Sister Cities Ch. 01

It took years of study, of traveling from place to place, searching for answers before she finally made progress. Every few years, near her birthday, the marks on her wrist would fade and she would begin to feel an ache inside it. She experimented with men, old and young, discovering that, while she enjoyed any man of any age, when her marks were fading, only a virgin would stop the pain and allow her body to refresh itself.

Though she maintained her young, lush look, after those times she could see the lines on her face erasing; even scars would be removed, and her hair grew fuller and richer. She also found that her woman's monthly actives had ceased and that with as many men as she'd been with, no child had come to her. As if she had completed the change that women the age she... had been... would have done.

Finding life in a larger city more convenient, Leona had settled for a while in a place high up in the mountains. A bustling town, quaint with snow sparkling on nearly every outdoor surface, tourists flocked there for the scenic views. One day, as she walked along the mountain trails, choosing one she hadn't taken before, she came upon a small, quaint church made of native stones. The huge, old heavy door stood slightly ajar, so she decided to enter.

There was a slight musty smell about the place that battled with the soft scent of candle wax, at once soothing and pleasant. The small place was surprisingly-well-kept and in the front was a large carved wall of scenes from the country's history. She took a seat on the front pew in order to study the carving better.

The loud creaking of a door opening broke her reverie. She glanced up as a tiny, wizened old man tottered toward her. He was dressed in heavy robes, his head having only a few wisps of white hair. When he noticed her sitting there he gave her a benevolent smile.

"Hello child. We don't get many visitors up here. It's so nice to see you." He toddled over and took her hand in his. Before Leona could pull her hand back, he had lifted it, and her cloak fell away, exposing the glowing blue marks. He paused and studied it before looking more closely at her. "Oh I see. It's been a very long time since I've seen this."

Leona was startled at his words. "You know what this is?" she asked breathlessly.

He wagged his head back and forth a bit, "Eh in truth I'd say no, but I have seen the like before."

Pulling her hand away from his, she stared at the marks, "Is she...?" her voice faded.

"Is she still around? No. She's been gone a long time," he said gently.

Leona sighed. "I've only ever seen one other and that was... a time ago."

The old man was silent a moment. "My daughter was very conflicted. Her heart was set for the convent, but after... after her encounter and her subsequent change, she was heartbroken. Discovering what she had to do to maintain the change was too much. After all her years of devotion, she committed the ultimate sin."

Remembering a hidden box from long ago, tucked away and containing the dried poisonflower she had intended to take, Leona understood what he was saying. With all the men she'd been with since her 'change', as he put it, she could fully understand why a religious woman wouldn't be able to handle the life she'd taken on. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Thank you, my dear. I haven't been able to share her story with anyone before."

Shifting on the hard wooden bench, Leona gathered up her courage to ask, "Would you please tell me more about her?"

He gave her a soft smile, "Yes. But come; let's retire to my cottage out back. It's much more comfortable and we can have a bit of tea. By the way, I'm Father Malcome."

She nodded and introduced herself, then followed him through the loudly creaking door. Back in the fresh mountain air, Leona took the old man's arm, afraid that he might fall and injure himself before they arrived at his cottage, a short distance away. Once inside, he seated her in a comfortable chair and then busied himself in the kitchen.

Finally he handed her a steaming cup and sat down, facing her. "What do you want to know my dear?"

Trying not to show her eagerness for any information she could get, she asked, "How old was she when... you know?"

He grinned at her effort to be casual. "Her fiftieth birthday. It was quite shocking for everyone, really."

Sipping her tea, Leona could only nod and sigh "Indeed. Shocking is really not quite the right word." She opened her mouth to ask more and then stopped herself. How in the world could she discuss this man's daughter's sex life with him?

He smiled. "It's all right, my dear. I may have chosen a religious path, but I'm not an innocent." He gave a shrug. "I learned even more in a short time with Helena as we tried to discover what was happening."

Holding up her wrist to gesture to the glowing scrollwork she asked, "Was she born with it?"

He nodded. "I knew something wasn't right; something would eventually come of it. But her mother, may she rest in peace, chose to turn a blind eye to the thing and pretended it wasn't there. That worked for fifty years. Then my virgin daughter met a virgin priest -- and, shall we say, the rest is history."

"So he wasn't young?" Leona blurted; and then bit her tongue and closed her eyes in embarrassment.

