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This is not my Character or Backstory, but everyone already
knows that.
Please Enjoy!
Coutuva.
Inevitability
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It was happening again.
As it always seemed to.
She had to wonder if it wasn't some sort of twisted
legacy that followed her everywhere she went.
As she stood by the window of her shop looking out over
the commotion in the streets, she huffed at the thought.
Given her history, it was quite possible.
With a restrained, angry growl, she turned away from the
window and walked behind the shop counter, knowing that she
likely wouldn't get any customers this day. Not that she got
all that many anyway.
Her wares were at best, somewhat unique, and more often
sold to curiosity seekers or history buffs. Over the last
millennia or so, the demand for such items had waned
considerably - an unfortunate side effect of man's progress out
of the dark ages.
Or as she called them, the good old days.
As she swung herself up onto her stool, she caught her
reflection in the glass of the countertop, and stared at it for
a long moment.
A youthful, pretty face stared back, the same one that had
for more years than she could remember. A smirk crossed it as she
recalled how she used to worry about getting fat and ugly in her
old age.
And about ever reaching such an age.
But, as her original friends began to succumb to the bane
of a mortal existence, she discovered that her chosen lifestyle
had gifted her with an unexpected benefit. Although at times,
she could have debated that term.
At first, she took advantage of that circumstance, and
wandered the expanding world. She found some adventure, some
excitement, and even managed to avoid being too bored - for a time.
Adventure, however, became a wily quarry, as man left
behind the superstitions and fears of old, and settled into
'civilization'. That meant that the skills and talents she had
honed over the ages gradually became more a liability than an
advantage.
So, as she had so often, she improvised. She tried to
lead her life as dictated by the changing times, but it always
seemed as if something would happen; something that would force
her to reveal herself, often at the cost of whatever life she
had made.
And it was happening all over again.
Her thoughtful mask became a frown.
Two centuries earlier, when she arrived in the small
hamlet she now called home, it was little more than a collection
of hovels nestled in a mountain pass. The dozen or so families
that made it up had welcomed her with open arms, something she
had found refreshing.
Taking their hospitality as it came, she had intended to
do as she was accustomed; stay a fortnight or so, and then
perhaps resume the aimless wandering that helped fill the time.
But she soon found that the placid, hilly countryside,
friendly people and unhurried lifestyle appealed to her time and
travel-wearied soul, so she decided to stay a little longer.
It turned out to be one of her wiser decisions.
In the years that followed, she met an incredible,
selfless, dedicated man, and before long, fell deeply in
love -- for only the second time in her long, solitary life. She
married him, and with him lived a more idyllic, beautiful life
than she felt she deserved -- especially after they made a
painful discovery.
She was barren.
The very circumstance that had allowed her body to
continuously regenerate - thereby lengthening her life - had
revealed its exacted price.
But her tears at that espial had not lasted long, as her
loving, generous husband came to her rescue. To ease her
heartbreak at being unable to give him heirs, he put forth that
they seek out waifs and foundlings - and raise them as their own.
To her surprise, the idea not only worked, but established
a new and rewarding direction for her life.
She still chuckled at how many of the city's people
called her 'Mom', 'Gramma' or derivatives thereof.
At that moment, the old wooden door to the shop opened
noisily, and admitted a young, exuberant, auburn-haired girl.
"Hi, Mom!" the child chimed, as she ran around the counter and
glomped onto her legs.
"Hi, kiddo!" she smiled back, as she knelt to return
the hug. "School out already?"
"Yeah! They let us go early 'cause of the meeting!"
"Meeting? What meeting?"
"The one about the War!"
Her heart sank. "Were they talking about it at School?"
The child's eyes widened as she nodded. "Cassandra said
her dad said the bad guys might take our houses away 'cause we're
a strat-jik point or something!"
The concern shimmering in the little girl's bright brown
eyes sent a twinge through her chest. "Yeah -- figures. Don't
you worry about it, Beckah. Nobody's gonna take anything from
us," she smiled, running her fingers through the child's windswept
locks. "That, I promise you. You go straighten your room, then
wash up for supper. Mommy... Has to go out back for a minute."
The little girl's bright smile returned. "Kay! Just be
fast! I'm starved!" she responded, then dashed away to the stairs.
She had to smile at her latest daughter's antics, but the
smile soon faded. As it fell into a resigned frown, she rose,
sighed, and went to lock up.
A short, emotional walk later, she arrived at the crest of
a small rise. The rise looked out over a large clearing, itself
enclosed by a low white fence.
Reverently, she stepped up to the ornate white gate, and
stood for a moment in silent, respectful prayer. She then opened
the gate and moved gently beyond it, stepping carefully past the
rows of crude stone monuments.
Monuments to some of her many children.
At the end of the narrow walk, she came to the foot of a
simple craven stone cross, set there at the behest of the man laid
beneath it.
Her heart rose to her throat as she knelt before it,
closed her eyes, meshed her hands in her lap and lowered her face.
"Forgive me, papa... But I may have to reveal our secret,"
she began, her voice just above a whisper. "And if I do... Then
I pray that when we meet again... You will understand. I... I
just can't let this happen, no matter what it costs me. I have to
protect them... I have to protect... Our family," she added
brokenly, as a tear fell to the cold earth at her knee.
Only three days later, the word raced through the city like
the waves of tsunami. They were coming, and nothing seemed able
to stop them. The people of the Capitol had fought as long as they
could, but against the superior arms, numbers and planes of the
enemy, they had fallen quickly.
And the enemy was now headed North; it was only a matter
of hours.
She sighed sadly at the silence of the streets below her
home, her heart tight in her chest. It was not the pending threat
that concerned her, but the consequences of dealing with it.
But she knew she couldn't care.
Doing nothing would cost her far more.
With a sniff and a wipe at her eyes, she turned away from
the distressing sight and walked back to her rooms. Her daughter
was waiting for her lunch.
After a long, tense, fearful day, she was relieved when
darkness finally fell, and there had still been no sign of the
coming attack. The city had mustered every available man, and
their presence at the city edge would have made her plans difficult
in the light of day.
Upon deciding the time was right, she called her neighbour
to come over, on the premise that she had to secure some valuables
outside the house. She then padded into her daughter's room, and
knelt beside the slumbering child's bed.
"I love you, Beckah," she whispered, as she pulled the
blankets up to the little one's chin. Her hand still lingering
on the child's chest, she leaned up and gently kissed her
forehead, then rose and padded to the door. There, she paused,
looked back, then lowered her head and sighed. "And I always
will, honey... No matter what you'll think of me by the morning,"
she added silently, then bit her lip -- and slowly closed the door.
In solitude and silence she walked to the edge of the
city, and sat out of sight on some rocks at the top of the valley
wall. Her eyes misted at the sight of the men, young and old,
manning the crude barricade on the main road. She recognized
many of the dimly-lit faces, a fact which only strengthened her
resolve.
As she returned her gaze to the distant horizon, that
resolve began to build into more anger than she'd felt in
centuries. For that, and for what he was about to cost her, she
vowed that she was going to send this 'Hitler' a message he'd
never forget.
A few moments later, she saw movement in the distance.
At almost the same second, a call to arms rang out to the
men at the barricade.
Her eyes narrowed. "Showtime."
Face grim, she rose and stepped atop the rock she'd been
sitting on, then set her sights on the advancing horde. With a
deep, cleansing breath, she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Darkness beyond Twilight; Crimson beyond blood that flows..."
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END - Inevitability A Fanfic by Coutuva
Comments Welcomed - Flames Extinguished!
coutuva@vecdev.com
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