Lola slumps against the abrasive trunk, sliding down the tree into a crouch where she was out of sight, her chest throbbing from the cacophony of uneven beats. She had been running for days, having practically no time for sleep. Shuddering against the bark, Lola wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to bring warmth back into her wind blown, cold body. Peeking up at Lorelei, Lola presses her lips together as she tilts her head, questioning what the woman was doing.
With a dismissive flick of her hand, Lorelei crouches in the maze of tree roots to the left of Lola’s hiding spot, her jade hued eyes affixed to the distant group of mercenaries no doubt tracking them. Despite it having been days since they left the neutrality of Liveta, making the harrowing four day journey through the eerie no mans ground between regions. Naturally the pair were being tracked and followed, a huge bounty upon Lola’s head. The only reason Lorelei was in no danger was because the law didn’t apply to her; and how could it? How could a law preside over Death Incarnate?
Lorelei narrows her eye at the distant silhouette of a group in the Misty banks, stringing her bow with an arrow easily the length of her alabaster, slender arms. Lola swallows thickly as he holds her body close to the tree, not even daring to breathe in the unlikely event such a thing distracted Lorelei’s focus. Of course, Lola knew better than to doubt the woman’s skills, but over the weeks of shared companionship and a singular goal, Lola had found herself worrying for the safety of the tall, mysterious woman more and more often.
Standing tall at the average height of a man, Lorelei was an absolute enigma to Lola. Despite being raised in a community of warrior women, she had never met anyone as quietly terrifying, someone so seemingly truthworthy and simultaneously ruthless. She had bore witness to Lorelei’s rage the last time she got injured. The memory of blood splashing across the dirtied skin of her cheeks days prior, of Lorelei slitting one mans’ throat simply for staring at Lola for too long. Lola swallowed anxiously as she leant her head back into the cradle of branches, her eyes still attentively locked on Lorelei.
Her form was perfect, her lithe and capable body arching as seamlessly as her bowstring as she let the arrow fly, followed by six more in quick succession. Lola stared out of both awe and disbelief, watching streaks of smokey black fly across the dense, misty bough of trees hit true. Hearing the tip of flesh, and the gasps of death, Lola shrunk back into the tree further.
She had seen so much abuse and death in the short span of her life so far, she almost couldn’t bear it.
With a near silent sigh, Lorelei strung her bow onto the harness fashioned over her chest and back, pushing a pale hand through her thick locks of ebony hair. She pressed her lips into a somber line as she walked to Lola, taking the shorter woman’s face into her cold fingers with a look that rendered Lola entirely silent.
They remained utterly still, Lola’s face grasped with unnerving gentleness, staring deeply into each other’s faces as if trying to read whatever lay behind their expressions. Lola raised her hand, gently setting her hand over Lorelei’s, pressing the cold fresh into her cheek and sighing in relief, enjoying the nip of cold that confirmed she was real. She wasn’t alone anymore. She could survive this.
Lorelei’s lips curled into a softened smile, a rare sight that only Lola got to see, as she swiped her finger across Lola’s cheekbone. “I need to tell you something before we cross the forest,” she murmured, her voice taking a tone Lola knew better than to interrupt. The smaller woman tilted her head in question, leaning deeper into Lorelei’s touch, her amber eyes seeking answers as theh restlessly roamed over Lorelei’s.
Dragging in a deep breath, Lorelei leant her face toward Lola’s, pressing their foreheads together as she often did in moments where she needed to collect her thoughts. Each breath passing made Lola more antsy, and understandably so. It isn’t often her quiet but commandeering lover had something of such serious nature to share.
Lorelei debated her words, her plump lips pursed in thoughtfulness as she let out a sigh, a honeyed breath washing over Lola’s face due to the close proximity. Lola remained silent, her doe shaped eyes fixed with almost worrying level of attentiveness.
“I haven’t been perfectly..forthcoming about where I’m leading us,” she murmured, her voice laden with anxiety, her face the picture of guilt, as she stared down at Lola. Shifting weight from one foot to the other, Lola rose an eyebrow at her lover, seemingly pondering what to say in turn.
“Are you taking me away from things like that?” Lola asks, waving a hand in the general direction of the puled corpses Lorelei had left.
