Chapter 4

There is this certain look existing and shining up in his eyes. I just cannot easily describe it, but that does not mean that it is not there at all or in any way feasible. It is just there. Tender; attached and seemingly devoted ; and jubilant and loving and affectionate too. Here we stand smiling and beaming up at each other, words failing us to utterly express and make out any emotions that we are undergoing deep down, but the feelings that we are darting and leveling at each other—they are the undeniable and sure feelings of being truly happy with each other and concluding that a greater and more serious bond and friendship ought to be built and framed up between the both of us. I don't know why I should feel this way regarding him, but he truly is special and wonderful indeed. Please don't stir up and awaken any doubts in your minds as concerns all this. I am just telling the whole truth and not making anything here up.

"Would you mind if we go out for a much cleaner breath of air and I tell you a particular story?" This, Rhys says and declares to me with a humanely mind and likable expression. I can't turn his offer down. I just have to go out there with him. Sure-fire do-ooohhhh!

"Of course, Rhys! You can surely take me anywhere it is that you feel like wanting to take me," the words are already out of my mouth in that bubbly thrilled and galvanized sort of way than I cannot control or oversee. Anywhere that you feel like wanting to take me to? Sure! That is Mirth teasing and jeering me up. Damn her for it! She has the guts, doesn't freaking she?

He stretches out his hand towards me so that he can grab hold of it and then lead and steer me out to the cleanly and wonderful breeze of air out there. What about Courtney—my best ever friend and chum? Am I not supposed to let her know where it is that I am heading off to with Rhys here? Using a voice-to-text application converter on my Blackberry Smartphone once Rhys is standing there talking and having a word up or maybe three with this particular dishy-looking gentleman that he came with in the companionship of Marie de Pierre, I grab myself aside to some quiet and not-so crowded corner where I speak out to my touch-pad phone: "I am going out for a walk with some guy, Schroeder. He is just a latest friend of mine—nothing more other than this. I will catch up with you later on. Enjoy yourself please, my sweetest babe!"

Speedily and with a pace quicker than the strike of lightning, the application has perfectly understood all my words—and automatically and 100% accurate faultlessly transcribed them all into a one-paged text, which I quickly and without wasting any bit of time post over and forward straight into Courtney's mailbox. Of course! Her email programmer will quickly notify her about my newest message for her.

Rhys is now by my side, walking with me gracefully and beautifully out here. I look at him. Hmmnnnnn! He is so incredibly and wonderfully beautiful and gorgeous. Just like Charles was, and I even feel that he still is (Charles I mean, dummy). He (Rhys) feels like a hard and sharply stinging slap to my senses and rationale all abruptly and unexpectedly. I have felt this electrifying and galvanizing way with Charles before. I still am feeling it right now with this man here. What could this mean? That I am starting to get infatuated and insanely obsessed with him? It is normal to happen and occur anyways.

He also looks up at me here and then. I straight off and without prompt hesitation glance off away from him. Is it because I am all shy and awkward? Hell simply no! Then why do I have to do this? He doesn't have to know that I have been looking heavily at him like this. Come on. Stop fooling and cheating yourself, Tori! He by now knows it ... he must have obviously felt it. That is so true and rightful besides—I am fully aware and conscious of this. What is he going to say now next, huh?

"You have a nice wrist watch," I observe and pass comment to him. It is fastened and secured right there on his hand, hugging and clasping on to his skin dearly and lovingly. I wish I could do the same to him too. Ha—ha! I am just cracking jokes here, don't mind me. The watch is as brand new and expensive as ever before. I think that it is the most expensive thing that he is wearing right at this particular moment. I love it. Not because it costs $$$. No way! Its make and design and model ... it is just damn too gorgeous and magnificent and eye catching and flattering to some soaring high degree. It seems like he has a good eye at seeing and picking up things, or doesn't he?

Again his watch reminds me of Charles'. Yes! Charles loved and adored watches like mad. He even told me in person that he has so many of them stored and piled up there at his house and that he would without fail give me one too. "A promise is a promise," I quote and say out his very own sweet-echoing words. But then again he was all poorly nervous and shaky and trembling as he was making this exact promise to me. Like he was afraid of failing to meet up its expectations in the very end and then let me down as a result. I just didn't clearly get it. The poor thing! When was he ever going to stop being all this nervous and shaky and terrified when it came to me being in his presence? At least for the nonce, there emerged and cropped into sight and reality some improvement later onwards.

"Oh—my watch," Rhys almost seems to forget that he is wearing it. He glances straight down at it. It is a Shinola make and model and a deep shining black in color and appearance too. I just simply love it for what it nicely and coincidentally is. "I am glad that you like it. But you know one thing? Even though it might look all this expensive and luxurious, it was not priced that really much high. Not at all! I think it is the best and fast functioning watch I have ever bought."

Yeah. It might turn out so. And I wouldn't be all any helplessly surprised and shocked either.

"You said that you are going to tell me this particular story," I mention. He looks at me angrily and furiously for a bit while like he is going to frown and make a nasty bitter face at me for daring to ask him this. Oh no! He better dare not scowl again. I have already had enough of this sort. Seriously!

"I have not forgotten what I promised you, Tori."

Oh ... oh ... sorry mister. That is my entire fault, I am guessing now? Tori, learn how to be patient and good-minded, will you please, my sweetest love? Yes, Mirth-y! I have clearly heard you, beloved one. I am wondering ... what story is he going to tell me this time around? Is it a love story? I love romantic based and pieced up tales. They make my heart warm and gladly kick and beat up. I guess that we are all fans and lovers of romance, or are we really not?

