her hands together and closed her eyes. She whispered a small prayer and realized she had come in here because of fear. Fear of what she did not know. Fear of the shadow across from the gray stone pole she was hiding behind. She peered her head out to see the tips of a hood lean back against the stone pole across the room.
Jean's breath began to pace and she creased her eyebrows at what just happened. Jean and Scott had grown and experienced many new things supporting their maturity, but nothing could take away the fear they had of Kurtis Chagner and his unseen sister Rogue. Nothing. There was something about his story that made them shudder. The parts where he is supposedly a devil, his sister and him murdering their mother, and him chopping people's heads off. They presumed it had many things to do with that. On that day, they did not remember the salesman but those of who he spoke of. Who is the salesman for them to believe him anyways? But she knew she had to see his eyes to know, like she sees Scott's eyes and knows. Or feel his presence like she feels the presence of God in a church or Heaven when she closes her eyes.
Jean closed her eyes at that moment for strength. She peered her head out once again to find that he was not in sight. Was he hiding from the people who did not seem to notice him in the church or was he hiding from her? Jean shrugged the thought off when she saw a shadow stretch towards her white dress. Jean started to whisper low prayers at a faster speed now. She gasped quietly as she felt fingertips brush her hand and words whispered. Words that sounded like mumbling. "I am going to burn you," the words spoke in a bass sound.
Jean struggled to get free of his grasp and found it simple this time. She was much older and wiser now. She felt carved skin scratch against hers and ran to the other side of the pole to keep her distance. She peeked her eyes out to find an empty space. Oh no, Jean thought horrifyingly, where is he? She let out her breath that she did not realize she was holding. She hurriedly grabbed a candle from the candle holders on the stone wall and ran to the nearest steps she could find. She ran up the steps and into an open door, closing it behind her as she walked in. She found herself in a dark pitched room, with only the candle showing her one tall candle holder with three attached to it, standing next to a small wooden rod. She could not see what was to the side of the room. It was pitch black.
She heard the rain pounding against the tiny window atop of her head. Lightning streaked across the sky and she shut her eyes for fear of seeing him and being helpless. Thunder rumbled in her bones and she shuddered. She got down to the ground and held the candle close to her. She covered the flame with her closed fingers and folded hand.
The door suddenly creaked open and closed all in one second. Jean's breathing got heavy and fearful as it blew out the candle in front of her. Jean dropped the candle with her shaking fingers. She let out a surprised gasp and quickly covered her mouth. She heard footsteps approaching as she acted on instinct and began to crawl to the corner near the small window high on the wall. "I am going to burn you," the voice said closer this time as the sound of the fire burning on the torch was heard. Jean bit her lip hard and swallowed with a tight throat. She shut her eyes harder when she felt light upon them and the sound of the fire close. "I am going to burn you," he said with a higher pitched voice this time.
Jean dug her face in her knees and placed her hands over her head. "PLEASE MOUSIER CHAGNER!!! Don't burn me! Have mercy! This is a church for God's sake!" Jean cried between a cracked voice. Kurtis let out small breaths as he watched the girl rock herself back and forth. He held the torch over her head and let out his other hand as if to summon an unknown force. Jean squeezed her hands harder together and waited. The torch felt nearer as she felt the heat of the fire on the surface of her skin.
She began to think of all the things she could accomplish in life. She saw her thoughts flash through her in seconds. Maybe Scott was right, maybe she could change and rule a country on her own. Maybe with Scott beside her she could accomplish anything. What if she never gets to show Duncan and her parents that she is more than a pretty face? What if she never experiences the feelings of love and pain that would make her stronger? There was only one life you could live and time does not care for the concept much. It expects humans to take advantage of it on their own will. Would she be able to support an ideal Utopian society? Would she ever hold a baby in her arms? Would she ever excel in learning how to read people's expressions? Would she be able to save another bird's nest? Would she ever be able to tell Scott how fond she was of him inside and out? Would she ever be able to tell him how much she loved him? Wait…… what did she just think?
