One

1966 Words
  Chiara Baker had never thought of herself as special back then. Whenever she would look into a mirror, all she would see a plain face, boring eyes, and long brown hair that was wavy in a way she never liked—that was why she always wore her hair up in a ponytail, despite her mother always saying that it was unladylike. More than a century later and dozens of lives lived, Chiara had never felt this relieved to see her face again. She was starting to see herself in a new light—that plain face apparently had nice eyebrows and a small dimple beside her lips whenever she smiled; her boring eyes looked kind, and even more so when it crinkles on the sides when she is happy; and her wavy hair never should have been restricted to a ponytail at all, as it hung down her head and below her shoulders perfectly. Little things. These were just the little things that Chiara finally appreciated with the new life she was given, but above all, she felt something that she hadn’t in such a long, long time—she wanted to live. Chiara smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t wait to see Mary, Clarissa, and Dorian, so without even as much as a brush of the hair or change of clothes, she ran out of her room. It was some time in the afternoon, Chiara noticed—which could only mean they were about to have tea in the garden, so that was where she headed. She ran through corridors and corridors until she finally saw Mary walking from the kitchen, carrying a tray of biscuits while trying to get one into her mouth. Her short blond hair with streaks of red was tied at the back, which made a lot of shorter hairs just hang around loosely. As in typical Mary fashion, she wore a shredded tee underneath a bomber jacket, and leather pants. How she could even get in those in the first place, Chiara couldn’t understand; nevertheless, she ran towards Mary and just hugged her from behind. “Wha—” Mary was about to angrily yell as she balanced the tray of biscuits to keep any from falling, then she realized who it was. “Shay?” she asked, and Chiara, with her face still buried on the crook of her neck, nodded. “I missed you,” Chiara pouted. “I really thought I was going to be a goner that time.” Mary managed to peel Chiara away from her back, then proceed to flick her forehead hard. Chiara wasn’t sure how long she had been gone, but this was totally not the welcome she expected. “That’s what you get for trying to act like a sacrificial lamb!” Mary scolded as Chiara recoiled. “What the hell were you thinking? Mr. D is a freaking vampire with supernatural abilities! He doesn’t need any protecting! He’s a grown-ass man who can dodge whatever weapon is being thrown at him, and you—you were like a tiny frail girl compared to him! You were even saying your goodbyes and you made Mr. D cry! Did you know that? When we took you back here, Clarissa was crying the entire time because you wouldn’t wake up, and now—now you look weird and different again! Do you know what emotional rollercoaster you put all of us through? Even Mr. D has been broodier and more dramatic than usual. He has been getting a flower and picking out its petals while staring out into nothing while waiting for you to wake up, like a freaking psychopath, for god’s sake!” Chiara blinked at her, and then chuckled—much to Mary’s confusion. “Thanks for worrying about me,” Chiara said with a smile as she hugged Mary from the front this time. Mary, despite her eye roll and groan, still patted Chiara’s back. “If you ever do something stupid like that ever again, I swear I will grab you from the after life myself and kill you again, got it?” Mary threateningly asked. Chiara pulled away and nodded. “Got it.” “Come on, Clarissa and Mr. D are outside,” Mary said as she handed her a biscuit. She looked at her curiously from head to toe as they walked—the first time she had seen Chiara awake with that new form of hers. “By the way, whose meatsuit did you get now? Mr. D says you look like an old friend of his now.” “This?” Chiara touched her cheek. “This is actually my original self. Chiara Baker.” “It’s weird,” Mary admitted with narrowed eyes. “But I guess this seems more like you than the previous pretty girl.” Chiara scoffed as she held the door open for Mary. “Are you saying I’m not pretty?” she asked. “No, I meant that this simpler look suits you better than that old, rich girl kind of thing you had going on before,” Mary simply said with a shrug just as they reached the garden. Clarissa stood there, pouring tea on cups just as they arrived, and when she heard Mary talking to someone, she quickly turned around to look at Chiara. “Miss Shay!” Clarissa breathed out in relief, putting down everything she was holding. “Oh, how delightful it is to see you! We were so worried!” “Clarissa!” Chiara exclaimed, enveloping the old lady into a big hug—something that she clearly didn’t expect, but was happy to return. “Also, my name is Chiara now. I’m back in my, I guess you can say, original body.” “Welcome back, Miss