Her name was Eleftheria. The Father chose it. She was hard to describe as a person, but she was a kind of dirty pretty. She was black hair and hollowed eyes and no meat at all. She smelled like dirt and cigarette smoke. The clothes she wore were the kind even the shelters would throw out; the things hobos and vagrants would leave behind. The only thing she had of any meaning was a necklace made from old guitar strings... and grace. If there was anything in this world she truly owned, it was grace. She had had a guitar, but it was at home, and she'd taken to avoiding it. Home, that is. Nobody missed her when she disappeared. But then again, they had never really noticed she was there. The Father and the parish. Those people are probably gone; disappeared somewhere beneath the surface of time and moved on in their way.
His name was Nikolai. He was Russian. He was looking for something, always searching, though he kept mostly to himself. He was six foot two, lean, and strangely gentle. Not to mention strong, deadly, and incredibly attractive. Short hair the color of wheat and steely blue eyes were the first things one noticed. Especially the eyes: they were almost translucent in a way, silvered around the iris. He wore jeans and a plain white button-down shirt, with a brown leather jacket over it. The jacket must have been his favourite; he wore it all the time. Being an assassin for the Russian Secret Service taught him how to be virtually invisible to everyone. A look of composure was forever set upon his features. He showed no stress or tension, no pain or weakness. No joy. No want. Though he longed for something, he did not know what, or even where to begin for it, and he most definitely would not show it. He did everything he could just to survive, and he wasn't about to let something as small and petty as an emotion destroy that for him.
The day Eleftheria and Nikolai met was very strange in the way that they had both followed the same music, but neither had found the musician -- instead being lead only to the other. They found themselves on a little stone bridge that appeared to have been there for a century, perhaps longer. As the two looked each other up and down, wary of any danger, the music faded. It wouldn't have mattered if it had stayed, though, because each was too transfixed on the other to notice anything short of being shot. She was stunned to see such beauty actually existed outside the realm of dreams and fantasy. He was shocked to finally find the person who had haunted him in his dreams; to finally find what he had been looking for all this time. He took a step forward to get a better look at her, just to be sure. She backed away quickly, and
His name was Nikolai. He was Russian. He was looking for something, always searching, though he kept mostly to himself. He was six foot two, lean, and strangely gentle. Not to mention strong, deadly, and incredibly attractive. Short hair the color of wheat and steely blue eyes were the first things one noticed. Especially the eyes: they were almost translucent in a way, silvered around the iris. He wore jeans and a plain white button-down shirt, with a brown leather jacket over it. The jacket must have been his favourite; he wore it all the time. Being an assassin for the Russian Secret Service taught him how to be virtually invisible to everyone. A look of composure was forever set upon his features. He showed no stress or tension, no pain or weakness. No joy. No want. Though he longed for something, he did not know what, or even where to begin for it, and he most definitely would not show it. He did everything he could just to survive, and he wasn't about to let something as small and petty as an emotion destroy that for him.
The day Eleftheria and Nikolai met was very strange in the way that they had both followed the same music, but neither had found the musician -- instead being lead only to the other. They found themselves on a little stone bridge that appeared to have been there for a century, perhaps longer. As the two looked each other up and down, wary of any danger, the music faded. It wouldn't have mattered if it had stayed, though, because each was too transfixed on the other to notice anything short of being shot. She was stunned to see such beauty actually existed outside the realm of dreams and fantasy. He was shocked to finally find the person who had haunted him in his dreams; to finally find what he had been looking for all this time. He took a step forward to get a better look at her, just to be sure. She backed away quickly, and