Jean's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fire swinging through the air. A banging sound rung in her ears and she flinched. She was definitely dead. Jean felt her skin beneath her fingers. She heard her hard breathing and fast beating heart in her ears and throat. The torch had swung past her and onto a rusty metal holder above her head. "I am not going to hurt you. I am not going to hurt you," the voice repeated loud and clear for the first time ever. The words he spoke were not as she had heard. They were kind and gentle. For the first time, the words were not mumbled. They rang loud and clear in her ear for her to realize he meant no harm.
Jean opened her terrified green eyes slowly and looked up through her folded arms. She saw the dark hooded figure standing over her with his two hands in each other's sleeves. He began to walk rapidly to the corner on the other side of the wall Jean had been hiding against. She lifted her head slowly with an enclosed mouth. She could not move it or open it for lack of speech. What was she supposed to say to the odd and mysterious man she had finally had an encounter with after two years? So many questions, so little time to think. So she just watched.
Kurtis had already lit a candle with the fire from the torch. Jean had failed to notice that beautiful candle lit when he walked in the room. It was right in front of her yet not visible to her blind eyes. But now she made sure to use them wisely. She watched some more. She watched as Kurtis held the candle with his hidden hand very tenderly. It seemed as if he couldn't hurt a fly. Jean wondered how he ever had the heart to murder his mother?
The candles lined up to the side of the wall were lit dimly which brought a warm glow to the room. Jean's white dress looked as if it were made of snow and she took the time to appreciate that. The light of the candles and the presence of the Mousier gave her the feeling of worship to the rain still beating harshly against the window. She watched slowly and waited until he calmly finished lighting all the candles to both sides of the wall. He paced over to Jean with his back hunched. Jean did not blink or take her stare away from him. She watched as he let out his shaking hand. Jean watched his figure beam over her and knew she had to do it.
She was not afraid. Not anymore. So she placed her delicate fingers, the middle one wrapped with white string that came from the sleeve of the dress, into his touch. She allowed him to lead her as she made her way up from the floor. She kept her eyes on him and her mouth closed with a straight line. Her eyes were anticipating everything happening to her at this moment.
He grabbed a freshly lit candle and led her over to the candles on the stands of three that had not been lit yet. He held her wrists with his shaking fingers and moved to the back of her. She followed his lead and rotated her hands with him. She lit the candles slowly and quietly. After she was done walking over to all the stands, with Kurtis behind her, they both stopped. He placed his hands to the side of her face and tilted it upright. Jean watched the candle's flame burning in her eyes and never looked away. She closed her eyes to see red. She felt Kurtis' voice from the back speak quietly.
"A candle's light does not only burn one color."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The rain pounded against the fire, fire overpowering the strength of the rain. The fire burned the wood and straw covered on the ground around them. It burned the children and it even captured the strong-willed. He stumbled from his own feet while running away from the cowering horse behind him. He felt one sword after another hit the ground as he tried to dodge them. He flipped himself over so he fell on his back with the baby still in his arms, safe and sound. Scott coughed from the smoke in the air barely opening his eyes. He struggled to see what was in front of him. Yet he still heard the baby's cries in his ears. When he heard the cries he headed into a carriage he had just noticed hidden behind the smoke. The horse's master growled with anger as the horse backed away from the smoke.
"Scott!" his mother's voice spoke wisely yet in fear and slight panic. She breathed a sigh of relief as she kissed his forehead and looked at the baby. Scott's hope flourished at the sound of his mother and so did his eyes. The smoke was slightly gone and he made sure to look at his mother long enough for his eyes to fill with happiness.
"Mother! Thank God you are safe," Scott said as he bent his head slightly towards her. "Her mother was slaughtered."
"Your father has been injured and then captured. Scott, I fear that this is the worse attack that I have seen yet."
"Why do they do this Mother?!?"
Fire began to fill the wooden carriage as Scott grabbed his mother by her arm and escorted her out of the carriage from the other side with the baby in his arms. Scott landed with his feet on the ground, baby to his chest, as Ororo fell forward, her forehead pounding the ground. Her eyes shut and her lungs filled with smoke. Scott held the baby tightly in his arms as he watched his mother. He tried to be brave as he kept his emotions inside. But he knew it was hopeless when he watched the fire surround the middle of the temporary home of the gypsies as the smoke seemed to get higher and higher. Sparks flew and smoke filled the air. The fire began to make it's way towards them. "Mother, your hand," Scott whispered more to himself than to his unconscious mother. He let out his hand to grab hers. Yet he did not feel her touch. Instead, he felt his body thrown forward, inches from the fire. He moaned with pain as his back felt like it had broken the hard ground.
