A Fated Stroll (Mexi)

[chillysbiggestfan]

Ivan would often come to secluded parts of the beach to reflect, and to lament. To think of the past, of the good and the dreaded. However, it would always seem to focus on the more abysmal parts of his history. His past would occasionally flicker flames of rekindling pains and past aggressions in which he wished resolve alone could extinguish. Scattering thoughts seemed all too common in most places, but this one was different. It brought out the painful nostalgia in which he'd tried so hard to suppress. For that reason alone, he questioned why he kept returning, why he did this to himself.

Why do people abuse themselves? Was it simply human nature, to seek out what mentally harms oneself? It would have been so much easier, so much simpler to simply avoid this mental hot-zone. These thoughts filled his mind, as well. It didn't much help that the sand was simply scorching, though he could alleviate this minor issue with his special powers. However, this would do very little to stop the inevitable sunburns. Even with the strongest of lotions, he would often burn like fried cooking in a fast-food restaurant.

The serene smells, and the picturesque beaches were always regarded as one of nature's many marvels. As the torrid, yet calming beaches became one with his senses, he couldn't help feeling badly about his situation. For it wasn't that the tropic feeling was giving him horrible memories of the fire that almost claimed his life, as well as his sisters that was plaguing his mind. No, this isolated time on the beach brought back memories of playing with his friends and with his sisters, back at the beautiful waters of the Okhotsk sea.

Thinking of his time spent in what was essentially labeled nowhere, even within Russia. As Ivan, and his sisters, had spent some time within the confines of the little gem that was Magadan. Twice the size that of Portugal, and full of its own nature and culture that reflected upon his own perception of the world around him. This place was not merely another location, it was everything to him, in his time spent there. Moreover, the district known for their roe and gold mining was as much a part of his home as the busy and vibrant streets of Sankt-Peterburg were. Places of suffering and remembrance were just as important for a culture as those of happiness and forgotten times that would simply stack.

Naturally, he had felt bad for being at such a place. He had sworn to protect his own, and to train himself for the better, no matter the cost. It was inevitable, that his no-nonsense and all-working attitude would backfire, especially at such a place as this. He always wanted to be in a place where he wasn't the only one that did not complain about the weather, as he did not feel the cold. His body's aptitude would automatically adjust to accommodate to that. He was so used to it that it had become his second nature. This did not apply to the heat. Heat was often a foreign concept to him, and he would need at least full concentration for a few precious seconds to adjust the levels, if even slightly. But the beach, the lovely beach. What good was it, if he had to marvel upon it all alone? He could do little more, than collapse to his knees.

As a ripple of current brings the wave to bay, lapping at reminders of bygone days, such was the nostalgia, a wave in his mind's ocean. The endless sand was his normal thought process, simply to be bombarded by a feeling of loneliness and of the fear of being forgotten. Taking a moment to himself, he remembered the tears from Natalya's pretty eyes after he had found her a large chunk of gold that had washed up upon the beach, in which he compared to her own golden heart. He could still see everything so clearly, and this brought tears to his eyes. It was rare for Ivan to cry. He had been conditioned to think that tears were a thing for the weak, or for women. That real men weren't supposed to show any sort of emotion at all. Whilst ludicrous, the hammering-in of these messages since childhood had taken their toll. Was he wrong for wanting a hug from his sister? Was he really weak for valuing his family's love and affections more than for wanting to suppress everything? Either way, it didn't matter. In private, he could express his true feelings. Yes, Ivan didn't mind the pain that came with these sort of memories, for they seemed to be the only thing getting him through.

Standing from his position, he wiped his tears, and forced a smile. Feeling rejuvenated, he took to a stroll down the seemingly infinite sea of white sand. It was by no means a crowded area, despite being so beautiful. This, however, a part of him wanted to change. While he was not the best at conveying his thoughts, he had felt more than reasonably social this day. In the back of his head, there was a good feeling harboring. As he continued his walk, the forced nature of his smile gradually faded away, the fires of his sorrow turning into ash.

[ANA MARÍA CAMPOS HERNÁNDEZ]

That moment had come. It was inevitably drawn in the calendar as a dreaded yet hopeful moment that tormented the girl for days. An agreement that she still couldn't quite comprehend as to why she had said yes to in the first place. Every month she was expected to call her father and inform him of her doings. Normally it was around the time when grades were sent home, or progress reports. It wasn't a phone conversation that Ana María enjoyed in the slightest. The first year at this school, the agreement had consisted in long emails twice a month. E-mails were easier, all she had to do was write. She could spend hours, even days, creating the perfect email to ensure that she was giving all the information but at the same time trying to not get in trouble for what she had said. It was draft after draft until she got the best result. But she couldn't do that now. No. And it was all her fault, because she took her father for granted. As time went by she began to feel more and more lazy. Her emails began to lack the effort that was clear throughout the first months. Every time her work began to more sloppy, saying only the bare minimum and omitting, whether intentionally or not, the mistakes that she could hide.

