Camp NaNo 2013 - Stellar Reflections (of star-crossing and twisting) - Day 01
Day One
Algorab
A storm was gathering above his roof. He could feel it in the bones of the old house as if they were his own bones. He didn’t need to look out of the window to see black accumulating or the old willow tree infront of his window swaying in a foreshadowing gloom. He knew all of this sitting in an armchair, his eyes closed. He had know that the storm was coming even when the sun had still been up. This house was part of him, part of his life; he knew what the house knew, he felt what it’s old wood felt. He could hear it talk. Talking to him. He had made his first steps upon it’s wooden floor and he had had his first kiss in it’s attic. He had seen his mother die in her bed in the room just across the hall and he had watched his siblings marrying and leaving. This house had seen him in his various stages of pretending to growing up and he was almost sure that it had cared more for him than even his own parents had. And he wasn’t really angry at anyone for that. It was just a fact, a truth that he had acknowledged a long time ago. He wasn’t even sure how long it was. The wind picked up a howling now, and he cursed silently to himself. A part of him wanted to get up and to close all window lattices so the storm couldn’t accidentially break a window. A part of him wanted to get up and look outside, watch natures righteious anger. But he didn’t indulge those wishes. The only movement he made was to open his grey eyes, castling a glance towards to ashes in the fireplace. Had he fallen asleep? He would have sworn that he had only just lightened this fire. He frowned, slightly, cursing his sister for taking their mothers old grandfather clock with her. He had no idea what time it was right now or, for that matter, what date. He spend too much time at home, he knew this. But as a writer there was not much reason for him to get out. The world outsite bored him a great deal, and the books he had here provided more worlds to him that he could ever wish to explore. Provided more intelligent conversations than he could ever care to dip into. Provided him with better company than he could ever hope to gain from the people of this town. Save, perhaps, from her. She always had her way of intruiging him and shaking his little world between the two covers of a book. With her messy black hair and those dark brown eyes, holding more mischieve than any mortal could ever come up with, she had always been able to lure him away from his books, outside. But that was a long time ago as well. He sighed once more, rubbing his forehead with his thin, long fingers. “Loreen….” It was an involuntary whisper that brushed as her name past his lips as he finally go up to put away the book that had been resting in his lap. A book about demons. “Yes, my love?”
He went to the shelf he had taken the book from, carefully tugging it away again, afore finally looking over his shoulder, reluctantly, with contempt. There she stood, in a red dress, her arms crossed over her chest. Her lips were of the same burning red as her dress was, a diamt ring mockingly glistening on her right ringfinger, her smile soft and understanding, her hip leaning agains the table with the old candelabrum on it, the only lightsource in this room. He frowned, had to look away as to not to despair as the image she was before him, looking up to the lustre in an empty attempt to cover up the ache in his chest. “It’s an electricity cut. The whole town is left in darkness. Seems you missed the lights going out, hm? In what book did you loose yourself this time?” He didn’t answer, instead he went over to the window. It was too late to go and shut the lattices now, the storm had already picked up. One was loose and swaying in the wind, hitting against the wall in an annoying rapping sound. He was about to turn away from the window again, ready to leave the room and to go outside regardless of the weather, when he felt her breath against the back of his neck, and, a moment later, her lips. His hands clutched the windowsill but he ceased any attempt to move. He just stood there, ridgid, for a moment drinking in the warmth she emitted and her perfume that engulfed him. Her right hand was pressed against his spine and he didn’t need to turn around to know that she was on her tiptoes to reach his neck, where he could still feel her breath linger. “You can’t ignore it forever, my love. You can’t ignore me forever. What is done is done. You can’t undo it by closing your eyes to it.” He heard the sorrow in her voice and a part of him wanted to react to it as he used to do. He would have turned around and embraced her, pulling her close, pressing his lips against her forhead and mumbling reassuring and empty promises that all would turn out okay, that she had nothing to worry about. But he wasn’t that person anymore and neither was she. They were so vastly different from what they used to be that it pained him. He let his head sink against the cold glass of the window before him, closing his eyes to the darkness outside, all the more drowning in the darkness in his own chest. The pain that was eating him from inside.