The baby had fallen from his arms at the surprised attack of the man who was still following him. He would not sleep on his pillow until he got rid of Scott. But Scott struggled to let himself up and not give in, yet all he managed to do was get on his knees and take a breath with his palms pressed to the ground. He tried to keep the pain in his back off of his mind, yet he could not get it off his body. The fire began to make it's way into the five senses of his body. He looked up to find a hand grabbing his mother's and lifting her hurt body up to her feet. Her body was limp and leaned back against the front of the man's body as he placed her on his horse and chained her wrists together. He held the sword out to place it with roughness against the middle of Scott's neck. Scott quickly jolted back. He turned it into a painful back flip, forgetting about his hurt back, and landed on his feet. The man, dressed as their leader, uncovered his hood.
His face had familiarity with Scott's eyes. Had he seen this man before. He could not see him clearly through the smoke but Scott knew the hooded man could recognize him through it. All Scott could see was piercing blue eyes and golden hair covered with a little bit of ash. He could never forget the stare the ice blue eyes were giving him at that moment. So much hatred and prejudice. Something dark to his soul as if it's purpose in life was to hunt. The word perfect was defined differently to every person. Perfect to this man did not include a society with gypsies as citizens.
The man revealed a dagger beneath his black cape and aimed it towards the helpless baby Scott had no time to get to, lying on the ground. He took advantage of Scott's distracted eyes and heart to hold out his sword to Scott's chin. The man laughed at the non-living baby. "If you start when they are young, they won't be a problem when they are older," he said as he rotated the sword to the side of Scott's chin. "Gypsies were put on this earth to be eliminated and make those great even greater," the blond man said gruffly. "Stealing is a crime. Reading palms is a myth. And dancing is a fairytale. Life is reality and your death is truth." The sword pulled his chin up as Scott kept his jaw line tightened and his face showing no fear or any kind of emotion. "Good-bye."
Scott kept eye contact with the slightly blurry man's iceberg eyes. Everything became blurry to his worn blue eyes. He realized life had not given him many chances that he took advantage of. He had not even had the chance to say good-bye to the woman that he loved. Jean would be heart broken. But Scott witnessed Heaven's light appear before his own eyes. It was not his time to say good-bye for a miracle had saved his life.
What kind of miracle? He knew not. He tried to take in everything that was happening at the moment while he worried about his parents and his people. He tried to watch a sword, with a mysterious and hidden owner, that was back to back on the leader's sword. It carved his thumb slightly as the leader yelled out with anger. Scott noticed the crowned symbol on the top of his blouse. It had a crown with two swords placed through it. The leader saw the fire filling the area more rapidly and ignored his battle. He hopped on his horse with Ororo placed on the back, and rode away. Mother!!! Scott's heart, that was now in his throat, exclaimed with pain. His strength became weakness and his heart frail. He was helpless. He dropped to his knees and bent his head forward with sadness to be face to face with the burning ground.
A cold hand suddenly touched his arm through his torn beige blouse. Scott gasped and looked up to find no one. An empty space. What? he asked himself. But all his questions disappeared from his mind when he felt the fire burning deep within his skin. He had to get out, but how? He was surrounded and trapped by fire and burning flames.
He envisioned the sight of his scattering people fleeing from the unmerciful soldiers and his parents taken away from him. With that in mind he leaped through the flames and felt his body gasp fire and exhale smoke. His voice did not let out one whisper. Nothing. He kept the pain and bruises inside. No one ever saw him cry. No one could ever see him helpless. His people needed him to be strong-willed and wise for them.
After he leaped out of the two seconds in the fire he ran. He ran straight until he felt the cold rain splash against his burning skin and clothes. He had to help his people, so he kept running. He was lost in the middle of the chaotic crowd when his hurt back could not handle anymore.
He fell to his knees in defeat to his body. He heard his heart beating at a full speed and horses footsteps leaving. The soldiers left when the fire increased. People's voices were still booming as they looked for their young and their husbands and wives. Scott sighed with relief but gasped at the pain in his back. He placed his tight fists on the ground to contain his pain. If the future leader of his people could not handle pain and could not be there for them, then who will they have left?
