"My body and my blood
You've claimed it now, so come drink up
And there's no need to be concerned
About what's left when you are done"
- Paris Paloma
[Season Two]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Constance Blackwood was old, not like greying hair and wrinkles old, but preserved in an unchanging body for a hundred and sixty four years old. Yet as she stared at her face in mirror all she could imagine were those greying hairs and wrinkles. Imagining what it would have felt like if instead she had grown old. Knowing her odds from back when she was actually 'alive' she probably wouldn't have made it to the age she was thinking of but nonetheless she still stared a prisoner to her own fantasy.
"Constance, we're going to be late!" Arthur's voice snapped her from wonder. A sudden realisation she had been standing in the bathroom for 20 mins just staring at herself, Constance rushed to pull her clothing before opening the door and half fell down the stairs towards the kitchen. "You know after all these years I thought you would have learnt better time management."
"After all these years I thought you would have known me better," Constance accepted the mug from his hand filled with steaming tea. "Besides remember all those times I had to drag you out of bed to just attend school?"
If anyone were to happen on this conversation I'm sure the element of confusion would consume them as the young women conversed with the older gentleman. Arthur, though technically younger, had aged to the ripe age of thirty-nine before his transition unlike his adoptive mother whom only made it to the young age of twenty-three. Constance never wanted Arthur to be burdened to an endless life and had promised his mother Hattie that she would make sure he was always safe. Unfortunately, Arthur had other ideas on his mind and sort out his own desires for eternity, though mad Constance's was also slightly relived she didn't have to watch other person pass.
"Besides, it's not to far from here." She placed the mug on the counter and grabbed her keys out of the bowl."Ready?"
Arthur gave her a quick nod and followed her out towards the car. Constance's having been right, they arrived within ten minutes. She took a deep breath and exited the vehicle making her way towards a hill overlooking a group of people wearing black. A wooden casket slowly started lowering into a dug out grave as priest murmured a few prayers. No one had seem to notice the pair as the small crowd dispersed after the ceremony, leaving only the two of them standing a few feet away from the freshly covered grave.
"What was her name?" Arthur inquired, staring quietly ahead at the mount of dirt.
"Amelia," Amelia Chadwick, one of Constance's many descendants that had unfortunately outlived her. She kept tabs on them all, attended every funeral as well when their time had come to an end. "She took after her father, became an accountant and lived in east London for most of her life. Until she met her husband, moved to Edinburgh and had three heathy babies. She lived a long and happy life filled with love."
"I don't know why you keep doing this to yourself Con, doesn't it make it harder?" His gaze shifting to look at the side of her face.
"It is, but they are all I have left. Proof of my lineage, of Thomas and Agnes." The only funerals Constance's hadn't ever attended were to her own children, the pain was too much to bare at the time. No parent should outlive their children, but unfortunately Constance never not a choice in that matter.
The shill sound of her phone going off thankfully stopped here from going down the dark path thinking about her children.
"Hello." She answered.
"Constance my dear, long time no talk." The familiar voice stated on the other end.
