✍️ Monthly writing prompt [DECEMBER]

I don't usually prefer roaming in these parts of the city, but it is one of the few sections where I haven't looked into yet. The large hoodie I borrowed from one of the bosses lackeys conceals my being pretty well, but I can’t wait to get this days’ investigation over with so I can ditch it later. Although it benefits me in being able to blend in with the crowd, it sickens me to be on par with these pathetic humans, stumbling over their own feet with their minds lost in the drunken clouds. I could never understand the urge to get this… this out of touch, with themselves. 

Stepping over patches of trash and empty beer bottles, I roam the sidewalks and alleys searching for her. I have her most recent picture stored in the database that I like to call my own mind; the image of her straight, black hair comes upfront, along with her perfected body; toned and curved at all the right places due to years of training and etiquette. What stands out the most about her, is her eyes. A brilliant blue, one that casts a fierce gaze that analyzes her prey. One's that could potentially seek out the fear in someone, or the excitement. 

Ones identical to my boss.

In that aspect, they are truly father and daughter, despite the minor nuclear differences in their eyescans. Yet there are many, many reasons more why the two are vastly different. This investigation, being one of them. Why would this woman suddenly disappear? It couldn't have been a kidnapping; security and surveillance, supposedly, is top notch. No one other than the ones who worked here would be able to step past the thick walls surrounding the tower. There must have been some sort of breach, and she took advantage of it. My conclusion to it all was that she simply had run away. I don't understand why someone would throw away their life living at the top, for any reason at all. If she had ran away, then my job is to find her, and bring her back to my boss. 

I keep maneuvering through the narrow streets, hoping to find any sort of answer to this case in question. I scan through the forefront of each store, hoping to find someone of resemblance to the boss’s daughter and finishing this once and for all. 

But then, I stop in my tracks. No, I didn't see her, but I saw my counterpart. Lloyd. He is walking with the carefree detective who he was forced to pair up with. I step onto the alley next to me and peek over the corner of the building. I have no reason as to why I am hiding from him, but something tells me that I shouldn't let either of them see me. I watch as they go into a bar not far away. Stealthily I follow, keeping my presence to a minimum as I reach the entrance and go through the doors.

The bar was a medium sized, but busy place, with a number of tables filled with customers. The bar table towards the back had all but two stools filled on each end, and that's when I notice Lloyd and the detective over there, on the right side. The detective orders a drink, while Lloyd stands next to him and watches. At this time I make my way over to a small empty booth seat, close enough to spy a little further on them, but also conveniently hidden away from their line of sight, at least from the detective's.

Turning away from those two for a moment, I scan through the rest of the crowd looking for her. Few match the hair similarity, but none so far have the same striking eye features. The ones where I happen to look straight in the eye did not match up at all either. With all the movement and the flashing lights, it was extremely difficult to get accurate readings. Nor do I have the time to walk up to each person and look them in the eye just to double check. 

I decide to go up to the bar table in the back, purposely choosing the stool farthest away from Lloyd and his companion. As I sit, I cast a glance over in their direction, and I see the detective speaking with the female bartender… or that woman behind the counter. That woman wasn’t wearing the same attire as the rest, but had on only a tank top and some fitted jeans. She didn't seem to work here, but apparently was welcomed behind the counter. Her hair was in waves, and the color suggest it have to have been dyed, with black hair on the roots to a light blonde near the ends. Her hair covers her eyes, so I couldn’t see them properly, but she wears a huge smile as she talks to the detective, even becoming quite intimate as she rests her hand on his arm.

I would have gone about the rest of the evening regularly, searching as per usual for the missing girl, but at that moment I notice her head turn slightly and she glances up towards my direction. It was like she knew someone was watching her. It only lasted for a brief second, maybe it was less, but I felt her gaze lock up against mine, and I couldn’t help but dart my eyes away. Is this what it feels like, to feel intimidated by a gaze that appears to be harmless? I didn’t want to believe it. There’s no reason to feel any sort of emotion just by meeting eyes with a-

“Excuse me, sir?” a voice says near me, and I turn my head towards it, to see that woman right in front of me. I can finally get a closer look, and look up into her eyes.

