Ria Colton | on hold

River

For 千
• We met at the start of time •

Aroused by the tormented torrent of gust, coniferous trees swayed reluctantly, awaiting the fall of another. Competition once dominated the Lucus, better known as the Venger forest. The lack of nutrients within the soil forced life to fight to nourish. After the 1852 fuego de rojo, the fire with bright red flames that had engulfed the green, the fire that exhaled a sliver of carbon monoxide all over the five islands; it had poisoned the land. Argon Winchester had lost all of its rare and wild species, only left with odd plants scattered here and there. It's biodiversity incinerated into dust. It's hope; black and shrivelled, gone.

Venger Cruz, a humble, young, talented cabinet maker, found himself lost within the forest on a gloomy morning of 1892. He found himself wondering, some say he was searching for his destiny. He came across richest franchise of the five islands, the Sacerdote pine. Argon Winchester was saved, with the new species of pine. Over centuries, the pine flourished, all poverty fell back into a small, small hole, disappeared, not gone. Sacerdote put a smile on every lip, but it forgot young Venger, the nineteen year old boy hung himself. A rope of twisted fibre around his neck too him away from his mother and sister. He was hung from the oldest and tallest tree, his favourite tree, he had named it too, Morgana. He claimed her to be the love of his life, and that one day, she'd walk the same grounds as him, follow his steps and feel him in the very air she breathed. He had lost it at the end, a sacrifice to love. They all pitied his death, but in truth, weren't we all a sacrifice to love?

Ria flinched as a twig poked the patch of skin exposed by a hole she hadn't seen before. The slow morning swooshing of the wind was rhythmic, flowing like blood within the veins of the living. Her heart thumped against her chest, wary of her surrounding. Each footsteps seemed more strained, as though a force was pushing Ria against going towards the Manor. Maybe Ria should have listened, but like every stubborn, seventeen year old, she though it was irrational to think such a way. The forest was no home to the young Ms Colton: the seclusion succoured to hold her captive, the green engulfing her whole. She was scared, her fear was evident, that was no way of survival. Fear creates illusions, sometimes some illusions become permanent and never leave.

A rustle in the bushes started Ria, she craned her neck to get a better view over the pinnacle of trees. She sucked in a handful of air as her eyes drained in the view. A pillar of grey, medium sized boulders stood towering; a certain superior aura irradiating from the sculptured masterpiece. She gasped lightly, her astonishment bringing a smile to her face.

"Acacia Aguilar." A soft whisper escaped her. she admired the work of the deceased architect. Kildare manor belonged to a part of Argon Winchester that no one ever visited except for the residing. Ria always knew the Corazón De Piedra wasn't gone like Mr Kieran, her history teacher had said, she just didn't have proof until she found it.

Corazón De Piedra was a Spanish creation, it meant heart of stone. Acacia Aguilar once lived in Kildare Manor, she died of loneliness, some say her heart became stone for all those she lost.

Ria scavenged through her pockets looking for Phantom. She held him high and took a quick picture of it. She ought to sent a copy to the RAYS and leave a quick message of secrecy, Aguilar wanted the heart of stone to be lost in the densely packed forest, she had no intention of exposing something so precious.

"Beautiful, is it not?" A supercilious, hoarse voice asked. Ria twirled around to meet a pair of grey sharp eyes. Inquisitively, she examined the stranger in front of her.

"It is indeed." She gave in after not being able to find anything of suspicion.

He exhaled loudly before looking at her and said,"I'm River. River Axton."

"I'm Ria. Ria Colton." A dazzling smile bounced on her face. "I'm a new resident at Kildare Manor, what about you?"

"Well, my foster parents live there, I moved out last night since..."

"You're eighteen." Ria finished his sentence, only to realise what it meant for the extravagant River Axton.

He gave her a sly smile. "Now, now, are you the possessor of uncanny powers?"

"In all truth, I may just be." She tilted her head slightly before realising she had no clue where she was, her smile fell down instantly.

Concerned, the young gentleman questioned. "What is the matter, Miss Colton?"

"I think... I may be lost and Phan— my phone seems to have no service."

"Well not to worry, I just came from there, I know the way." It was the first time Ria noticed the hand luggage in River's hands, as well as the rucksack balanced on his broad shoulders.

Ria shook her head, "I don't want to be any trouble."

"Don't worry, I might as well say one last goodbye to them."

—

Her eyes were trained of his forbidden skin, specifically at an intricate leaf had been inked on the skin at the back of his neck. She couldn't help but imagine how painful the procedure was, but more importantly, how intoxicating it was to his blood.

River was simple boy. He had a dark side, though who doesn't have one, and he loved the song of silence. He suited the monochrome wear he usually purchased from the centre, his colour scheme being mostly dark and black. To others, black might just be normal wear, but for River, his obsession began when he went to the funeral of a man he never knew. He was covered head to toe in black, his mother, foster mother, had said that black is the essential wear at a funeral. He knew his parents were dead and he certainly always knew that Mr and Mrs Enfield were simply just foster parents. He treated everyday like a funeral, mourning the lost. He knew his parents loved him, they wanted nothing in their lives but to watch his grow, he knew it in his heart. He refused to move, stuck between crossroads of moving time, being the silent rebel his parents never got to see.

River Axton was not a bad boy, in fact, he was better than the rest.

But as it always is, the best are given the worst, so the world could maintain its phenomenal balance.

•—•

Now that's what I call a good history lesson. I should be a history teacher in all honesty!

River Axton is my very own Nicklaus Scratch 😭😭😭 (call him Gavin if you like). I always wanted a Nicklaus 😭😭 if you have no clue what I'm talking about, he's up there 🤧♥️