[fanfic] Making a Demon - 3
Pamagat/Title: Making a Demon
Tauhan/Character: OC Piri-tan as a Manananggal, Mexico and Spain as Duende
Marka/Rating: older teen
Babala/Warnings: OOC/OC, AU, supernatural, drama, romance-kinda, and lotsa angst! PhilippinesxMexico
Buod/Preview:
“Have you tried to heal her?”
“Nothing I can do can save her. This is something I do not have a salve for, Mata. And even if I did,” she smiled wryly. “They would only cast me away.”
Those were cold words to the manananggal. The local medicine men and women were usually honored greatly. “Cast away?”
“Their priests have called my work the work of the devil,” Ale explained softly. “My work has no place amongst their converts and it has become rare that I have had calls for my services.” She looked saddened. “I am no longer needed.”
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It wouldn’t be the first time that she had heard foreign words mingling within the many tongues of her people. The new comers brought terms to explain things that her people didn’t have. They also brought new foods, including a variety of vegetables over from what she heard called the “New World”.
She didn’t really mind. It was only when she began to notice less and less people calling on the services of old healers like Ale that she began to wonder what was changing amongst her people.
“I’ve heard news from some of the other islands, south, past the sultanates,” she heard one of her sisters report as they lingered within the depths of a large cave, deep within a mountain. “This new religion comes from the west, just like the other one that came with the Malays.”
“But this is different,” another sister pointed out as she brushed her long straight hair with a mother-of-pearl inlaid comb. “I’ve been watching them and comparing. The prayer styles are different.”
“They are, none-the-less growing more and more influential,” an older member of her clan added. “And they have made a point to seemingly single out the aswang.”
Mata turned her head from basket she had been mending to the older members of her clan situated in the center of the cavern. There were only a small handful of creatures like her and they dotted the central parts of the archipelago and further south.
While part of a greater grouping of aswang, manananggals, or body splitters, were relatively rare in comparison to other clans. Their personal territories were wide and few and far between; most centered around large human populations to which they served as escorts of the dead to aide in peaceful ascent to the heavens.
Because of their numbers, they were only able to meet once or twice every few lunar cycles to keep each other up to date on their activities and changes in their environment. Recently, the talks have been on the pale-skinned new-comers who spoke ‘Espanol’.
“I’ve mingled with them,” another sister pointed out. “Very few families are settling, it seems. They are mainly males.”
An elder looked at her with a frown. “Have you already fornicated with one?”
“No,” the female creature frowned back, immediately. “I am too wary. I do not know how my child will be affected.”
Mata furrowed her brows. “Ate, they’re still human. They will turn out just like a child of any other human male, native or not,” she confirmed. “You will have a daughter; a new manananggal.” That was how they reproduced. They stayed with human men, were impregnated, and then would have a female child who, upon reaching maturity, would be able to split her torso and continue their line. The child would be fiercely protected, as manananggals could only have one child in their entire life.
“But what if the father persists and searches for us?” the other female snapped. “They are not the type to simply allow us to leave should we become heavy with child. They will want to marry us.”
“Several of us have married,” another reminded her. “And out lived our spouses.”
“She does bring up a good point,” another elder agreed. “Until adulthood, our daughters are seemingly human children, but what after their change? Even we do not know the precise moment when they split for the first time. It is why we leave our humans just before they reach maturity.”
Mata continued to quietly mend her basket. It was far too easy for one pretty-faced manananggal to acquire a husband, or at the very least, a mating partner. Through the years, they had learned to deal with admirers, often becoming gruff and off-putting to distance themselves. Though, falling in love with someone so utterly devoted to you was not something one could control.
Countless sisters before her had succumbed to the affection of a partner and it all but killed them when they were forced to leave. None could remain with their mortal partner once a child was about to reach maturity. The clan would intervene. They would have to if they wished to keep their true existence a secret.
This caused anger and bitterness, though the understanding was always there, as it had been engraved into their minds early on. Manananggal hearts were hardened. They had to be. Mata could still remember her mother taking her away from her father’s family’s hut in the dead of night when she was still a child - the optimum age to leave. Odd how she could still remember the smell of drying fish her human grandmother made, but couldn’t recall her own birth father’s face.
Did she look like him? Or was she merely a copy of her beautiful mother?
“It would be a problem if they found out,” another sister pointed out. She reached into the bamboo woven basket at her feet and pulled out a small stack of papers. “These strangers do not see us as our humans see us. What they have in their home land is different and I fear they may be trying to group us with the creatures they understand.”
She passed the stack of papers forward and Mata craned her neck to see what was on them. She heard a few gasps of shock and disapproving murmurs as the manananggals that lined the cavern laid eyes on the parchment.
“That one looks like Bulan,” one sister chuckled.
“That does not look like me!” another hissed before flipping her hair over her shoulder to show her annoyance.
“My tongue is not that long,” another sister frowned.
“My hair is much more silken! This looks like she’s wearing a bush on her head!”
“Since when did manananggals have horse heads!?”
“…,” one of the elders sighed. “Anak, that’s a tikbalang.”
“Oh….”
Some of the papers reached Mata and she lowered her basket to gather the loose leaflets in her hand. They had sketches of native plants, some people and animals, then some creatures like themselves. Words she couldn’t understand were written beneath them and Mata wondered if whoever had written them was recording what they saw in the islands or re-telling stories that some of the natives had said.
“Tala, where did you get this?” one of her sisters asked. Mata lifted her head and looked over at the one who had brought the sketches.
“One of the port cities on our eastern coast,” Tala replied as she frowned. “There are a lot of those Spanish-speakers there, as well. I even found some nuno from the land east of here that have joined the foreigners.”
One of the elders narrowed her dark eyes. “What are the nuno doing with the humans?”
“They have stowed away on their ships,” Tala replied. “From what I noticed, they posed as humans.”
“Have they tried to contact our nuno?” another asked, concerned. The little forest men liked to talk and had been known to spread rumors far and wide about other beings.
Tala lowered her eyes. “It seems that way. I’ve asked our little men to tell me what they hear and, apart from what my sisters are also reporting, they have told me that something similar happened in their lands years ago, as well.”
“What do you mean?” one sister asked.
“The nuno from the east said that years ago, pale-faced men in metal clothing appeared. They…they did something to their humans and many of their humans died. They also forced upon them new beliefs and faith in nuno and their counterparts there began to dwindle.”
Mata could almost taste the heavy tension that filled the air. She felt bumps rise on her skin as the thought settled into her head. They were immortal, yes, but they could die or be killed. They were also subjective to the beliefs of the people who sustained them. If no one believed they existed, they would not.
“Many of the little men in their lands vanished. Others had to adapt to what their colonizers believed in to survive,” Tala continued. “Some have left the area, in search for other lands.”
“Then they wish to come here for sanctuary?” someone voiced. “Has it become that bad in their lands?”
Murmurs spread across the cavern and Mata looked back at the papers in her hand. Slender fingers moved against the parchment as she thought of the black-haired man who had followed the old lady to her hut weeks earlier. He had asked questions about them and Ale had given cryptic answers.
It told Mata that she did not quite trust the foreign spirit yet and thus, Mata did not either.
“I do not wish to anger the local spirits,” she heard his voice repeat in her head. His dark eyes bore into hers, proud and unyielding. “Including yourself.”
She closed her eyes and passed the papers to another. He may have told them that he only wanted to know more about them, but she did not believe his reason was pure. He must've had some deeper reason.