They would not have the king and queen, for they do not take care of all of their people. They lived in France, yet were an outcast to their own country. Who would be there for them?
He had to be strong.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
She slapped her feet against the horse to make it run faster. The horse sped up it's legs that were dug into the soil of the woods. But Jean was aiming for a destination past the woods. A place behind many trees and mounds of soil. To the gypsies temporary home. They would move from home to home but always the same people again and again. Jean was eager to tell Scott what happened with her, after she gave him a piece of her mind for not coming to her.
Jean whipped the horse with her legs one more time to speed it up when she felt herself rise half-way in the air. She slipped off her horse and hit her side in the edged branch of a tree. She stumbled on the dirt covered ground and felt an aching pain in her side as she moaned and watched her horse escape from the smoke in the air. She covered her mouth and began to cough. She heard loud screaming, chaotic people's feet running. What was happening? Was there some kind of war that she did not know about going on?
Jean pulled herself up and dared to open her eyes. She took a deep breath and opened her green eyes to the world around her. Flames sprouted in the distance as she swallowed hard. She began to pick up her feet and run past the trees and leaves as they became a blur to her. When she felt brick beneath her feet she stopped. Her shoulders breathing up and down and her body frozen.
She felt a wave of pain wash over her. She knew something was wrong. Something was wrong with Scott. She felt his heart pounding. She felt her heart pounding. She felt the rain pounding against her stringy red hair. She tilted her face back to feel the raindrops waking her from her dreams and caressing her skin.
People who were running past her slowed down as the rain came down harder and helped a little with the fire. They began to slow down when they found their loved ones. Jean's heart began to slow down when she found her loved one.
He was on his knees in the middle of the road covered with smoke and fire on each end. Disaster of broken wooden carriages and stages. Her heart sank when she saw him helpless on his knees. So she began to walk. One foot in front of the other.
Scott saw white before his eyes. He knew who it was. He could not let her see him like this. So he kept his head down as he watched the rain wash across the ground. Light thunder rumbled within the earth as Scott shivered when he felt her touch.
Jean had crouched on two knees, inches away from him, and placed her hands around the sides of his face. She touched his skin so tenderly and lifted it to meet her eyes. Jean's eyes had to blink back tears at the pain she saw in his eyes. For the first time ever, she had seen him helpless and weary. She let out a breath she had been holding and slowly entered his blue eyes.
Scott's heart melted when she allowed herself to enter his eyes at that moment. He saw her wince at the pain and sorrow. He tried to hold back the tears, but he couldn't. They escaped his eyes and synchronized with the rain falling onto his heated face. One more look into Jean's warm green eyes made him explode. To his surprise, sobs began to escape through his mouth.
He closed his eyes as Jean pulled him close to her and he cried into her collarbone. He placed his limp arms around her back as she cupped the back of his head with her fingers. He did not make a gesture to free himself of her arms and Jean held on tightly and never let go. He inhaled her flowering scent and felt the rain upon her skin. What a relief to smoke filled lungs. They began to rock each other back and forth as Jean shut her eyes and placed her cheek upon his wet hair. Tears streamed down her face as they both felt their bodies shaking, still rocking each other back and forth.
Noises settled down around them and voices were heard in the back, but no words. Fire surrounded the place. Yet all Jean and Scott felt was rain.
Scott held on tighter to her and got lost. He never made his way back, for he was lost. No one had ever seen him cry, no one. Except for Jean.
Scott let go of his bravery and allowed his tears to flood his face and Jean's upper chest. They ran down his hot face as his sobs increased. They both held each other in their arms and rocked to and fro.
They just rocked each other, as if there was no tomorrow.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Note I need to taste the beauty of reviews. Feed me! My seventh chapter is already finished. But I won't post it until I hear ideas, comments, intelligent responses from outspoken words and thoughts. Please……I need to know if my readers are enjoying every moment in my story and if it's powerful enough for them. By-the-way, Kurtis (Kurt) is more like the movie and comic Kurt than Evolution Kurt. I know! But he would probably become like that if he grew older in Evolution……