Chiara,” Clarissa smiled as she looked at her from head to toe. “Has Master Dorian seen you yet?” “Not yet, actually. Where is he?” Mary, who had sat on a chair, munched on biscuits with her legs crossed. “Probably brooding somewhere,” she carelessly waved a hand. “He has been in such a mood as of late,” Clarissa whispered in agreement as she resumed pouring tea. “He went around to water the flowers. I think it is best if you go to him as soon as you can. Take him out of his agony,” she lightly chuckled and nodded at a trail Dorian had followed. “Will do, thanks,” Chiara said as she went. “Bring a handkerchief to wipe his tears!” Mary called out after her in jest, which earned her a small scolding from Clarissa. Chiara couldn’t help but smile—it was like everything was returning back to normal.   She wasn’t sure how far Dorian had gone and how far she would have to go to find him, but she heard footsteps on the grass after a while, and then saw Dorian turn the corner. There he was, even in his own stupid bright yellow hoodie and cap to match, looking like a breath of fresh air. Chiara wasn’t sure how long she was gone but it had felt like an eternity that she just wanted to run to him and embrace him. However, he beat her to it. As soon as Dorian’s dark brown eyes laid upon her, an obvious wave of relief washed over his face as he took a deep breath and smiled. “Chiara,” he breathed out as he began to briskly walk towards her. She smiled back at him and shrugged. “I’m back,” she said with a light chuckle; but Dorian didn’t seem to be in a mood for laughter, for the moment he stepped in front of her, he gently held her by the sides of her face, leaned down and kissed her. Chiara was caught off-guard, but it was a surprise that was very much welcome. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, placing her hands on his arms. It wasn’t the first time that Dorian had kissed her, but it was the first that he had done so while she was her true self and not under anyone else’s disguise—and that made it so much more real and special. The moment, however, was quickly put to a stop when they heard a clearing of a throat and Mary say, “My God, get a room,” in jest. Dorian and Chiara pulled away on cue, both looking quite embarrassed but giddily so—that was, until Dorian frowned. “I almost forgot. I better go,” he said in suddenly a serious tone. ‘They are looking for me, and it is better if I go to them than if they come here.” Chiara didn’t understand a word he meant, but she could tell that it didn’t seem like good news. “Do you need any of us to—" “No, I have to go alone,” Dorian simply said as he placed a small kiss on her forehead. “They don’t like humans meddling. I’ll see you all in a few hours.” That was all the explanation they received, then off he was gone. Confused, Chiara turned to Mary who was walking back to where they came from. “I don’t understand where he’s running off to,” Chiara told her. “That was weird, right?” The 24-year-old simply sighed as she ate another piece of biscuit she had in her hand. “Don’t mind it, it’s just a meeting of some weird-ass bastards. Some vampiric bastards.” “Aren’t you worried? Didn’t he look like he was?” Chiara urged just as they reached the table, only to find that Clarissa was gone—but she reckoned the old lady was probably just getting more hot water for tea in the kitchen. “Mr. D is a grown-ass man,” Mary dismissively said. “He can handle himself.” “I hope you’re right,” Chiara muttered. Just then, Clarissa came rushing towards them—a sense of urgency on her face. “Miss Chiara,” she called out while clearly trying to keep her voice even. When she finally reached them, she composed herself and continued, “some women are outside, looking for you. I do not suppose you have a group of friends from the city?” “I do not have women friends outside this mansion, period,” Chiara said with a frown as she headed towards the gate with Clarissa beside her. Mary also followed, but more on out of curiosity. “They specifically asked for a Miss Chiara Baker,” Clarissa let her know. “In any case, I did not invite them in just as a precaution.” “I think that’s smart,” Mary nodded, while Chiara’s eyebrows remained furrowed. As they approached the gate, she could see from below that a few people wearing the same shoes standing outside. Chiara Baker, they asked for. Everyone that knew Chiara Baker was either dead or a vampire called Dorian. Nevertheless, Chiara looked warily at Mary and Clarissa as she held onto the knob to open the gate, and with a deep breath, turned it and pulled it open. There were three women in their mid-thirties standing outside, all wearing the same shoes and all having some sort of colorful crystals around their necks—but that was not the weirdest part. As soon as they saw Chiara, they looked as relieved as when Mary, Clarissa, and Dorian saw her. Only this time, without uttering a single word, the women fell to their knees and bowed down before her.
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