literature

Black Order HQ - Serviam

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Literature Text

I loved you; even now I may confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly
At times too jealous and at times too shy.
God grant you find another who will love you
As tenderly and truthfully as I

--Aleksandr Pushkin, "I Loved You"







The heavily-guarded steel gate opened, not without a loud creak. The barrier between Theodora Xena and the rest of the world slid inwards, revealing the glint reflected on the eye of its opener. And, the projection of the supposed-to-be woman of thirty-nine-years turned her head towards the dark figure, whose shoes touched gently upon the cold floor, creating soft taps.


"Did you expect someone else?" the light banter, albeit in a serious tone, came from a source she recognised.  She gave a smile which showed her gentle, nurturing nature, as the almost-fully white-clad figure approached her from the shadows, revealing his identity.


"No, I did not," she begun, as the other gave his usual hard stare, eyes fixated upon the projection of her young, nineteen-year-old self. "Ezekiel."


At the calling of his name, the intense stare of Black Order's overseer softened. His fingers rapped upon the hard cover of the book he brought at his side;  a book which was then at Theodora Xena's disposal. However, he was yet to display a smile of any sort, an expression of emotion that he felt would reduce his reputation as the ruler of the military organisation with an iron fist. He snorted slightly through his moustache, before muttering, "It would be considerate of you not to use such projection of yourself in front of me. You make me feel like a man much older than yourself, Theodora."


"I'm afraid that this is the most recent of my looks, but..." The Guardian of Innocence took no time in changing her figure to what she pictured as an older version of herself. "Better?" Ezekiel Wright's nod was enough to confirm his answer. The Englishman drew a chair from the corner of Xena's 'storage room', one that had been there ever since he made it a part of his duty to regularly visit and tend to his object of affection. After much confusion as to where to place the book--a souvenir he always took during his visits--Wright decided to hold on to it as he sat upon the wooden chair. Mahogany; a favourite of his.


A moment of silence. It was always like this with the stoic legacy of Samuel Wright, the man's predecessor. Xena had learned to cope, and to take initiative. "What piece of literature do you have upon you now? Pray be it a book as interesting as last week's."


"That is also what I place my hope upon." His green eyes did not make eye contact with Xena, as they were busy observing the careful work of his hand, opening the dark-red cover of the book with much caution; something that drew Theodora Xena's attention. The brown-haired vision of the woman came closer to the sitting man, who positioned the display of the first page according to her ease in viewing. Her eyes widened at the sight of the content adorning the first page; a photo of her and Wright, her being no more than ten years of age.  Though crinkled, for its age, it was in surprisingly good condition.


She took a closer look. Her little self was smiling mischievously; she did not doubt that the prideful sneer she donned had something to do with a joke she must have pulled before the photo session--on who else but her closest friend at the time, Ezekiel Wright? The young boy of around twelve years of age had an expression reminiscent of the one he displayed to his underlings most of the time. He held a haughty pout, one that refused to show that he had, once again, failed to prevail against the pranks of the young girl. His commanding glare towards the camera was enough to show that he was a child with more need to be accepted as an adult than necessary.


For a little while, she turned her attention towards the man holding the album. Her inquisitive look was enough to tell the chief supervisor that she demanded an answer. He gave a chuckle, something that didn't match the firm eyebrows he had atop his eyes. Tinted grey, they finally displayed some warmth as he explained, "Quite surprising to find this album in my study. I never knew my grandfather was such an avid collector of photos. He kept them in a fine condition, not to mention."


"Yes," she breathed, sad eyes fixated upon the memento of her past, "he did."


He flipped a few pages, skipping the ones earlier which mostly displayed separated pictures of himself and the woman he accompanied. He reached another one of them together as a set, only eight years more matured. They were both wrapped in long, white lab coats. Xena chuckled at the seemingly-unchanging expression upon Ezekiel Wright's face. The pout and the hard glare was still present, only amplified by the young lad's knitted eyebrows.  The forty-year-old man also did not hesitate to take delight in finding similarities between the first and second photo. Although Xena in the second photo gave a confident smile, Wright could see the hint of mischievousness in the young woman's face.


"Do you remember, Dora?" Wright suddenly spoke up, in what resembled a mere whisper. "They used to speculate... things. Things that they thought happened between us. Nonexistent things." To be accurate, things that never had a chance to exist. Remembering this, the moustached man scoffed loudly. "Imagine. Only because of that nonsense, Grandfather actually moved me to the Section of Management, when he knew my true passion may only be ignited in works of science."


"I'm sure he only did that out of concern for both of us."


At this, he frowned. It was something the man of over forty-years had figured out since long ago, after his young, passionate self argued with all his might against the rock of a man--Samuel Wright, his grandfather--to no avail.  "You may be right, Dora." But it did not mean he would accept it just like that. The supervisor could not help but wonder how differently things might have turned out were he to stay in the same section as the woman he truly loved at that time--


--and still did. It was bitter medicine for him to take, and sufficient reason for him to display a crooked smile to the woman he loved.


"Your grandfather was stubborn."


"Yes." Even though he had, at one point, threatened to quit from the organisation his grandfather used to lead were Theodora Xena assigned to the experiment that took the life of the Greek woman's parents, the senior supervisor did not move an inch from his decision. However, this endeavour was not one to reveal to Xena. Rock-headedness; a trait he must have inherited from Samuel Wright. This thought gloomed the man, who heaved a loud sigh.


"Let's take a look at another, shall we?" Another object, he meant. Both he and Xena knew that beyond that piece, there existed no more pictures of them together, even if one were to look all the way across heaven and earth. There existed no more chance for them to spend much time together, when they were young. Theodora Xena closed her eyes, as she did sometimes, and saw the place, that faraway place where she used to live. That place when Ezekiel still had a place in her life.


