Acacia
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Bonjour! So, Acacia is going to have two posts right away (followed by a post by Griffin), just because I took it upon myself to write more. :3 Hope you don't mind! Enjoy!
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As the sun rose, so did my spirits, and I stretched my arms high into the sky, my limbs aching and my body yearning for radiation. The curtains were drawn tightly to shield me from the darkness of the night, but I knew when sunrise occurred, just as I always had.
It was like a sixth sense for me, in a way. No matter where I was or what I was doing, I could always sense the sun’s arrival. It made sense; I needed the sun in order to survive, quite literally I might add.
Without sunlight, I would shrivel. I would be unable to move. I would die. The sun was my life. I couldn’t survive without it.
It was a slow and agonizing process to rise from my bed, as usual, but, once I stood steadily on the balls of my feet, I quickly made my way to the window, yanking open the curtains and letting out an involuntary sigh.
The wonderful golden glow seeped into my pale green skin, causing the loose particles of water beneath the surface to shimmer. It was still early; no one would be outside at this time so I was safe.
Cautiously, I opened the door to the balcony, stepping out and grasping the ornate wrought iron railing. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes, as I absorbed the light, immediately feeling its effects. My mind was whirring, my body energized, and, inhaling deeply, I reopened my eyes, knowing it would be a glorious, summer day.
Like the crystalline dewdrops
On a lush bed of roses
With a beauty so stunning
All secrets it discloses.
I would certainly need to write that stanza down; its words held meaning on many levels, especially for me.
I returned to my apartment, grabbing my pigmentation pill and popping it into my mouth, knowing that, within ten minutes, my green hue would have paled to a creamy ivory. I couldn't go out in public looking like I was ill. I had tried that before, and it didn't end well.
The time was ticking away, and I was wasting the precious moments I was endowed with. My shift would begin soon, and, despite my detestation of the human race, I needed to remain inconspicuous by venturing out into the city. Besides, I needed the money. An apartment at the base of the Eiffel Tower didn’t come cheaply, after all.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Acacia,” the shopkeeper called as I entered the flower shop. “Comment êtes-vous aujourd'hui?” I rolled my eyes, slipping on the tattered and stained apron that was reserved for me.
He didn’t really care how I was; he simply cared about making money. That was what all humans cared about, in essence. In fact, at that moment, he was at the register, his ancient bifocals resting on the bridge of his nose as he counted the bills and coins, not even bothering to glance up. Even so, I needed to respond politely if I was to keep my job.
“Ah, assez bien, merci,” I replied monotonously into the silence, not expecting a retort. He would ignore me for the remaining ten hours of my shift just as he typically did. It would never be any different.
Not a whisper of the wind
Nor the breath of a child
Silence is omnipotent
Solitude is not mild
I needed to focus on my work immediately, and, driving my thoughts away from my isolation, I began to sing under my breath to the flowers, just as I did every day.
“Des nuits d’amour à plus finir. Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place. Les ennuis, les chagrins s’effacent. Heureux, heureux à en mourir,” I cooed quietly, carefully pouring water at the roots of my petal-donning friends.
They seemed to glow in glee as they absorbed their liquid ambrosia, and, satisfied, I continued to make my way around the store, fulfilling the desire of every plant and imagining I could hear their cries of gratitude.
As usual, nearly two hours passed before I finished my rounds, and, setting the watering can down softly and brushing my hands on my jeans, I made my way to the now-abandoned cash register, manning the station I despised the most.
Human contact... How much I despised it I would never be able to express. They were horrid, cruel, heartless; their greed consumed them. They would take and take and never give back. They were the reason my people were killed. Why I was spared, I would never know.
Now was not the time to dwell on negative emotions. I was in the realm of my kind, the scent of pollen and nectar permeating the air like an expensive perfume. It was a time to relax, ignore my emotions, and make my manager pleased.
The door chimed as it opened, and a pale, fairly tall man strode in, averting his gaze and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. I had seen him around the city before, quite often, actually. Even as a child, I could recall seeing him, and he hadn’t seemed to age a day. Literally.
Time is an illusion
It seems to not faze him
Ageless and immortal
An existence so grim.
Well, that was an interesting perspective, I supposed; despite the poetry coming from my mind, the words often represented ideas I had never imagined. But now was not the time to dwell on such frivolous ideals.
His eyes were intense yet warm as he approached the counter, his face otherwise expressionless.
“Puis-je vous aider?” I questioned softly, refusing to allow myself to be intimidated by his aura of confidence and forcing a helpful smile onto my lips. I hated this part of my job, helping humans use my precious flowers for selfish reason.
“Oui, je voudrais une douzaine de roses. For my friend,” he answered, switching to English at the end. I felt my brows furrow in confusion.
“Oh, you speak English?” I blurted, instantly curious. He appeared slightly surprised as well, perhaps by my outburst instead of my reason.
“Yes, as do you,” he stated simply, pulling his hands from his pockets and resting them on the counter. “Now, may I please get those roses for my friend?”