“If they wish to know more about us,” an elder’s voice said from the center of the cave. “Then we should know more about them. Those of you in an area where their influence is growing heavy, watch them carefully. If the nuno from the east are warning, then it is clear that those…colonizers,” she spat out. “Wish to do here what they did there.”
The clan agreed and Mata found herself nodding, as well. As they began to disperse to prepare for their long walks back to their territories, Mata heard her name being called. She looked over her shoulder and met the eyes of one her elders.
“You called?” she bowed her head respectfully and stood before them.
“Mata, there is a large settlement growing in Manila,” one of them told her. “You are aware of this?”
She nodded. “Yes, elders. They have begun expanding their new religion into the jungles.”
Concerned looks met her. “Are they affecting you?”
“No,” she assured them. Mata paused. “Not yet,” she added. She opened her mouth to inform them of the ‘duende’ that had appeared and was asking questions, but snapped her mouth shut. He could’ve just been one of the nuno Tala had been talking about who came to seek refuge in a new land. She decided to wait until she learned more.
“Mata, keep an eye on the settlers,” an older manananggal told her seriously. “I am concerned about how they are categorizing us.”
“Humans have a habit of depicting those they deem evil as deformed and ghastly,” another told her as a sketch of a decrepit looking woman was held up. “I fear that this can be used against our people and push us further into the darkness.”
Mata nodded. She understood what that meant. “If they fear us or are overwhelmed with fear of us,” she conceded. “Then they will try to destroy us.”
“You are in a dangerous place, anak,” one told her as a warm hand rose and stroked her hair back. “Tread carefully.”
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She wished she could’ve just flown the entire way back to her territory, but it was broad daylight and she could only fly when the sunset. In addition, she was carrying a basket of goods from the highlands she had promised to fetch for Ale and some of the other locale shamans. Mata couldn’t carry them and her lower torso at the same time.
Sighing tiredly, she made her way down in the lowland jungles, feeling a bit relieved as the forest spirits greeted her. She felt a warm breeze and the basket on her back lightened as the wind relieved some of the weight from her shoulders.
The sun was setting and it had taken her several days to return to her territory. She supposed her sisters who lived further away from their meeting place in the mountains were worse off. She was tired and simply wanted to rest.
Unfortunately, as she put her basket down and stretched her arms, she could smell something in the air. Her lips pulled down into a frown as she turned in the direction of the shore, where the settlement was located.
Death.
“It is not a pleasant thing to return to, Mata,” a voice said behind her. She whirled around and searched the area for the owner of the voice.
“Ale,” she said as she bowed her head to the old woman. “Forgive me, I did not see you.”
“I just arrived,” the old woman said as she slowly walked towards the seemingly young female. “How was your journey?”
“Good,” Mata said as she reached into her basket. “I retrieved some herbs for you. One of my sisters traded me for some dried seaweed, so I was able to get some rare ones from the mountain top.” She handed a leaf wrapped package to the shaman’s wrinkled hands and was given a kind smile in return.
“You are a good girl,” Ale praised. Mata chuckled. She was older than the elderly woman.
Mata looked back in the direction of the settlement. “Have there been deaths while I was away?”
“None, fate has been kind,” Ale assured her. The old woman looked saddened. “Or at least it has been waiting for you.” Mata turned her head towards her.
“They are in the settlement?” she already deduced. She pursed her lips. She hated going into the settlement to escort the dead. She’d only had to do it twice, but already it worried her. The threat of being seen and discovered was great within such an open area and amongst a concentrated group of people.
Unlike in the villages in the forest, she could easily disappear into the jungles, but in the settlement, there was nowhere for her to go. She had to resort to the rooftops the last time in order to avoid being seen by a priest while she was holding on to the soul of an old woman. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to keep hidden and she wondered if it was due to the influence of the new settlers.
“A converted tribe member has been sick…a young woman,” Ale told her. Mata lifted her head.
Her eyes crinkled up. “Another one?” The disease that had taken the life of a local chief’s daughter lingered in her mind.
The shaman nodded. “Her family is trying to hide it.”
“I heard it was shameful,” Mata acknowledged. “Have you tried to heal her?”
“Nothing I can do can save her. This is something I do not have a salve for, Mata. And even if I did,” she smiled wryly. “They would only cast me away.”
Those were cold words to the manananggal. The local medicine men and women were usually honored greatly. “Cast away?”
“Their priests have called my work the work of the devil,” Ale explained softly. “My work has no place amongst their converts and it has become rare that I have had calls for my services.” She looked saddened. “I am no longer needed.”
Mata frowned. “I see,” she whispered. “How quickly your contributions have been ignored.”
“Times change, anak,” the old woman assured her. “I may not be needed, but you…you should go and help the uneasy souls transition,” she smiled softly as she reached out with old, knotted hands and gently grasped Mata’s smooth ones. "Death, no matter what one believes in, can be terrifying."
“I will do what I can,” Mata said. “For now, please stay in my hut. I will return in the morning.” The old woman nodded as Mata stepped away, ignoring her tired legs, and headed into the settlement.
As she approached, she could hear the sound of music and voices. The scent of cooking meat filled the air and as she reached the outskirts of the town, she could see the lanterns strung across the wide walkways.
Her eyes narrowed. Music and food clearly meant a celebration of sorts and she wondered what they were celebrating. Quietly, as unassumingly as she could, Mata slipped into the village. Briefly, she wondered when so many buildings had been built. Had she been gone that long?
She peered between alley ways, towards the main plaza, where people were standing and dancing around. While she held a healthy distrust of the newcomers, she had to admit that watching the women twirl around in flowing colored skirts was breath taking. Everyone seemed happy, but even amongst them; she could smell the scent of approaching death.
Her eyes flashed silver as they darted around the crowds. She wasn’t sure who exactly was ill, as they all looked so lively, but the scent never lied.
“You look curious, senorita,” a voice said behind her. Mata’s fingers curled into the side of the building she had been peeking around and tensed. “Would you like to join them?”
She whirled around, her eyes narrowing as she confronted the owner of the voice. A tall man with brown hair and green eyes was looking at her. A wide smile graced his face as he seemed to recognize her. Mata’s eyes only narrowed further.
He was the duende’s accomplice. Or rather, another duende from the air about him. Mata took a step back, feeling cornered. “No,” she replied curtly. “I am only…passing through.”
Antonio couldn’t believe his luck. After joining the priests and Rafa on various missions out into the forest, he had yet to even catch sight of the beauty before him. He had been convinced more than ever that she was some sort of nymph, despite Rafa’s attempts to assure him she was just another spirit; possibly a duende, as well.
The green-eyed male refused to believe it and had hoped to at least catch sight of her once more. What luck he had decided to take a brief walk and stumbled upon her looking at the crowd. She was reminiscent of a young girl eager to join a party of adults.
“Please, you must join us,” Antonio urged as he resisted the impulse to step forward and possibly frighten her away. “This is your first fiesta, si?”
Mata drew her head back slightly. “As I said, I am only passing through.”
“Senorita, please,” Antonio pleaded softly has he finally took a step forward and extended his hand. “Do not be afraid. Allow me to escort you to the celebration.”
“I do not belong here,” she stated firmly. She should’ve just stayed in the forest at the edge of the town and waited. “Though, thank you for your gracious invitation.”
“I must confess, senorita, that I am not merely extending my hand in kindness,” Antonio told her. “It is my first time here meeting one of you and I do not wish to throw this chance away.”
Mata narrowed her eyes. “One of us…?” she trailed off. She tensed. “What do you mean?”
