| Subject: Lost Hope |
Author:
Nessa
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Date Posted: 22:12:55 06/20/01 Wed
Obsessive...was the only word that could be used for Nessa's interest with the lower levels. She was down there way before the sun rose, long before the first of the crews arrived and long after the last of them left for the day. It was usually Gilda or Markus that went after her leading her exhausted little pregnant body up those back spiral stairs into the warmth of the kitchen. Making sure she at least nibbled at a hot meal. She was glad Markus had returned, she had missed him greatly. With him she could be just Nessa, no mask, no pretending to be who she wasn't. He accepted all her weaknesses, knew all her weaknesses, even why she had become obsessed with this task she had chosen. It was her way to hide from her own mind. To put aside things she didn't want to face. In between all this she still managed to take care of the girls, make sure Aldrea was taken care of, visit Cricket when she was home, or make a quick trip to the Roost, and be pleasing when Burgoo made his appearences. Markus wore a worried frown whenever he looked at her, he understood this was her way of controling the things she could, and ignoring the ones she could not, he just didn't know how long she could keep it up before that fragile exterior cracked and shattered. It was not something he ever wanted to witness again. But all he could do was be there, as he had always been there sense before the murder of her father.
The lower levels resembled nothing of the devil's playground anymore, the marble walls had been bleached and scrubbed back to their soft grayish hue, gone were the chains and manacles, the tables of torture, the wall of whips and merciless toys used for the devil's wicked, cruel enjoyment. Nessa still found no demons or haunted souls. Just the quiet, somtimes overwhelming silence that made footsteps echo down barren corridors.
She walked these corridors now, feeling distant from all those above her. She was losing and she didn't know how to stop the merry-go-round and get off. Aldrea in her anger had spoken harsh words to her, words that had near taken her breath away with the simple truth of them. The apple had not fallen far from the tree, she was her father's daughter...and what did she know about love? She didn't have any answers for Aldrea, had only managed to make the only other family member she had, hate her. Why should it hurt so much? Her father wouldn't have cared. She walked the corridors until they turned into the caverns and she could smell the sea. The sea...where it had all started...where old Cyrus had defied the gods and survived. Perhaps they all, all the Du'Monts after, paid for that one defiance.
It was Markus that had found her in the secret little cove, curled upon the glittering night sands, rusted hues staring out to the hull of the ghost ship, that had set their fate in stone. He lifted her in his strong arms and cradled her against his chest as he began carrying her back through the caverns, his long strides determined, her whisper tearing at his heart::
"He should have died Markus....then done of us would have been born"
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