The Lost Daughter of Thaumaturgy

The Lost Daughter of Thaumaturgy - Chapter 4

4

Stepping off of the aircraft, I slid my sunglasses on, hiding my eyes from the bright clouds that covered the sky leaving no room for sun to grace the piece of earth I call home more than most. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I breathed in the familiar scent of wet grass, fresh air, and the faint smell of lavender that wafted up the staircase from the man who was running towards a woman shaking with happiness, tears visibly running down her face.

I hurried through the airport to baggage claim and shifted nervously awaiting my bag. I hate being in places like this, especially since I’m forced to stand next to strangers without the security of a wall to my back. Instead I get to be nudged, shoved and hit in the face with bags of others- that last one almost made me face plant, and I didn’t even get an apology, Bitch.

My bag finally appeared through the flaps and I grabbed it, quickly throwing it over my shoulder and headed straight to the exit, needing to get away from the crowds of travellers. It was just after 10 am and I was dog tired and hung over, even though I had slept the entire flight. There was still something nagging at my brain, grabbing at my attention as if it knows something I don’t, which I’m not sure makes sense even to me, but it’s the best I can describe it.

I walked passed the line of idling taxis flicking there lights on to show they’re in service. I feel like walking for a little while, god knows to where but I didn’t feel like forcing small talk with a stranger at the minute, and I’m pretty sure if I sit down again I’m sure I will slip into some kind of sleep induced coma.

I just need to find a cheap hotel or something, sleep this hang over off and figure out my next move. There was a bus service running across from one of the older terminals across the car park, so I headed towards it. The time tables were mounted up on a wall next to the station. I checked which bus headed the furthest north and then headed inside to pee and get something to eat while I wait.

There wasn’t a huge selection of food, but the place did have a small Star Bucks, so I ordered a black coffee and sat in one of the couches they managed to cram into the small area. Rooting through my bag I found my copy of Gene Roddenberry’s The Ashes of Eden. The spine was broken beyond the point that you can barely see the title, but that just proves how much of a nerd I am I guess, ah well, “Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam” I mumbled to myself picking up were I had last left off, my marker being an old shoe lace from one of my mothers favourite shoes. Sentimental, weird, a little bit freaky I know but hay, doodads are the best knickknacks around! 

“That’s a little morbid don’t you think” a deep voice said from behind me, making me jump and drop my book.  I bent to pick it up and a hand shot out in front of me before I could reach it and picked it up for me.

 My eyes followed the toned arm half covered, tightly adorning the muscles, across the wide shoulders, the strong neck and chiselled jaw, and black dreadlocks with blue streaks just passed his shoulder, tied back with a leather cord. Onyx, deep set eyes shone back at me and a wide smile pulled my attention to the perfect white teeth greeting me.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and looked away embarrassed to realise I was staring. I took my book he was holding out and quickly put it away in my bag, I don’t really like strangers touching my things, or anyone for that matter. It’s probably bratty but I was raised to be protective, so I am, of everything.

“I mean its ok if your one of these Emo people and think that dying would be a relief or something, but that would kinda suck” he continued to say, gripping a mug of coffee between his hands and taking the occasional sip every few seconds, each time preceding to lick away the tiny foam moustache his cappuccino I’m guessing keeps giving him.