"Urguhguhhhh…." The noise was more like a gurgle.
It was early morning, before sunrise. The faintest slit of orange light illuminated the director's side profile. The middle aged man's watercolor-blue eyes were hazy, most certainly devoid of anything but the alcohol's influence. Alexei Gardenia was slumped over some ornate stained glass table, feeling his hard stubble prickling himself, every part of his body feeling numb as his grip on the wine bottle was practically a caress from how weak he was.
His long worn olive trench coat was crusted over with vomit – it seemed his friends were good enough to turn him on his side last night. It was disgusting tasting last night's dinner mixed with practically rubbing alcohol, the burn still stuffed down his chest.
When he tried moving, he heard a wet squeak in his chest and suddenly everything came back to him once more. In an instant sorrow filled his throat, and he felt it constrict from all the choked up emotion. Finding his tear ducts sore and searingly dry, he sniffed, but could only conjure up a meek mucusy sob sludged up at the back of his throat.
His Emile. Gone. It had already been three years.
For three years he'd been wallowing alone.
'Emile… my moon, I wish I had the chance to have been your sun.'
Emile. His goddess, his moon, his soulmate.
And suddenly the words were on the tip of his tongue. His… Selene? Yes – his moon goddess. His fogged head had sparked with inspiration for a film. He was so utterly stupid, why had he dulled his senses and brain in substances of all sorts, he was simply avoiding the matter.
'Why should I keep mourning a losing battle? Is she truly dead, an angel like her must have ascended.'
He didn't question it anymore, already making up his mind.
'I see, Emile. Thank you for giving me a sign and protecting me all along. So be it, I will be your only follower. Forgive me for being so foolish, and thank you for entrusting me with your divine vision."
Unfortunately though, he'd already blown through most of his savings after finding himself unable to go forward with directing, grief had paralyzed him numb. The old lady he cleaned for, and was sort of his mentor – Grandma Chev, had always helped him back in the day with creating his visions and hyped him up, no doubt she could get the gears turning in his head to finally create.
"Moon Goddess?" She croaked "I only know Saintess Aul."
"...Aul?" He repeated back to her, confused.
In this day and age everyone knew every saintess from everywhere, even the dead were immortalized in the countless glorious tales – it was hard not to have heard of one: yet he had never heard of this woman.
"She was the embodiment of the gentle moonlight, and the governor of the Virosian seas."
She sighed, "It's no surprise you haven't heard of her, she died right before the new age started."
"I'm just a bit shocked. I never knew the twin islands had a saintess."
"She died right before receiving her due power, so young — not even many Virosian families now remember her name."
Dying so early, that sounded so much like his beloved.
"I can only imagine how her lover felt…"
Her face softened, already aching for the Emile she'd always heard about.
"Ah yes… hundreds of years ago she was famously courted by the old god of death, Mobius. I never heard if she actually reciprocated though. Like I said it was hundreds of years ago, I guess we'll never know.
"Granny Chev, would you mind telling me more about their story?"
"Huhu. I see you've finally gotten inspiration for your next big hit."
"I'd be more than happy to immortalize these stories."
"Alex, you can barely keep yourself alive – I don't expect it of you. So focus on art and focus on living first. Then you can come back to me."
Of course, he should have expected better, Granny Chev was the wisest woman he knew.
The following days he went over to her house just to listen to the various stories. But oddly enough, it was only now that he realized something felt… off.
"You know, for some reason – after living here for so long, I've never heard of these… you think another director or even a writer would do something with the rich folklore. You'd think there'd be a whole movie series based on the sea witch by now…"
"That's because it's not for outsiders. Most artworks only have the bare minimum of context – otherwise, these stories have been passed down by word of mouth."
"Artworks? Ah, I've been to many Virosian museums; your people truly have a rich history. I'm curious as to why the native culture is so private."
"It is a dark history. There's a multitude of closed practices for good reason – who knows what would happen if someone with less convictions knew about them."