Loreen seemed to understand the gesture, her hand left his back, her dress shuffled ash she made a step back, slowly backing away from him. She sighed, as she always had when he had done something that had not pleased her. Her heels klicked on the wooden floor as she walked over to the armchair, and only then did he open his eyes again and turn around. She had her feet dangling over the arm of the chair so she could still face him, her head leaning against the backrest. The smile was gone from her lips and had made room for her pity and her own pain. Her stare seemed to beg him to do something, to tell her what she should do with him, but he had no answer to her silent chestions. “Lori.” He wished he wouldn’t sound so desperate but he had never been good at hiding his feelings from her, and just as he expected she understood without him saying anything but the old term of endearment. “Don’t call me that,” she whispered, for the first time tearing her eyes away from him. She stared at the old paining on the wall, his family heirloom, a picture of their parents in their younger times with their first born daughter standing infront of them in a white dress. It was as if she was asking his parents for some advice. His parents would have given it to her if they could, they had always loved her. His father had urged him to marry her, to maker her his wife, but he had been stupid back then. Young. Sure that he wasn’t ready for any commitment. Waiting till it had been too late and an old promise was the only thing that had lingered between them. “I really wish you wouldn’t call me that.” She crossed her arms over her chest once more, now again meeting his eyes. Determination had crept back into her almost black eyes, pushing away any pain, any regret that he had seen lingering there before. Determination and pride, mixed with an impatient hint of the anger that had been rising inside her fro some time now. That was so like her. She had never liked to show her weaknesses. Her only weakness, she had liked to claim, was him. And he had always been the one to make her loose her partience, the only one to make her blow up. He had been the only one.
She got up again, walking over to the door as if she wanted to leave. But she paused. Like she always did. Always had. Not able to just leave him here, leave him behind. A part of him felt content about this, in a sad and bitter way. Some things would never change, however much they both might have changed. Her hand rested on the doorknob and she didn’t turn around when she spoke thistime. “This can’t go on anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t come back here to take care of you, you know? I have my own life.” Her own life. A life he wasn’t part of anymore. Of cause. He turned away from her, walking over to another bookshelf, caressing the leatherbound company that was left of this sad excurse for a life he called his. Of cause she had her own life. And it wasn’t as if he had asked her to come. He had never done that, not even back then. She had come on her own. When they had been kids she had not even asked him if he wanted to play with her, when they had been teenagers she hadn’t asked for permission to use his books and as grown ups she had never even thought of asking before creeping into his bed. He had always welcomed her nonetheless. His sole company, his sole anchor. His one and only love. He turned around, ready to tell her to go, but the words wouldn’t come out of his throat. “Loreen.” Please. But she simply stood there, her hand still resting on the doorknob, her face still turned towards him. Silently crying. Despairing. “I wish I could forget you sometimes, you know? If this is how it’s going to be forever, than I wish I had never known you in the first place. Why can’t you just… why can’t you just go?” Tentaively he walked over to her. She didn’t move, didn’t even flinch when he was just an armlength way from her. Desperate to take her in his arms, embrace her, hold her, kiss her. Console her and promise her happiness. But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. And he took a step backwards, tearing away his eyes from hers. Hurt by her words he was, yes, but not surprised. She had said it all before and a part of him wished for the same. Wished for him to be able to go. But if that meant that she’d forget him… he couldn’t even bear the thought. He didn’t want her to forget, couldn’t have her forget him. He watched her wiping the tears from her face from the corner of his eyes, running a hand through her hair like she always did when she was exasperated, shaken and helpless. He watched her going over to the chandelabrum, taking it with both hands. Her hands were shaking and her grip was so tight that he could see her knuckles turn white. But her voice still was unsteady, wavering. “You will never do that, will you? Go, I mean. You will be here forever. Forever is such a long time, my love. I don’t have that time. You understand, don’t you? I can’t stay with you. I can’t go with you. We’re doomed.” She tore one hand away from the old metal to open the door, the candles flickering because of the cold air coming in together with the dust from the hallway. She looked back at him, once more. The pity was back in her eyes. “I will always love you. I wish we could have grown old together, but what is done is done. You have to move on. You have to leave this place, Fiachnar.” She left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving him behind in the gathering gloom. He stood there for a moment, letting her words sink, but as a lightning struck he whispered her name, once more. “Loreen.” Trying to say more, but nothing but a desperate croaking left his throat. He would never see her again. Not in this life.
(Cookiest to everyone who can guess what this is based on. I have a feeling it's not that hard.)