Post by ILARIA DONATI on Apr 15, 2016 21:41:14 GMT -6
━ MY SKIN IS NOTHING BUT STEEL, FORGED THROUGHOUT THE YEARS━
Her life was like a legend told for generations, one that spoke of lore that never existed and was only told to either scare the kid or make the family seem real and powerful. But Ilaria’s life was something that was told for legends, but sometimes the legends are true. She had been born a princess in the times that Pompeii reigned true and powerful across the lands. History books spoke of only those that died and the horrible day it was when the sky had erupted in fire and smoke and killed thousands within the wonderful city, destroying anything and everything in its path. But what wasn’t told in those books was that she and her family, followed by some citizens, had actually survived and started over. That was one thing she hated about the texts, sometimes the legends aren’t even real and they make themselves known on a perfect page and the legends that are true never make their way to the minds of modern era dwellers.
Maybe that was for the best. Maybe not knowing about the survivors of Pompeii was for the best. Especially because her entire family lived for thousands of years without even batting an eye towards the history books and the fact that they should be dead and withered within the ground like many before them. But hell, they weren’t exactly human to begin with. Immortality suited some in marvelous ways, but it did not suit Ilaria. A thousand years of living, centuries without her mother, was something no immortal being wanted. Maybe the immortality and the fear of losing another was why she was so closed off from others. Yes, that was exactly it. The thought of losing someone else, like she had lost her mothers all those years ago, made her heart swell with pain and sorrow. But as soon as she felt it, she pushed it down and latched the door.
But alas, here she was in the city of San Francisco because her sister had heard rumors of her mother being spotted within its walls. Did she believe this was a dead end, just like the last thousand times were? Yes. Did she have a small patch of hope beneath her breast that this was the moment she would find her mother? Yes, she did. But she wouldn’t let it show, just in case of disappointment was placed upon her head. She didn’t want to feel anything just in case this search ended like the rest, empty handed. She didn’t want to let the hope take over only for her disappointment to crush it in the palm of its hand.
She had broken away from her siblings and father to conduct a search of her own, a more forceful one that is. She pulled up in front of a local pub, her eyes looking of the modern look of it before she pushed a strand of curled brown hair behind her head, grasping her sunglasses as she pulled them off and slipped them into the pocket of her leather jacket before she took a deep breath. Now or never, she thought to herself before she lurched forward and pushed the door open. She was greeted by a blast of cool air, puffs of smoke and the smell of alcohol. Quickly her eyes moved around at the patrons currently speaking, laughing and drinking, before she moved with confidence towards the bar.
Smiling sweetly and innocently at the bartender, she watched as he turned to her and looked her over as if seeing her naked. His toothy grin was enough to send a shiver down her spine, especially as he asked her what she wanted to order. On the house, of course. Internally snorting she continued the charade. “I’m looking for a woman, probably a little bit shorter than me, brunette hair, kind of looks like me. Have you seen her?” she questioned as she slowly pulled out a sketch of her mother. She had drawn it from memory, the detail looking exactly like a photograph. She may have the talent of politics, but eternity was enough to bring up some other hobbies, and drawing was one of them. The man looked the photo over, surveying it and thinking. Thinking loud enough that she could get a clear read on it, and his answered was nothing like what he thought in his mind. He wanted something, something she was not going to give, but at least his mind instantly told her the answer she would get even with everything else he wanted to do to her.
“I rather be run over by an oncoming train,” she said through clenched teeth as she plucked the picture forcefully from his hand, but she was caught. A meaty hand grabbed her fragile wrist in a tight embrace as he growled at her. She glared at him, her anger clear within both her voice and her eyes. “Let me go you asshole,” she growled as her eyes flashed to reveal the beast within. He seemed scared, she could practically taste it as he quickly let her go and told her to get away from him. “Gladly,” she growled before turning on her heels and heading towards the entrance to the horrible pub.