My Angel of Music (An Alma and Orfeo Waterfire Saga Fanfiction)

Francesco

Alma was at her front door, a brilliant pink, watching the sunset go down over the ocean. For a brief moment, she wondered whether her mother was right. What if papa was out there somewhere? Maybe in Rome, or Greece, even Gaul. Tears stung, and she couldn't think about it anymore. Her father had been so kind to her, and as soon as he left, it seemed that everything started to go awry. Thalia was diagnosed with an eating disorder, and was sent away for a year. Francesco became ill, and no one could figure out what it was. Still nobody knew.

She remembered the day it happened: they had been sitting on the beach, and she'd been telling stories to Francesco about the city of Rome, and what she'd heard of it. Francesco was sitting on the beach, and suddenly his eyes began to water, and glaze over.

"Francesco?" She'd said, but he just kept staring into the sea, as though he could see something she couldn't.

His lips moved, uttering a single word, "Papa?"

Alma jolted, kicking over the sand castle they'd built, scooping him up into her arms, and then rushing him to the house.

She now stood, where she'd lain that one eventful day, and touched her fingers to where the castle had stood. She'd never shaken the feeling that her mother blamed her for what happened. She set down her packages and walked to the water to splash some water on her face. Then she turned and went back to the house. She burst through the door.

"Where've you been? I see you've added to the national debt of Atlantis." Alma's sister Aida was sitting at the kitchen table.

Alma sighed, "Atlantis has no national debt, and Aida, what were you doing?"

"I was watching dust fly through this contaminated pit of sorrow. I'm out."

"Where- Aida, where are you going?"

She didn't respond, but Alma was used to it. She didn't understand though. There wasn't anything they could do about what happened, so why did everyone have to be so bitter?

Her mother bustled into the kitchen, looking rather flustered. "Where have you been? Gods have mercy, you'll run us bankrupt!"

"Thalia bought-"

"I don't want to hear it. That's okay, but please go take care of your brother. He's been asking for you all day."

So Alma quietly slipped through the door to Francesco's bedroom.

"Francesco?" He'd been crying. The room was dark.

"Francesco, why is it all dark in here."

His voice was raspy, "The light burns my eyes."

"Ssh, Francesco, what's wrong?"

"Aida told me I'm dying."

Alma's cheeks turned bright red, and her face became hot. Her insides swirled up inside her. How could she do that to him?

Francesco's glassy eyes peered up at her expectantly. "Am I?"

"No." Alma didn't just tell him this, she was comforting herself too.

"I'm scared. Why me?"

"Because you're special. The Gods are doing this for a reason, Frankie. I promise."

She took him up in her arms, and rocked him back and forth silently. He was crying again. She could feel the wetness against her chest, and his small racking sobs.

"You, know, Francesco. One time there was a monster, and there was a little boy."

He sat up, awaiting a story.

"And for a while, during the fight the monster and the boy were having, it seemed like the monster was going to win. But every time he came close, the boy was able to fend him off .

"That's all?"

"That's all."

And he fell asleep, and after a while, so did Alma. She dreamed of her father coming home. Francesco was healthy, and Aida had smudged the black makeup off her eyes. Her mother's wrinkles were smoothed, and the weight was lifted from Alma's shoulders.

She woke up with tears in her eyes. Only to realize that Francesco was gone.