His smile only grew more hopeful when she responded. “I have met many creatures upon my arrival here, but you…you are the only one I’ve met that has taken my breath away…,” he whispered breathily, still looking at her adoringly. “Someone so beautiful…ethereal. You are not human; therefore, you must be something else, si?”
She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand. What was this creature implying? “What exactly do you think I am…?” she dared ask.
Antonio’s hand gently grasped hers and brought it to his lips. “In my country, we have many names for you,” he said as a hot breath caressed the back of her hand. “But here, I will call you encantada.”
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“Boss?” Rafa called as he pushed open the front door. “Boss, the new governor wants to speak to you.” He paused at the doorway when no one answered. He eyes squinted; there were some lit candles, illuminating the inside of the house. “Boss?”
“Yes, your little forest men, or ‘nuno’, are like our duende back in Espana,” he heard a faint voice reply from further inside the house. “We also inhabit homes.”
“You do not have any here,” a quieter voice replied. “Except for yourself and…,” the voice trailed off. “Someone else is here.”
“Hmm?” Rafa looked around the corner and saw Antonio standing by a table in the parlor, pouring some dark red tinted, transparent liquid into a small glass. The older duende had lifted his head towards the door and smiled widely. “Ah! Rafa!”
“Boss,” the black-haired male greeted as he gave Antonio a nod. His eyes moved across the room, on to the imported sofa where a familiar female spirit was sitting. His orbs instantly narrowed as he struggled to keep his lips from curling up in displeasure. “Mata.”
Her own eyes seemed to slit at the sight of him. “Duende,” she identified him.
Rafa looked from her to Antonio and back. It was odd enough that she, of all spirits, was sitting in their parlor, but for her to be minus her simple tribal patterned wraps in favor of a skirt and an actual shirt was what drew his attention. Even worse, Rafa found himself displeased that she was and for what he suspected were wrong reasons.
“You remember her?” Antonio asked, only mildly curious. “I met her near the plaza.”
Rafa didn’t take his eyes off of the manananggal. “Why is she wearing those clothes?”
Mata narrowed her eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being insulted from rising up. What exactly did he mean to say? “Forgive me if my presence in these clothes offends you,” she hissed. “I am aware of how strange I look in them.”
“I never said such a thing,” Rafa retorted quickly. He turned his head to Antonio. “Boss, what is she doing here?”
Antonio chuckled. “I could not have very well brought her to the fiesta dressed as she was,” the green-eyed duende pointed out. “The priests would’ve protested! Her skirt only reached her knees and the only thing covering her chest as a shawl and some beads.”
Mata’s hand rose to the spot just below her neck. “My beads,” she said, as if suddenly remembering. “Where are they?” He had some maids change her into something ‘more appropriate’.
“The maids will give them back to you at the end of the fiesta,” Antonio promised. “Until then, stand!” he chuckled as he extended his hand. Mata carefully placed hers in his and allowed him to help her rise. “Look at her, Rafa! Muy linda, si?”
Mata was turned around in a small circle to show off the dress and Rafa’s eyes never left her. “Si.” His answer was curt. Antonio rolled his eyes, exasperated by the other duende’s attitude.
“Rafa, please,” he said. “Mata is a very special spirit, you know,” he pointed out as he allowed her to sit back on the sofa. “We were discussing duende when you arrived.” He stressed the last sentence and looked at him pointedly, as if reminding Rafa why they were there in the first place.
The other male nodded. “I see.” Part of him was annoyed. The last time he had seen her, she had argued with him and he couldn't even make a decent conversation with her. Yet, Antonio stumbles over her and they’re drinking in the parlor, discussing supernatural beings.
“Don Carriedo!” a voice called from the front door.
“Another visitor?” the green-eyed male pouted. “So many tonight…,” he trailed. He looked at Rafa and gave him a firm nod. “Entertain the senorita while I speak to our guest, Rafa,” he said in a low voice. His eyes narrowed. “Keep us on her good side.”
Rafa took a deep breath and nodded obediently. He waited until Antonio left the room before finally turning to the creature sitting on the sofa and holding up a glass to the light. He raised an eyebrow. Mata was studying the glass of alcohol curiously, as if never having seen such a thing before.
“What is it?” she asked, surprising him.
“Wine,” Rafa frowned. He walked across the room and snatched it from her hand. Before she had a chance to protest, he brought the glass to his lips and drank the contents. Mata’s eyes widened.
“That was mine!”
“You wouldn’t have liked it,” he countered as he put the glass back down on the table. He turned back to her with a frown. “What are you doing here?” he hissed in a low voice.
Mata didn’t back away and continued to glare at him. “Antonio insisted I join him and that I needed to change clothes in order to join the fiesta.”
Brown eyes narrowed. “And so you did? So easily? You wouldn’t even set foot into the settlement the last time I saw you and now you are in someone’s home!”
She bristled and shot to her feet. “I have something to do within the town!” she defended herself.
“Such as!?” Rafa demanded as his eyes locked on to hers.
“There is a-” Her words died in her mouth. Narrowed silver eyes widened and turned brown once more as she realized she had almost revealed her reason for being there. Rafa caught on easily.
“There is a what?” he frowned. Mata turned her head away.
“Nothing,” she replied as he returned to her seat. Rafa towered over her, unconvinced.
"You are lying," he accused in a low voice. Mata didn't meet his gaze.
“It is nothing that concerns you, duende,” she spat out the foreign word, sounding disgusted.
His lips tightened into a line. “My name is Rafa,” he said in a low voice as he leaned forward and placed his hands on the back of the sofa, on either side of Mata’s head. “If I can be troubled to call you by your name,” he said as is head hovered just above hers. Mata’s eyes lowered, avoiding his gaze, yet lingering on his lips. “You can be troubled to call me by mine.”
Her heart was beating quickly and she could feel the warmth of her skin close hers. Spirit or not, she had never been that close to a male in her adult life. Shivers shot down her spine.
“Then…let me repeat that,” she whispered back. “It is nothing that concerns you,” she paused and raised her eyes to meet his. “Rafa.”
The smooth purr of his name in her voice made his hands clench the fabric of the sofa in near restraint. Had he not heard Antonio’s voice approaching, he was certain he would’ve followed up her sentence with his lips.
“The governor calls, yet again!” Antonio’s tired sigh filled the room. When he entered, he found Rafa pouring himself a glass of wine and Mata scowling with her arms crossed over her ample chest. He paused at the threshold of the parlor and frowned. “Mata…if the fool insulted you, do not listen to him. You look lovely in the dress.”
Rafa scowled and gulped down the wine as Mata shook her head. “No,” she stated. She stood up. “Antonio, you were saying about the duende in Spain?”
“Ah, Rafa can answer your questions,” Antonio told her. “I am afraid I have been summoned once more.” He watched her face fall and he smiled inwardly. “Though, I will meet you in the plaza soon.” He took her hand and brought it up to his lips once more. He didn’t notice Rafa’s eye roll. “Save a dance for me, senorita.”
Mata merely gave a small nod as he looked past her and gave another look to Rafa before leaving the house.
“You asked him about duende?” the remaining male asked beside her. Mata whirled around.
“If you ask questions about our nuno, I can ask questions about your duende,” she told him proudly.
“I ask questions, but you do not answer,” Rafa reminded her coldly. “How is that fair?”
“Speaking with you is pointless,” she scowled. She turned around and began trudging to the door. “I will wait at the plaza for Antonio!”
