Books which often took her father from Klara were now the most precious property to her. All these years she had wondered about her father, imagined him coming back. Wrapping herself in the scents of these books, she had often found the denial between her hearts and facts. She was not a believer, but she was a daughter. And the matters of death and the matters of separation are never the easiest to make peace and glory with.
After Roman, as alone she was her life could have daggered her right in the mind and the heart, but she was strong, hopeful. Losing everything and everyone in a stride, she was shattered, not a single black coat she could have turned to. Seven years she searched and hunted for the reason to continue, and all along she found nothing but walls, walls constraining off his existence. All she found was betrayal, the Gods conspired against her, stealing away every bit of her adore, leaving her alone with the purpose unknown. All that held her together was her desire, her wish, her hope that one day when she will stumble among those rains and lights and her plunging body and throbbing heart will be held by him. His arm will cloak his waist and his eyes will again pacify her tempest beats. Hope for her to meet Roman.
Klara was in the quest to fathom the books when she heard the steps approaching. Slow; and in rhythm to the whistle. Pushed the door open and he entered, still skirling, turned his narrowed eyes towards Klara. Tall, white, broad jaw and the parted wave hair, everything about him, intriguing; styled up in denim and an untucked black shirt, soon Klara realised he was the man who carried that teenage girl into the fire.
Examining his arms beyond the folded sleeves and his face Klara couldn't find a single burn. Extraordinary or Freak, there he was standing right in front of her, well and not burnt, smirking at her.
Klara was still in the channels of absorbing the existence of these aberrant events, and the presence of the jig of that unknown known world wasn't helping.
"You seem pretty drained" in really blithe and mocking manner he continued "it's not the first time we have failed" he seemed very scornful.
Klara with the vent of question looked right at him.
"Oh! You were unaware of it" in realization and in the same scornful voice, and with the abrupt attempt to mimic Klara, "OMG, failed! Not the first time! How many people have you burnt? Does anybody's life mean anything to you?"Predicted her questions he continued, "so, the answers to that entire are, no, we haven't succeeded, yes we do care about others life, seven is the number of people I have carried over my arms to those flames."
Klara showed no appreciation for his unapt, and made nothing about his annoying and unfacile behavior. She looked at her while he pretentiously rolled his eyes, "your boyfriends here, later." There were not even a single drop between their silences but somehow he knew Roman was heading to the room. He exited the room with the same whistling. Getting him out of his head Klara immediately got up and readied herself to encounter Roman. She had many questions, topping those were Roman's whereabouts for last seven years and when she was going to meet her father.
The door opened with thrust, Klara stood on the view arc, tensed and oozing with questions. Not a man but the face peeped inside from the edge of open way, it was him again, "sorry you dint catch my name, Ed, short for Edward." As he was pulling his head out he again turned back to her "and there is much more to me than throwing people into fire and walking around naked" and he again pulled his head back after leaving the room for good, "It will be good for you if you don't tell about me being here to anyone" It wasn't a threat but knitting secret for future, perhaps their future.
