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❝The chase was in vain.❞ 1968 — Italian Riviera
Jane yawned. It was twilight time, just shy of dawn. The chicken was already wide awake, crowing for her to wake. She slumped, eyelids heavy as her sight adjusted to the violet hued sky. It was beautiful, but it was the same sky she'd seen at every morning's break.
Rubbing her eyes open, she hopped out of her cotton soft bed, making it up in her white night gown. She smoothed it crisp, fluffing the pillows like the clouds that elysian afternoon. She took herself to the kitchen, grabbing the tomatoes, slicing them thin and cooking them with egg and fish. It was an easy breakfast. As a vampire, she didn't need to eat. No, not all. But it gave her a vague sense of humanity that she once had.
She never went near human blood. It was repulsive. The taste. The scent.
Everything.
To this extent, this human breakfast, was to pretend she was Jeanne. The one who had brothers coming home, preparing herself for their arrival. The one who wore a lilac gown with flowers embroidered in her hair reflecting the idyllic scene of the country. It felt like a lifetime ago, and in every sense it was—just not hers.
She fiddled with wooden carving. Remembering the ball and the moon, as if it had been a tale to put her to sleep. The country manor of Marseilles wailing in clamours of excitement to celebrate the annual Spring Frost, in celebration of the melting snow and bloom of flowers. While the sisters gathered themselves in a smile to welcome their beloved brothers. Unknowing of the disaster that would storm and ruin the fairytale.
It was the calm before the storm.
A fortnight of blushing petals before the ashes fell. Not a day ever went by where Jane forgot about that day. Oh, the irony of the raining ashes. Winter went, just for the flames to ravage. The terror and the horrific expressions wiped across their scalded faces was engraved in her mind; embossed in bronze.
Jane tilted her head, crooning her eyes to chess box she had once duly played with his brother. All of them were intelligent beings, but all failed to keep their head levelled in the violent waves. Perhaps that was why she existed. Because of their—no his—irrationality. Had he not pursued her in brink of ashes then, where would she be now? It was as if the king chased the remaining pawn to the edge of the board to make her the queen. The chase was in vain—the queen betrayed the king and played mate. It was either him or her, there couldn't be a draw. So she chose selfishly.
"Check."
She took a piece of fresh paper, pen hovering over the sheet in circles.
"The beginning; that was boundlessly exciting..." she thought aloud, writing the syllables in an elegant, curved writing. "...is now a wistful memory, all the more because it's gone and past."
She closed her eyes, drinking a heave, lips tugging in a reminiscent gleam. A ghost of a kiss touched her lips. She could see candlelight and patterned, red walls. Books scattered on the floor and the shelves. Grapes and aphrodisiac fineries of chocolate and wine. The fragrance of steamed rose water aired only a particular romance in the room. And him. With his out grown blond hair delicately framing his face.
"With a scent so deep it makes me drunk; and so beautiful it makes me breathless..."
Stark blue eyes.
They were a storming ocean—a tundra of thunderbolts that struck with anger, the yellow hues of his eyes. Then there was the voilent wind, howling his desire and lust for dominance and power. But then there was small specks of green that was the lonely boat in the raging seas, searching for some form of happiness. It was all looking at her.
"Your eyes grow deeper with each passing moment..."
"And so do we, and the night we spend together," he marvelled with shimmering eyes, rubescent lips curling into a smile. "Love."
Jane's eyes shot open, flushed at the memory but the warm flurry in her stomach was quickly washed away by her guilt. Just as the sun rose and renewed the blue sky to morning glory. She tore the paper without second thought, burning the remnants on the flame about to go out.
The small flame gladly consumed it, growing in the nutrient of its combustibility, eager to cover the snowy firewood that was stoked ashes in tint of orange red. She turned away, it was soon time to move on from the Riviera and take on a new identity. It was exhausting to say the least. She could never truly settle down. Seven years had passed, Celeste had three years left before she disappears from the quaint village and into another far, far away. Perhaps in Sweden or in Norway, or the newly established Republic... or the window beside his.
At least with him she wouldn't have to live under deceit and pretence. But the price to pay was his vengeance and everlasting suspicion.
"Why can't I let go of you?" she mumbled to nothing in particular.
She sighed, shoulders melting like ice on the Mediterranean sun. The moment of rest was interrupted when the door flung open, announcing someone's unwelcome and brash presence. Jane's body immediately locked, her eyes darted to the figure on the door. A small scowl covered her narrowed brown eyes.
The person smiled with their eyes—aged and fogged with time. Jane didn't miss the omniscient glint in that toothy smile they teased.
"Jane."
author's note! it's been a while... but it's back! i've been working on other things these days. but i hope you like chapter two.
also, please check out appetence! it's my new book and very excited for it! i hope all of you enjoy :)