There were such a brilliant blue.

The core within me imitates a beating heart.

She had to be the one.

I regain my senses as the woman speaks again. “Can I get you something? A drink, maybe? There’s no need to keep your hood up, y’know.”

I brush the hair out of my face off to the side, keeping the hood up, and I gaze up at her again. I put on a smile and I lift an arm up to gently stroke her cheek. I keep my eyes locked onto hers, and start to scan.

“There’s no need to, my dear,” I say “for I am already drunk by taking in your beauty.”

She blushes and smiles back, lowering her eyes, showing off her long lashes. I pull away from her and get up off the stool, the scanning process complete. I turn away and walk out of the entrance, and in my head I gather the data from the scan and compare it to the stored data.

They are a perfect match. This part of the mission is complete. I couldn't help but let out a grin.

My boss will certainly be delighted.

          March had finally approached the mortal world again. And the circle of life between two Slavic deities was in the final step to their annual ritual – the ‘rebirth’ of spring. Beneath the oak tree behind their residence, Morena had been closely watching the shifting of the ground; the very same earth which she buried what was remained of her husband in September. The frigid air was easing up, snow was thawing…and her conversation with her father-in-law through telephone confirmed that the god of underworld was ready to ‘pass’ his son to her at any moment – just depended on how soon their Jarilo would reach the surface.

          Though this ritual had been an annual occurrence for millennia, it had always been complicated nonetheless. Turning Jarilo’s corpse into a pile of dried leaves meant the goddess of winter and death drained all magical power possessed by the god of spring. And to return the life force to those fragile leaves, recreating a flesh and blood body required extensive amount of magical energy. Hence the reason Veles needed to shelter Jarilo’s ethereal essence within his realm for the duration of period winter was supposed to reign over the upper world.

          This rite has come a long way...Veles had become accustomed to it, he no longer felt outraged by the death of his son, unless that year it was Perun who nosily stuck his hands in where it didn’t belong. And the goddess with long, thick raven black hair knew better than to attempt to make peace, even though she’s Perun’s sole beloved daughter.

          Calm as ever, the winter goddess responded swiftly to the call for attention her and Jarilo’s housekeeper, Kikimora, sent resonating from the backyard. “The ground is breaking!” the old female being said, and the mistress of this house for the last six mouth forced a tight control over her own excitement….or maybe it coupled with nervousness. Working in the modern human environment had taught her that there was never any job that could always be trouble-free, hmph, how many computers she did literally ‘freeze’ because the mindless machine dared freezing up on her while she hadn’t yet saved her document files?

           There, as Morena gracefully strode over the dirt in her human form with light clothing which would earn her a quizzical glance from mortal humans – no one wore a long sleeved linen blouse without any other thicker garment over in this chilly weather. Her pacific gray eyes fixed upon the uneven surface of earth which had been pushed up from below, catching a glimpse of pale fingers from a masculine hand. Another pale hand, this one more delicate and feminine, reached down to grab a hold of the stronger palm, yet at the moment far more frail, cupping it and sensing the weak vitality within.

          Even with a ‘bless’ from Veles, the magical aura which the god of underworld gifted to the soul of his son during the journey deep beneath the earth diminished almost completely, being spent to quicken the ‘gestation’ process which Jarilo’s corporeal body was reconstructed.

          At this moment, the spring god was as delicate as a young seedling barely sprouted from the hard shell that protected the seed.

          Through the linking of their digits, the goddess who severed the life of her husband exactly half year ago drew her own magical power and provided that vitality to strengthen the life force within her husband’s body. The color of life slowly filled that pale, cold hand. With his strength regained, though still unconscious, the urge to live dictated what little magical power Jarilo was collecting from his wife to raise his physique from the earth.

