Pulling her long wool coat around herself, Dominique shivered at the cold of the Canadian winter. 'Damn,' she thought to herself, ' I need to get into the sun. How can a person live like this? All these clothes...How can a person think with so many clothes on?' The long wool coat is the only concession she could make for the weather. Underneath, she wore a chocolate brown leather halter and miniskirt, and her stockinged legs ended in ankle boots that exactly matched the color of the outfit. Having seen the newspaper, she just knew Jarod was going to be moody. Death affected him so strangely. The only death she have ever truly been affected by was her first one...
The sun was beating down fiercly. She had been given a bowl of chocolate to drink earlier, a rare treat for those not of the royal line. She knew, as she drank it, that there were drugs in it. They weren't really necessary, but she was greatful at the thought that had gone into it. This was the day she had been preparing for as long as she could remember. She had been taught, and trained, and well guarded so that she would be acceptable as tribute to Tlaloc. Today was her day of destiny. She felt the drugs beginning to flow through her, dulling her senses. She was being taken out into the hot sun, and could hear the murmur of the crowd. She wished she could focus more clearly, but everything seemed to be happening from a great distance.
She is being half carried, and half walks by herself, up the long steps of the temple. Up to the very top. The steps are made so that climbing up is easy, but you have to know the secrets of the temple to easily and safely make it back to the ground. She did not know these secrets. They are not necessary for her. Time seems to no longer mean anything to her. The sun is on her skin, and she enjoyed the feel of it. Suddenly her cloth dress is ripped from her body. It is not unexpected, so it did not frighten her. She is beyond being frightened at this point, anyway. Feeling the heat of the sun beating down on her breasts, she looks up to the statue of Tlaloc just above her. The tears in his eyes are as water for her soul. Her death will ensure the rains so necessary for the corn to grow. There is a sudden flash as the obsidian blade rushes toward her. The pain of its entry is intense, and immediately clears her fogged mind. Suddenly, everything comes into sharp focus. A scream rips out of her, try as she might to keep it in. She feels her ribs being spread apart, and the darkness begins to hover just at the edges of her sight. The pain of her beating heart being cut from her body is indescribable, and she knows that she will have just enough time left in life to experience the smell of her own heart being thrown into the fire. She looks at the priest holding the still beating organ, and can hardly believe that it is truely her own heart. As the blackness begins to close over her, the heart is burned. 'Yes,'she thinks to herself, ' it must be my last experience before coming before Tlaloc...'
With a gasp, she sits up, everything coming again into clear and sharp focus. The pain, however, is gone. She reaches a hand frantically to her chest, and the wound is gone. Her heart is still beating under her hand. How could this be? She looks up at the shocked face of the priest, his hands, and the obsidian dagger still showing the blood from her execution. A shocked silence fills the crowd, and then the murmurs...
The murmuring of the crowds began somewhat hushed. Then they became louder, more insistant. She had been sacrificed. She had died. Her heart had been cut from her body and burned. Her soul had been assigned to Tlaloc. How could it be that she was sitting there, looking around? The emotions turned quickly. The first was puzzlement. That gave quickly to fear, and fear to anger. There had to be a reason for this happening. What did it mean? What would it mean for the rains? Rains that were so desperately needed. Was Tlaloc showing his disfavor by rejecting her? Acting quickly, the Priest whisked her inside the temple. She was shocked. No-one but the Priests and members of the royal house ever step foot in there. The room was small, and the gold on the walls was highly decorative. Before she had a chance to take any of this in, she was whisked out of that room and deeper into the structure of the temple. She was lead down a steep staircase, one that turned back on itself to allow you to walk down comfortably. When they were again down to the ground level, she was taken outside.
The crowd was being addressed by another Priest atop the temple, so their attention was still at the top of the temple. The murmurs were continuing, but the volume had begun to decrease. She was taken to a public room, but the door and windows were secured, closing out the light. The heat has become stifling, and sweat trickling between her still-naked breasts. Quietly, the Priest handed her a dress, and she slipped it over her head, greatful for his thoughtfulness. Then his voice breaks the silence.
"I had heard of ones such as you, but had not thought to see one in my lifetime."
His words sent a shockwave through her. Ones such as she? What did he mean? Before she could ask the question, his voice continued on.
"The old histories speak of those who are chosen by the gods for special duties. Ones with the strength to survive death, to go forward to do the works for the gods, to gather the energies from others such as yourself. You must be trained, though, and to do this, you must go from here."
She at last found her voice, and had a question that must be answered.
"If there are others such as myself, how is it that no-one has heard of it?"
"Because the superstition and fear of the people will not accept some truths, even when they can be proven over and over. I do not know all that you must be taught, but I know of someone who can help. You must
trust me..."
