R.I.P. - Xavier Thorpe | WEDNESDAY

001 ; keeping the bloodline alive

It had all happened so suddenly. And she had to admit, she had no regrets.

The past month, Rowena had been at widths end- and even in the sinister crevices of her mind. The girl was lost in the turmoil of her loss, and so was her father- who was equally numbed to the morbidity of the world. And the fact that she could feel any sort of sorrow, left her in a state of limbo. Of her past self before her mother's death and the way she was transforming. That was more horrific than Irene's death itself. She had felt more in three weeks than she had in her fifteen years alive.

The teenager had always drawn a thick line with humour around someone's death. The entire concept of departing the realm of the living was a sacred thing to Rowena and should never be made fun of. Yet she knew the calculated actions of humanity- she could hear their meaningless thoughts whenever she was near them. It drove her to the brink of insanity (not the good kind). Yet, they had never broke Rowena Poe... until that day... when they jested about the dead and got their comeuppance.

You see, Rowena is a gifted and talented outcast with a unique yet erratic ability. One that had been passed down each generation of the Poe family. Up until the event in question, the girl had shown a level of control that was beyond her years- alas, her emotions had never been as extreme they were that day.

It occurred in history class, where they were learning about the settlers' eradication of the Native Americans. And in a blink of an eye, a tomahawk had been lodged into Bradley Oscars shoulder- gore and all. Everybody else were frozen in horror, while Rowena gazed with an even deeper level of dismay as the weapon dissipated into the unknown- the damage had already been done on her tormentor, though.

Alistair Poe had his only child withdrawn from that school before anyone became wise to her being the cause of the unexplainable, violent offence. He always knew that the day would come when his daughter would lose control and there was only one place in the mortal and immortal realms that could teach her how to manage her ability... Nevermore Academy.

_______

The dusky brochure was seated on the wooden table, matching the palette of the paper in front of her willowed eyes. "You're sending me to Nevermore... always thought you were itching to get rid of me..." It was more than clear that she was less than happy about her father's decision.

"Rowena..." The man was older looking due to the shaded circles beneath his stern eyes, they became even heavily darkened as he came into the dense candlelight. "How many people do you know who can make a Native American chieftain appear out of thin air and impale a boy with a tomahawk?"

The statement was more than rhetorical. "You, Grandpa Victor, Victor Senior... I'm now realising that you should have been called Victor..."

"Rowena..." She was struck out from her easily distracted attention span. "I don't think that you understand how serious this situation could have been. You're just like your mother..." It was impressive how his hair remained in place while his head waved side to side, his eyes focused on the floor.

"And what is that supposed to mean, father." The girl didn't mean it as a question, "You have been so cold since mum's passing and now you want to send me away?!" Deep down, deep deep down both Alistair was in the same condition as Rowena was outwardly, however, not even her mother would see his true emotions- yet she could always hear him in the spectral plain. That was a talent Rowena had never mastered. Her father would block her out of his mind. Yet for Irene, he could never. Correction, he would never.

His pierced beyond the window. A vast scene of withered trees in the hue of a thick mist, out-skirting the greenery of their gardens. "I must ensure that this family does not end because it's first female heir was so callous with her power..."

She had a burning sense of guilt. She was the only heir to the Poe family. Every other descendant from second siblings had been destined to very painful, ill-fated deaths or the survivors of this apparent curse didn't possess the family gift. Which put the weight of the world on Rowena's pale shoulders. She didn't want to be defined by the survival of her lineage. But... her mother was not there to speak sense to her father; so Rowena was subjected to his tyranny and ignorant sense of duty.

A sigh parted from between her lips- arms crossing, "I'm not going because of 'the Poe family bloodline'..." She felt the apprehension. In the way his suit constricted as vertical as the pinstripes which lingered upon the material; that appeared to be the same spectrum as a silent movie. As was his quiet disposition. "I'm going because of mum." That remark was one that finalised the conversation at hand, alike her confident footsteps- which drifted away from her father.

With a click, he could relax, mildly. Now he had ensured Rowena's attendance to Nevermore Academy. He peered over to the picture in sepia colour, the one where a girl with delicate- almost fragile- features. Her ebony hair cascaded down her back- an array of bounding curls.

It didn't last very long, his dusky face loomed at the photograph one last time before turning away.

Meanwhile his daughter had already began to pack for her prolonged time at Nevermore Academy. If she going to be carted away by her father to a place of no return, it would be swift and on her own terms. She had no appreciation for the toxicity of keeping the bloodline alive. Rowena was going by choice and only by choice.

She didn't want her stupid power from her unnecessarily hyped up ancestor. She just wanted her father to be grounded by her mother- but alas, she would never be there again. At least, not in the mortal realm of the living. Somewhere out there she was gazing at that, thinking that Alistair had stepped too far. Rowena would never know if that were true or not. Neither did she envy to.

Death was the last great adventure after life. All Rowena could hope for was that her mother was living her afterlife to the fullest.

It was as if her thoughts had carried her body on the way to the car. This must have been the first time her father had accompanied her anywhere in years; it had always been Irene who would put the parental shoes on- not Alistair.

Her thoughts scaled from how she ended up in this car and the assurance that if she had turned the time back to that history lesson- she would choose to give Bradley Oscars his own medicine. As said before, you never joke about the dead to Rowena, let alone the person that raised her. At the other end of those queries; Rowena wondered what she would find at Nevermore Academy.

What mysteries lurked there?

Who would she encounter there?

What mark could leave there?

Only time would tell...