          Kikimora was quick to provide what accessories the goddess needed to aid the ritual of the male god’s reentrance to the upper realm. First a small towel to brush off dirt from his upper body, then a bathrobe to cover spring god’s naked form. Once the entire muscular figure of her husband was fully exposed to the crisp air of the mortal realm, by then Morena was exhausting – it was never easily to lose a half of your magical power within less than a half of hour. Although she was known to be ‘barren’; a female being who lacked the ability to procreate a new life, this was possibly the closest thing she could experience of giving birth – sparing much of one’s life force in order to gift life to another being.

         “Ma’am, are you alright?” the old woman with inhuman face asked nervously as she noticed the goddess of death was becoming even paler. This was why humans falsely believed that Morena ‘died’ by the end of winter every year. With much of her powerful magic drained by this rite to resurrect her husband, the once invincible goddess during winter became incredibly weaker at this time of the year. Even with her quivering pale lips, Morena gave a brief nod before raising her gray eyes to the face of the towering figure in front her. There, protecting his youthful and handsome face was a wooden mask of Veles. The final ‘seal’ which ensured that Jarilo’s corporeal body should travel safely back to the upper real prior the reawakening of his soul.

          Still with shaky hands, the wooden mask was carefully removed to reveal the ‘sleeping’ visage of Jarilo. The heart of the goddess of the cold flustered as she could hear his soft, steady breathing. His skin now turned much warmer than earlier in comparison to Morena’s fingers which instead turned colder as her life force was drained. That tingling sensation of the cold awoke him as Jarilo’s vividly green irises sluggishly opened. Yet, his gaze directed at his wife was still blank, void of any reaction or emotion.

          This didn’t fret Morena; being ‘dead’ for six months it always took some time before Jarilo would recover his memories. She closed in, leaning her body against the motionless physique but fortunately seemed to be perfectly healthy in front of her. Using the back of her fingers to gently wipe the fine dust of dirt from under left eye of the fertility god, the black haired goddess gave a tender kiss on her soul mate’s cheek, whispering, “Welcome back, darling.”

          There was still no reaction from Jarilo, for now, his inner self was in the process of reconstructing itself. His mind was comparable to that of a newborn baby, despite standing in the body of a full grown twenty-year-old man.

          Revived successfully, the lame spring god was led into their residence by his wife. Before crossing the threshold of their home, Kikimora responded promptly to the sound of telephone ringing before emerging to deliver Morena’s mobile phone. It was always the same every year. As soon as the ritual concluded, Veles who could sense the existence of his son even far away from the underground realm would contact his daughter-in-law to check in on Jarilo.

          Signaling her servant to prepare a warm bath, the exhausting goddess permitted the communication to be connected, “Yes? He’s doing well, Father. And thank you, I’m okay, although a little fatigue.”

         Conversation between two deities who lent hands on returning the spring god to mortal Slavic humans went on. Right then, with her back completely turning to the oak tree, her whole attention consumed by the well-being of her husband…the first leaf of the oak tree was shed. Spring at last graced the mortal realm once again.

Cyrille had always been curious about the paintings that Giles had made over the duration of their relationship. The way she portrayed different landscapes had been confusing at first, distorted in a way that she could never quite understand. The palette of each one were muted, consisting of blacks and greys, sometimes washed in an addition of reds and pinks. She could vaguely understand, considering the Under Realms consisted of more monochrome hues, but that didn't mean there was no color at all.

Her curiosity had gotten the better of her one day. They'd been sitting in the quaint art room of Giles' manor. She had been absentmindedly watching Giles as she slowly built a masterpiece with the limited colors that she had mixed.

"Giles, why don't you use... more colors?" she asked, words stumbling a bit as she attempted to word her thoughts, "I mean--- why do you only use such dark colors? I don't think I've ever seen places so dark even in the Under Realms."

Her girlfriend remained silent, continuing as if Cyrille hadn't spoken up at all. The silence only allowed Cyrille's curiosity to grow, though she didn't push the matter. Cyrille's eyes followed the brush as it moved slowly across the canvas. She had watched Giles do this over and over again, never growing tired of watching her significant other do something that she loved so much. It was times like these that Giles allowed her guard to fall and Cyrille found it endearing how soft her expressions got, never pinched about what she wanted to paint as her face usually was when they were playing a game of chess.

