@Kristi Harrison
Harrison alluded once again to the nature around them, because with him; when it was not stars and the moon, it was clouds under the sun. He was the epitome of everything that was romantic; in this era of naturalism and sublimity, he seemed to persist beyond perceiving the beauty of nature but understanding it so much so that they related.
At least that was what she believed, because if he were right about all of the things he said, then that would mean that they were destined to reunite, and make it work this time, to get it right. She wouldn’t mind that.
He brought her hand to his him and she followed his movements with her eyes, down to his chest, and then up to his eyes again. She watched him with a sense of wonder, the flecks of green in her eyes catching light. She just let him. However, he then changed the subject to sitting for their picnic. And although she had been advised by her father not to, she decided to go back to what he said before, give into temptation and reciprocate the energy that had so enticed her the day prior.
“I think I hear them too.” Azucena spoke with a nervous slyness, then feigned a puzzled expression. “I think… they say something of a… troublemaker finding treasure? I wonder what that must mean.” She smiled mischievously.
Often times, the girl assumed people would wonder, if they ever came to be, how she came to need him so strongly when she once thought nothing of him. But it was not him she distasted, it was the same reason why she was with him in the first place. Status, the destruction of one nuclear family only to create a second one, which would continue in a cycle until someone had the decency to stop it.
Harrison had once been a chore for her, but when he left, she realized how much she enjoyed that so-called duty of hers. When they would share dinners, she sat at the table shackled to her seat, in the chair held always by a wife held prisoner to her domesticity. But it was not him who bounded her to those arm rests, instead he was the one who made it more bearable by sharing his jokes. Even when he would reuse them and it was no longer funny, his laughter became the only thing necessary to make her smile.
They began to stroll in search of a free space, and she swung the basket in her hand lightly, releasing a bit of her ingenue charm, bantering with him until he asked who she despised. “Well… I musn’t say too much, for I would not like to speak lowly of a man in case he were your friend…” She said contemplating, and also thinking that she did not want to out her opinions of any baron, as they were all still potential suitors under unfortunate technicality.
But she wanted to give in… especially after being so frustrated by the man she was thinking of. She also wanted to hear Harrison’s opinion on the matter, so she began to elucidate the matter.
“Did I ever tell you of my first love? Or, the first before you.” She corrected, blood rushing quietly to her cheeks as she realized the implication of that sentence. She did not bother feigning composure after that, as the damage had been done. It was one of the more distinguishable traits of Azucena’s. As much as she may be sinful and often ridden by pride, she had a light heart, beating in flutters.
Then, he asked of the reasoning behind the contents of her basket. Obviously, the more delectable goods were selected by her maids, who still looked to her soles when they spoke with her. But, for that same reason, she was inspired to do some of the work on her own. Firstly, she placed on the basket a hat, protective from sunlight. Evidently, it was not commonplace of regent women to wear that class of hat. However, if one clearly observed the basket, they would notice that the headpiece was sized for a young child, she wanted to estimate about two years of age, meant to appeal to Harrison.
Recently, she had found some of her old baby clothes in her closet, and her favorite of the pieces was easily her once hat, in which she would be clad for strolls in this very square. She thought it might be a sweet detail, symbolizing not her want for children, but that if a man were to court her; he would not only be marrying the current version of Azucena, but also the girl she once was, and the woman she will be.
The basket also contained a book, another one of her journals, in particular. This, unlike the one she wrote during her engagement with the man beside her, was written during the most heartbreaking phase of her life. Inside the pages, it was stained by tears and the marks of Orpheus’ quill. For this part of the basket, Azucena was not quite sure what it meant yet. It was a sign of her despairity, but she did not know if she had the courage to display it, nor why she wished to at all.
She thought about it, then answered his question. “I suppose both of them are memories, things I would like to offer my counterpart.” She said, not delving into the specifics, for she did not wish to be judged. Instead, she flirted coyly. “So if the clouds are correct, I might give them to you.” And sitting down, he gave her the exact response she expected, and she chuckled, endeared by his confidence. In an unexpected turn of events, things were beginning to look optimistic for them.