BONG. Sound reverberating through the air - the churchbell slices the pretense tranquility that hangs dense in the sky. Black ink, suddenly tumbling to Earth, spattering the cobblestone streets, the stepels of cathedrals, and the windows of townhouses.
BONG. The flutter of a quickened heart - the darkness is shattered, but presses thick around the woman. A quiet hiss escapes her lips - there will be no simple flight now. She slinks out from behind the towering oak, shadow melting along the ground, black cloak flowing through the grass.
BONG. The castle looms to her back. One glance behind her, and she stiffens. This is the last chance to turn around, to put on false airs, and to make it all right. Silently deliberating - but only for a moment - until she begins her departure, slinking back into the willowy protection of the trees.
BONG. A full moon illuminates her every movement, leaving her shadows to flicker across the damp ground, and bleed into forest undergrowth. There is no sound but for her quiet, laboured breathing. She darts and weaves through the towering trees, whose tendrils seem to reach down to the woman, tempting her with a whole new fate.
BONG. "What's done is done." This is what she tells herself - this is all she has to cling to. She always knew that she was dedicated - a dedidcated student, they called her - but this has taken her beyond dedication. She has entered an entirely new realm. No, she is no longer simply 'dedicated'. She is fierce. Courageous. Zealous. Resilient. Resourceful. Impertinenet. Yes.
BONG. How could this have happened? She is fleeing from the one place that she felt offered her protection, however little that may have been. She felt
safe within it's vicinity
- castle walls are deaf ears - they cannot interpret those hushed, evening exchanges. They do not disclose heavily guarded secrets.
BONG. The flutter of the wings of a nearby bird awaken her from her trance, willing her to continue. Tis' a raven. This brings a faint smile to her lips. "We are alike, you and I", she murmers, extending her arm to the creature. It lands with the harsh quiver of feathers, and it meets her eyes, with a black, black gaze.
BONG. The churchbell's toll sends the bird spiraling away, into the somber sky, uttering a single cry as its wings are swallowed from view. The woman turns her head, smile vanished from her face, and watches it descend upon the indistinct horizon.
BONG. Right. The woman spins on her heel, and pads discreetly through the last strains of the wood, the trees thinning as she nears i's edge. She draws a shallow breath, preparing herself. This is her only obstacle. Across the clearing, too the eastern thicket, and she'll be beyond the iron grasps of her twisted superiors.
BONG. She does not hesitate. She emerges from the forest - and binds her destiny, with that single step. The moon - naught but a lucrid lemon drop in the sky - catches her in it's light. It illuminates her silhouette - undermines the stealth that she has tried so carefully to preserve. She breaks.
BONG. The wind rushes her face, tugs back her hood, and exposes her to the merciless moonlight. She is beautiful - beautiful beyond compare. Her features are all but feline - the dark, large eyes, sloped nose, pale complexion, and crooked mouth. Dark hair tumbles from a ribbon, flying behind her as a banner. Her black cloak ripples around her slender form, sending tremors down her spine, and aiding to increase her gait. She glides across the gound, with nothing but air between her and the trodden meadow. She is so close now - the awaiting limbs of the forest will welcome her.
BONG. She reaches the wood, heart palpitating like a timpani. The darkness instantly engulfs her. It seems impossible that she could come to a stop at such a pace, but her face is not all that is feline. Her breathing slows, and she places a delicate hand on her neck, trying to regain her composure. Replacing her downed hood, she dares a final glance back. One last, longing glance toward what could have been. Regret fills her soul -
overcoming remorse. Why? Why has she done this? So many reasons, explanations, all so wrong. She touches her fingers to her lips, and closes her eyes, mouring what could have been - who could have been - who
she could have been
A twig snaps.
Her eyes fly open, probing for the source. Finding none, she removes her hand, and regains the the stoney gaze of the castle. "Adeui, A've Maria." She murmers. A final good-bye. With this, she begins a slow retreat, backing into the din - sinking, skinking, sinking. Black, Black, Black. She fades, surrounded and pressed by the darkness - alone. But that is the price that she has paid for freedom. She spreads her fingers, and allows the undergrowth to filter through. She is evaporating - her cloak, her hands, her face. Her eyes are the only thing that still shine through the black.
Until they are gone.
A lone figure is posed on the western turret, hands bound behind bis back. His smirk is nearly imperceptible, but it is there. Small and insignificant he seems, alone in a night as heavy as the stone beneath his feet. But he is the only witness. He is now the prize. And all of his suspicions are confirmed. What more could he ask for? And besides ...
It is midnight.