It was only a given that Cyrille almost missed when Giles began to speak, voice soft and was barely able to rip herself from her thoughts to catch what she was saying.

"It's because I've never seen any of the things I want to paint... so I just assume their colors and paint what I imagine," she said, turning to give Cyrille a small smile, "Everything is so vast that it seems so... scary? Would that be the word?"

"You'd only be able to decide that if you saw it yourself, no?" she asked, voice suggestive as she leaned closer. Giles shared the look, rolling her eyes as she placed a kiss to Cyrille's forehead. "Why don't you finish this up before we decide what our plans are?" Giles let out a hum of approval, turning back to the canvas. Cyrille's eyes glanced over it. She had been so concentrated on Giles' hands that she had never truly taken to the painting that she had been making.

"The sea?" she questioned, not taking into account how Giles was putting her things away despite the unfinished piece.

"Yeah... I think I have an idea of where we should head to."

-----------------

"We could've just stayed in the Under Realms, I'm sure the seas are just as beautiful," Cyrille murmured, holding her hair as a breeze passed, successfully covering her face with loose locks.

"Do you really think any sea in the Under Realms could ever amount to one in the Upper?" Giles asked, unmounting her steed and helping Cyrille off her own. Both pegasi trailed over to a nearby field where they joined a few of their own.

It never surprised Giles how brightly lit the Upper Realms were. The sky was a bright blue, the sun shedding light on each and every area it could get to, leaving little shade. The sea was brimming a blue hue, washing into shore in intervals. There were few people who inhabited the beach, less for the small vendors and small groups of people who were minding their own business and not causing too much noise.

Cyrille took Giles' hand, seeing the hesitance that the other had to approach. She herself was never too fond of the ocean, or bodies of water in general, though she didn't mind it if it would help Giles build courage. Giles let out a deep breath once her feet touched the water. She ran a hand through her hair as she looked out, not helping the smile that planted on her lips. Cyrille could feel affection bubble in her stomach as she watched Giles let out a soft laugh, sounding almost incredulous.

"I don't know why I was so scared," she admitted, bringing Cyrille's hand up to place a kiss on the back of her hand, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here--- for holding my hand even if there was nothing to fear," Giles said, stepping in deeper with a small smirk on her face as her free hand dipped down into the water to splash some at Cyrille.

"Now! I don't believe that's a way to thank me!" she laughed, pouncing at Giles, who, luckily caught her. Though it only resulted in them disrupting the peace of the beach once their bodies were engulfed in the water, laughter ringing out as they emerged, soaked and warmly smiling at each other.

Jeremy shifted in the passenger seat of a small plane, leaning over and pressing his nose against the window to try and look at the tiny little Islands passing under them. He leaned back, scribbling on the open map in progress on his lap, adjusting his glasses. He leaned to peer at the passing islands again, a dorky grin crossed his lips.
Jeremy was a well written anthropologist from London, England, dedicating his life to the study of various Asian cultures, and for now, early Japan had caught his eyes and mind. Up in the air, he already made a great discovery. He spoke excitedly into the headset, “Those Islands do not exist on the map!”
The pilot, a man from Tokyo, looked over, grinning a little, “There is an old folk tale surrounding that and why they don’t exist. All who go there never come back. The dead live there.”
Jeremy looked even more intrigued. He pushed his wavy, bright blonde hair out of his eyes and peered over, laughing, “You made up my mind, I will go there someday, soon.”
The pilot side-eyed him with a doubtful look, “That is not a good idea, sir. You would join the ranks of the dead there. The forsaken. Flying even over it makes me nervous.”
Jeremy leans back, amused. He scratches at his chin graced with golden scruff, then froze, staring with wide eyes at the instrument panel of the plane, pale as a sheet. In a matter of seconds, things had gone horribly wrong.
The pilot paused, doing a double take at Jeremy’s expression, “You look like you have seen a ghost, what is wrong?”
Jeremy shakes his head, gasping out the word, “F-Fuel!” He raised his hand and pointed at the fuel gauge that showed empty at the moment, though it showed half full not long before.
The pilot looked at his panel, swearing violently in Japanese, promptly changing direction of their flight, “We won’t have enough to make it back. We might have to do an emergency landing on an island, sir, and radio for help.”
Jeremy straightened up, putting all his books and papers away into his bag with shaking hands. His biggest fear is that he won’t make it back to give a lecture to his class. He rubbed his face with his hands, keeping his face covered for now, trying to remain calm. His heart dropped with the plane when he heard nothing but silence, the drone of the engine gone.
He slid his hands down slowly into his lap, staring ahead of him. The propeller wasn’t moving at all. He looked over at the pilot with a grim face. They were descending. And descending fast.