She made it three steps before she stumbled and fell to the ground. Rafa remained standing where he was, quietly amused, but keeping his face stoic as she let out a yelp and tried to stand. Twice, her newly shoed feet caught on the bottom of her dress and sent her tumbling back down. She slipped once and before she could slip once more, her humiliated reddened face turned him.
“Why are you not helping me!?” she demanded. “Do your people have no manners!?”
“I thought you were more than capable of going to the plaza and waiting for him by yourself,” Rafa replied coolly. He could feel the intensity of her glare rising. “You seem to want to distance yourself from me as quickly as you can.”
“I do, but I cannot walk in these…these things!” she said as she grabbed a piece of her skirt and pulled it up. Rafa’s eyes widened as her exposed, stocking clad leg was exposed all the way to her thigh. Mata wiggled her foot. “And my feet are squeezed in these! Why are they so tight? Are they an instrument of torture?” she demanded, her face puffing up indignantly. How could those women in the plaza smile if they were wearing those damn things?
“Put your skirt down,” Rafa grumbled as he averted his gaze.
“What?” she frowned. Why was he still standing there?
“I said, put your skirt down!” Rafa repeated as he turned his back to her. “Where we come from, a woman exposing so much skin is unsightly!”
Mata looked at his back as if he were insane. “But my people-”
“You will be amongst my people tonight and we do not do such things!” Rafa reminded her. “Now put your skirt down or I will leave you on the floor!”
She stiffened where she sat, but slowly tugged the hem of her skirt back over her foot. “I covered it.”
Rafa took a moment to collect himself before he cautiously looked over his shoulder. Mata was still looking at him, confused by his reaction and why his face was reddening. Did she embarrass him? If this was about exposing skin, she didn’t understand. He had seen her with even more skin exposed.
Avoiding her eyes, the new world duende approached her. Without a word, his arms curled beneath hers and pulled her up, leaning her against his body as he moved her over to the edge of the sofa.
“Lean against it,” he instructed as he began to kneel down. Mata did as she was told and watched as his hands reached the bottom of her skirt. With his face still turned away, unable to meet his gaze, his hands slipped beneath the layers of fabric.
“What are you looking for?” she asked before tugging her skirt up once more. “Do you need to see my feet?”
“No!” Rafa exclaimed as one hand shot up and grabbed the bottom of the dress before he could be faced with those painfully enticing legs once more. Mata looked at him as if he had gone mad. First, he told her to hide her legs, but then he reached beneath the skirt that was hiding them? That didn’t make sense. “Just…just don’t move,” he told her as his eyes met hers. “Please.”
When she didn’t seem to show any signs of repeating her actions, Rafa released her skirt and reached back beneath the hem to grasp one of her feet. He easily slipped it off her foot and could hear Mata let out a small breath of relief. The wood and leather object fell to the floor with a clunk as Rafa blindly searched for the other foot. He repeated his actions and moved his hands across the bottom of her foot.
Mata seemed to relax above him. “How do you walk in such things?”
“You grow used to them,” he replied as his fingers moved over the slight indents in her feet. He frowned. “Who dressed you? The maids?” She nodded. “They forced your feet into shoes too small. That is why they hurt. They would not hurt so much if they fit.”
She nodded, watching him as he kept his face downcast and continued to massage her feet. Rafa himself was surprised. She was always barefoot and had led him to the jungle that way, but her feet her still smooth and soft; not calloused or scarred in the least. He lowered her foot back on the ground and lifted his head to look at her.
“Do you fly everywhere?” he asked stupidly.
Mata jerked her head back. “What are you talking about?” she frowned. The guard she had dropped instantly returned as she moved away from him and tried to stand. Without the shoes binding her feet, she found it easier to balance herself and stand.
Rafa shook his head and rose. “Nothing,” he grumbled. “Come, I will escort you to the plaza.”
Mata wrinkled her nose. “I do not need to be escorted.”
“It is proper,” Rafa said behind gritted teeth. “And Antonio will expect me to do so.” Mata frowned more so. She still had a job to do. “Very well…,” she acknowledged. Rafa held his arm out and watched, somewhat unsurprised, as Mata walked past him and towards the door. He tilted his head back and shook his head before he followed her.
They made it to the plaza and Mata found her attention wandering to the different sights. The music was different from what she was listening to and yet, she enjoyed it. Rafa stood a good distance away, keeping an eye on her as she skittered around the plaza curiously. He shook his head and looked around for Antonio.
Meanwhile, the manananggal tried to log everything she could see into her mind to later report to her clan. As people moved around her, she began to wonder when so many had been converted. Many had left the jungles for the settlement, it seemed. There were faces she could not remember seeing before. Perhaps they had come from other parts, too.
Somewhere between wondering what had happened to wooden, temporary settlement and her people, she was suddenly tossed into the plaza and shouts of encouragement were thrown her way. Confused, Mata stood unmoving, unsure of what to do as people danced around her. Her eyes crinkled up. What where they doing? These weren’t their old dances….
“You’re in everyone’s way,” a familiar voice grumbled as her hands were suddenly pulled forward and she was dragged off to the side. Rafa placed her on a wooden bench. “You look young; they thought you were one of the dancers.”
She remained confused as she looked past him and towards the plaza where a few young women were dancing in a circle. She furrowed her brows. “It looks strange.”
“It is just new to you,” he corrected. “The people from my lands taught them that.”
“Then your people are strange,” she muttered. He bit his lip to keep from chiding her. “It is very…energetic. I like their dresses.”
Rafa raised an eyebrow. “Then Antonio was right…did you want to try?”
“No,” Mata asserted. She could smell the scent of death lingering even heavier in the air. Her eyes flashed silver as they darted around, trying to pin-point where she was to go.
Rafa noticed the change in her mood. “Mata?” he asked, frowning once more. “What’s wrong?”
A shout came from the corner of the plaza and Mata shot up. Rafa turned towards the noise and saw several people rushing a nearly blocked sight of an older woman holding someone in her arms. “She’s fallen! She’s fallen!”
Silver eyes narrowed. “I need to go,” Mata stated in a low voice. Rafa turned back to look at her.
“What? Antonio will be here soon!” he said as he grabbed her wrist.
“I need to leave!” Mata hissed as she wrenched her hand from his. Her eyes darted back to the crowd. Someone was carrying a young woman away and what seemed to be some family members were following. Rafa followed her line of vision.
“It happens often,” he assured her. “I am sure she is just tired from dancing or has drunk too much-Mata!”
She ran off into the alleys, hoping he wouldn’t follow as desperately searched for a place to hide her lower half before she split.
Rafa watched her vanish and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair.
“You let her run off, didn’t you?” a disappointed voice asked behind him. Rafa turned around and saw Antonio approaching. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her with you, but I had no choice.”
“Sorry, Boss,” Rafa replied sheepishly.
“Well…we have her beads, so I’m sure she’ll return,” Antonio pointed out. “Did you find out anything more about her?”
Rafa shook her head. “No,” he admitted. Antonio looked even more disappointed. “By the way, Boss…what…what do you think she is?”
Antonio’s smile beamed. “Someone as beautiful and pure as her? Only one thing - una encantada.”
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Hiya! i've been focusing alot on Rafa and Tonio so im trying to give more attention to Mata and the manananggals. uhmm….hope the story still makes sense! teehee…more MataRafa for uwatako-sama!
sorry for not replying fast to the comments! m(_ _)m TYVM for them~~! i can't use the pc at home so i gotta wait until the weekdays la~. (-.-);
thankies again for reading and comments nice, yea! plz comment~~~ (´･ω･`)
huggles!
