Categories > Cartoons > Class of the Titans > The Cold Side of Heart

Ode to Hate

by NuuoaEclaire 6 reviews

Theresa continues to burry herself further in her hate for Jay, and her search for the answers about Thisbe. But she may not like what she finds. Sometimes a page is always missing, even in her lif...

Category: Class of the Titans - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fantasy, Humor, Romance - Warnings: [!!!] - Published: 2007-01-09 - Updated: 2007-01-10 - 2861 words

1Ambiance
Authors Note: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long. Being the Christmas... I mean 'generic' holidays and all, I found it hard to update. I'm dry. So first of all I wish you all a happy new year from this lazy author. Best wishes. The title is a play off the song 'Ode to Joy'. I hate being back at school. -Nuuoa Eclaire

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, I don't own it. Also I took the text about Thisbe from wikipedia, I don't own it, so don't sue me. I just got too lazy to write my own version. So again I don't own either Class of the Titans, or the text from en.wikipedia.org. Thank you.

Pairings: Nothing in this chapter, a bit of Jay/Theresa... some creepy non-romantic Hera/Jay.

Warnings: A mad, scary psychic.

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The Cold Side of Heart

Chapter 6: Ode to Hate
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The library was big, and Theresa meant big. It engulfed her, and seemed to stretch out in all directions, a never-ending maze of large and small shelves. Theresa had loved the book 'Alice in Wonderland' when she had been little. Her rich father had read it to her at bedtime every Saturday, and she had loved it. Theresa had always been drawn to magical wacky things. She loved fighting, exaggeration, in manner and object, and she loved the imagination, with all it's abilities. From turning a darling four-year-old to a warrior princess, all the way to having magical streams of light coming from her hands. So obviously this eighteen-year-old with a hint of the four-year-old that had once been, loved the spectacular setting of the library, because it looked so much like the set of her favorite children's book.

The bookshelves reached high up, almost giving the illusion of limitless ceilings. Richly decorated in the finest silk tapestries, they told the stories of Greek tales. The tapestries hung low on the walls, varying in color, but always-embroidered in actually gold thread, as thin as a spider's web. It smelled of ambrosia and a strange mix of over powering perfumes. Plenty of fabric-adorned sofas were strategically placed to compliment the room's immense size and amount of shelves. To add to the space of the room and further the value, beautiful exotic plants were placed next to the single table, near the large mouth of the ivory fireplace near the entrance door.

I'll stop there for one reason, you wonder how this can be a library and how on earth Theresa found herself seated in the far dark corner with mountains of mythical texts. Because she was in Hera's private library, forbidden to everyone... but Jay was allowed in on special occasions.

Focusing her eyes on the small print in front of her, Theresa allowed herself to sigh for a spilt second before checking back at the door. She was pretty sure that she believed that she would sense in about five minutes in advance if Hera would come in, but never trust in your abilities alone when dealing with gods. She huffed quietly as she carried more books back in the exact same spot on Hera's gold and silver desk. Having clairvoyant powers and a photographic memory really helped, when it came to sleuthing. Theresa shook her head and rolled her eyes at the goddess's vanity... even she wasn't that spoiled. What a rotten egg the queen of the gods had turned out to be.

Pushing back her ginger honey red hair from her face, she sauntered back to her position in the dark covered corner, behind the far bookshelf. Focusing her vision in the dark, Theresa made sure to breath out her magic words. The shadowed area blazed like the say outside in her vision, her iris's turning to a commanding shade of harsh violet. One book remained.

Quickly skimming over the cover, Theresa smiled. 'The tales and tragic lovers of Greece' Jay would like that...' Almost rashly Theresa grimaced at the thought of him, and love. 'Stupid Jay,' her heart beat wildly before chilling down for the tenth time in the three days after Jay's terrible outburst.
"Maybe I should check out some medical books before I leave, I might be sick," she clenched, "Or I won't." Theresa smirked.
"I do wonder if I can just cal upon my powers to find any books with reference to Thisbe, or Aredith though... but will my powers work on that high of a spell, with my heart like this... Aredith was right; I can't do anything powerful in this state. But what state am I even in?" Theresa bit her bottom lip hard, until a salty taste entered her mouth. 'Great,' she thought as she saw a wine colored liquid on her lip, 'I'll deal with that little thing later-' She cut herself off mid-thought as she got to a section in the table of contents. 'Thisbe lover of Pyramus.'

'I found it Jay,' she thought with a small said smile, 'You'd be proud.' Suddenly she found herself flooded with the memories of the night. A single tear escaped from her dimming violet glowing eye, then it was gone, and Theresa found herself smirking evilly in pure vehement and satisfaction. 'Now I can show you. And then I'll figure this out, and get back at you.' She blinked at the Goosebumps that ran along her skin, touching her icy skin made her jump back.

Theresa pulled her long maroon sweater further down her arms. The others had thought she was crazy, wearing a wool sweater and long black pants in the middle of the heat stroke... but she couldn't explain it to them. What was she supposed to say, 'Yeah guys, I met this other amazingly powerful clairvoyant the other day, named Aredith. She told me that Jay will never love me back, and that she knew a Thisbe. Also I hate the world, I hate Hera, and Jay. I also didn't tell you this because I have pushed this to the back of my mind, and I am only focusing on finding the truth about Thisbe. Did I mention Aredith looks exactly like me? No? Oh, sorry about that. Also my heart is turning colder everyday. How is this possible? Don't ask me, I'm just the team's physic fighter. I'm scared, but stranger then that... I feel the urge to hate... and feel anger. But the scary part is, I like it.' She cringed more at the thought, and slowly pushed it back, shivering as she found the page about Thisbe. 'Now let's see what mysteries will be answered. No Internet for me, I'm going straight to the god's sources. The full story is in here, and I will know.' She began to read.