          …If anyone ever looks at the map of Russia…they’ll one way or other spot a large inland body of water to the north of Moscow. I can’t guess from the view of people who aren’t familiar with the geography of Russia, does that water body look like a natural lake? Of course, lakes like Ladoga or Onega aren’t in the shape with smooth, round edge either…

          Whether they can guess correctly or not, I won’t blame foreigners for not knowing that this ‘Rybinsk Sea’ doesn’t exist until 1940’s. It’s just one of the communist era’s masterpieces in my area, along with the other one in Uglich. If you wonder why black caviar is so expensive nowadays, these are to blame; with dozens of dams obstruct the usual route of sturgeons to swim back to the upper part of the Volga River for spawning. As the result…Beluga sturgeons are now almost a myth in the area where I and my siblings live, even though just a century ago we still caught Beluga sturgeon as far up the Volga in Rybinsk.

          Pardon me for the rambling, while it’s true, the trouble with the disappearance of sturgeons is the least we, as in I and my other settlements in this area, have been bothered about. Sure, it ruined some of the very basic economy we have been feeding ourselves for centuries. Lately though, some of us, especially me, obtain a merit of economy from tourism – through what is known as the ‘Golden Ring’.

          …In the Yaroslavskaya Oblast, there are a few towns included in this ‘Golden Ring’ tourist route, with me, Yaroslavl, as the principle town. The others are Rostov Velikiy, Uglich, Pereslavl-Zalesskiy…sometimes Rybinsk and Tutayev also included. Many times I can’t help but contemplating hard…whether Mologa would be included also, had she survived to this day?

          The Rybinsk Sea was created from a reservoir, a result of constructing a hydroelectric dam. And Mologa was swallowed by its existence as they filled the reservoir with water from the Volga and Mologa Rivers among others. Mologa…or Larisa as we settlement spirits knew her, was hardly different from any of us who now benefit from the fame of being Golden Ring towns. The Golden Ring is formed by towns that existed well into the very early state of Russia and Larisa, existing no less than from the 12^th century, fitted in seamlessly with the rest of us. Situated at the confluence where her namesake river merged with the Volga, she was a prominent river port and trade center herself. And during the summer of 1918…when the major upheaval of Russian revolution put both I and Rybinsk in a very unfavorable position in the winning Bolshevik faction’s eyes, she was a strong candidate to become the leading settlement of the region.

          But every hope for her future ended in 1930’s.

          The Bolshevik passed the plan for a hydroelectric dam and in the process of increasing the expected output from it, Mologa was in the way. Although originally she was supposed to be unaffected, the proposed increased water level in the reservoir meant she’d be completely erased from the map, drowning in the water from Volga, Sheksna and her namesake, Mologa.

          None of us knows exactly just when she was ‘gone’, even Rybinsk who lives the closest to Larisa. They started filling the reservoir in 1940 and right on the next year, WWII front line intruded dangerously close to us.

         …And so, inevitably we all took our mind off her gradual demise, concentrating only on our own survival for the moment. By the time we had the chance to look her way again in May 1945…Mologa was already on the brink of submerging entirely under water.

.

.

         “Hey, Valyusha! Snap out of it and pay attention where you’re going!”