"Once upon a time, there was a prince who lived in a land very, very far away. This prince, just like all boys, had a name. His name was Loci, and he was an extremely handsome boy and young man too. His father was a wealthy and good-natured king who gave him everything that he wished to have in this entire world. His full happiness and pleasure lied in providing for his son and seeing that he was intensely pleased and happy with everything coming to him. The boy, just like a normal boy is supposed to be, grew up to be a terribly good-looking young man whom all girls desired and deep down their desirous hearts ached for. Each girl around him kept on saying and flattering himself with these sugary words: "He shall notice and marry me one soon coming day." But yes, he did notice and went out with so many of them. Even as far as sleeping and lying down with them. And no, he did not marry any of them like they wanted him to do.

"The prince knew that he must now marry. The king expected him to get wed by now and already start considering giving him grandchildren for his own dignified pride and swagger—"

I cut Rhys short straight right here. "Wait a second, Rhys. Is 'swagger' the rightful and appropriate word to place and lay there where you have thrown it?"

He clears his throat before my very attentive face and eyes. The moon is shining and glimmering all about us on the wide and vast balcony out here, making us look in the eyes of the other like we are flawed yet wonderfully beings enshroud and covered up with a smooth, wavering and effulgently flickering light. Our eyes twinkle and glitter at each other's.

"Well, I am sorry for that word, Tori. All I meant to say was to describe the king's pride and sense of authoritativeness. He would give up just about anything in the world to become a father to a son, and almost any little bit of thing left after all this just to be a grandfather to beautiful and amazing kids."

"Go on."

"The prince wanted to marry—that which his heart and soul had not given forth unto him." As Rhys says and speaks this out, his facial expression darkens and embitters up to that awful and frightening state that I can neither help but shudder and quiver at. It seems like there is a more deeper meaning and symbol to this statement and description here. It is like he is seeing the things that he is actually talking about here. Is he really? That is what it definitely seems.

"What do you mean by saying: 'The prince wanted to marry—that which his heart and soul had not given forth unto him'?" I ask him nervously and shakily. Let's hope that no horror monster crops up and issues fearfully here where the particular story seems headed.

"Well, the prince happened to be in love with this lady here—Ellery was her name. She was blond, bubbly, well-formed up, and extremely beautiful too. But she was already married to the Dragon of Ischia." Here again, Rhys' eyes flare and widen and also darken in expression and appearance. I think he can see the Dragon of Ischia? But what is it really? A human being? A spirit thing? What exactly?"

"Who was this Dragon of Ischia, Rhys?"

"He was a prince—made of flesh and blood just like all of us. He had for all these years waited to watch and see Ellery grow and had what's more vowed to let no other man take or wrench his special rose away from him. He would do just about any deed to make certain that he did not ever lose it from his strongly clutch and grasp—even it meant tinting and dipping his hands in a bitingly sharp cold bitter pool of damnable blood."

"Well, this is quite more of a dark story, Rhys. You are starting to frighten me." Oh yes, I know that this might sound like the most insane thing ever. I am someone who is used to watching the worst kind of horror action and gore. Blood, wounds, scars, the undead—anything that you can feel like mentioning and pointing it out here! I feast and devour it with my own eyes deliriously. How come such things dodn't scare the shit hell out of it? Well it is not because I am now transformed into a demon, but that that stuff is just all too fictitious and unreal. In this world of storytelling, not all things are invented and forged up. Some are real—they have doubtlessly happened before, and they might still take place now and see the light of the day in our very present day and age

"A dark story it might be, Tori. But it did happen as a matter of fact. Long, long, long way back in I have forgotten what exactly kind of very olden place." There we go! Another one of those scary but real stories! I hate this kind.

"So what happened to the prince and this blond-haired woman?"

"He fought with the dragon of Ischia. And only one of them was supposed to live through the battle so as to triumph and win over the woman to himself. It was such a fiercely and agonizing battle. One that was filled with deadliest wounds which the survivor would have to carry and bear with him for the rest of his remaining life."

"Why didn't he just quit on her and go on marrying any of those numberless women in his kingdom? Why her especially?"

"Because he loved her so very much ... and she loved him too intensely bad. They both loved each other like the world itself was coming to a closing with their legend and pain-filled tale. He could not get to make himself forget and overlook her from his notice and awareness just like that. In fact, he tried all those gimmicks and stuff. But his mind kept on wandering and straying back toward her. Every woman whom he was with did small, insignificant things that cast his memory and reflection back unswerving to her. He saw her in every side and facet of his life."

"Had she bewitched him or what precisely?"

"She also thought that he had done the exact same with her."

"How did their story end then?"

"That is not yet known. It is either Loci or the Dragon of Ischia won the battle for ... Ellery. Loci had ventured on forbidden and dreaded ground, and there was no turning back until he had finished the doomed course that he had taken."

Love can at times be the most saddest story of our lives. Why do we always like tampering with the forbidden and seemingly preternatural? Love is always there ... but so is that dreaded and feared Dragon of Ischia too. He is also in love, or is not he? The Dragon I mean to say?

I feel cold. I start to shake and tremble. As soon as Rhys notices this, he immediately removes his jacket and kindly and with compassion hands it over to me. I don't know how to thank him gratefully enough. A slightly mumbled, "Thank you," is not enough I am guessing and conjecturing up. He is such a kind and caring man, or is not he? I like him for that. Hmmnnnnn! His jacket is the most comfortable and enjoyable that I have ever worn. After I have dolled it up, I notice his scent trickle up from it straight into my flaring and widening nostrils. I love his scent. Of course! It is not the most beautiful one in the world ... but definitely and probably it is the best ever likable. He smells fantastic.