@Fenwick:
Cleo’s defenses drop considerably and the trio of Cleos meld back into one. “I am sorry for misunderstanding your… what did you call it… “tickle?” I must admit that I am not acquainted with this practice, and it seems quite peculiar. Perhaps you may show me more of this ‘tickle’ later,” she concedes.
"As for your other question, I told you when we first met that you would ask me about that again, and when you did, I would tell you everything. I am true to my word, Wicky.”
Cleo seats herself upon a pillow on the floor and draws her knees up to her chest. You have seen her perform this simple, child-like gesture before, and realize it is a comforting posture for her.
“As a mortal, my name was Cleominae Kharis and I was raised as a simple peasant girl in a modest village in the east. My mother died in childbirth, leaving my loving father, Zachariah, to raise me alone. My father was both a farmer and carpenter, and I enjoyed aiding him in his work.”
“When I was in the company of my family, my smiles never ceased. I loved animals and would aid the injured and even kept a few pets. I also loved to read. I’d read anything! Whatever meager scraps of texts my father managed to procure for me. When reading material was scarce, my father would make up stories for me. I would hang on to his every word as he told me of far off places and friendly strangers with unusual customs.”
“Anyway, when I was in my early teens, my father remarried. I got along well with my step-mother, Rebecca, and I was quite excited when my father informed me I would be an older sister. When my younger brother, Samuel, was born, I spent every waking moment with him, coddling him and telling him the same stories that father had shared me.”
“We were all very happy for several months, but it seems our joy was not meant to endure.” Cleo’s expression falls and her gaze is distant, her eyes filled with sorrow. “My step-mother was the first to become ill. It was not long before the sickness claimed her and was passed to the other members of the household. I stood by my father as he succumbed to his affliction, and merely days after he passed, I held Samuel in my arms as he, too, was claimed by illness. He was just a baby… and such a sweet child. I often wonder what would have become of him if he had been allowed to live.”
“Of my family, only I was spared. Because of this, the other townsfolk began to view me with suspicion. The illness continued to sweep through the town, claiming countless lives, yet I remained unaffected.”
“Because of the nature of the illness, my family home was burned to ashes, along with all of the belongings within. The townsfolk were afraid that the plague might be spread further if these things were not dispatched. However, I managed to save my little brother’s stuffed bear, Sylvester.” She smiles at the memory, but the sadness does not leave her features. “I carried it with me always.”
“I began to notice some peculiarities in the way the townsfolk treated me. They would cross to the other side of the street whenever I came to town. I knew I was being shunned, and had nowhere to go. I was forced to reflect upon all my father had taught me. I was able to build a small dwelling at the edge of the woods where I lived alone for several years.”
“No other human ever came to visit, but I enjoyed the company of the little animals who would pass through my yard and they became constant companions.” She gives a slight chuckle. “I would address them as if they understood me. Unfortunately, this only furthered the suspicion in the minds of the townsfolk. Whenever I ventured into town for the few meager supplies I could afford, people would point at me and I could hear them whisper the word ‘witch.’ Thus, I visited the town even less, and the loneliness became unbearable. I yearned for company or some minor regard from the other villagers.”
“I was in my mid-20’s when ruin descended upon the town. All of the crops failed and the same plague that had claimed my family swept through the village again.”
“Around that time, I was asleep when I was ripped from my cot and dragged to the town square. I remember that I watched in horror as they burnt my home to the ground. There was no one to aid me, and I cried out for Sylvester, my brother’s teddy bear, as he smoldered in the flames.”
“Next, I was bound to a pyre in the center of the town and I pleaded my innocence as they piled the kindling around me. I watched, powerless to stop them, as they set their torches upon the wood before me.” She absentmindedly rubs at her arms, and you can see the faint scars that mar her skin shimmer slightly in the low-light of the tent.
“I could feel my skin begin to burn and my lungs begin to grow tight; I knew that I was dying. As the flames engulfed me, I remember that I found it ironic that I was finally surrounded by people, I finally had their attention, but never had I felt so alone.”
“Suddenly, my lungs found air and I realized that my bindings were loose. My legs shook as I stumbled out of the fire. I was so confused! As I looked upon my executioners, the flames upon my body disintegrated into nothingness, and the harsh red marks that marred my skin faded considerably, but did not retreat altogether. The townsfolk fled in horror at what they had seen, leaving me alone again.”
“I returned to the ashes of my home, but nothing could be salvaged. I did not know where to go, or what to do, but fortuitously, Dethys Night came to collect me. He told me of my condition, and told me of Avalon, where I might finally be surrounded by people who would truly care for me.”
