The Game - Part 7

I was staring out at the sun drenched garden from my room, decompressing from a few hours in front of the canvas.  It had been a few days since I'd checked our secret place.  If I were honest with myself, I'd say I was scared.  Would he be upset that Chelsea knew?  Since then, a few others had guessed – my expressive face giving me away again.

I sighed and bit the side of my lip.  I should check.  Without thought that my clothes and parts of myself were covered in dried paint, I made for the door.  I rushed through the corridor into library.  

When I reached the shelf, I paused, wiping my hands on my pant leg, I grabbed the tome and opened it.  There sat two slips of paper.  Taking them, I replaced the tome and went to the nearby chair to read.  

Dear Sera,

My dear, your painting was extraordinary.  You were able to create a picture that suited my choice of poems perfectly. 

It was in studying your painting that I felt the desire to share with you whom I mourn with the poem. It was my dear Didyme, my beloved wife who passed away many years ago.  Even now as I write her name to you, I am astonished with my openness.  I have never spoken of her with anyone. 

Our little game, my dear, has brought moments of joy into my life yet again. It is with that thought that I am able to say with a clear mind that I am not bothered that our secret may be out.  It was an impossible dream to think we could keep this to ourselves. Honestly, there are no secrets between my brothers, so have no fears my dear, I have no desire to end our game no matter who stumbles on to us. 

For my next gift to you I have chosen to send you on a journey.  I have enclosed another map of my own that will lead you some of our most treasured items.  There you will find a painting that I most interested in hearing your interpretation. 

Enjoy your journey my dear... 

Sincerely,

M. Marcus

I went through so many emotions as I did.  Pride that he so loved my work; sorrow for the man who had lost someone so dear to him; confusion that he said 'many years ago' when I had heard he was a young man; relief that he was not upset that our game was out to some; excitement on the thought of an adventure, this journey for treasured items; and curiosity about the painting he wished me to see.  

Glancing at the map, I noted the first instructions as I ran out the door.  Making my way back toward reception, I followed a path past the throne room door and around a corner off the kitchen.  Another few turns had me in a hallway with three doors.  The instructions indicated the door to the left.

As I approach, I wonder what this room is that he has led me to.  I knock lightly, in case someone was there.  Hearing no answer after a moment, I enter and look around, the door closing behind me.

It was an office, a very large office. Dark woods set with wine and gold fabric covers the room, but what really stood out was the multitude of books and art that filled the room.  My eyes traveled over each piece, recognizing a few, before they rest on the large painting on one wall.  My breath hitched and I raised a hand to my chest as I stare in awe at Botticelli's Primavera.  

I stumble back a few paces, bumping into the desk and knocking something over, but I don't turn to look what had fallen.  My eyes are glued to the far wall, traveling over the painting.  I'd seen it before, in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, but how was it also here?  Was it a duplicate?  I walked slowly toward the painting.  Coming to a stop in front of it, I reached out my hand.

“What are you doing here?” an icy voice startled me from my reverie, causing me to jump and snatch my hand back from the painting.

Spinning around, I see Alec standing in the doorway.  “Jesu, you scared me!” I said breathlessly.

He just stared and seemed to growl before asking again, “What are you doing here?”

I falter, wondering what to say and how much to reveal.  “I…”  I look at Alec, feeling a bit apprehensive at his demeanor.  “I was, um, just...looking at the Primavera.”  I waved my hand at the painting and swallowed nervously.

He seemed even more upset as he growled out, “Get out of here and go to the throne room NOW.”  He shouted the last word before turning and leaving the room.

I stared after him in shock, my mouth slightly open.  I wondered if maybe he’s testy because his leg is bothering him.  Either way, should I go to the throne room like he said?  If I do, what do I say?  ‘Hi, I was naughty”?  But I really wasn’t, not technically, since I was following Marcus’ instructions, right?

I sighed, confused.  Maybe I can find Pia and ask her what to do.

With a last glance at the painting, I leave the room and follow the map back to reception.  I didn’t see Pia around and wasn’t sure where else to look for her, so I went to the throne room door.  I felt a slight breeze as I approached, but figured it was my nerves over the scene to come.

“Merde,” I muttered under my breath.  “What did you get yourself into now?”

I took a deep breath, raising my hand to knock on the throne room door.  After a moment, I heard a voice call to enter, which I did quietly.

Looking around the large room, I noticed Aro from Lydia’s pictures.  But it was the man standing next to him that really caught my attention.  Marcus.  He looked exactly as he had in the photo Lydia had shown me.  I couldn’t draw my eyes away as they traveled over his form, taking in every detail. 