"Actually, a Virosian piece caught my eye. It burned into my brain the moment I saw her: Nadine. She felt eerily alive, the strokes were so intense, yet so faint like her waning consciousness – I was instantly enraptured by her sorrow."
"And what did the little plaque say?"
"Do you know her?"
"Of course. Every Virosian child knows."
"I don't remember it exactly, but the gist was that she was half-eaten after being cursed by the sea witch."
"That was all?"
"Yes."
"Hah." She sneered, "Naeda. Nadine is what outsiders call her. It seems they've censored a lot of the context. Do you know why the sea witch cursed that mermaid?"
An obviously rhetorical question. But Alexei Gardenia still bit.
"Why did she curse that mermaid?"
After all, as the sea witch, she maintained the ecosystem in Virosian waters; she was known for her good relations with mermaids, as they were crucial in dealing with ocean demons.
"She despised Naeda for her interest in humans, even though she was once human herself."
"Oh?"
"The sea witch was a narcissist. But all that power bored her. That was until she met Saintess Aul. Aul had been blessed by the local gods, who hadn't gazed at her, despite it being her territory for so long. Eventually, they became good friends who could rely on each other whenever the other's land or sea was in trouble. It was that trust that caused her view of humanity to shatter."
"…Did Saintess Aul betray her?"
"No, it was worse. Aul's followers chained the saintess to a rock, and threw her off Memoria Cliff — the sea witch's sacred territory."
"Oh…"
"Naeda was isolated from humankind — still naive and young. When she began collecting trinkets from shipwrecks, she absolutely fell for humanity. She yearned for a life beyond the sea, and wished to meet a seemingly mythological human."
"I've seen something similar, did the sea witch take her voice away?"
"Perhaps she should have, but Naeda would rather live her life to the fullest and sate her curiosities, rather than rot in the sea. The sea witch cursed that if she ever got a human lover, they would turn into seafoam if they touched the sea.
She beached herself trying to meet her love — the fisherman, but the tide was too high by the time he got there. She could have sung for help, but she committed suicide by letting a sea demon devour her while she grieved over his seafoam."
For days on end, the story of Naeda and The Fisherman was stuck in his head. It was a strikingly tragic love story, which ended in death for the both of them. Even though it was doomed to fail, they both persevered and died proud that they could say they pursued this impossible relationship.
'I've had many regrets, and things I think I could've done better in the past. But Emile has always been my greatest failure.'
His first love. The one that got away. Even though he was still alive, a piece of him died with her.
In just the span of a few days, he'd rewritten the entire concept he had for 'Selene' in his head with the Virosian folktale in mind.
Swallowing with a gulp, he mustered enough strength to go into the corner of his dingy apartment, and leaned down to grab a mid-sized box. He dusted it off as he picked it up. He needed inspiration, and quite frankly — even after all this time, he still wasn't ready to confront his grief.
Alexei squeezed his eyes shut as he lifted the lid. He was instantly struck with numbness, the only way his heart knew how to cope after all these years. They… were the hundreds of letters Alexei and Emile had exchanged throughout countless years. The letter on top was her last letter she sent, and unfortunately had all of the warning signs of her demise.
[To my bestest friend Alexei ~ ♡
Regarding your last letter, I have unexpectedly grown quite fond of this loveless marriage. Although my husband has taken plenty of mistresses, I stopped seeking love from him a long time ago.
Yet, he caused this deep depression. Alexei, I have never told you this because I was afraid you'd worry your head off again like when I first got married, but I could never stand the pitiful, sharp gazes of high society who thought of me as a wife of a serial cheater—who hadn't even had the conscience to cover it up. I was merely his pretty little accessory, and never the bold independent me that you know!
But…! After dozens of fertility treatments, my prayers were finally answered! Triplets, Alexei, triplets!!!! After I give birth, I just want to travel the world with my babies — away from that sort of scene; I never liked being confined to all that sickening luxury in the first place. Who knows, perhaps I'll visit you on one of my trips! Oh, yes – would you like to be the godfather?
