Post by Vidette Volturi on Aug 24, 2010 16:58:38 GMT -8
At the budding age[/i] of seventeen, I was a newly blossomed flower. I could see the beginning of beauty in my face, and the slight shimmer of still-youth in my bright, green eyes. The mishap of puzzle pieces that once made up my life were finally coming together, forming a brilliant picture before my eyes. Every ounce of insecurity I felt before was now disappearing, seeping through my pores and evaporating as if it never existed at all. I was happy.
Until the fire.
It was one of those rare, dreary days in Florence, with ominous dark clouds hanging over me. My stomach twisted my insides into knots, warning me that something was terribly wrong. I thought I could ignore it - it was nothing. I was wrong.[/blockquote][/font]
February 1677
[/right][/i][/font]My short, thin legs fought against the harsh winds that lapped at my body, pushing me back with every step. But I was on a mission ; my parents had asked me to complete the simple task of getting a loaf of bread from the local bakery. It was easy enough, an errand I had made plenty of times before. The weather certainly put a damper on things, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. The bakery was only a few minutes from my house - what could possibly go wrong?
As I stepped through the door of the small, barely-there shop, I was assaulted with the smell of fresh bread in the oven. A portly man by the name of Alanso greeted me with kisses to both of my rosy cheeks, patting them with his large palms for good measure. "Molto bello!" he shouted, touching my face again. "So very beautiful you are!" His heavy Italian accent had me smiling. Alanso was one of the most cheerful men I had ever met. It was a wonder he never married. He swooped away and to the oven, retrieving the freshest loaf of bread he had and packaged it in brown wrappings. Placing the bread on the slate counter, I rifled around in my pocket for the florin my mother had given me before leaving. Just as my fingers wrapped around the round, gold coins, a loud crash sounded from my left. Suddenly, it was so hot. The heat was everywhere - lapping at my face, circling my ankles, plucking at the fabric of my boddess. I arched my back as the heat instensified, grabbing at the slab of slate for some balance. Somewhere in front of me Alanso was screaming, and others too. I hadn't noticed that more people were behind me in the bakery, but hands were grabbing at me from all different directions, pushing and shoving away from the heat.
Then there were the flames. They danced along the counter tops and around windows, shot high to the ceiling in graceful bursts, like a dancer with fiery red hair. She twirled with unbelievable passion, reaching higher and higher with each twist. It was so beautiful, yet completely terrifying. So I ran.
The smoke had blinded me, but my hands reached out to run along the walls, my fists pounding at the weakened supports of the building. It was only by some miracle that a wall nearby collapsed from the pressure, and I was able to stumble my way out. My entire body burned as I stumbled along the streets, where people now gathered to watch the fire climb. None of them stopped to help me - I'm not even sure anyone noticed me at all. I hobbled along until I reached the banks of the River Arno, my body collapsing in a heap as I stared down into the watery depths. "Aiuto!" Help I cried softly, over and over again.
I suppose walking away from the village was not the smartest way to get the help I so desperately needed, but I was beyond disoriented and in too much pain to think straight. This was the place my wobbly legs had taken me, and it was the place I fell. I thought noone would hear my pleas, all alone by the river. But someone had.
He came to me with a vengence, swooping me up into his muscular, colorless arms, and carried me into seclusion. The last thing I remember from that night, was his hand in my hair and his lips by my ear, whispering apologetic but comforting words. And then I experienced a second fire. A worse fire than the first. It burned hotter and brighter, but this time it tortured me from the inside out, an interior force within myself that I wasn't lucky enough to escape. It burned for what seemed like centuries, consuming my entire being and bringing me that much closer to darkness, to my final heartbeat.
When I regained conciousness days later, the man introduced himself as Basilio. He was from southern Italy, a town I had never heard of before. His dialect was different than mine, and at first, we had communication problems. But we soon adapted, learning to understand one another, and I grew to respect him a great deal. Basilio taught me how to feed - inconspiciously, of course - and how to fight. That was a favorite of mine. He showed me the best ways to use my icy fists and how to defend myself, in the event I ever needed to do so. He was my mentor, a father figure, if you will.
He took me under his wing, staying by my side through that treacherous first year of being a newborn. I trusted him. Biggest mistake I would ever make. After two years of comraderie with Basilio, and traveling all over the likes of Europe, he dropped a bomb on me - he wanted to create an army of Immortal Children. I had never heard of vampire armies, before. Especially of innocent children. "They're forbidden. A taboo among our kind." He had sounded so excited, I was almost afraid to turn him down. But I vaguely remembered having a sister at home - a young sister - and I simply couldn't go through with being a part of something so inhumane. Basilio was furious. He threatened to kill me himself if I didn't help him, or he would feed me to the Volturi and claim that it was my idea to start the army in the first place. I feebly agreed to assist out of fear, but my entire being was pleading with me to just get the hell out of there and away from the monstrosity Basilio had become.
I fled that night, as he hunted. I ran and ran until I found myself standing outside the wonderous walls of Volterra, Italy. The home of the Volturi.
It was within those walls that I found home, a family, and revenge on my maker. It was here, inside Volturi castle, as a member of the feared and all-powerful guard, that I began to feel something akin to happiness once again.
