Away We Go. (Avengers Fan Fiction)

Chapter 15

Calypso’s P.O.V.

Stars. Millions of them. Billions. Trillions. 

They littered the sky like tiny torchlights, similar to the ones I had seen in the small, rural villages during my time in Europe. I made my way further out into the night, tiny beads of dry tar crunching beneath my feet as I went. The edge of the roof made it up to my waist and I leaned against it, my head straining with the effort of looking up into the sky. It was cloudless, a bit chilly, but a nice night. 

“A great view, huh?” Natasha asked,  suddenly beside me. I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“I always loved the stars,” I breathed, tracing Orion’s Belt with a quivering hand. “My mother taught my about almost all of the constellations. We used to sit outside, just her and I, and- and she’d lay out a blanket for us to sit on. She held me close - I could hear her heartbeat, and sometimes it would just lull me to sleep before she could tell me any stories,” I chuckled, though it sounded more like a strangled cry. The memories came back in force; stars always seemed to do that to me. 

I paused, my eyes shifting over and finding Andromeda, daughter of the King of Cepheus. 

“Then, other times, we’d just sit there and talk for hours. I told her about Roland, and about school, about my friends - everything. She was the only one I could tell everything to,” I choked out, slamming my hands down onto the ledge. I fumed for a minute, staring down at the asphalt below. So empty, so lifeless compared to the masterpiece that shone above me. 

“What did she look like?” Natasha asked after a few minutes, voice soft. I took a breath, debating on whether I could tell her. My eyes never leaving the ground, I dove headlong into my past.

“Like me. Rather, I resembled her. Her hair was a bit longer than mine, a few shades darker, eyes a few shades bluer,” I said, twirling a strand between my fingers absentmindedly. “She had the nicest laugh. It always made everyone else laugh. Even Melody”. 

“Who’s Melody?” she asked, shifting in her spot to give me a dubious look. I smiled, turned and sat down with my back against the ledge. I gestured to the spot beside me, patting the tar. Natasha took it, waiting for me to continue. 

“Melody was the village grouch. Nobody knew where she came from - she was kind of, just, there. She was a wiry woman, with pin straight blonde hair. I never did get her age, but she seemed old. Always turned up her nose at everyone, didn’t socialize, and when she did, it was to berate someone. She always scowled at the little kids that walked across her lawn, even going as far to curse at some of the adults,” I said, smirking as I remembered the colorful language she used to describe Roland. A ragamuffin with the lice. He’d scoffed at that, insisting that she get her facts right. It was fleas. Fleas!

“Was she rich?” Nat asked, choosing to look at the sky as I talked. I gave a bark of absurdity.

“No! Besides, we didn’t have money. We just bartered with people for things we needed. She just didn’t like people, I guess. ‘Forever Bitter’ was her nickname,” I replied, shrugging. “Whenever there was a party - and the houses didn’t have fences so everyone sort of just mingled in this giant grass area that sat in the middle of everything,” I explained, using my hands as I talked.

“Were they like today’s houses?” she inquired, tucking her legs beneath herself. 

“Some were, if they felt like going out and trying to salvage the supplies. Other were made of logs, like ours. But my dad went out and found some windows. Let in a lot more light,” I chuckled, remembering moms face when she’d come home from the falls to see them installed. “So, back to Melody. We’d always have parties, and everyone would attend, unless they were sick or something dire like that. They were fun. We’d dance, some of the more musically inclined kids would make instruments out of whatever they found lying around. My mom would tell stories, dad would build up the fire, and Roland would always show up ‘fashionably’ late, pulling me into a bear hug when he arrived. But we always noticed Melody was missing. Her house was the log type - no windows. We could only see a small sliver of light under the door, occasionally some smoke out of the makeshift chimney”.