Tauhan/Character: OC Piri-tan as a Manananggal, Mexico and Spain as Duende
Marka/Rating: older teen
Babala/Warnings: OOC/OC, AU, supernatural, drama, romance-kinda, and lotsa angst! PhilippinesxMexico
Buod/Preview:
“Have you tried to heal her?”
“Nothing I can do can save her. This is something I do not have a salve for, Mata. And even if I did,” she smiled wryly. “They would only cast me away.”
Those were cold words to the manananggal. The local medicine men and women were usually honored greatly. “Cast away?”
“Their priests have called my work the work of the devil,” Ale explained softly. “My work has no place amongst their converts and it has become rare that I have had calls for my services.” She looked saddened. “I am no longer needed.”
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It wouldn’t be the first time that she had heard foreign words mingling within the many tongues of her people. The new comers brought terms to explain things that her people didn’t have. They also brought new foods, including a variety of vegetables over from what she heard called the “New World”.
She didn’t really mind. It was only when she began to notice less and less people calling on the services of old healers like Ale that she began to wonder what was changing amongst her people.
“I’ve heard news from some of the other islands, south, past the sultanates,” she heard one of her sisters report as they lingered within the depths of a large cave, deep within a mountain. “This new religion comes from the west, just like the other one that came with the Malays.”
“But this is different,” another sister pointed out as she brushed her long straight hair with a mother-of-pearl inlaid comb. “I’ve been watching them and comparing. The prayer styles are different.”
“They are, none-the-less growing more and more influential,” an older member of her clan added. “And they have made a point to seemingly single out the aswang.”
Mata turned her head from basket she had been mending to the older members of her clan situated in the center of the cavern. There were only a small handful of creatures like her and they dotted the central parts of the archipelago and further south.
While part of a greater grouping of aswang, manananggals, or body splitters, were relatively rare in comparison to other clans. Their personal territories were wide and few and far between; most centered around large human populations to which they served as escorts of the dead to aide in peaceful ascent to the heavens.
Because of their numbers, they were only able to meet once or twice every few lunar cycles to keep each other up to date on their activities and changes in their environment. Recently, the talks have been on the pale-skinned new-comers who spoke ‘Espanol’.
“I’ve mingled with them,” another sister pointed out. “Very few families are settling, it seems. They are mainly males.”
An elder looked at her with a frown. “Have you already fornicated with one?”
“No,” the female creature frowned back, immediately. “I am too wary. I do not know how my child will be affected.”
Mata furrowed her brows. “Ate, they’re still human. They will turn out just like a child of any other human male, native or not,” she confirmed. “You will have a daughter; a new manananggal.” That was how they reproduced. They stayed with human men, were impregnated, and then would have a female child who, upon reaching maturity, would be able to split her torso and continue their line. The child would be fiercely protected, as manananggals could only have one child in their entire life.
“But what if the father persists and searches for us?” the other female snapped. “They are not the type to simply allow us to leave should we become heavy with child. They will want to marry us.”
“Several of us have married,” another reminded her. “And out lived our spouses.”
“She does bring up a good point,” another elder agreed. “Until adulthood, our daughters are seemingly human children, but what after their change? Even we do not know the precise moment when they split for the first time. It is why we leave our humans just before they reach maturity.”
Mata continued to quietly mend her basket. It was far too easy for one pretty-faced manananggal to acquire a husband, or at the very least, a mating partner. Through the years, they had learned to deal with admirers, often becoming gruff and off-putting to distance themselves. Though, falling in love with someone so utterly devoted to you was not something one could control.
Countless sisters before her had succumbed to the affection of a partner and it all but killed them when they were forced to leave. None could remain with their mortal partner once a child was about to reach maturity. The clan would intervene. They would have to if they wished to keep their true existence a secret.
This caused anger and bitterness, though the understanding was always there, as it had been engraved into their minds early on. Manananggal hearts were hardened. They had to be. Mata could still remember her mother taking her away from her father’s family’s hut in the dead of night when she was still a child - the optimum age to leave. Odd how she could still remember the smell of drying fish her human grandmother made, but couldn’t recall her own birth father’s face.
Did she look like him? Or was she merely a copy of her beautiful mother?
“It would be a problem if they found out,” another sister pointed out. She reached into the bamboo woven basket at her feet and pulled out a small stack of papers. “These strangers do not see us as our humans see us. What they have in their home land is different and I fear they may be trying to group us with the creatures they understand.”
She passed the stack of papers forward and Mata craned her neck to see what was on them. She heard a few gasps of shock and disapproving murmurs as the manananggals that lined the cavern laid eyes on the parchment.
“That one looks like Bulan,” one sister chuckled.
“That does not look like me!” another hissed before flipping her hair over her shoulder to show her annoyance.
“My tongue is not that long,” another sister frowned.
“My hair is much more silken! This looks like she’s wearing a bush on her head!”
“Since when did manananggals have horse heads!?”
“…,” one of the elders sighed. “Anak, that’s a tikbalang.”
“Oh….”
Some of the papers reached Mata and she lowered her basket to gather the loose leaflets in her hand. They had sketches of native plants, some people and animals, then some creatures like themselves. Words she couldn’t understand were written beneath them and Mata wondered if whoever had written them was recording what they saw in the islands or re-telling stories that some of the natives had said.
“Tala, where did you get this?” one of her sisters asked. Mata lifted her head and looked over at the one who had brought the sketches.
“One of the port cities on our eastern coast,” Tala replied as she frowned. “There are a lot of those Spanish-speakers there, as well. I even found some nuno from the land east of here that have joined the foreigners.”
One of the elders narrowed her dark eyes. “What are the nuno doing with the humans?”
“They have stowed away on their ships,” Tala replied. “From what I noticed, they posed as humans.”
“Have they tried to contact our nuno?” another asked, concerned. The little forest men liked to talk and had been known to spread rumors far and wide about other beings.
Tala lowered her eyes. “It seems that way. I’ve asked our little men to tell me what they hear and, apart from what my sisters are also reporting, they have told me that something similar happened in their lands years ago, as well.”
“What do you mean?” one sister asked.
“The nuno from the east said that years ago, pale-faced men in metal clothing appeared. They…they did something to their humans and many of their humans died. They also forced upon them new beliefs and faith in nuno and their counterparts there began to dwindle.”
Mata could almost taste the heavy tension that filled the air. She felt bumps rise on her skin as the thought settled into her head. They were immortal, yes, but they could die or be killed. They were also subjective to the beliefs of the people who sustained them. If no one believed they existed, they would not.
“Many of the little men in their lands vanished. Others had to adapt to what their colonizers believed in to survive,” Tala continued. “Some have left the area, in search for other lands.”
“Then they wish to come here for sanctuary?” someone voiced. “Has it become that bad in their lands?”
Murmurs spread across the cavern and Mata looked back at the papers in her hand. Slender fingers moved against the parchment as she thought of the black-haired man who had followed the old lady to her hut weeks earlier. He had asked questions about them and Ale had given cryptic answers.
It told Mata that she did not quite trust the foreign spirit yet and thus, Mata did not either.
“I do not wish to anger the local spirits,” she heard his voice repeat in her head. His dark eyes bore into hers, proud and unyielding. “Including yourself.”
She closed her eyes and passed the papers to another. He may have told them that he only wanted to know more about them, but she did not believe his reason was pure. He must've had some deeper reason.