Everything after that was a bit of a blur.  There was a lot of confusion.  While Marcus watched me, he never spoke to me.  Meanwhile, Aro was asking me questions about why I was there.  While I tried to explain Felix, Pia and Alec entered the room.  Alec still looked angry about something and made me apprehensive. 

I could barely focus on the conversation with so many things going on – finally seeing Marcus in person, meeting Aro, getting creepy vibes from Alec, and a convoluted conversation that I still don’t know what happened.  At one point Aro got upset with me and I worried over his reaction as well.

I was almost relieved to be dismissed and sent with Pia to her chambers.  Tears pooled in my eyes as I glanced at Marcus one last time before leaving. 

I followed Pia silently, my thoughts awhirl as the tears threaten to fall from the overwhelming emotions within me.  As I speak with Pia, she asks what happened and I explain briefly, without detail, our game.

A tear falls as she warns me against getting so involved.  Then she asks me how I feel about him and I do my best to explain, asking her how she knew about Alec, her love for him.  She explained that she just knew, that she missed him when he was gone and was happy when he was around. 

I had just mentioned Chelsea’s declaration when Aro entered the room.  He proceeds to ask me if I like it at the castle, then informs me that if I wish to stay, I must stop what I was doing with Marcus immediately.  What else could I say?  I agreed and left as soon as possible, which thankfully wasn’t long. 

Tears streamed down my face as I made my way to reception.  I didn’t know why I was going there other than it was where Aro told me to go.  I certainly wasn’t dressed for it as I was barefoot and covered in paint splatter, but at that point I didn’t notice.  All I knew was that it seemed I was to have no further contact with Marcus and it felt like it was breaking my heart.

The Game - Part 6

I was standing at the large window in the living room, staring out into the darkness, when inspiration hit.  I flipped on lights and ran to change quickly. Exiting the bedroom in paint stained jeans and t-shirt, I set up the piece I was working on earlier. I took out my paint and utensils then placed the poem from Marcus in a safe spot where I could read it as I worked.  It took hours, but I finally finished and left the painting to dry.

Again, it was the letter that took longer.  I wanted the wording to be just right, so it took me a day or so to write.  It was when I finally thought I had it right that something happened.

I was at reception and a couple of the girls were talking about something or other, I can’t remember what.  My mind had drifted to Marcus, wondering about him – who he was, what he was like, why he was so interested in my sketches, and a million other things. 

Chelsea noticed the expression on my face and asked me about it.  I just knew I started blushing and tried to brush her off, but she persisted.   Bien merci she had to go before she could get very far.  I breathed a sigh of relief, but she threatened that we would talk about it later as she walked out the door.

The next day, I was still putting the final touches on my letter to Marcus while sitting again at reception.  Chelsea came in and immediately bombarded me with questions.  I did my best to deflect her, but she is a persistent little lady and figured out that it not only had to do with a man, but who that man was!

She then insisted that I was in love with him!  With Marcus!  Why I never would have thought such a thing before she said it, but now…*sighs*…I don’t know what to think.  I barely know him.  We’ve only exchanged a few notes and I’ve never even met the man.  I do know what he looks like thanks to Lydia.  She was exclaiming about Master Aro one night and showed me pictures of the Masters. 

I’ve asked around about him, as discreetly as I could.  Although I suspect I’m about as discreet as a drunken tourist on Bourbon Street.  The most I can get out of people is that he’s quiet and kind.  Lydia mentioned that he seems sad at times and I remembered the poem.  Is that why he was so sad?  The loss of whomever it was that he had loved so much?

I had the painting tucked securely in a scroll case.  I grabbed it, the letter, and the small map I had drawn and went to the library where I left the letter and map in the tome.  A trip to the garden was next to hide the scroll case.  

While I hoped Marcus enjoyed his painting, I was agonizing more about how upset he would be that Chelsea had discovered part of our secret.  I was also still processing her exclamation of love.

Dear Master Marcus,

I can’t say how much that poem moved me, cher.  And I’m sorry for whoever it was you lost to make the poem so personal for you.  I know what that can be like. 

I lost Mamere last year and it still hurts knowing I can’t just call or visit whenever.  But she taught me something, a lot of things really, she was a smart vielle (old woman) with a lot of fire and I loved her for that.  If I can be half the woman she was, I will die happy.

But listen to me ramble…  One of the best things she taught me was in the form of a Cajun proverb:

You can still find the joy of life no matter how hard your life may be.