"Pyramus was the handsomest youth, and Thisbe the fairest maiden, in all Babylonia, where Semiramis reigned. Their parents occupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. They would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. One thing, however, they could not forbid that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. They conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up. In the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. No one had remarked it before, but the lovers discovered it. What will love not discover? It afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and forward through the gap. As they stood, Pyramus on this side, Thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "Cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? But we will not be ungrateful. We owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." Such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer.

"One morning, when Aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. Then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed that next night, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to ensure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice, standing without the city's bounds, called the tomb of Ninus, and that the one who came first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. It was a white mulberry tree and stood near a cool spring. All was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them. Then cautiously Thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered with a vel, made her way to the monument and sat down under the tree. As she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. Thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. As she fled she dropped her veil. The lioness, after drinking at the spring, turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth.

"Pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. He saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the sight. Presently he found the veil all rent and bloody. "Oh, hapless girl," said he, "I have been the cause of thy death! Thou, more worthy of life than I, hast fallen the first victim. I will follow. I am the guilty cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. Come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth!" He took up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with tears. "My blood also shall stain your texture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into his heart. The blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit.

"By this time, Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. When she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place. While she hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. She started back; a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. But as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her breast; embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "Oh, Pyramus," she cried, "What has done this? Answer me, Pyramus; it is your own Thisbe that speaks. Hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" At the name of Thisbe, Pyramus opened his eyes, and then closed them again. She saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "Thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "I too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. I will follow thee in death, for I have been the cause; and death, which alone could part us, shall not prevent my joining thee. And ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. As love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. And thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. Let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." So saying, she plunged the sword into her breast. Her parents acceded to her wish; the gods also ratified it. The two bodies were buried in one sepulchre, and according to Ovid, Metamorphoses 4, the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day." -(From wikipedia.org)

Theresa blinked a few times at the tragic tale, for a second her heart squealed in content at their tragedy. Theresa shook her head, and blinked in fear at her feelings. 'What am I?' Turning the page over she found the last page missing, the part she knew the gods had probably kept from the world. In frustration, she threw the book down on the floor.
"This doesn't help me at all! I know who Thisbe is now! But I know nothing of how she has to do with me! I'm not her descendant! I would have felt it! I would have! I would've known!" she wailed, throwing her arms down on the ground, Theresa pounded the floor.
"I failed you Jay... I failed myself." Her voice was barely audible; she didn't like what was happening to her. Suddenly a thought immediately traveled to her brain, Hera was coming to check out the noise. Theresa fled. She fled from Hera. She fled from Thisbe. She fled from Aredith. She fled from herself.

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Odie let his fingers trail along the small keyboard; the instrument produced a loud ringing sound as the boy genius glazed the white with chocolate hands. The melodies of the piece streamed out into the living room of the brownstone, it's rich undertones being sounded to its best effect. Odie loved playing music, any instrument. But he still loved the piano. There was just something so elegant, and playful about a piano or a keyboard, yet it was so much fun. The way his hands would just trail along into their own sort of dance put him up there with the best ballroom dancers there were. On the keyboard he was the king of the keys.

Neil strutted into the room, mirror in hand, grooving along to the music. Casually leaning against the small keyboard on a stand, Neil played off his expression of interest.
"What'cha playing little buddy?" he inquired quizzically, never taking his eyes off himself.
"Performing some of the easier pieces of music for myself? You still checking yourself out?"
"Humph," Neil shoved the mirror back into his pocket in irritancy, "no." Odie laughed at his narcissistic friend.
"I you must know, I'm playing 'Ode to Joy'." Odie shrugged, "An old classic, I love the melodies in harmony with the-" Neil fidgeted with his shirt, cutting him off with vivid hand movements.
"No smart guy stuff in the living room, remember? We even signed an agreement."
"Fine, fine," Odie raised his green neon shaded glasses further up onto his somewhat stubby nose.

The front door slammed shut, causing Neil to shriek, and Odie to play a flat note. Theresa stood huffing against the inside, her chest heaving in and out; green eyes wild like a scared little animal. She looked bedraggled and in trauma, beads of sweat perspiring from her body... you would expect it from a girl in a sweater and long hot pants... during the hottest time of the year.
"T-Theresa? What's wrong? You look..." Odie couldn't find the proper words, which was very rare for him.
"Ugly." Neil finished the sentence for him, his eyes wide in awe.

Theresa proceeded to give them a quick growl, a real growl... literally! Odie had to try to let this information process through many brain passageways before this registered.
"Whoa." Neil continued to gape, pulling out his mirror, but never taking his eyes away from the sound of the heavy breathing.
"Theresa, what's wrong?" Odie asked in concern, "Why don't you go talk to Jay or-"
"NOO!" The two plugged their ears, the building was shaking... 'I'm going to die,' Odie thought fearfully.
"NEVER JAY!" she continued to yelled violently, before storming up the stairs and slamming the door to her room.

Odie and Neil blinked a few more times, the popping in their ears subsiding.
"Odie," Neil said blankly, "I give you permission to be smart. Theresa is mad... what do we do?" Neil demanded, desperation inched its way into his higher voice.
"There is only thing we can do," Odie said calmly, "take the fetal position."

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Authors Note: So I'm done amigos, the chapter that is. I'm going to use this time to tell you that updates will probably stretch out for a long period of time, but I try. Spending time away from the hustle and bustle of work and school shows you stuff... causing the bricks of writers block to escalate. But I'm not gone, still here, but I may take more time. I'm working on this story, my own story, Awake in a Dream 2, many one-shots, Together... or Not, and a story with my friend... ect. Later. Fetal. -Nuuoa Eclaire
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