          Kostya’s sudden holler pulls me off the reminiscing. Today, 14^th April is the Remembrance Day of Mologa in the Yaroslavskaya Oblast. Usually there’s a boat to carry clergymen and people whose ancestors used to live in Mologa toward the site to conduct a religious rite. However, I opt for going with Rybinsk, or Konstantin – just two of us on his speedboat, instead of tagging along with the larger group. I nervously climb onto his smaller-sized boat from the pier next to ‘Volga Matushka’. Ahead of us is an hour journey to where our family member once was, the site of Larisa’s death beneath this vast ‘Rybinsk Sea’.

          Already seat myself next to my fellow settlement spirit who will be manning the machine, yet Kostya still doesn’t fire up the engine. Rather, he watches me thoughtfully through his blue-gray eyes…probably well aware of my occasional tendency to lose in thoughts. It must be so as he soon warns, “You better finish whatever you’re daydreaming about before we depart. Or else, I’m sure I’m going to lose you somewhere along the path from the momentum traveling speed, man.”

         “This year…do you think maybe…in summer the water will be low enough again?” I drop on him the question that lingers on my mind.

          Kostya lifts his eyes from focusing on me, let them travel aimlessly northward. “Even if the water in the reservoir recedes enough that the ground emerges again, does it really matter? I went there every time that happened and I NEVER saw her. It’s been 70 years now. Larisa must have been gone for good.”

          “Or we, just like mortal humans, don’t possess the ability to see…whatever we become after our corporeal settlement ‘die’. Maybe she hasn’t yet gone and she has been trying frantically to contact us, but we’re too dense to sense her presence…” Kostya simply gives me side-eyes, disapproving of how much of the ‘romantic thinking’ I babble to him.

          “Fine. True that those earlier attempts I only stayed during day…are we staying through to the night there this time? Provide that there won’t be any violent storm warning. If there is we’ll quickly get our asses back here with no excuse.” With that, my supposed ‘chauffeur and younger brother dials the number of meteorology department office in his town to acquire the wanted information. As he does so, I watch the bigger vessel with more people sets off from the pier on the opposite side of Volga River, knowing that along the way we’ll overtake them and reach Mologa ahead eventually…

The sea. For years, in ancient history, known to be the house of monsters and cryptic creatures who wouldn't hesitate in killing you, or destroying your ship. A place where until nowadays, isn't explored enough for men to say if it's safe or not. And yet... Beaches were always full. Duncan could never understand how these people could walk around and swim in the ocean free from the fear of being devoured or just poisoned by something he doesn't even know that exists. But Duncan would never be "as foolish" as these people. He would stay on the ground where the worse that could happen was someone stealing his sunscreen or his ice cream melting to his hands and getting all sticky.

Of course, you ak yourself, why someone who is afraid of the sea is spending his time on the beach? Well, the answer is pretty simple. To keep his friends company. And also because Duncan didn't wanted to be alone while his friends went out to have fun without him. He was hanging out with Charlie, Indigo, and Steve and it was one of the rare moments where he was on his human form. He was pratically taking a bath with suncreen because "the sun is dangerous my dudes", and was ready to spend his time on land. Of course, Indigo was already on the water since it was her first time going on a beach, and she never thought about all Duncan's fears. What if there was a shark in there? Duncan was fearing not only for himself, but also for his friends. Boy didn't wanted to lose them.

But after all, the day went smoothly and Duncan already had a few drinks and was pretty tipsy. His friends didn't knew his fear of the sea, so they thought it was pretty weird for duncan spend his whole day on the sand, just... digging a hole and putting his feets on it. Steve called for Duncan in the water, just once. With the help of being pretty much drunk, duncan said "heck yea the sEA IS PRETTY HARMLESS YEA" and it was kinda weird that he said that screaming but his friends didn't found it that weird, after all Duncan was known to be... Quirky.

Duncan had a feeling walking towards the sea that made him remember the documentaries about jail's "walking the corridor of death". He was pretty anxious, but he wanted to prove to his friends that he wasn't scared, and he was normal just like themselves. He walked till he felt the cold water on his feet, and it made him shiver. Not because he was cold, but because he was in panic. He walked just a little bit when he stopped and looked at steve. "Dude. I can't do this." and walked away from the sea again. After all, what if a shark was just waiting for him on the cold, cold, sea.