I tell myself this every day and it helps keep the smile on my face, even when the sadness comes with my memories.  I cherish the time I had with her and I know she’s up in heaven giving the angels hell in her own special way.  Someday, I’ll join her, at least I hope.

So to help you commemorate whoever you’ve lost, I’ve tried to show you the beauty in the sadness, so to speak.  I do hope you like it.

And since this gift won’t fit here, my dear elusive Master, it’s your turn to go on a treasure hunt.  (Map enclosed.)

Love,

Sera

PS – I know we wanted to ‘keep this between just us’, but Chelsea started asking questions and she guessed something is up.  I think she knows it’s you.  She didn’t say your name, but she’s pretty sure, it seems. 

I’m so sorry.  I hope you aren’t upset and still wanna continue our game.  I’d miss you if you didn’t, cher.

The Game - Part 5

I could barely wait for our game to continue, so I was right pleased when I went to our secret place and found a note:

My dear, I must confess I am enjoying our little game... For you my dear, I am leaving another of Dante's poems. This one holds special meaning for me on a very personal level. 

Sincerely,

M. Marcus

As always, I was intrigued by this mysterious man.  I was definitely curious about the meaning of whichever poem he was sending me to read.

Following his instructions, I found the book and opened it to the appropriate page:

WHATEVER WHILE THE THOUGHT COMES OVER ME

by: Dante Alighieri (1265-1321)

WHATEVER while the thought comes over me

That I may not again

Behold that lady whom I mourn for now,

About my heart my mind brings constantly

So much of extreme pain

That I say, Soul of mine, who stayest thou?

Truly the anguish, soul, that we must bow

Beneath, until we win out of this life,

Gives me full oft a fear that trembleth:

So that I call on Death

Even as on Sleep one calleth after strife,

Saying, Come unto me. Life showeth grim

And bare; and if one dies, I envy him,

For ever, among all my sighs which burn,

There is a piteous speech

That clamors upon death continually:

Yea, unto him doth my whole spirit turn

Since first his hand did reach

My lady's life with most foul cruelty.

But from the height of woman's fairness she,

Going up from us with the joy we had,

Grew perfectly and spiritually fair;

That so she treads even there

A light of Love which makes the Angels glad,

And even unto their subtle minds can bring

A certain awe of profound marveling.

I read it three times, tears trailing down my face. He must have lost someone. A relative, a friend, a wife? My heart ached for him.  Wiping my tears, I took the book with me to my room.  

The Game - Part 4

The passage that Marcus had directed me to made me want to learn more about the author and his works.  I spent some time in town at a small internet café doing some research and forming a ‘game plan’. 

With an idea in mind, I went to the Acropolis and pulled out my sketchpad to draw for a while and admire the view.

It took a while to write his letter.  I wrote and re-wrote it a few times before I was happy with it.  When it was finally complete, I made my way to our secret place and left the items for him.

Dear Master Marcus: 

Merci beaucoup for Dante and the blossom, cher.  The flower sits in my room and Dante was inspiring.  I even sat myself down in front of a computer today and did a little research.  Here are your gifts:

First, I was quite taken by the inscription on the door of the ninth gate.  So, I tried out my best calligraphy for you on one of the sheets attached.

"Through me the way into the suffering city,
Through me the way to the eternal pain,
Through me the way that runs among the lost.
Justice urged on my high artificer;
My maker was divine authority,
The highest wisdom, and the primal love.
Before me nothing but eternal things were made,
And I endure eternally.
Abandon every hope, ye who enter here."

Second, while I was on that computer earlier I came across this site that asks you some questions and tells you which level of hell you’ll end up in.  Apparently I’m in level 2, but you’ll have to discover what that mean for yourself.

Which level will you end up in?

http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-test.mv

And finally, your sketch.  Considerin’ it was Dante and dealing with heaven and hell, I thought you might like your own fallen angel.

I do hope you enjoy this round.  Next ones on you and I can’t wait to see what you come up with…

Love,

Sera

The Game - Part 3

I wasn’t sure what to expect after leaving him the blossom.  But sure enough, that night I found a flower on my desk, the same type as I had drawn for him, and a slip of paper marked with a simple X.

I sniffed the sweet scent of the blossom, then rushed to our secret place to find another note:

Your lovely sketch of the exquisite blossom left me wanting more & in return I will share one of my favorites.  

