History books

🌾Hyacinth🌾

After what feels like forever, Amara finally gets a text from her 'friend' that she's almost done. The student traffic has slowed down mesurably, a few stragglers are rushing to and from classes, some even hurriedly getting dressed as they run to class. I'm glad I graduated centuries ago, this seems like a very stressful environment, I think to myself. A couple minutes of silence later, Amaras friend walks out next to a beautiful young lady with gorgeous brown hair, blue eyes and freckles. My heart stops for a moment as the oh so dreaded feeling blooms in my chest again. Fuck.

Amara begs me to meet Iris, and consequently her friend, who I already know is another reincarnation of Nefeli. She has surprisingly only ever gotten more beautiful in every lifetime. I sigh as I step out of the car and introduce myself to Iris, offering her a handshake.

"I'm Artemis, Amaras boss-"

"Also bestfriend!"
Amara interjects, making me sigh and chuckle again. Iris laughs and shakes my hand.

"I'm Iris, I'm almost a hundred percent sure Amara wouldn't shut up about me."
She says. Iris is a very pretty woman who looks to be from Latin american  decent. She has jet black curly hair which is pulled into a loose low bun, she has beautiful green eyes the shade of a forest floor on a rainy day. I look at Amara with a knowing smirk, which makes her elbow me.

I chuckle and turn to Nefeli-Well, another version of her. The beautiful girl I fell in love with centuries ago still manages to plauge my every waking thought, even when I had her back all of those times, even when I stopped looking for her, she plauged every thought I had, and here she is, standing infront of me again. I smile at her and offer my hand to shake.

"I'm Artemis."
I say, shaking her hand, she smiles and shakes my hand back.
"I'm Anastacia, Iris's friend" she says. Well I'n fucked. This is gonna be a painful next few weeks. Everytime I've re-met her, it messes with my head, and everytime, I'm left with the same thought everytime she leaves. "Why did the gods do this? And why only to me? Was I too selfish, or bossy?" no matter the why or the how, I learnt over the years that it's useless trying to get her to remember all the time we've spent together, how many lifetimes she's forgotten about. I Don't even notice the smile on my face and the embarrassingly long time I've held onto her hand until Amara clears her throat, ruining my daydream. I snap back into reality, clear my throat, nod at Anastacia and let go of her hand.
"I apologize, I was...preoccupied" I lie through my teeth.

୨⎯ TIMESKIP⎯୧

Once I drop Amara and Iris off at the club, I run some errands and then go back home. I've lived in the same house since 11BC. I know, I'm fucking old. Might aswell be dust. Should be dust. I've made multiple renovations to my home throughout the years, even made my own speakeasy in the basement during the prohibition. The home my father passed down to me has seen thousands of different peiriods, though the bones are the same. You see, if you take care of something well enough, it'll last a lifetime. Or four.

After work each day, I clean, feed my cat Smokey, water my plants, do all the boring adult bs I have to do, then I can finally do what I enjoy, drowning in my own sadness. I often go out to my patio and sketch the landscape. My house is just outside the city, in a rural area. I live on a hill overlooking the same river me and Nefeli-Well, Anastacia now-met all those centuries ago. I often find myself sketching her into the portraits aswell. using charcoals to immitate the waves of her hair in greyscale. The walls of my room are plastered in sketches and pictures of us. My favorite is one from 1819 a few years after the first camera was invented. It's of me and Anastacia on our wedding day. She looked so beautiful that day. Back then, she was named Maria Vescal. I think that was one of my favorite names of hers. She's had many. As I sketch, I find myself sketching Anastacia. Her brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, tossed over her shoulder, her freckles-I wanna kiss every single one of them. I keep sketching, wondering if I'm ever gonna run into her again. Part of me hopes I do, the other hopes I Don't. I love the feeling she gives me, but I hate that she takes that feeling with her everytime she leaves too, whether it be she dies, or just gets sick of me. Theres been multiple instances where I've simply fucked up and she's left, or that I've weirded her out too much for her to stay longer than greetings.