[center][h1][color=a187be][u]Memento[/u][/color][/h1]
[/center]

Diana's eyes felt sticky and heavy. Her room had been a mess now, of sorrow and self-loathing. Her usual carefully groomed looks were now dishevelled, and even her very clothes had been frazzled and dishevelled. Pangs of hunger timidly remembered she had not eaten in a long time. The stalker goddess had given her wide berth. Still, the world would still move. In the end,a single death was not that much in the long dance of this world. And it's not like it had been all sunshine and rainbows.

She had even left a message for the Vigilantes, curt and dry, but informing that due to third parties, their help in taking him down would not be necessary.

Yet it hurt, it hurt so much, like someone rubs salt in a gaping wound, and then twists a chunk of ice in it until your entire body is paralyzed and numb. It was true she had left him. But she still... had feelings for him. Would she ever regain the illusion for life ever again? How many hours had passed? She pondered as she descended downstairs to solve the least important of her problems, food.

"You okay, Diddums?" said a woman leaning from her seated position, as she was reading the "Magicka Weekly." Her silver hair betrayed her kinship with Diana as she rose and walking careful steps, embraced the young witch. "My poor child, losing a friend this soon. Take as much as you need." She said, trying to comfort her daughter. 

"I liked the lad. He was sharp." Diana's father came in a muffled gasp from the kitchen. "I'm sure he's in a better pl- OH CRAP!" Her father pitched in, only to be cut from the disertation by a magical explosion. And then clucking. Lots of clucking. Her father had somehow managed not to console Diana, but also turn himself into a chicken.

[i]But no. He's probably in hell. Or oblivion. He was a bad man, dad. But still... it hurts.[/i] Diana tugged her mother's clothes and chose for a moment to fade from the world into her maternal embrace. Even the ever self-made, self-reliant Diana, at the end of the day, had been a girl with her own dreams and feelings.

The door rang just after, sparing no solace. "I suppose I have to go get the door now, since your idiot dad turned himself into an animal without opposable thumbs. Again." Diana's mother said, in the ever-so-deadpan tone Diana was also known for. "Just wait here for a moment."

It was Frank. The mailman. Probably the nicest mailman in the vicinity, and on the whole a normal individual. Except for the fact he had seen a little of everything. "Letter for Diana Graeca... Is that a chicken with a moustache? Heh." The postman handed the letter, and asked for the certified signature in that meantime. Diana's mother did so in her daughter's behalf, and her expression became sombre once again, after inspecting briefly the letter.

"Diana... it's best if you read this in intimacy. It's from him." Her mother said, as she handed the letter in Diana's hands, and then gave her daughter a hug. "Take your time to do so. It's probably the last words you will ever see of him." 

"CLUCK!"

"And yes your father is... uh, I can't understand chicken, Augustus." Diana's mother frowned. "I had better turn your dad back. Just... hang in there, okay?" She said, before allowing her daughter to go to her room after giving her a generous helping of chocolate. Diana nodded, and silently steeled herself as she crawled back into her room. 

The world moved on. Life continued. She opened the letter as she sat on her bed. It was handwritten. That dummy did like to show off his penmanship sometimes.

[i]Dear Diana,

If you are reading this, it means I have failed at living. And that will be quite inconvenient. There will no chance to see your flustered face ever again. Nor more dances. There will be also a bunch of loose ends, and I hope you will be able to tie them in my stead. No, it does not involve avenging me. Whoever did me in, is probably beyond your grasp and power. It would be a waste of your cute yet amusing life.

Yet, I am a selfish man. I do not concede easily. It's a custom that the spoils of battle go to the family once we're done with this pile of absurdities that is known to life... but I do not want that [b]woman[/b] to ever touch a single sip of my success. She has more than I ever did, and she never made anything to earn it.

If there's one person in this whole world that deserves it, it is you. I have met many people, many faces. I've witnessed many dreams and selfish desires. I have laughed at them. I have destroyed. I have encouraged. Yet, for all their colorful radiance, they were just bland. Without flavour, shape, colour. I was never able to connect with any of them, much less appreciate them. But you, you were different. If this wretched mind of mine could love, you would have been the first person in my mind. I used you. I know I did.

But that's because I trusted you.

Hence, if I cannot bring this ugly world to its knees, I shall make do with you. All that belonged to me, my material assets, so to speak are now yours. Use them as you see fit. Shine. Shine for me, Diana Graeca. Prove me wrong. Prove all of them wrong. Break mediocrity in pieces, and tear the machinations asunder. There will be times you will buckle down under pressure. You will be broken apart every single time.

At that moment, remember it. Remember these brilliant years of your youth. And how you made the most wretched sociopathic creature of Rhea... ponder the notion of Love. That's how special you are. Live for me the life I could not.

From Hell,

Celestine Lightbringer.

PS: Look after a couple of dummies for me, will you? They're not that hard to deal with. Dmitry and Bak are nice.[/i]

Diana clutched the letter, crumpling under her daintly hands, the tears surging back as she crumpled the letter and grasped the keys within to Cel's former belongings. 

"Always a showoff until the end, you dummy." Diana whispered to herself, as she stood straight, and wiped her tears with her sleeve. "...first stop, Mephisto's. Can't do anything about Dmitry I am afraid..."