“Yes,” Lorelei confirmed, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips as she smoothed her fingers along Lola’s jawline affectionately.
Lola’s honey hued eyes fixed back to Lorelei’s as she hummed, reaching her arms up to wrap around Lorelei’s neck, brushing her fingers over the intricate silver bow attached to her back.
“Is it safe where I’m being taken?”
“Safe for you.” Lorelei replied, her tone slightly cooler, subtly filled with her worry that Lola would reject her wholly when realisation dawned.
Lola’s lips twitched into a knowing smile, though she was evidently curious.
“I trust you with my life Lorelei,” she murmured, leaning up to press a chaste, shy kiss to the corner of the others lips. Lola quickly rocked back from her tiptoes, looking away into the mist with an embarrassed huff. It made Lorelei smirk to see, to witness Lola’s endearing sense of reserve when it came toward affection. Especially when it was so blatantly clear that the smaller, red haired female paid so much attention to anything Lorelei did.
“The irony of your words, darling, are not lost on me,” Lorelei murmured, provoking a confused look from her lover.
Knowing she would no longer bear the weight of lies between them, Lorelei decided in that moment that she feared nothing. She did not fear Lola’s rejection, she did not fear regret. She knew that regardless, she would ensure Lola’s safety at any cost.
“I am Death incarnate,” Lorelei said slowly, sounding each syllable with a rare uncertainty to her voice.
Lola simply stared, silent and waiting, as if the words had simply passed through her. That is until her face crumpled with such a pained look of betrayal that Lorelei immediately knew this wouldn’t be the idealistic daydream she had thought of before this moment, but instead a lot more questions. And a lot more rifts between them.
Lola cleared her throat but simply nodded, a frown tugging at her lips.
“We’re you involved in this manhunt for me?” She asked quietly, voice shaky. The question provoked absolute bewilderment on Lorelei’s part
“No, never.” Lorelei uttered sternly, her face the picture of rage at the mere idea of harming Lola. Nodding, Lola sighed and turned on her heel, out stretching her hand toward her enigma of a lover.
“Then we can talk more about that bomb shell when we’re somewhere safe,” Lola sighed, giving Lorelei an amused but wary look as she began to walk in the direction Lorelei nodded in.
They walked through the misty labyrinth of twisted roots that gnarled the ground below it, bare of any life.
It dawned on Lola, finally, the forest was bare of life because they were nearing the realm of Death.
Lorelei’s domain.
Turning my back on her is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Hearing the broken hearted, mournful sobs takes a piece of my soul away as I step toward the door. Each step is more sure than the last, the relief I feel to be stepping away so potent it’s tangible. But with that relief comes a sorrowful guilt, that I feel relieved to walk away from the woman I vowed myself to forever.
“You know I can’t stay, Rowena,” I murmur out half heartedly, but there is no fight left in my voice. Just simple defeat, absolute indifference. Perhaps if this had occurred a decade ago I would feel more inclined to fight for this illusion of love. But with everything in the open, I see no point.
“Do you regret it, at the very least?” I asked as I gather my cloak in my hands, sweeping the thick fabric around my shoulders, whilst mentally hoping it would be enough to counter the bitter weather outside. It has to be enough, given I can’t bear to stay in this house a moment longer. This house is but shell of empty promises of a home. It is simply the place I’ve lived out this elaborate lie, this perpetual act.
“..No. I stand by my actions,” Rowena mumbled, her voice filled with shame. I spare her a disgusted glance, catching a glimpse of her ethereal jade hued eyes fixed to me with such a poignant sense of agony that I immediately look away. I still cannot comprehend how she holds no regret for the damage she has inflicted on an innocent family with her actions.
“You stand by this con?” I demand, my voice deceptively soft compared to the boiling anger rolling through my veins with each weighted thud of my heart. I clench my jaw, my teeth creaking at pressure, as I snatch one of the burlap sacks from the counter. Though I attempt to distract myself with packing whatever my hands touch first, Rowena’s next works make me freeze entirely.
“It was not a scam.” She said, coldly. Calmly. I drag my tongue over my teeth as I reign in my disgust, the utter loathing growing in place of the love I felt for her the day before. I turn to her fully this time, my eyes locking determinedly to hers as I stare at her across the room.