“Oh. Yeah,” I stammered, unaccustomed to people native to this part of France speaking my language. Much to my dismay, I realized I had allowed my emotions to show, no matter how unimportant they were, and I mentally scolded myself as I gathered the plants skillfully into a bouquet.
I could sense his gaze as I did so, but I still managed to avoid the thorns as I snipped the stems. After seven years, my skills with plants had certainly developed exceedingly well; even my hateful boss realized that.
“So, these are for une bonne amie?” I questioned, intertwining my languages for a better effect. He appeared flustered for a moment before answering.
“Yeah, we’re really close,” he responded quickly, and I got the sense he wasn’t telling the whole truth. But what did it matter to me? He was but another customer.
“Well, that will be £16,” I quipped sharply, suddenly uncomfortable. This man was the first in a long time who had a decent conversation with me, and I wasn’t particularly fond of such intimate contact, not with humans.
He tossed a £100 on the counter, and, in turn, I handed him the flowers. As I opened the register to get him his change, he held up a hand, grinning slightly.
“Keep the change.” I began to protest, but he shook his head. “Really. I insist. Passez une bonne journée.” Shocked, I was unable to reply. He chuckled, turning around and striding out the door without another word.
I couldn’t accept tips, especially one that outrageously large, but Monsieur Morel would drool over the extra cash. I had to do anything I could to stay on his good side, and that man, that human, was kind enough to throw away money as if it was nothing. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and I doubted I ever would. A human who wasn’t evil, who actually seemed extremely kind-hearted. It was impossible, wasn’t it?
The next eight hours flew by in a blur, the few customers that did purchase flowers showing no interest in me as usual, other than the occasional comment on my white hair. I was used to it, the unkind treatment and intrusive questions.
Finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, dying everything outside beautiful colors. My boss exited his workshop in the back, stripping off his gloves, and giving me leave. I was out within a minute; despite my love of flowers and nature in general, I could barely stand that place.
The streets were nearly empty as I navigated my way to my apartment. Though it was, in reality, only a few blocks away from the flower shop, I would never give up a chance to take a stroll through the Trocadero gardens in the sunset. It was my last chance of every day to soak up some sun and breathe the fresh air.
I was too distracted that day, however; my mind was spinning with thoughts of the seemingly-immortal man and his kindness. I wasn’t as aware of my surroundings as I should have been, and, out of nowhere, a sharp blade was pressing against the soft skin of my throat. I skidded to a halt, heart racing, and I tried to locate my attacker in my peripheral vision.
“Qu'est-ce c'est une chose jolie comme tu fais marche autour tout seul?” the burly man laughed, holding my arms behind me as he moved around to face me and wrenching my favored black vest from my shoulders. He was mocking me, throwing out a compliment and questioning me like I he expected me to answer. I didn’t struggle, nor did I respond; I wasn’t an idiot. He would pay for touching my vest, however, in due time.
“Elle devrait savoir mieux,” his partner-in-crime chuckled, pulling at the strand of hair near the front of my face. It was as though he was making me out to be some sort of idiot. I refused to flinch, maintaining my steely gaze.
The first man realized I was remaining stoic, and he appeared displeased; apparently, I was supposed to be afraid. What a joke.
Snarling, revealing his yellowed teeth, he snapped his hand in my direction, slapping my cheek forcefully and forcing my head to turn away as I gasped. I wasn’t used to this type of pain; only once had I been assaulted, and it had been an easy fight. A black hole formed in the pit of my stomach as I felt the formation of fear begin.
“Allez au diable,” I spat, swallowing any emotion besides anger. It wasn’t the best way to retort, I admit, but it was the first thing that came to mind. “Vous ne me font pas peur.” At this, the two men laughed, assuming I was lying. They assumed falsely; I was not afraid of them. They were a minor threat. I just needed to figure a way out of the situation, and I hoped I would come up with a solution soon.
“Vous devriez être,” the first man answered harshly, digging the knife into my skin enough to draw blood. Of course, I didn’t have blood; water flowed through my veins, pure water. I squirmed, frantically urging my mind to concoct an escape plan, but it was blissfully silent.
Blood flows in rivers
Tears form in pools
Anguish and despair
Sorrow shines like jewels.
That was the opposite of helpful. I would not cry. I would never despair. I couldn’t even bleed. My mind was in a frenzy, and I began to struggle in delirium.
“Que voulez-vous?” I asked quietly, my shoulders slumping in defeat as I attempted to determine what their motives were.
“Vous aurez juste à le découvrir,” the second man taunted, kicking the backs of my knees and sending me to the ground. I didn’t want to find out, but I didn’t exactly have a choice. I gasped as the first man yanked my head backwards with a fistful of my hair, exposing the tender flesh of my neck even more so than before.
Naturally, I was just acting. I loved to mess with people who thought they were threats. I prepared to attack, but something unexpected occurred instead.
In the dimming light of day, a lithe form leapt over the bushes and onto the first man, their fangs glinting in a feral smile. The knife fell from the man’s hand as he screamed, fangs burrowed into his neck.