Father Malcome gave a hearty laugh, "No, my dear, he was not. Actually he was a little older than her and claimed he had never met anyone like my daughter. He hung up his robes after the incident and lived his years quietly, not far from here. Then one winter he became ill and never recovered."

"It's the virgin aspect then. If I may ask, how old are you, sir?"

Patting his cheek and giving her a twinkling look he answered, "I am ninety-three years young." He set aside his now-empty tea cup, "I tried for nearly ten years to help my daughter. I was almost eighty when I lost her. It's hard to bury your entire family while you still just keep living on." He sent her a look of understanding, knowing that without her saying the words she had already outlived some of her loved ones.

Leona had actually gone back secretly to her old village a few times to glimpse her family from a distance. It was alarming to see them age while she did not. The last time she went, she had discovered her oldest son's gravestone, and the pain made her vow never to return, deciding it was easier on her heart to simply not know their fate. Taking a deep breath, she tried to shake off the feelings of loss, "So did she... maintain her... uh?" She waved a pointed finger at her face when words failed her.

Father Malcome leaned back in his chair, "She went to her fallen priest and he managed to provide, but they found that it didn't, er - do the deed so to speak. When he speculated that she needed a virgin, she refused. She hid it from me for a while, but I believe that the pain in her wrist from the markings became quite intolerable."

Catching herself rubbing her own wrist, Leona gave a shiver. She'd felt that pain, but it had always been manageable, and she'd also always managed to find a virgin before the marks went completely dark.

"One other thing, I hope you don't find too indelicate for me to mention," Father Malcome waited until Leona looked up at him, "After her change, her monthly woman's activities stopped. She never went through what every other woman goes through at that time in life. While her body was changed back to a younger time, not everything changed back. My wife had a rather difficult time with the whole process and so it stood out in my mind."

That was something she had discovered, but this man's words reinforced what she had learned. Even at the age of fifty, Leona had still had her monthly courses as normal, so when they stopped after her change to being young, she assumed it was part of what had happened to her. It hadn't occurred to her that she had somehow avoided the normal change of life when her natural courses stopped. "That's why the age of fifty. That's why Hesta was never affected, besides the fact she didn't fuck a virgin she started through her change just after her birthday that year. If you have the mark and fuck a virgin on your fiftieth birthday then you turn young. But you have to maintain with more virgins." She spoke to herself, but after a moment remembered where she was and in whose presence and slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes going huge with remorse for cursing in front of a priest.

She met very amused eyes and he burst out laughing again at the look on her face. When he was able to speak, he said, "I wasn't always a priest you know, I had a wife and child. Not to mention all the dealings with the mountain folk around here."

Dropping her hand she blurted, "How can you remain a priest, yet have a wife?"

He chuckled again. "There are different kinds," he said gently.

Still confused, Leona decided not to question further. Having found some answers to her questions had made her feel immensely better, but looking at her wrist again, she shook her head. "I still don't understand why it affected me, your daughter, Hesta.... How are we... chosen?"

Father Malcome shook his head as well. "That I cannot answer. You speak of someone called Hesta. You knew another?"

"Yes. She was a good friend of mine, until this happened." she gave her wrist a shake. "But hers never glowed. She had a husband, so I'm guessing she didn't fu... uh, have relations with a virgin on her special birthday. As far as I know, she has lived a normal life."

"Hmm. Well, I doubt I shall ever see another before her change. But at least I now know how to advise a woman with the mark." Father Malcome stroked his chin in thought. "I have documented what I know, so I'll add this to it. When I'm gone, maybe someday someone will be able to use the information."

They sat in silence for a while. Finally, Leona decided it was time to take her leave and slowly stood up. Looking at Father Malcome, she noticed he'd apparently fallen asleep. However, studying the old man more closely, she realized he wasn't breathing. She stepped closer and called his name, but it was clear that the old man had died right in his chair.

Leona stood there, wondering what to do, who she should tell, when she remembered his final words. On a shelf of old books, she discovered a handwritten journal; Father Malcome's documentation of his daughter's life.

Taking the book, she turned back to the man and observed the peaceful look on his face. Pressing her hand to his for a moment, she said good-bye and left the cottage.

Thank you to bad_hobbit for your editing assistance. The original idea for the story must be credited to one we'll simply call DW. There are several chapters planned to tell the story of Leona and the twin cities she had a hand in developing.