Tears drop down her cherubic face, her rose stained cheeks standing out against the soft ivory of her skin. Her eyes, a brilliant hue of green that would put the purest emerald to shame, hold a sense of conviction I’m unused to. That conviction is what I find to be the straw that broke the camels back.
Where is that conviction when it comes to us? To me? There is none. All that motivates Rowena is what she can benefit from, and this act of risking not only herself but the last of my heart…I cannot forgive her. I will not be the pathetic doormat she uses on any longer, enduring the pain of being trampled on simply in hopes of her being pleased with my service to her.
And just like that, the emotional dam I had built up crashed down ruthlessly. Words escape me before I have time to comprehend what I’m saying.
“I always knew this arrangement to marry you would be a risk but this? This is unethical, Rowena!” I blurt, my eyes narrowing as I pull back my lip in a sneer. Rowena at least has the sense to look wary as she pushes her auburn ringlets of hair away from her face and shifts on her feet.
“You cannot. I forbid it. You are not bringing him back.” I say, the finality to my tone seeming to break through Rowena’s entire composure as her face twists into an expression of disbelief.
“He didn’t need to die, I can bring him ba-“
“After what happened when you tried to bring back your mother?! Rowena, where is your common sense? You have fed that family false hopes!” I retort, my voice growing louder with each passing word, the air around me heating as I ball my hands into fists.
“That was different, and I was alright wasnt I?!” She demands, her eyes meeting mine, filled with tears of plea. A plea to allow her to do this? This abomination of nature? Never.
“You were alright because I used alchemy to give you half of my heart, and now you want the other half?! Fucking earn it!” I snap, turning on my heel and walking briskly out of the house and into the frigid snow
Lola’s slender fingers of alabaster tremble significantly as she draws in a deep, heavy breath. She would deny the weight of which burned her chest, the soft racketing noise escaping her lips upon her next exhale was evidence enough she was struggling with the task at hand.
But she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. How could she, when giving up on this and admitting defeat filled her with such self loathing she would rather this ruthless illness take her and let that be the end of it.
One more deep, painful breath, filled with the burning of Lola’s sheer determination to cling to her life, and she lowered her fingers in tandem. Plucking at the Ivory keys, anyone with ears would feel somber to hear such a melancholy filled tune. The song that filled the room was a plea; to whatever greater power existed beyond the space of logic, whatever lay dormant or active and had influence over this life. This moment.
Lola was playing a plea, a plea for her soul to finally rest. Through months of medical treatment, homeopathic treatment, shamans and priests, she had just about had enough of fighting. Fighting for breath when her lungs began to fail her, scarred by countless lesions that had made it a near impossible feat to simply live. And yet Lola persevered, determined to make it to this final milestone, to complete this final task that would’ve taken her but a third of the time if only her traitorous body hadn’t begun to die on her.
Not that anyone would call Lola’s state living. She was surviving a brutal battle with every breath, every step, every thought. Her gaunt appearance was striking enough, but her lips and eyes drew the most attention. Her lips, pale as the skin surrounding it and cracked skin that stemmed from dehydration. Her eyes, once bright and clear and azure as the deepest sea, ringed with the hue of exhaustion. Every visual aspect of her made it sickeningly apparent death was fast approaching, even the nurses were utterly dumbfounded by the woman’s resolve to simply survive.
And for the sole purpose of learning this one song.
Lola closed her withered eyes as she immersed herself in the depths of her symphony, humming alongside the mournful tune. It was once the song of her youth, that told the story of her first and last love, the resilience she held that people around her marvelled and envied. The song that had started it all, and would be the end of it all.
Pulling back her shrunken hands, those withered eyes fell onto the keys, tracing over the dark splash of vermillion coating them. Coating her fingers with a comforting warmth that assured her the end was close.
Tipping back her head, fine grey strands fell upon Lola’s shoulders as she let out a resigned breath, willing it to be her last as she stared up through the glass ceiling and toward the endless sky she had looked to so many times during moments of doubt throughout her long life.
Far too long a life, her thoughts echo.
