8 Red Twilight Demon of the Flowers chapter 8

Chapter 8 Shadow Over Life Part 2

Joe slaps the table before him to catch Claude attention. The haunting Claude stops his monolog for a moment to allow Joe to speak his mind "Are you saying that you were courting a child?"

Claude's eyes close as he his tortured by his thoughts for a short time before he corrects Joe on the statement, "No Mr. Dove, I feel that is misrepresentative of the information I have offered. I did not call Celia a child; I claimed that she was younger then I, you must understand, time and culture are fluid. When I was young, it was considered a locale costume that it is not age but physical development that is key in determining ones' mature statues."

Joe claps one had over his fist as he leans onto the table at which he is sitting resting his head behind his hands "does that seem wrong to you?"

"Right and wrong are a matter of morality unless you wish to testify to a transcendental mandator of morality, I feel perfectly comfortable considering my thoughts and actions at the time being in line with an ascendant morality. If it is the norm in your country that men marry at fourteen, then surely that must be right. But though the leans of this decade, it would certainly be scandalous."

Dove folds his hands tipping his head back as he thinks "maybe you have a point. But that doesn't make it sound any less strange."

"I can't apologize for the century I was born in, now may I continue my story?"

Joe picks his pen up again and waves Claude on.

"Thank you." Claude crosses his arms behind his back tuning his eyes to the sky "The Enchantress and I enjoyed some time together, not nearly enough though. It did not take long before I felt inclined to sneak the urchin into my home and my company. I can't say with any certainty how common or uncommon this action was; I can't even say that I care."

***

Claude first order of business after sneaking Celia into his mansion is to call his army of caretakers and tailors to bath and dress the street rat of a squirrel; she is stripped of her peasant garbs and fitted with an elegant white and yellow dress suited for a proper lady. Celia makes quite a fuss as she is stripped and measured for her new dress. Claude has some fun at her expense, watching and chuckling.

Celia being bathed with kosher salts and oils is another sight to behold. The differences in living standards between liberos and nobles most surely are immeasurable seeing how Celia needs to be instructed in how to apply bath-oil. Once clean, Celia looks even more magical than before. She has the face of a royal and the charm of a feral, A dangerous combination.

Claude takes some time to try to show Celia how to walk and talk in public places and tutor her in how appearances have value in the upper-class. Things that Claude has known since childhood seem to be new ideas to Celia.

By day Celia is a leather smith working out of the slums by night she is a princess. Claude also enjoys the benefits of Celia being 'lowborn.' The nobility has delusions of complicated courtship rituals, politics, and dowries'. Lowborn's have no such traditions, romances in the lower class is fast and passionate. Together the two of them enjoy some midnight runs through the orchards, Celia provokes Claude's animalistic hunger.

Celia wants to run, Claude intends to lay chase. Running naked through the forest under moonlight, it is something so primal, so natural. It would seem that Celia feels just as caged as Claude in many ways.

But such fun, such innocence's was never meant to last in this world. Claude could never have expected how his world would change after the new year festival. The laborers have gone from revolting to rebelling. Musketeers are attacked on the streets, noble messengers and supply trains are stopped. Knights are called in to establish order, but this time shouting and rattling swords is not enough to frighten off the sick and hungry.

Celia sneaks into Claude's mansion at sunset. Celia had not anticipated going to see Claude tonight and so finds him in his room preparing for bed. Celia grabs Claude by the forearms and in a skitter start trying to explain where she had come from and what she had seen but her fluster keeps her from forming comprehensive thoughts. Thinking that Celia is being randy Claude pushes her at his bed, Celia falls over "I'm in no mood to hunt today, perhaps we skip to the end?"

With a second to collect her faculties, Celia cut in "you: silly, silly, dog. Have you been out on the streets as of late? The marketplace is calling for blood. Louis will die at sunrise and if you are here, you will as well."

"Louis is a wicked man and if there is one thing my mother stressed onto me it is that the wicked never die."

***

"In retrospect, I can hardly believe my arrogance at the time. Celia's point was made unmistakably clear when only moments later a bottle of burning oil finds its way through my bedroom window. At that point, the fear of mortality is shocked into me. I pick up Celia and run out the back door of my estate to the stables. There is gunfire on all sides of us. I can't see who is shooting, but both Celia and I suffer a shot; me to the back, the slug gets trapped in my shoulder blade, Celia catches a bolt to her hip. We both manage to climb atop horses and flee."

"the anarchy that clammed my home was hardly isolated. Fires consume much of the French empire as best as I could tell. The two of us book passage on a fratire destined for America, Bostin to be precise. I was lead to believe that I would find friends there. Celia does not survive the journey. She suffers a fever and passes the first night aboard the ship. I wish I had as well, yet it seems I was cursed to live long enough to reach this godless land."

Joe joins in on the conversation "the gunshot she suffered; it become infected? And no one could treat the wounded on the ship? Guns had been around for a few years by then you would think there would be surgeons around that had the training to deal with things like that."

"yes the bolt could be pulled out, but the knowledge of how to treat infections had yet to reach the high standards that you enjoy today. It is most shameful to think of how much we know and how little we understand what we have yet to know. "

"in the following days I to would suffer a fever, but mine was one of the mind, not the skin. The trip to America and the death of my lover taxed me to my breaking point. Once my feet found the cold cobblestone of Boston's streets I found myself in tears; I shouted to the skies for death to come for me. I have lost everything, my wealth, my home, my love, and my future. Strange enough as I called for death, death called back."

***

In a fit of madness Claude runs down the streets of Bostin, no man can hope to understand in the insanity that has taken root in his mind. Be it hunger, grief, loneliness, or loss it is all the same. The heart ack he feels now is more then he can stand.

Claude approaches the workshop of an ironsmith, he takes a satchel from the wall and starts to fill it with tools. The Smith tries to talk to Claude, decides to ask him what he is doing, Claude pays no heed. Instead, Claude picks up a length of chain and ties the bag to his chest with it. He then runs to the pear and stands to look down at the water.

Forty pounds of metal should be more than adequate to drag Claude to the ocean floor. He need now only drop into the water and let the sweet salt wash away his pain. The waves run softy onto the sands, the sounds of water on rock mutes every other sound. The ocean is so brightly gray. The water talks to Claude soothes him, assures him that its embrace will cure what ills him.

Dreams of a better life fill Claude's vision. 'Yes, the sweet, sweet-salty ocean awaits. Just step in and breath deep, it will only be painful if you fight. Stand with your arms open wide on the other hand and death will be merciful, she will lift you into the stars with a warm grasp and pull you away from perdition. Just one more step that is all it will take.'

A voice call from behind. I child's voice, young and soft, not yet tainted by the sins of the world. "you are hesitating. You talk to yourself to find reassurance. You think Death will be merciful to you, but you can't possibly know that. Who are you to dictate the thoughts and feelings of the one truly neutral arbiter?"