Xoxo, love and blessings ~your dear Emile]
The triplets… the triplets… She had always wanted to be a mother to teach her children the beauties of the world and life. She sent the letter along with the ultrasounds, and some pictures of the things she excitedly bought for their traveling nursery. Yet to think that despicable husband of hers–!
He was bewitched by one of his mistresses, and when he heard an off comment from her about how he could at least try to preserve her dignity, it angered him. And without thinking – he pushed the six month pregnant Emile to her death.
To preserve her legacy as something other than what the media ironically portrayed her as, he'd have to pour heart and soul into this new film. As he shed a tear, he quickly wiped it off.
'I can do this, I'm confident of it.'
Over months, he read, and read, and read, sobbing himself into delirium. Those days blurred together, passing out after work, having a quick TV dinner, working on the script, and going to sleep. And finally, after this seemingly endless cycle, he emerged with his treasure — a pitch of Selene.
Getting investors was… hard to say the least. His reputation seemed to have magically tanked when he left the industry. He was at his wits end, exhausted. His friends even said that it was a novel idea using such an elusive folktale like that, but never offered a modicum of support.
Well, he supposed that's what happens when you try to quit so suddenly. But peculiarly enough, he didn't remember burning any bridges? In fact, he left off with pretty good relationships with everyone. It didn't seem like his profit was the problem either…
It felt like his heart was going to burst when he received a letter expressing interest in funding the film. However, as he ripped it open so fast – he hadn't even noticed the sender. So when he read [Best regards for this project nonetheless, Emiliano Almazer.] his heart sank.
Biting his thumbnail, he knew something was up, so he bit the bullet and agreed to the meeting.
"Are you willing to do anything to meet her again?" The man's talking made the air a cold white, his purple eyes looked so gentle as he said that.
They were wandering the lonely winter Virosian streets at one in the morning, overlooking the whole snow laden city. The handsome man was like the devil, each of his soft sweet words were laced with a gentle charm, but carried the straining weight of the kind of man he was — the CEO of Alfonso Pharmaceuticals.
"Well, Mr. Almazer. I'm sure you want something in return, but I have nothing I could possibly offer a man like yourself."
"Don't speak of yourself like that, Alexei. I want your cooperation – your confidence at that." He dragged his cigarette, the hazy smoke rising up to the moon "...You're making a film after three years, no? It'd be a shame if Alexei Gardenia didn't become a household name. I'm investing in you as a director – the infamous wasted potential."
Still a bit skeptical, he raised a brow "But… Why me?"
"I'm quite fond of your pitch of Selene. My lover is a Virosian, actually. Think of this as nothing more than patron and artist, merely transactional."
"And yet you insist on meeting face to face…" He sighed.
"I'm showing you my respect." Emilano smiled.
Gardenia knew the sincerity was all a farce. On the surface he was an impeccable public figure, a kind man who shared his wealth through philanthropy and furthered medicine to what it was today. All behind it though, was a man who acted too perfectly. His mannerisms, his measured tone, and his timing: all mechanically perfect—calculated, even.
He lurked in the shadows, always connected to the downfall of someone in the way of his agenda. Fuck, even Alexei's director friends insisted it was his fault during their crash outs. So for him to receive a face-to-face visit really said something, when Emiliano had already foreseen him having a negative impression of him already.
'Artist and patron' meant he was here to use him for something — something precious — something he definitely had the means to give more than necessary to get it done.
"...What do you mean you can bring my Emile back–?"
"Though it's taboo…" He slowly began "hasn't humanity advanced by changing its status quo? Gardenia, it's medicine – a forbidden kind of medicine for the soul. But haven't we made so many breakthroughs by breaking ethics and throwing away our morals for the greater good? Haven't you seen how quickly the world has changed in just a decade?
And yet, despite that, we so desperately cling onto our divine saintesses. Though we are quickly drifting from our spirituality and turning to the likes of science, I figured we combine the both for the most optimal outcome. So follow me Gardenia — I am the future.
"What do you want from me?" He quirked a brow, trying to hide his sheer disgust.
"I told you. Your cooperation, Mr. Gardenia."