Sisyphus

My name is Atlas Profeta. My virtue name is Sisyphus.

I've never understood why until now. What ties could I have to the character of myth?

But I know now. Because I have fucked up more than I ever have before.

I'm sitting in the rain, on the forest ground, and I'm drenched. Something stains my hands, and the world is blurry. I can't tell if I'm crying, or if it's the rain dripping down my face. I feel numb.

My mind can't seem to process what's happening. Is she... did I...

I failed.

Two days ago...

"Are you insane?"

"Probably."

We stand over a cliff, the black water crashing on rocks below us. I have my spellbook in hand, and she has her supplies, but she still looks nervous, the waves below reflected in her black eyes.

"Hey, come on, Lenore. You know nothing will go wrong."

I squeeze her arm reassuringly. She takes a deep breath. "Remind me why we're doing this?"

"Because it's fun."

"I'm not sure it is, Atlas."

"I've predicted that nothing will go wrong. Isn't that enough for you?"

"Can't predictions be wrong?"
"No. You can't change prophecies. We'll be fine."

"Seriously. Why don't we just go back?"
"People cliff jump all the time."

"Not from a hundred foot cliff!"

True, it might be a little tall. But I have magic.

Before I can say that, though, Lenore frowns and takes a step back. "Magic can't fix everything."

"Yes it can! That's the whole point of it."

She shakes her head. "You're insufferable."

I reach out my hand to her. "Hey. It'll all be okay, okay?"

Her eyes are worried, but she takes my hand, and steps towards the cliff. She closes her eyes. "Let's do this."

One... two... three... and we're falling through air, down down down, towards the inky depths. She's screaming, and I'm laughing.

I cry out: "Gravitius Hollowarium!"

Our fall slows, and slows, and slows... as we drift towards the water, like two blossoms in the wind. Her screaming stops, slipping into relieved laughter. I hold her close to me as we land softly in the water below.

It's cold, but I don't mind, as long as she's against me. Her skin is warm, even under the freezing waves. Her eyes look into mine, sparkling brilliantly. My heart is pounding, but I can't tell whether it's from the fall, or from... her.

I cup her face in my hands, and press my lips against hers. She smiles, and presses back harder.

I pull away, smiling at her. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"

She blushes. "No. It wasn't."

I know that eventually, we'll have to climb ashore, but now, despite the cold, I could never leave. Not her, with her caramel skin sprinkled with drops of saltwater, not her, with her frizzy dark hair like a cloud around her head, not her, with those lips that taste of cinnamon and cherries.

So for the moment, I don't.

Later that evening, we stumble into the tavern, shivering. The bartender grins at us, huddled together under Lenore's cloak. "Rough day, ladies?"