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Encapsulated Flower | Flor Encapsulada [Hasiel]
🕑 Added 2024-05-28 18:24:20 +0000 UTC
Hasiel stared at a paperweight on his desk and played with it, sliding it across the surface. It was an object in the shape of a transparent sphere from which the petals of several now extinct flowers could be seen. It was a gift from someone who had disappeared long ago, when there were still trees in the gardens and their scent could be enjoyed. Now he could only see it through that object and, in return, it gave him back the bitter memory of a time that would never return.
He felt like those flowers encased in resin, encapsulated as time passed through them without touching them. As if the speed of his actions were slower than everyone around him. While he was still sorting through the shelves of his library, the world had died and was trying to be reborn again. When had it all happened? When did he stop belonging to history, to stand and watch from the sidelines?
The truth is that he knew with astonishing accuracy when it was: It was 57 years, 4 months and 18 days ago that Zihel had been locked up. It was 57 years, 4 months and 6 days since he had been expelled from the Church and 57 years, 3 months and 15 days since he had betrayed him. All these dates seemed fictitious, although he treasured them with terrible strength in his heart. They were only facts, as recorded in his history books. But were it not for them, his sense of reality would have been completely distorted. For, he could feel that all those events had happened only a couple of weeks ago. So recent and so full of detail that it was impossible for them to have happened more than half a century ago.
Although the resin flowers looked fresh, he had also noticed how their petals had become more transparent, confirming that if someone released them from their confinement they would probably be too fragile to withstand human contact. He wondered if that was happening to him too. Becoming so translucent that he was now a mere ghost wandering among shelves and so fragile that coming back to life would be impossible.
His digression was half-finished because a sharp stinging sensation began to bother him in the palm of his hand. That sensation was unusual for an angel, so he wondered if the degradation was starting to affect him more than he thought. But as soon as he saw the tear-shaped cut, he knew it had nothing to do with that. A primal horror gripped his stomach and made him nauseous. The worst-case scenario had occurred. The link he had placed on Zihel had been broken, and that meant he was out there somewhere again.
Without much thought, he got to his feet and grabbed a few things he thought he might need. Not for a second did he allow himself to think about the consequences of his actions. If only Hana found out about his plans... This time he would not escape the consequences with an expulsion. This time, he would be punished like the traitor that he was. Even if what he planned was to rid the world of a threat. He could not fail. He would do whatever it took.
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Hasiel se quedó mirando un pisapapeles de su escritorio y jugueteó con él deslizándolo por la superficie. Era un objeto en forma de esfera transparente desde el que se podían ver los pétalos de varias flores ya extintas. Fue un regalo de alguien que desapareció hacía mucho tiempo, cuando aún había árboles en los jardines y se podía disfrutar de su aroma. Ahora solo podía ver aquello a través de aquel objeto y, a cambio, él le devolvía el recuerdo amargo de un tiempo que ya no volvería.
Se sentía como esas flores encerradas en resina, encapsuladas mientras el tiempo pasaba a través de ellas sin tocarlas. Como si la velocidad de sus acciones fuese más lenta que la de todos a su alrededor. Mientras él seguía ordenando las estanterías de su biblioteca, el mundo había muerto y trataba de renacer de nuevo. ¿Cuándo había sucedido todo eso? ¿Cuándo dejó de pertenecer a la historia, para quedarse a observar desde el margen?
Lo cierto es que sabía con asombrosa exactitud cuándo fue: Hacía 57 años, 4 meses y 18 días que Zihel había sido encerrado. Hacía 57 años, 4 meses y 6 días desde que él fuese expulsado de la Iglesia y hacía 57 años, 3 meses y 15 días desde que lo había traicionado. Todas esas fechas parecían ficticias, pese a que las atesoraba con terrible fuerza dentro de su corazón. Solo eran datos, como los que se registraban en sus libros de historia. Pero si no fuese por ellas, su sentido de la realidad se habría distorsionado por completo. Pues, podía sentir que todos aquellos sucesos habían ocurrido apenas un par de semanas atrás. Tan recientes y llenos de detalles que era imposible que hubiesen sucedido hace más de medio siglo.
Aunque las flores de resina parecían frescas, también había notado cómo sus pétalos se habían vuelto más transparentes, confirmando que si alguien las liberaba de su encierro probablemente fueran demasiado frágiles para soportar el contacto humano. Se preguntaba si eso también le estaba ocurriendo a él. Volverse tan traslúcido que ahora era un mero fantasma vagando entre estanterías y tan frágil que volver a la vida le sería imposible.
Su divagación se quedó a medias porque un escozor punzante empezó a molestarlo en la palma de su mano. Esa sensación no era habitual en un ángel, así que, se preguntó si la degradación le estaba empezando a afectar más de lo que creía. Pero tan pronto como vio el corte en forma de lágrima, supo que no tenía nada que ver con eso. Un terror primigenio le invadió el estómago y le provocó náuseas. El peor de los escenarios se había producido. La vinculación que había puesto sobre Zihel se había roto y eso significaba que volvía a estar ahí fuera en alguna parte.
Sin demasiados miramientos, se puso en pie tomando algunas cosas que pensaba que podría necesitar. Ni por un segundo, se permitió pensar en las consecuencias de sus actos. Si tan solo se enterase Hana de sus planes… Esta vez no se libraría de las consecuencias con una expulsión. Esta vez, le castigarían como el traidor que era. Aún si lo que planeaba era librar al mundo de una amenaza. No podía fallar. Haría lo que fuese necesario.
Comments
Toxic Squad
Watching him slowly come out of his hibernation is something I love to experience in scripts.
Kaede Hatake
A beautiful story! A very fitting metaphor with the flowers. Hasiel feeling frozen in time, but also like slowly fading, just as the world around him did. So melancholic. I can't imagine the feeling to live without nature and to have experienced that change firsthand too. I think from the point where I would have seen everything only dying around, I would also have stayed hidden in a library - trying to block it all out. Getting lost in a world of wisdom and imagination, immersed in the comforts books and stories can give give you ❤️
