The Coming From the Shadows Series
Coming From the Shadows: Lydia
A Sense of Peace
1912
The air held a sharp bite in Late March as daffodils pushed through the earth in defiance of the lingering winter; the subtle tweeting of morning birds while Lydia; walking slowly, her slender fingers clutched around the handle of her wicker basket; within eggs and bread shifted from the slow, subtle movements of its swings.
Her silvery-grey eyes, usually sharp and observant were clouded with wariness; she was almost home, she could take a few minutes to rest before taking on any further jobs; at least, until the irritation of the nausea she felt subsided.
The street; narrow and lined with modest houses was usually quiet – today however, a trio of unsavoury characters blocked her path, a hulking man, his face was a roadmap of broken veins and bad intentions; he stood flanked by two younger, weasel-faced lads, they all radiated an air of petty menace.
Lydia sighed inwardly, this was precisely the kind of mundane inconveniences she wanted to avoid.
“Well” the larger man said slowly, his eyes wandering over Lydia’s body “Look at what we have here” as he positioned himself in front of her path; the other two lads snickered, mirroring his movements, they effectively boxed her in “Aren’t you a pretty little thing, and all alone out here”
Lydia barely registered their words; her mind was a whirlwind of various different thoughts ranging from mundane tasks such as mending a pair of pants Thomas had tried to hide from her, finding a new butcher but also, the persistent and unsettling nausea she was trying to keep contained, it had been plaguing her for the past for weeks, she felt a wave of it; a sickly lurch in her stomach causing her to tighten her grip around the baskets handle, the world just seemed to swim momentarily, she focused her attention on a crack in the pavement to steady herself.
“Come now; don’t be shy” the man pressed; his voice was thick was a predatory tone “Maybe…, we can entertain you; unless of course, you’d prefer to entertain us” he winked – his gesture was crude and offensive “Maybe; we could come to some kind of…., arrangement to let you carry on home” he chuckled
As the lads closed in slightly, each maintaining their predatory grin – Lydia remained impassive, her face an angelic mask, her lack of a reaction seemed to only server to infuriate them
The larger man reached out towards her; his hand thick and calloused as he grasped her arm “Don’t play coy with me!; you know what we want!”
Lydia’s training; years of honed reflexes and brutal efficiency seemed to react far, far slower than normal; it only threatened to come to the surface as her fingers twitched – unlike the usual desire to react immediately, this time; her thought process seemed strangely slow.
Before she could even decide on any course of action; a shout cut through the tension “Oi; what’s going on here?”
An officer slowly approached; the typical dark blue uniform with his custodian-helmet and a baton dangled from his waist; he moved purposely towards them; he was only a few years older than Lydia; perhaps by two-years, maybe three compared to Lydia’s 22-Years; she shifted her eyes towards him, blinking with a surprised recognition.
She recognised him from an encounter only two-years prior – yet, it felt a lifetime ago, out in the Northumbrian moors; a chaotic night that she had been fleeing Cultists, this young officer had been one of two attempting to detain her when she had been wandering alone.
It had been a botched arrest; this officer himself managed to hit the bag of her legs in a fight that had broke out when they were trying to arrest her; she remembered the pain it caused her; then there was the Cutlists that arrived, the deranged Cultists that had been pursuing her; the violence that erupted.
He had been younger and inexperienced back then; he had been hopelessly outmatched with something he had no understanding of while his colleague had died; had she not intervened to save him; he would have died too.
The officer narrowed his gaze, he recognised her too – he could see past her innocent façade, past the delicate features; he remembered her terrifying efficiency; the controlled fury and skill with the Jian sword she carried that night.
He made a subtle gesture to the wooden baton “I said; What is going on here?” he repeated “These streets of for honest folk, not for harassing women, now move along, before I decide to take you in for questioning”
The larger man suddenly deflated; he mumbled something under his breath before shoving past the officer, the two lads trailing behind him; they scurried away like rats disappearing into the shadows
The officer turned to Lydia; his expression a mix of relief and something else that Lydia couldn’t quite place “Are you alright miss?”
“I’m fine” Lydia replied; her voice barely a whisper; he could see the pale look in her face, slowly he nodded
She seemed so different to what he remembered; the last encounter she demonstrated a whirlwind of deadly force and skill; here, she seemed so fragile “Just…, glad I could return the favour from…, back then” he told her “Be careful now miss” he touched the brim of his helmet in a brief salute before he continued down the street, his shoulders squared, exuding an air of authority.
