'Miss...?'
The little voice drew Andromeda out of her reverie. Her head twisted, pulling her eyes precariously from the window, to the child standing at her feet. Little fingers clutched her pant leg, pleading brown eyes upturned. Innocence incarnate. She smiled gently and nodded, leaning down to scoop the little boy into her arms.
'Yes, Samuel?'
'N-N-nofin...' And with that he flung his arms around her shoulders and buried his little face into her neck. She sighed. Everything that she'd done, had been precisely for this moment. She'd done everything to save humanity, but lost the one person who'd ment the most to her in the process. She felt the familiar pain in the back of her throat and bit her lip to quell the rising emotions.
Not here. Not now.
He was gone. The One. She'd watched him as he was destroyed with her own to eyes, but suddenly, it didn't seem like it was enough. She smoothed her hand over Samuel's back as the student clung to her, her eyes shifting back to the window. She scanned the horizon. She could feel him. He was dead, but he was gathering strength.
You can't kill the antithesis of life.
She realized that now. It had seemed all fine and dandy at the time. They'd been clustered there together. She remembered it well. She'd been foolish then, to think it would last. He was older then humanity itself, how naive had she been to think that they, a ragtag band of mortals could destroy... him.
She wished Cyprien was here now. She could use his arms around her.
So much had happened since then. They'd all grown apart regardless of what meaningless promises they'd made. She'd moved away, out of the city. It had been too hard to stay there with the memories of him haunting her every waking moment. She couldn't bear to sleep in their flat, let alone their bed. So she'd picked up, and moved on. She was outside of the city now, living in the outskirts. She'd opened up a school, for the 'gifted'. Samuel here, was her prize student. Even at the tender age of 4, his learning abilities surpassed even her own. He would certainly be an asset.
Assuming the poor child had time enough to grow up.
Irritated clouds, bloated and heavy bore their way across the sky, inch by painful inch. It would storm soon, she knew.
It was starting all over again.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
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