--and Ezekiel saw; he saw the smile that strained his heart to the lowest end. But he was a gentleman; a strong man with the ability to mask what he felt for himself--and for others.  He closed the book shut, an action which surprised Xena.


"Is that all?"


"That is all."


Another tense moment of silence. "... Do you remember, Ezekiel?" Xena opted to break the ice this time. "That time," --the ever-important discovery of Guardian, the Innocence she accommodated up until that point-- "you rushed into my laboratorium without a single thought."


A scoff escaped the older man's lips once more. "You are correct in saying so. I was in the middle of writing a report for Grandfather when someone stormed in to bring the news."


"No wonder you looked so agitated when you barged into the room," Xena chirped with mock cheerfulness; the only thing that betrayed her facade was her pair of sorrowful eyes. The room was the room they both were reminiscing in at that time.


"I was not agitated; I was sincerely worried," he denied harshfully, as he dropped the book onto his lap, "worried for your sake. And I was not pleased to have run with all my might to your room, only to find--"


She encouraged him to continue, "Only to find...?"


"Oh, God." He buried his face, tinted red, within his left palm, hesitant to finish his sentence. Only reasonable, as the first thing he came across was a fading figure of an unclothed Theodora Xena. As obliged of any gentleman, he had turned away the moment he caught a glimpse of the female body, but still, his eyes have sinned. He himself had doubly-sinned, for enjoying the former one he did unpurposely. "--only to find that... you were not alright."


The former research staff rolled her eyes. "If you wish to say that you found my naked self, you have free reign."


"I shall not say such a vulgar thing. Anyhow, in the end, you made me exit the room until you were dressed."


"Indeed I did. And after my explanation, you did not allow me to leave."


"I was afraid worse things might happen to you." The undertones were clear, but Xena was unwilling to catch them.


"Alas, you are too much of a gentleman; one a girl would dream of when she were young," she commented lightly, as she herself began to recall that day. Her worry for how her feet began to fade as the room was encompassed in thick, green gas, disappeared the moment that she realised she had revealed her unclothed figure to her closest friend. The shrieked phrase, 'Don't look!', came to mind.


Wright paused, as his eyes strayed in another direction--any direction. The hoarse words he muttered made his meaning much clearer, "Yet, I doubt the girl I dreamt of had ever dreamt of me as such."


Theodora Xena's eyes widened at how the topic suddenly showed itself. Her projection displayed an index finger placed upon her  lips,  ordering Wright to stop. At the sight of the sad smile the man displayed, however, the finger weakened, and the hand obediently placed itself at her side. He stood up from his seat, and stared hard at the projection of his beloved, allowing only centimetres between his and her face. His green eyes spoke more than words he had not, for those long seconds that felt like forever.


"How long are you going to let me sit here," he placed a hand upon his chest, "with my heartache?"


Xena stood silent, and for a moment, Wright worried upon whether she would cry or not. As he was about to open his mouth to speak further, the projection of a finger moved to his lips. He prevented himself from tingling at the sensation--the cold, distant sensation of being touched by a particular woman.


A woman who was no longer there.


He wanted to apologise, for not being able to save her for himself. The woman's wistful eyes made him wish to close his eyes, and he sincerely wished that he could do so, and consider all of this as just a dream--so he could return to that place, that faraway place where he used to live, and where he used to reside in Theodora Xena's heart.


Wright resolved to granting a soft kiss upon that imaginary hand. In a way, it felt like a butterfly's kiss; a kiss that too perfectly pictured the thin,  yet unbreakable bond between him and Xena. Contradictive. A kiss that took him to the closest place it could go, and yet feel so far away as a trace of hope lingered inside him. He closed his eyes. He must not cry, must not fall. He took in a deep breath; take it slow.


He opened his eyes to meet the face of Theodora Xena. Her words were no more than a loud whisper, "This mountain is higher now than ever before--too high for us too climb."


Ezekiel Wright was burning down.



He strained a smile. "It's a love that has never been," he begun, as the back of his hand attempted to stroke the side of the Greek woman's face, yearning to find something that would never be there. He did not want to fool the woman. He understood the distant proximity they had, the close distance he could never go for her. He dropped his hand to his side, before he turned, back facing the guardian of Innocence.


"... and never will be."


Soft taps echoed inside Theodora Xena's room, as the heavy door, drawn once more, gave room for Ezekiel Wright to depart. She watched, as the heavily-guarded door closed shut with a blam, encompassing her in darkness once more.

Ezekiel Wright/Theodora Xena, from Black Order Headquarters RPG forum.

Ezekiel Wright belongs to ~pinniped
Theodora Xena belongs to ~masamune-elf

Credits: Poem is, as stated, excerpted from the work of Pushkin, there are also slight references to lyrics from When You Were Young -- The Killers.

This piece doesn't require a deep understanding of Black Order HQ to 'get', I think. Basically, Theodora Xena, because of a substance named Innocence has lost her bodily form, and only her soul exists in the room she resides; she is bound to the room, unable to leave it.

And basically, Ezekiel Wright, the Chief Supervisor of the organisation they are in, has been in love with her for decades.
© 2009 - 2024 pinniped
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XaliberDeathlock's avatar
A well-written piece of art! My reading thorough this reminisces me of Final Fantasy Tactics: War of the Lions somehow; how I liked the way you chose your words!

The feel of angst seemed to surround the reader who reads the lines; especially by how Ezekiel could seem to be both gentle and harsh (?) in the same time while he talked with the person he fell in love with.


I'd like to see you writing this kind of art for Gotei13 too... =P *killed*