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Anaphora: Strains of a Love Song

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Anaphora: Strains of a Love Song

Post by Athena Lionheart on Wed Mar 30, 2016 8:18 pm



I’m searching
for something
that I
can’t reach.


9965

A wave of black hair flicked over a shoulder, around a corner. Her eyes flashed in the exposed fluorescents as they looked back at the man following her. Young hearts raced, the crevices of the run-down suburbs entirely theirs. Tauntingly, she turned and slowed, walking backwards. He marched forward, raising an arm to be pushed aside. The dance began. The journey closer, closer…

The girl with black hair left in the dark of morning, brushing back chestnut-brown locks to plant a kiss on his forehead with a smirk before she went, slipping out of the door. Ready to supply her with a different embrace were the arms of night. She slowed, halted, and raised her eyes to the heavens, to majesty glared out by the powerful white lights that commanded the streets and lots. With a scoff to herself, she carried along her way back to her own apartment.

Irreverent were her steps. Careless were her glances. The streets were as dead as the eyes of its regular inhabitants. But not her, of course. No, she was alive. She slammed the door when she got home, deriving something to be compared to amusement at the thought of disrupting the neighbors.

Standing before a mirror, she pulled tangles out of her sooty locks with care. Then she braided it all back deftly, winking at reflection before wandering off to find some coffee.

- · -

She caught his eyes. Hers flitted back down, false modesty weaving its effect. She waited for the approach she knew would never come. Her friends continued their talking, tiresome and mundane.

Days had come and gone. She had disappeared from his life after the rapture left. The girl with sooty hair had her sights elsewhere. She looked the the one that her peers looked to. In a community like theirs, the men of quality were watched more closely by the opposite sex than by the government. A brilliant scarlet mess of hair, bright gray eyes, favorable genetics and position. A demigod to their eyes, desirable and yet so evasive.

But she was different. She knew what she had to do.

Sometimes, in the evenings, they'd all meet together. They were the ones who fancied themselves a little above the rest, a little beyond the rules. They thought it was their place to question, even to talk of action. One night, they went so far as to debate the merits of the Bearer Elimination Act. She watched him.

In the dusk of Aestas, they had a crazy idea. They didn't care much for this town's authority. In a system like theirs, why not remove it themselves? Why should they not ensure the demise of an unfavorable man where it is law that the fittest survive? Why not on that very Moes?

The girl with sooty hair could barely believe herself when they were slipping through the dark, many of them armed. Chills of excitement seized her, nearly tampering with her ability to remain stealthy. The night was partially overcast, allowing for glimpses of a full moon. When they regrouped, they went over the plan, mostly in gestures and nods. When they were about ready to begin, someone spoke up beside the black-haired girl. This other girl as she talked lost the meaning of her words to short series of vocal tones, of such a quality that they seemed to be a fuller scent, a clearer sight. They cut past everything and awakened a primal courage.

That night, an official was killed in his sleep. The next day, someone new claimed power. Perhaps these assassins would have been less joyful had they known the next one was hardly worth the effort of murdering his predecessor. As it was, for most of the next etona they met in jubilation.

The sooty-haired girl spoke with her idol, her goal, in this time. She made excuses to be nearby, to be introduced. He would catch her looking; she would catch him doing the same. Two nights after, they found themselves alone together. Two hours later, they found themselves closer together. Around the point where they lost sense of time, they lost their restraint.

She broke the kiss to breath, to regain her expression. Up until passion interfered, she was the funny girl, the brave girl, the edgy one. “So you do know me. You do want me.”

“The one who always ran away,” he murmured. “The little bird that flew away at dawn.”

“If you know how the stories end, why do you chase her?” she asked, retaining a cocky smile.

“Because at least she’s alive.”

Those eyes, almost white in the light. Endless. Widening.

“Faith,” he breathed. “But--”

“Hush,” she told him, smiling and eager. “Our secret, okay?”

“Nobody else knows this.” His gaze asked the question: why me?

“I believe in you,” she said, gaze flicking between both of his eyes. Then a smile grew on her lips, flashes of light and sparks flying around her before she pulled his face down to hers.

- · -

They found out eventually. She didn’t know how, she feared someone told them. Someone had and she suddenly didn't trust anyone who stood at her side. She was so aware of who was there.

Everyone’s gazes turned cold. She never thought they could ever unnerve her. She was wrong. In public, she was as if naked and alone.

They couldn’t prove it. The Inquisitor didn’t see anything in her; her conviction had shattered under the mere threat. But the charges built up in rumor, the scandals creeping forward like she always knew they might yet never considered the ramifications for. Whore. Rebel. Bearer. Outcast. And through it all he was there. Why was he still there? What was there to be lost for him by denouncing her beyond shame?

Was this his way of capturing his bird?

The verdict passed and Des Lovell met the eyes of her greatest idol, only to watch the mask crumble into her biggest, unfading regret. She watched as it took everything else. Her family went quickly, disappearing in the fog of unfamiliarity. And home, her home was no longers hers in a new neighborhood, a better regulated one. She would feel the gaze on her back at night, lover almost reaching out and ultimately falling asleep silent. The colors went cold as the decades stole their potency. Perhaps she could recall those haunting tones that eighteen gave her, but every fleeting day they grew quieter and quieter.

And thus, the light drained.

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Re: Anaphora: Strains of a Love Song

Post by WritingBookworm on Wed Mar 30, 2016 8:30 pm

This is finally up!! Very Happy

But oh my goodness Athena :O This was so beautiful in many ways, from Des's development to the prose. I loved finally coming to know about Des Lovell and what became of her. All in all, great job!

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[Infinity's Row: Interlude l Anaphora: Pariah l Infinity's Row: Uncontrollable l Anaphora: Vengeance]
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Re: Anaphora: Strains of a Love Song

Post by Omni on Wed Mar 30, 2016 10:47 pm

...That was perfect. For many, many reasons.

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Re: Anaphora: Strains of a Love Song

Post by Athena Lionheart on Wed Mar 30, 2016 11:56 pm

Thank you, guys >u<

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