“If they wish to know more about us,” an elder’s voice said from the center of the cave. “Then we should know more about them. Those of you in an area where their influence is growing heavy, watch them carefully. If the nuno from the east are warning, then it is clear that those…colonizers,” she spat out. “Wish to do here what they did there.”
The clan agreed and Mata found herself nodding, as well. As they began to disperse to prepare for their long walks back to their territories, Mata heard her name being called. She looked over her shoulder and met the eyes of one her elders.
“You called?” she bowed her head respectfully and stood before them.
“Mata, there is a large settlement growing in Manila,” one of them told her. “You are aware of this?”
She nodded. “Yes, elders. They have begun expanding their new religion into the jungles.”
Concerned looks met her. “Are they affecting you?”
“No,” she assured them. Mata paused. “Not yet,” she added. She opened her mouth to inform them of the ‘duende’ that had appeared and was asking questions, but snapped her mouth shut. He could’ve just been one of the nuno Tala had been talking about who came to seek refuge in a new land. She decided to wait until she learned more.
“Mata, keep an eye on the settlers,” an older manananggal told her seriously. “I am concerned about how they are categorizing us.”
“Humans have a habit of depicting those they deem evil as deformed and ghastly,” another told her as a sketch of a decrepit looking woman was held up. “I fear that this can be used against our people and push us further into the darkness.”
Mata nodded. She understood what that meant. “If they fear us or are overwhelmed with fear of us,” she conceded. “Then they will try to destroy us.”
“You are in a dangerous place, anak,” one told her as a warm hand rose and stroked her hair back. “Tread carefully.”
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She wished she could’ve just flown the entire way back to her territory, but it was broad daylight and she could only fly when the sunset. In addition, she was carrying a basket of goods from the highlands she had promised to fetch for Ale and some of the other locale shamans. Mata couldn’t carry them and her lower torso at the same time.
Sighing tiredly, she made her way down in the lowland jungles, feeling a bit relieved as the forest spirits greeted her. She felt a warm breeze and the basket on her back lightened as the wind relieved some of the weight from her shoulders.
The sun was setting and it had taken her several days to return to her territory. She supposed her sisters who lived further away from their meeting place in the mountains were worse off. She was tired and simply wanted to rest.
Unfortunately, as she put her basket down and stretched her arms, she could smell something in the air. Her lips pulled down into a frown as she turned in the direction of the shore, where the settlement was located.
Death.
“It is not a pleasant thing to return to, Mata,” a voice said behind her. She whirled around and searched the area for the owner of the voice.
“Ale,” she said as she bowed her head to the old woman. “Forgive me, I did not see you.”
“I just arrived,” the old woman said as she slowly walked towards the seemingly young female. “How was your journey?”
“Good,” Mata said as she reached into her basket. “I retrieved some herbs for you. One of my sisters traded me for some dried seaweed, so I was able to get some rare ones from the mountain top.” She handed a leaf wrapped package to the shaman’s wrinkled hands and was given a kind smile in return.
“You are a good girl,” Ale praised. Mata chuckled. She was older than the elderly woman.
Mata looked back in the direction of the settlement. “Have there been deaths while I was away?”
“None, fate has been kind,” Ale assured her. The old woman looked saddened. “Or at least it has been waiting for you.” Mata turned her head towards her.
“They are in the settlement?” she already deduced. She pursed her lips. She hated going into the settlement to escort the dead. She’d only had to do it twice, but already it worried her. The threat of being seen and discovered was great within such an open area and amongst a concentrated group of people.
Unlike in the villages in the forest, she could easily disappear into the jungles, but in the settlement, there was nowhere for her to go. She had to resort to the rooftops the last time in order to avoid being seen by a priest while she was holding on to the soul of an old woman. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to keep hidden and she wondered if it was due to the influence of the new settlers.
“A converted tribe member has been sick…a young woman,” Ale told her. Mata lifted her head.
Her eyes crinkled up. “Another one?” The disease that had taken the life of a local chief’s daughter lingered in her mind.
The shaman nodded. “Her family is trying to hide it.”
“I heard it was shameful,” Mata acknowledged. “Have you tried to heal her?”
“Nothing I can do can save her. This is something I do not have a salve for, Mata. And even if I did,” she smiled wryly. “They would only cast me away.”
Those were cold words to the manananggal. The local medicine men and women were usually honored greatly. “Cast away?”
“Their priests have called my work the work of the devil,” Ale explained softly. “My work has no place amongst their converts and it has become rare that I have had calls for my services.” She looked saddened. “I am no longer needed.”
Mata frowned. “I see,” she whispered. “How quickly your contributions have been ignored.”
“Times change, anak,” the old woman assured her. “I may not be needed, but you…you should go and help the uneasy souls transition,” she smiled softly as she reached out with old, knotted hands and gently grasped Mata’s smooth ones. "Death, no matter what one believes in, can be terrifying."
“I will do what I can,” Mata said. “For now, please stay in my hut. I will return in the morning.” The old woman nodded as Mata stepped away, ignoring her tired legs, and headed into the settlement.
As she approached, she could hear the sound of music and voices. The scent of cooking meat filled the air and as she reached the outskirts of the town, she could see the lanterns strung across the wide walkways.
Her eyes narrowed. Music and food clearly meant a celebration of sorts and she wondered what they were celebrating. Quietly, as unassumingly as she could, Mata slipped into the village. Briefly, she wondered when so many buildings had been built. Had she been gone that long?
She peered between alley ways, towards the main plaza, where people were standing and dancing around. While she held a healthy distrust of the newcomers, she had to admit that watching the women twirl around in flowing colored skirts was breath taking. Everyone seemed happy, but even amongst them; she could smell the scent of approaching death.
Her eyes flashed silver as they darted around the crowds. She wasn’t sure who exactly was ill, as they all looked so lively, but the scent never lied.
“You look curious, senorita,” a voice said behind her. Mata’s fingers curled into the side of the building she had been peeking around and tensed. “Would you like to join them?”
She whirled around, her eyes narrowing as she confronted the owner of the voice. A tall man with brown hair and green eyes was looking at her. A wide smile graced his face as he seemed to recognize her. Mata’s eyes only narrowed further.
He was the duende’s accomplice. Or rather, another duende from the air about him. Mata took a step back, feeling cornered. “No,” she replied curtly. “I am only…passing through.”
Antonio couldn’t believe his luck. After joining the priests and Rafa on various missions out into the forest, he had yet to even catch sight of the beauty before him. He had been convinced more than ever that she was some sort of nymph, despite Rafa’s attempts to assure him she was just another spirit; possibly a duende, as well.
The green-eyed male refused to believe it and had hoped to at least catch sight of her once more. What luck he had decided to take a brief walk and stumbled upon her looking at the crowd. She was reminiscent of a young girl eager to join a party of adults.
“Please, you must join us,” Antonio urged as he resisted the impulse to step forward and possibly frighten her away. “This is your first fiesta, si?”
Mata drew her head back slightly. “As I said, I am only passing through.”
“Senorita, please,” Antonio pleaded softly has he finally took a step forward and extended his hand. “Do not be afraid. Allow me to escort you to the celebration.”
“I do not belong here,” she stated firmly. She should’ve just stayed in the forest at the edge of the town and waited. “Though, thank you for your gracious invitation.”
“I must confess, senorita, that I am not merely extending my hand in kindness,” Antonio told her. “It is my first time here meeting one of you and I do not wish to throw this chance away.”
Mata narrowed her eyes. “One of us…?” she trailed off. She tensed. “What do you mean?”