Exhaling deeply, I clenched my fists tightly, forcing my thorns to appear. The second man donned a look of extreme terror as I rose, my arms now covered in tiny spines and my skin a pale green. It was my natural defensive state. He should have been afraid.
Grinning, I swung my fist towards the man, plunging the thorns into his cheek and drawing blood from all the minuscule holes I inflicted. He shrieked, clutching his bleeding wounds in an attempt to stanche them, but I was already moving. Snapping my foot up to his chest, he stumbled backwards, and, with a furious cry, I leapt at him, smacking my forearm against the side of his head with enough force to knock him out cold.
I had to take a deep breath in order to refrain from continuing my attack, but, after a moment, I was calmed, my thorns retracted and my mind clear. Well, as clear as it had been before the ambush.
Snatching up my vest and sliding it on, I moved to face the man who had, regrettably, been there to save me. It was quite a surprise when he turned around to meet my stare.
“You?” I demanded with skepticism, raising a single eyebrow. He shrugged, wiping his black sleeve across his mouth.
“Me,” he shrugged, rolling the unconscious man at his feet onto his back with his foot. “Don’t complain. If I hadn’t shown up, you’d be dead.” I narrowed my eyes to slits, stepping forward and crossing my arms over my chest defiantly,
“I would have been fine,” I snapped, refusing to admit I had needed saving. I’d die before I would accept the fate of being a damsel in distress. “You just happened to provide a perfect distraction. I had it under control.” With eyebrows lifted, he giggled, shaking his head.
“Well, it didn’t seem that way,” he chastised, glancing pointedly at the man he had taken out.
“Quelle que soit,” I spat, rolling my eyes and averting my gaze for a moment, brushing off his claim without a second thought. Sighing, I returned his stare, my curiosity getting the best of me. “So... you’re some sort of... vampire?” I glanced pointedly at his still-exposed fangs. He nodded nonchalantly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he answered, shrugging. “And what are you, a nymph or something?” I couldn’t decide whether to be offended or flattered, so I simply shook my head.
“I’m a mandrake,” I explained, biting my lip. He appeared puzzled, so I sighed, rolling my eyes once more and kneeling to the ground. I pulled up my jean leg a fraction of an inch to reveal the dark green growth that originated from the sole of my foot and spiralled up. “It’s a root. I’m a plant.” His eyes wide, he nodded mindlessly.
“Oh,” he responded, his shock evident in the way his reply lacked intelligence. Snapping himself out of his confusion, he swallowed. “Well, my name is Sebastian, and you would be?”
“Acacia.”
“Right.” His answer came immediately. “Well, Acacia, the thing is, I already knew who you were. In the least, I assumed. I was sent back to Paris for the sole reason of finding you. You see, I’m part of a group of people like us, meaning, of course, people who shouldn’t really exist. There is something we're trying to figure out; I’ll give you more information later if you decide to come with me. I think you’d fit in fairly well.” I shook my head automatically, turning away.
“I wouldn’t fit in, but thanks for the offer.” My response was short-breathed and rushed. “I’m not a human. Besides, I can’t trust that your group wouldn’t turn against me. And, I doubt I’d be useful.” My walls had slipped, much to my despair, and I quickly regained my composure, narrowing my eyes and turning to face Sebastian.
“You wouldn’t have to worry about fitting in,” he chuckled, smiling reassuringly. “ We’re all different. We’re all useful. Besides, you have fighting experience, don’t you?” I shrugged, looking off into the distance. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand come towards my head, and I automatically ducked, grabbing his arm and yanking to flip him.
It wasn’t intentional; it was an instinctive response. He somehow managed to land on his feet, and he seemed convinced of my experience. Fantastic. I had only aided his debate. “Even if you can’t trust the others at first, you can trust me, can’t you?” Sighing, I shrugged, staring towards the setting sun instead of in his direction.
“I guess so.”
“I did save your life,” he chided, his voice fluctuating in pitch. Slowly, I turned to face him, trying to keep my anger in check. I cracked my knuckles, allowing a slight grin to spread on my face.
“Fine, I’ll join your little club. For now,” I reluctantly agreed, earning a smile from my new companion. “But it’s only so I can teach you who’s boss later on.” Disbelief crossed over his features as he stared at me.
“Oh, it is on,” he agreed, narrowing his eyes and extending his hand. I grasped it enthusiastically, signifying it as a deal. I snickered as a flash of pain appeared on his face; one thorn in the palm of my hand had remained just for him. He narrowed his eyes, refusing to give up just yet. “Amener.”
No longer isolated
A new companion in tow
Yet clouds of mistrust remain
Of course, that would never show.
LA FIN
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Hey, people of Earth! I hope you enjoyed the beginning of Acacia’s story (And, of course, the start of the MCC)! :3
If you don’t speak French (and I assume most people do not), you can simply copy and paste the dialogue into Google Translate. It should come up as an exact translation, and, voila, you can understand Acacia! :D