Lydia watched him go; she felt a mix of emotions with her; gratitude certainly, but also, the flicker of something else, something she couldn’t quite work out – but, it was certainly a reminder of her past life, that darkness had recently come back, no matter how hard she tried to escape it, it would never leave her.
Lydia turned; she continued to walk, making show work of the remaining distance from her small, cosy little home; the usual scents of tea and strong incense of sandalwood – the cosiness of the small space was personal the smell wafting from the kitchen indicated someone had been busy making food at some point; Thomas was most likely home.
Inside the kitchen; Thomas was indeed home, he was sprawled awkwardly amongst the pots and pans within the cupboard muttering away to himself; her was a sturdy man, years of military service had disciplined him – he had kind, gentle eyes.
When he sensed Lydia’s presence in the kitchen he shifted his position a moment to look at her; his face lighting up as he smiled warmly “Lydia” he beamed “You’re back, sorry I didn’t hear you coming in; I am just trying to…, retrieve this bloody baking tin” he said, trying to explain himself as he fiddled about “It got a bit stuck” he grinned sheepishly as he returned his gaze back to her; he then came out and scrambled to his feet “Didn’t mean to give you such an…, unceremonious greeting”
Lydia smiled; a slight giggle escaped her lips – she felt a wave of warmth as she looked at him “Don’t worry about it” she told him “You look ridiculous”
She set the basket down on the table and began to unpack the groceries, her movements were precise and economical; Thomas watched her with a happy smile curving his lips, he watched like a silent observer, drinking in the normalcy of the scene – this was what Lydia had desired, and he had promised to give it to her; they both sought to live a quiet, simple life.
As the evening descended; Lydia found herself immersed within the steaming water filled tub; the hot water eased the aches and pains haunting her body, she leaned her head back against the cool metal, her eyes closing instinctively as she let the warmth of the water seep into her bones.
That nauseating feeling had returned yet again, she controlled her breathing, remaining still within the water; the strange nausea would pass; she knew it would, she didn’t normally fall ill, so surely, it would pass soon.
Then, the silence broke; a creaking floorboard caused her eyes to open, her senses immediately going onto alert; twisting her head a little, she saw as Thomas knelt down beside the tub, his expression was playful.
“Just checking in on you” he said, his voice soft “You’ve been here for a while; just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep or anything”
He grinned as he looked at her; but it faltered, he noticed the tension in her shoulders, the distant look in her eyes “You haven’t told me to leave” he observed, there seemed to be some concern in his voice, normally she would have insisted on privacy, a vestige of secrecy and self-reliance that had been ingrained within her
Lydia though simply stared at her; her silvery-grey eyes held him captive; then, the words simply tumbled out of her mouth, unbidden, raw with emotion “I love you Thomas”
It wasn’t the first time she had told him; but the tone, the intensity of her gaze was different; Thomas recognised it, it was a breach of her carefully contrasted walls, a moment of vulnerability she couldn’t control.
Slowly, deliberately, Lydia began to rise up from the water; Thomas’ breath caught in his throat; he knew her past, even the stories of her childhood, the life she had experienced, how her father raised her under a brutal education to service the Imperium the violence she had to endure and had been inflicted – he knew the scars she carried, both visible and invisible – rarely though had he seen her in this state of undress, normally; she would quickly hide herself from view, even within intimate moments, she could never fully let herself undress – but right now, all thoughts of hiding were far from her mind.
As she stood before him; water cascading down around her, the light illuminated her body, her delicate frame and the full extent of her scars; thin white lines that crisscrossed her body, her arms, her legs; souvenirs of blades and bullets – Thomas stared, not with pity or disgust, but with a profound sense of awe and respect.
He reached over to grab the thick, but soft towel from nearby as he also stood up; her eyes never left his as he wrapped the towel around her, she seemed to be in a trance-like stare as she just seemed to stand there; he was careful as he wrapped the towel around her, being aware not to directly touch her skin; his movements reverent.
He pulled her close as he wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the dampness of the towel, holding her tightly, offering comfort and security that she desperately craved.
Later, as they lay in bed; the small room bathed in a soft glow of the lam beside the bed, Lydia snuggled against Thomas; her head resting against his chest, his heart beat was a steady and comforting rhythm against her ear.
The nausea was still there; a constant, low-level him in the background, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming sense of peace and safety she felt in Thomas’ arms.
As Lydia’s breathing became gentle, Thomas realised she had fallen asleep, he simply smiled, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before he gently kissed the top her head, his eyes finally closing as well as he too succumbed to the need for sleep.
Written By: Westley H.
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