The Tragedy of Cordelia Martin, Part II

Cordelia groaned, feeling the echo of pain that had once been. She rubbed her face with both hands, taking special care to massage the right side of her face.

Doctors insisted that both her bone, and tissue healed normally. The pain, they said, was in her mind. Certainly, her face seemed to remember the pain. Her lack of an eye remembered the pain. If her imagination said it hurt, didn't it hurt?

"Don't let it fool you, baby." The melody of her lover's voice jingled behind her. 

She felt Amnesia's touch gliding over her, beneath the rough, raw cotton sheets. Amnesia's slender hands and long fingers raised gooseflesh as they trailed along Cordelia's shoulders, and over her arm.

"Ugh." Cordelia sneered, her face still resting in her hands, the pain still imagined in her face - in her bone - echoing as it sometimes did. Finally, shaking her head, she propped up on an arm, glancing over her right shoulder. "This is what you get to see in the morning.

"I see it all the time." Amnesia sighed. "It's never bothered me."

"Well it bothers me."

This was common. Amnesia existed in her own world of fantasy, and was by rights, and old traditions - traditions Cordelia swore to reject, but still could not - little more than a courtesan. To Amnesia's position, Cordelia was considerably in higher standing.

The world may have bid farewell to the concept of Bushido centuries ago, but for her life's devotions, it was one of very few traditions she chose to keep. 

Were she less of a coward, she would fall on her Master's sword, simply for being the very soul survivor of her old home.

"It doesn't have to be like this, you know." Amnesia traced small shapes over Cordelia's shoulders. Cordelia felt her nipples harden beneath the sheets.

"This is exactly how it has to be." Cordelia rose up, the sheets draping off of her, and falling into the simple bed. "I don't cut into your beliefs, you don't cut into mine. That was the deal."

"Not everything is about contracts."

"It is for me." Cordelia said.

Amnesia smiled, though Cordelia could not simply because she stood away, facing the window. Amnesia envied the morning sunlight that cast itself across her sometime lover's body, catching generous curves, and lending to shadow, taught, and tight muscles. Cordelia was the walking enigma, a classical work of art, and a modern reflection of fitness, and physique... and a warrior all at once.

"Stop it." Cordelia turned her head, glancing over her shoulder.

Amnesia watched the pupil dilate against a deep emerald green. Cordelia's eyes were slightly larger than average. She imagined that it must have been an act of splendor to fall under her sight when Cordelia still had both eyes.

For Amnesia, one was enough.

"I said stop it."

Amnesia stifled a giggle. "Stop what?"

"Your inner monologues are almost audible. I can literally feel you thinking at me."

"There is so much about you worth worshiping."

"I told you not to love me, Amnesia."

"...and I told you that my heart does not beat to the whims of your decisions."

Thick silence. In it, Cordelia turned only slightly and Amnesia's eyes widened, only a moment. She could not resist a smile, and heaved her breasts into her hands at Amnesia. "You've seen them a thousand times. They're not spectacular."

"They're perfect."

"You're such an optimist. I have to go. I have things to do." Cordelia was already sliding into her skirt, and with a skill too well practiced, she was dressed before Amnesia could object.

Amnesia's face was serious. "I can love you if I want to."

"I can love you, too." Cordelia frowned. "Nothing can come from it, but sorrow."

"You're worth sorrow." Amnesia sat up, pulling the sheets close to her chest. Cordelia made a face, only for a moment. Amnesia was never shy about her body. 

Not even a little.

            "I'll see you soon." Cordelia said. She glanced over her right shoulder. She couldn't see Amnesia, and she was glad. Had she, there would be no leaving. Cordelia hurried to the door. After a series of deadbolts, chains, and locks, the door was open, and closed. In those few moments, she was gone.