With her eyes closed, basking in the brilliance of the mid morning sunlight, gasps sounded around the room as countless nurses stopped in their tracks to stare; visibly awestruck by the sight.
For Lola, who a moment ago had appeared as a withered hag battling for each breath, was reborn anew before their very eyes.
With locks of spun gold that fell to her waist in ringlets, brushing against skin the colour of a swans’ feathers rather than the hideous pallor of death. She turned to each nurse, her eyes sparkling with the luminosity of each star in the sky of the clearest night.
“Thankyou,” her melodic voice rang, no longer hoarse or crackly, but as clear as a bell chime. And with a final smile, and a look of absolute and irrefutable peace, her body dropped to the floor bonelessly. The sound of which quickly snapped the room back to reality, where the small and frail body of Lola rested.
The most haunting thing, however, was that the last note of that sorrowful song still loomed.
Death itself still loomed.
My fingers twitch against the smooth wall I’m clutching for support, my eyes fixing on the movement intently as I struggle to concentrate, my vision blurred around the edges and warped as if looking through a stream of water.
It’s then that I realise, it is water. My eyes are streaming, stinging from the suddenness of this onslaught of tears. The sensation of warm tears dripping down my frigid cheeks awakens me some, though with the heaviness of my limbs I feel as though I’ve been suspended in water. Warm, comforting and surrounding me with the promise of peace should I succumb to it. A womb.
And the one thing standing between me and this peace? That would be the man I’m currently staring down, who’s outline I can barely make out through the tears welling on my lash line before tumbling down my cheeks in tandem with the broken sobs racketing out of my body.
Was that sound me? That broken, feral, near animalistic groan of pain shook me to my core when the realisation dawned that I had made such a sound. To add injury to the revelation, James looks as though I’ve taken out his guts and crushed them beneath the weight of a fridge, those depthless grey eyes wide with unprecedented horror as he fell to his knees, a roar of refusal ricocheting off the walls and surrounding the space around us.
Those grey eyes…the moment I saw them I knew life as I knew it had ended.
It had been a cold night in February, and as was the norm for myself, I had been wandering along the pier, doing my usual lap of the promenade I live in walking distance to. It had become a crutch after Kiera’s sudden death, my beloved twin ripped away from me so abruptly that the scars it left on my heart drove me to that beach every single night, each night ending with me trudging home and feeling unsuccessful. My cowardice in my heart ran so deep I couldn’t fulfill my wish at that time; to simply pass on to that mystery place my sister now was.
It tortured me, the ghostly presence of her that haunted my life and followed me as a shadow. The smell of her perfume in the breeze, the patched together vase she had broken when we were children, the singe in the floorboard of the hallway she had caused playing with candles as a teen. She was everywhere and nowhere, her absence made all the more keen by the fact. I could never escape her, the promise we made to always remain together. And yet that promise, and my attempt to fulfill it to the ultimate level, was what brought me to the tortured creature kneeling before me.
“You did this”
The words that escape my lips ring hollow, cold even. I almost don’t recognise my own ragged voice, as though I’ve been screaming for hours. Perhaps I have. It feels as though it could’ve been an eternity since I heard those words that broke me down to my very soul; though I’m sure only moments have passed.
I look down, my eyelids growing heavier still as I do so, to the puddle of blood on the floor by my feet. Raising my hands to my face, I wipe the tears dampening my cheeks and clear my throat, trying to rid my voice of its hoarseness. James stares at me in absolute disbelief, his eyes shot wide and those damned grey orbs staring right into my very soul, as they always have.
It takes a moment to realise why he seems so horror struck.
The warm trickle down my face is confirmation enough, especially when considering the vermillion liquid staining my fingers.
It isn’t tears falling from my eyes, but blood.
“I am so sorry-“ James rasped, his voice quiet and shame filled. I can see in those eyes, the lines of his face I have spent countless hours of the night committing to memory; I can see he’s being sincere. Even if everything to this point has been a lie, I know he’s apologetic. I can feel it in how tightly he takes my fingers to grip them in his own, bringing them to his pale lips. I can feel it in the shaky breath against my fingers.
I know he is sorry.
And I can’t possibly forgive him. At least, not in the assumed little time I have left.