Needless to say, her lying by omission resulted in a call from a rather concerned principal to her father, trying to understand as to why the latter had failed to respond to the concerns raised by his daughter. Ana María could still remember that phone call, one late afternoon, completely out of the blue. A phone call of her angry father who's angry screaming could be heard even when she had set the phone to her side. When she had thought that to be over, more scowling came during the holidays. Now she was forced to report in, and after a huge debacle, she was finally able to reduce her daily report to once a month. She wasn't a child anymore, he had to understand that. So Ana María had to have her speech prepared before hand. Her voice always seem to tie up whenever the serious tone or her father spoke to her. She wanted to appear as confident as she could, for she didn't want to listen to the voice that was surely waiting to scold at the first sign of weakness.

Ana María was tired of that lifestyle. The constant let down to the one person within her family that still looked at her with love, and not as the representation of what never was, was almost unbearable. At times she wondered why she wasn't more like him. Her father had expressed on multiple times that she was the vivid image of her mother. She was just like her, but Ana María didn't want to be like someone who wasn't here. She wanted to be more like her father, if for something other just so that he would cease to scold her over every tiny thing. It was something that truly made her miserable. She could understand him though, where he was coming from. Losing a wife and being left to take care of a small child wasn't something people can just get over. Losing the love of your life was hard and heart breaking, top that with being a single parent, well, sometimes it would seem like too much to handle.

But on a rather selfish note, it wasn't Ana María's fault. She didn't make her mother sick, she didn't kill her, so why should she be left to clean up the mess that followed? The only thing this girl wanted do to was be free. Be truly free. Be able to make her own decisions over her own needs and for her own wants. And then, then venture into the consequences of such actions, whatever they may be. Take life as an adult, with a hint of irresponsibility every now and then, because taking life seriously was boring and no one ever benefited from that. Her dreams were scary and ridiculous and wonderful. By the time she turned eighteen she would do what she wanted. Find a job that she loved, travel, meet exciting new people. Go do the things that always terrified her but at the same time intrigued her. She wasn't even sure she wanted to go back to Mexico after finishing school. She knew what kind of life awaited her there. She knew the expectations by default, and she didn't want any of that. She wanted something random, completely ridiculous and unexpected. So much more than provincial life.

That's all she wanted. No plan. Just opportunities. But her father loved her too much, and had lost so much too, that he only wanted her close. Because she was, after all, the last hint of the life he once knew. When Ana María was finally able to hang up, after almost three hours of up and downs, smiles and sadness, she ventured into the one place that reminded her of her home. She always ended up upset after talking to her father, and since it was such a predictable emotion after such an expected call, her friends knew not to bother her while she took it all in and simply tried to relax and understand that it was all for the best. The arguments, however harsh, were for the best. If only she could get that through her thick skull.

The beaches were her sacred place on campus. They were different from the beaches back in her native country. Some of the hawaiian landscapes, especially those around the school, had black sand. Black sand! She couldn't believe it. Sand was supposed to be white with small traces of yellow. Gold. Not black. But it was so different and so soft against her bare feet, that Ana María loved coming there and just enjoying the time. Normally she would sit at the shore. The warm water of the Pacific Ocean barely touching her. She would look at sunsets, or the clear blue sky. On the rare occasions that she couldn't sleep she would also come here, still in pajamas, to watch the sunrise. There was nothing so beautiful as watching the sky painted in different shades of gold, silver, pink and red. Just marvelous.

Except this time, there was someone else in her sacred place. Ana María stood in her place, still being shadowed by the trees that protected her beach. She watched curiously as the man who walked through them was so out of the picture that it seemed as though he didn't belong there. He was wearing heavy clothing. Like a scarf wrapped around his neck. Ana María looked down at her own body, she was barefoot, shoes in hand, and with just her uniform skirt and blouse. She would take those off too if she could. Wear a swimsuit perhaps. The girl was about to take a step forward when something out of the ordinary happened. The guy with the light blonde hair and the scarf fell down to his knees. Her eyes wondered as they looked at him with surprise. She was about to move when a sound so familiar to her invaded he whole atmosphere.

She couldn't quite see the tears from her where she was standing but she knew they were there. Ana María took a small step forward, slowly as to not alert him that he was being watched. She knew that men didn't like it when others saw them cry. It was a big hit on their pride. And she didn't want to cause him any more reason to be upset. Before she could reach him though, he stood up again. Ana María wanted to know what had made him cry. Offer him a hug if he wanted one. She really disliked when those around her were sad. It pained her, especially when she couldn't do anything about it. With a soft gesture she extended her arm to touch his shoulder. He was way taller than her, but her hand could still reach his shoulder without her having to stand in her toes to the absolute limit.

"Hey, are you okay?"[/color] She said with a gentle voice as her eyes expressed how worried his actions had made her. She was genuinely concerned, even if she didn't know him. Even if he was a stranger, because even strangers have feelings.