Sincerely, 

M. Marcus

Attached to the letter were instructions to go to a specific novel, Dante’s De Vulgari Eloquenlia and read Chapter 1-1:

Since I find that no one, before myself, has dealt in any way with the theory of eloquence in the vernacular, and since we can plainly see that such eloquence is necessary to everyone - for not only men, but also women and children strive to acquire it, as far as nature allows - I shall try, inspired by the Word that comes from above, to say something useful about the language of people who speak the vulgar tongue, hoping thereby to enlighten somewhat the understanding of those who walk the streets like the blind, ever thinking that what lies ahead is behind them. Yet, in so doing, I shall not bring to so large a cup only the water of my own thinking, but shall add to it more potent ingredients, taken or extracted from elsewhere, so that from these I may concoct the sweetest possible mead. 

Curling in the chair by the windows, I read through the passage numerous times.  Three thoughts drifted through my head in regards to Dante’s words here:

We are born with the water of our own thinking. Life, its experiences and interactions with others, help to flavor that water.

I know for myself that I can be influenced by knowledge and by those whom I admire.

The eloquence of man is something I'm not so familiar with. I express a lot about myself through my art more than words. Without my art, I do my best to enjoy myself and will always do so. But to put into words certain feelings in the way of the poets and great authors such as Dante? I shook my head. No, I can't do that. 

I close the book and hold it against my chest as I look out the window, my thoughts on the man who had directed me here as my eyes closed and I drifted off…

The Game - Part 2

The next morning I had another note on my desk:

Please forgive me for my forwardness.  You are most correct about my chambers.  I was merely thinking of it as the most private place.  No matter though.  You hit upon a lovely idea so, I drew you a map that I hope you’re able to follow.

Sincerely

M. Marcus

PS. I would appreciate it if we can keep this between just us my dear. 

I took my sketchpad and some colored pencils to the garden for inspiration.  Finding a bloom that was just too beautiful to deny, I sat and sketched it.

The beauty of a flower isn't truly seen until it's in bloom.

Once finished, I followed the instructions on the map which lead me to a shelf in a secluded section of the library.  Finding the large tome he noted on the map, I pulled it down and placed it on the table.  Carefully, I placed the sketch inside before closing and replacing the heavy book on the shelf.

Leaving the library, I wondered if he’d like the sketch I drew him… 

The Game - Part 1

Life for me has certainly gotten interesting, that’s for sure.  It all started about two weeks ago when Marcus, I mean Master Marcus, took one of my sketches I’d left on the reception desk.  The next day, I had another note from him:

Please excuse my previous intrusion but I find your sketches delightfully intriguing & I am extremely interested in viewing your collection further. If this request is acceptable to you please leave the sketches you choose in my chambers.

Sincerely,

Master Marcus

I was floored again!  I racked my brain for a while thinkin’ what could I give him?  Then I remembered the note said to leave them in his chambers.  I wasn’t allowed in private quarters, at least that’s what Pia said.  But here he was one of the Masters, so does that override Pia’s orders?  It was too much to consider, so I wrote him a note and put it in his box at reception, hoping he would understand:

Dear Master Marcus,

I can't say just how honoured I am that you like a few sketches by lil ole me. I'm sure I can come up with something to tickle your fancy, yeah? But I dunno where your room is, cher, and I thought I wasn't allowed to visit them? I guess you could leave me a map with a big X and I can go on a treasure hunt for ya! So if you like that idea, just leave me another note. I do so enjoy them.

Love,

Sera <3

Something so strange...

I awoke this morning to the sunlight streaming into my room. Hail to a new day! Grinning, I bounced out of bed and into the bathroom to run through my morning routine.

Emerging half an hour later, I went to my closet to pick out an outfit. Tossing it on the bed, I quickly changed and finished getting ready.

On my way out, I stopped to pick up my iPod and sketchpad. I found the iPod, but the pad was nowhere to be seen. After a few minutes of searching, I figured I had misplaced it and would look again later.

I made my way down to reception, humming my favorite tune, Say Hey by Michael Franti and Spearhead. When I reached the desk, I noticed my sketchpad laying on it and smiled. I picked it up as I sat down, then frowned, seeing there was a note sitting on top of it.

"Hello My dear I found You sketch very intriguing so much so I wanted it for my personal collection. Master Marcus"

My jaw dropped a bit in surprise. He liked my sketch? Looking at the sketchbook, I quickly flipped through to see which one he took. My eyes widen as I realize the one he took was of me. I sat there a bit incredulous, staring at the note.

My eyes traveled over the elegant script. Following the old world style writing with my finger, I wondered about the man who wrote it. I was also intrigued now, not only about the note, but also about the man. What was it about my sketch that he liked? Perhaps when I meet him, I could ask....