 “I'm so glad you made time to come with me!” Seraphina said happily, clinging onto her boyfriend Friedrich’s arm. 

“Well, I did have some free time,” he replied, “and it has been a long time since I went to the beach.”

“Oh me too! Don’t worry, once we're done with the photo shoot, we’ll have lots of fun together!” She leaned in close to his face and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Friedrich blushed and turned his head away in embarrassment. He focused his attention on the wide blue sea that has come into view. He was glad to get away from the city for a change, and away from his textbooks. It has been a while since he took a proper vacation, and since university was out for the season, it was the perfect opportunity. His model girlfriend told him about a summertime photoshoot she had to do for her work, and she invited him along, to which he accepted. Getting to see her work was a new experience, and so was riding on a bus full of chatty photographers, models, and other types of staff.

Once they reached their destination, Friedrich, Seraphina, and the other models not holding anything heavy exited the bus first. He took in a deep breath of the crisp ocean air, and instantly he felt his body relax. Seraphina tugged on his arm and carried him into the beach house where they were renting for the weekend. 

Once everything was set up to go, the photoshoot began. Friedrich sat on the sand behind most of the crew, watching the models pose for their pictures. Seraphina sat with him, holding a large umbrella over her body so she wouldn’t get sunburned. She shifted between leaning on him and hugging him, and they talked about various things while they waited. Soon, it was the late afternoon, and Seraphina was called up for her pictures. She smiled at Friedrich and told him to pay close attention to her while she works, before winking at him then turning to the beach house to get dressed.

The first thing Seraphina came out wearing was a black one piece bathing suit with a earth toned sarong draped lightly over her waist. As Friedrich watched her pose in and near the water, he could tell how skilled she was when she worked. Her poses may have been prompted by the photographers, but she makes them look so natural, as if she were at the beach to have fun instead of working. 

She wore a few more bathing suits after that, and then a couple of light dresses. The very last one she wore was what caught Friedrich’s eye the most; it was a knee length, flowing white dress with thin straps on the shoulders. She carried light brown sandals in her hand as she walked on the edge of the water, and her hair was out, moving in the direction of the wind. Friechrich couldn’t take his gaze off her. She wasa light contrast to the setting sun behind her, and the sky was gradually turning a dark blue and purple color. Friedrich couldn’t take his eyes off of her; at that moment, he thought she was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her. 

Once she was done, the camera crew started to pack up their equipment. Seraphina gazed over at Friedrich with a smile, then suddenly she got an idea. She told the camera crew not to pack up yet. She ran over to Friedrich and pulled him towards the rest.

“I want you to take pictures of us!” She said excitedly. She called over one of the male dressers and pushed Friedrich towards him. “Dress him up in something that matches me!” She instructed. The two of them reluctantly complied and went towards the beach house.

Friedrich emerged in a thin, short sleeved white button down shirt and some brown shorts. He wasn’t used to wearing clothing like this, since he considered them to be revealing, so he felt a little self conscious walking back out to where the rest of the crew were. Seraphina took one look at him and grinned, rushing up to him and pulling him near the edge of the water. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against him.

“They’re pretty simple, but you pull it off so well,” she complimented, running her hand slowly up her boyfriend’s chest. Friedrich blushed slightly, but slid his arm around her waist and held her close against him. 

“Okay, let’s get started!” One of the camera crewmen called out, and the two spent the next twenty minutes taking pictures in front of the water.

Suddenly Seraphina looked out onto the water and a devious grin appeared on her face. She turned towards Friedrich and placed her hands upon the space between his chest and his shoulders, then smiled sweetly up at him.

“Hey,” she said softly, “you’ll love me no matter what, right?”

“Uh...yeah,” Friedrich replied, confusion in his voice at the sudden question.

“Even if I… do this?!” She asked, as she pushed her arms out and sent him falling backwards onto the water. Friedrich fell with a splash and stared back in shock, processing what just happened.