His smile only grew more hopeful when she responded. “I have met many creatures upon my arrival here, but you…you are the only one I’ve met that has taken my breath away…,” he whispered breathily, still looking at her adoringly. “Someone so beautiful…ethereal. You are not human; therefore, you must be something else, si?”
She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand. What was this creature implying? “What exactly do you think I am…?” she dared ask.
Antonio’s hand gently grasped hers and brought it to his lips. “In my country, we have many names for you,” he said as a hot breath caressed the back of her hand. “But here, I will call you encantada.”
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“Boss?” Rafa called as he pushed open the front door. “Boss, the new governor wants to speak to you.” He paused at the doorway when no one answered. He eyes squinted; there were some lit candles, illuminating the inside of the house. “Boss?”
“Yes, your little forest men, or ‘nuno’, are like our duende back in Espana,” he heard a faint voice reply from further inside the house. “We also inhabit homes.”
“You do not have any here,” a quieter voice replied. “Except for yourself and…,” the voice trailed off. “Someone else is here.”
“Hmm?” Rafa looked around the corner and saw Antonio standing by a table in the parlor, pouring some dark red tinted, transparent liquid into a small glass. The older duende had lifted his head towards the door and smiled widely. “Ah! Rafa!”
“Boss,” the black-haired male greeted as he gave Antonio a nod. His eyes moved across the room, on to the imported sofa where a familiar female spirit was sitting. His orbs instantly narrowed as he struggled to keep his lips from curling up in displeasure. “Mata.”
Her own eyes seemed to slit at the sight of him. “Duende,” she identified him.
Rafa looked from her to Antonio and back. It was odd enough that she, of all spirits, was sitting in their parlor, but for her to be minus her simple tribal patterned wraps in favor of a skirt and an actual shirt was what drew his attention. Even worse, Rafa found himself displeased that she was and for what he suspected were wrong reasons.
“You remember her?” Antonio asked, only mildly curious. “I met her near the plaza.”
Rafa didn’t take his eyes off of the manananggal. “Why is she wearing those clothes?”
Mata narrowed her eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being insulted from rising up. What exactly did he mean to say? “Forgive me if my presence in these clothes offends you,” she hissed. “I am aware of how strange I look in them.”
“I never said such a thing,” Rafa retorted quickly. He turned his head to Antonio. “Boss, what is she doing here?”
Antonio chuckled. “I could not have very well brought her to the fiesta dressed as she was,” the green-eyed duende pointed out. “The priests would’ve protested! Her skirt only reached her knees and the only thing covering her chest as a shawl and some beads.”
Mata’s hand rose to the spot just below her neck. “My beads,” she said, as if suddenly remembering. “Where are they?” He had some maids change her into something ‘more appropriate’.
“The maids will give them back to you at the end of the fiesta,” Antonio promised. “Until then, stand!” he chuckled as he extended his hand. Mata carefully placed hers in his and allowed him to help her rise. “Look at her, Rafa! Muy linda, si?”
Mata was turned around in a small circle to show off the dress and Rafa’s eyes never left her. “Si.” His answer was curt. Antonio rolled his eyes, exasperated by the other duende’s attitude.
“Rafa, please,” he said. “Mata is a very special spirit, you know,” he pointed out as he allowed her to sit back on the sofa. “We were discussing duende when you arrived.” He stressed the last sentence and looked at him pointedly, as if reminding Rafa why they were there in the first place.
The other male nodded. “I see.” Part of him was annoyed. The last time he had seen her, she had argued with him and he couldn't even make a decent conversation with her. Yet, Antonio stumbles over her and they’re drinking in the parlor, discussing supernatural beings.
“Don Carriedo!” a voice called from the front door.
“Another visitor?” the green-eyed male pouted. “So many tonight…,” he trailed. He looked at Rafa and gave him a firm nod. “Entertain the senorita while I speak to our guest, Rafa,” he said in a low voice. His eyes narrowed. “Keep us on her good side.”
Rafa took a deep breath and nodded obediently. He waited until Antonio left the room before finally turning to the creature sitting on the sofa and holding up a glass to the light. He raised an eyebrow. Mata was studying the glass of alcohol curiously, as if never having seen such a thing before.
“What is it?” she asked, surprising him.
“Wine,” Rafa frowned. He walked across the room and snatched it from her hand. Before she had a chance to protest, he brought the glass to his lips and drank the contents. Mata’s eyes widened.
“That was mine!”
“You wouldn’t have liked it,” he countered as he put the glass back down on the table. He turned back to her with a frown. “What are you doing here?” he hissed in a low voice.
Mata didn’t back away and continued to glare at him. “Antonio insisted I join him and that I needed to change clothes in order to join the fiesta.”
Brown eyes narrowed. “And so you did? So easily? You wouldn’t even set foot into the settlement the last time I saw you and now you are in someone’s home!”
She bristled and shot to her feet. “I have something to do within the town!” she defended herself.
“Such as!?” Rafa demanded as his eyes locked on to hers.
“There is a-” Her words died in her mouth. Narrowed silver eyes widened and turned brown once more as she realized she had almost revealed her reason for being there. Rafa caught on easily.
“There is a what?” he frowned. Mata turned her head away.
“Nothing,” she replied as he returned to her seat. Rafa towered over her, unconvinced.
"You are lying," he accused in a low voice. Mata didn't meet his gaze.
“It is nothing that concerns you, duende,” she spat out the foreign word, sounding disgusted.
His lips tightened into a line. “My name is Rafa,” he said in a low voice as he leaned forward and placed his hands on the back of the sofa, on either side of Mata’s head. “If I can be troubled to call you by your name,” he said as is head hovered just above hers. Mata’s eyes lowered, avoiding his gaze, yet lingering on his lips. “You can be troubled to call me by mine.”
Her heart was beating quickly and she could feel the warmth of her skin close hers. Spirit or not, she had never been that close to a male in her adult life. Shivers shot down her spine.
“Then…let me repeat that,” she whispered back. “It is nothing that concerns you,” she paused and raised her eyes to meet his. “Rafa.”
The smooth purr of his name in her voice made his hands clench the fabric of the sofa in near restraint. Had he not heard Antonio’s voice approaching, he was certain he would’ve followed up her sentence with his lips.
“The governor calls, yet again!” Antonio’s tired sigh filled the room. When he entered, he found Rafa pouring himself a glass of wine and Mata scowling with her arms crossed over her ample chest. He paused at the threshold of the parlor and frowned. “Mata…if the fool insulted you, do not listen to him. You look lovely in the dress.”
Rafa scowled and gulped down the wine as Mata shook her head. “No,” she stated. She stood up. “Antonio, you were saying about the duende in Spain?”
“Ah, Rafa can answer your questions,” Antonio told her. “I am afraid I have been summoned once more.” He watched her face fall and he smiled inwardly. “Though, I will meet you in the plaza soon.” He took her hand and brought it up to his lips once more. He didn’t notice Rafa’s eye roll. “Save a dance for me, senorita.”
Mata merely gave a small nod as he looked past her and gave another look to Rafa before leaving the house.
“You asked him about duende?” the remaining male asked beside her. Mata whirled around.
“If you ask questions about our nuno, I can ask questions about your duende,” she told him proudly.
“I ask questions, but you do not answer,” Rafa reminded her coldly. “How is that fair?”
“Speaking with you is pointless,” she scowled. She turned around and began trudging to the door. “I will wait at the plaza for Antonio!”