The crew in charge of the clothes started yelling at Seraphina, but she dismissed them all with a wave of her hand , replying back with “they’ll dry!” before turning towards Friedrich. She laughed with much joy at his wide eyed face as she walked up to him, kicking up water slightly as she moved her feet. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she said cheerfully, holding her hand out to him, “I was having fun with you.  Come on, I'll help you up.”

Friedrich reached up and took her hand, but paused. He made eye contact with her for a brief second, and before she realized what was going on, she found herself falling towards his chest as he tugged her arm down hard. She stared at him with her mouth agape as he smirked back at her, showing a look of payback. Her lips curled into a huge smile, which faltered slightly as her eyes darted to behind Friedrich. 

“Wave!” She exclaimed. Friedrich turned to look back and was met with water crashing against his face. He felt Seraphina cling onto him at the same moment, and when they looked back at each other they both started to laugh on how drenched they were.

“This is… the most fun I’ve ever had in a long time,” Friedrich said, hugging Seraphina against his body.

She looked at him with a tender gaze as she brought her face closer to his. “From now on, I’ll make sure our fun gets even better,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips upon his own and they engaged in a sweet kiss, ignoring the voices of the camera crew behind them.

In 1810 there was someone who was already living more than the liking of some people. Someone who challenged every authority and was hated for every single person where they used to live. This person was me.

The witchhunt was something that happened way before I was born, and kept going for years. Hell, it probably happens till nowadays, but with differents "justifications" of it. What I'm trying to say is: People LOVE when someone is hunted down and persecuted for their "sins" and for all their terrible acts and whatnot. On my days, collecting herbs and doing medicine with it were considered terrible acts of "black magic", a reason to literally be killed. And something funny that I realized was that most of these people that were hunted down were women. It was something I realized pretty early on my life: The World hates women. More specifically, men hates women. But the world was moved by men, so it's basically the same thing. I never considered myself a woman, but others did and I was already smart enough to say that it was dangerous. Being a woman is dangerous in whatever time you live.

But I lost my focus, I'm sorry. What I'm trying to say is that living in a place where you don't know when someone will knock on your door and kill you with the justification that you were a witch isn't exactly the "good scenario" I always dreamt of. But it actually happened some day, and let me tell you, it wasn't exactly the most comfortable time in my life. I was a healer who used to treat people with unconventional ways, such as herbs for example. I wasn't a witch, I was just someone who knew that some plants were good for your body. But... That was enough to make people fear me, and fear is one of the biggest ways to... Excuse my french, but one of the biggest ways to do shitty things.

So, let me tell you what happened. They organized a group of five men with the idea of going on my house and take me to the forest, where they would hang me. And, well, they did. It was pretty cute of them, organizing in such an adorable group. I still remember the feeling of my neck closing and trying desperately to breathe, until I just... Didn't. So I fainted, and they waited enough time to think I was already dead, so they cut the rope and cover my body with a bit of snow. I don't actually remember what happened, but I felt my body pretty cold and woke up in shock. I was alive, and cold. I thought... If I wans't a witch before, I sure was gonna be one now. Let's just say I became what they feared out of spite.

This was my biggest motivation to search for more power and knowledge, to both help people and feel more, irocanilly, alive. My heart was still beating. I could hear it and it was a fact. And I'm not gonna lie, I didn't hated these people. I had pity for them. Fearing someone so much they have to deal with it with violence... It's really a shame. The years went by and I kept studying and discovering and finding new information. I was already secure enough on necromancy to be ok with the idea of... Becoming a lich. It was something dangerous since I could lost control and become a literal monster, but I was already getting old and was too afraid of not getting what I wanted. Because i kept wanting more, and more, and more information. My hunger for knowledge was just... insatiable.

It was a pretty scary process. But... the moment I became what I am now, it was... Amazing. Can you hear it? My heart beat? That same heart beat that came back to life when I thought I was gonna die? Of course you can't, can you? It's because... I'm finally free from humanity.