She made it three steps before she stumbled and fell to the ground. Rafa remained standing where he was, quietly amused, but keeping his face stoic as she let out a yelp and tried to stand. Twice, her newly shoed feet caught on the bottom of her dress and sent her tumbling back down. She slipped once and before she could slip once more, her humiliated reddened face turned him.
“Why are you not helping me!?” she demanded. “Do your people have no manners!?”
“I thought you were more than capable of going to the plaza and waiting for him by yourself,” Rafa replied coolly. He could feel the intensity of her glare rising. “You seem to want to distance yourself from me as quickly as you can.”
“I do, but I cannot walk in these…these things!” she said as she grabbed a piece of her skirt and pulled it up. Rafa’s eyes widened as her exposed, stocking clad leg was exposed all the way to her thigh. Mata wiggled her foot. “And my feet are squeezed in these! Why are they so tight? Are they an instrument of torture?” she demanded, her face puffing up indignantly. How could those women in the plaza smile if they were wearing those damn things?
“Put your skirt down,” Rafa grumbled as he averted his gaze.
“What?” she frowned. Why was he still standing there?
“I said, put your skirt down!” Rafa repeated as he turned his back to her. “Where we come from, a woman exposing so much skin is unsightly!”
Mata looked at his back as if he were insane. “But my people-”
“You will be amongst my people tonight and we do not do such things!” Rafa reminded her. “Now put your skirt down or I will leave you on the floor!”
She stiffened where she sat, but slowly tugged the hem of her skirt back over her foot. “I covered it.”
Rafa took a moment to collect himself before he cautiously looked over his shoulder. Mata was still looking at him, confused by his reaction and why his face was reddening. Did she embarrass him? If this was about exposing skin, she didn’t understand. He had seen her with even more skin exposed.
Avoiding her eyes, the new world duende approached her. Without a word, his arms curled beneath hers and pulled her up, leaning her against his body as he moved her over to the edge of the sofa.
“Lean against it,” he instructed as he began to kneel down. Mata did as she was told and watched as his hands reached the bottom of her skirt. With his face still turned away, unable to meet his gaze, his hands slipped beneath the layers of fabric.
“What are you looking for?” she asked before tugging her skirt up once more. “Do you need to see my feet?”
“No!” Rafa exclaimed as one hand shot up and grabbed the bottom of the dress before he could be faced with those painfully enticing legs once more. Mata looked at him as if he had gone mad. First, he told her to hide her legs, but then he reached beneath the skirt that was hiding them? That didn’t make sense. “Just…just don’t move,” he told her as his eyes met hers. “Please.”
When she didn’t seem to show any signs of repeating her actions, Rafa released her skirt and reached back beneath the hem to grasp one of her feet. He easily slipped it off her foot and could hear Mata let out a small breath of relief. The wood and leather object fell to the floor with a clunk as Rafa blindly searched for the other foot. He repeated his actions and moved his hands across the bottom of her foot.
Mata seemed to relax above him. “How do you walk in such things?”
“You grow used to them,” he replied as his fingers moved over the slight indents in her feet. He frowned. “Who dressed you? The maids?” She nodded. “They forced your feet into shoes too small. That is why they hurt. They would not hurt so much if they fit.”
She nodded, watching him as he kept his face downcast and continued to massage her feet. Rafa himself was surprised. She was always barefoot and had led him to the jungle that way, but her feet her still smooth and soft; not calloused or scarred in the least. He lowered her foot back on the ground and lifted his head to look at her.
“Do you fly everywhere?” he asked stupidly.
Mata jerked her head back. “What are you talking about?” she frowned. The guard she had dropped instantly returned as she moved away from him and tried to stand. Without the shoes binding her feet, she found it easier to balance herself and stand.
Rafa shook his head and rose. “Nothing,” he grumbled. “Come, I will escort you to the plaza.”
Mata wrinkled her nose. “I do not need to be escorted.”
“It is proper,” Rafa said behind gritted teeth. “And Antonio will expect me to do so.” Mata frowned more so. She still had a job to do. “Very well…,” she acknowledged. Rafa held his arm out and watched, somewhat unsurprised, as Mata walked past him and towards the door. He tilted his head back and shook his head before he followed her.
They made it to the plaza and Mata found her attention wandering to the different sights. The music was different from what she was listening to and yet, she enjoyed it. Rafa stood a good distance away, keeping an eye on her as she skittered around the plaza curiously. He shook his head and looked around for Antonio.
Meanwhile, the manananggal tried to log everything she could see into her mind to later report to her clan. As people moved around her, she began to wonder when so many had been converted. Many had left the jungles for the settlement, it seemed. There were faces she could not remember seeing before. Perhaps they had come from other parts, too.
Somewhere between wondering what had happened to wooden, temporary settlement and her people, she was suddenly tossed into the plaza and shouts of encouragement were thrown her way. Confused, Mata stood unmoving, unsure of what to do as people danced around her. Her eyes crinkled up. What where they doing? These weren’t their old dances….
“You’re in everyone’s way,” a familiar voice grumbled as her hands were suddenly pulled forward and she was dragged off to the side. Rafa placed her on a wooden bench. “You look young; they thought you were one of the dancers.”
She remained confused as she looked past him and towards the plaza where a few young women were dancing in a circle. She furrowed her brows. “It looks strange.”
“It is just new to you,” he corrected. “The people from my lands taught them that.”
“Then your people are strange,” she muttered. He bit his lip to keep from chiding her. “It is very…energetic. I like their dresses.”
Rafa raised an eyebrow. “Then Antonio was right…did you want to try?”
“No,” Mata asserted. She could smell the scent of death lingering even heavier in the air. Her eyes flashed silver as they darted around, trying to pin-point where she was to go.
Rafa noticed the change in her mood. “Mata?” he asked, frowning once more. “What’s wrong?”
A shout came from the corner of the plaza and Mata shot up. Rafa turned towards the noise and saw several people rushing a nearly blocked sight of an older woman holding someone in her arms. “She’s fallen! She’s fallen!”
Silver eyes narrowed. “I need to go,” Mata stated in a low voice. Rafa turned back to look at her.
“What? Antonio will be here soon!” he said as he grabbed her wrist.
“I need to leave!” Mata hissed as she wrenched her hand from his. Her eyes darted back to the crowd. Someone was carrying a young woman away and what seemed to be some family members were following. Rafa followed her line of vision.
“It happens often,” he assured her. “I am sure she is just tired from dancing or has drunk too much-Mata!”
She ran off into the alleys, hoping he wouldn’t follow as desperately searched for a place to hide her lower half before she split.
Rafa watched her vanish and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair.
“You let her run off, didn’t you?” a disappointed voice asked behind him. Rafa turned around and saw Antonio approaching. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her with you, but I had no choice.”
“Sorry, Boss,” Rafa replied sheepishly.
“Well…we have her beads, so I’m sure she’ll return,” Antonio pointed out. “Did you find out anything more about her?”
Rafa shook her head. “No,” he admitted. Antonio looked even more disappointed. “By the way, Boss…what…what do you think she is?”
Antonio’s smile beamed. “Someone as beautiful and pure as her? Only one thing - una encantada.”
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Hiya! i've been focusing alot on Rafa and Tonio so im trying to give more attention to Mata and the manananggals. uhmm….hope the story still makes sense! teehee…more MataRafa for uwatako-sama!
sorry for not replying fast to the comments! m(_ _)m TYVM for them~~! i can't use the pc at home so i gotta wait until the weekdays la~. (-.-);
thankies again for reading and comments nice, yea! plz comment~~~ (´･ω･`)
huggles!