M.o.H.A.: The Virgin Trinity

Chapter 3

MoHA
My Out of Heaven Angel
The Virgin Trinity


Chapter 3

Somehow, what happened to them the day before had brought back the two in their –logical- senses and, shyly, asked if they’d like to be friends. It was benefiting not only the two, but also Ramyon who doesn’t really fancy being torn in between his friends. But Nido still hasn’t made up with his little sister, Gwen, according to Vesta, was still ignoring her brother.

“What happened, really?” asked Vesta, sipping a healthy dose of Quintence drink in the cafeteria.

The three decided to spend their free time together, just in case the 7 Sinns would come and bug them again. Their mother topic was their common assignment that was turning Vesta into having a manic depression because it was so… “un-Arithmetical” to use Vesta’s term. Then they jumped to why they thought some of their professors suck, because they all decided that their professor, Madam Vinx, was such a kill-joy when it comes to vacations.

“Well, I thought that Ceshire would love to have a little time outside her box so I let her out. Gwen had let her Puffskin go too just in time, Ceshire pounced at it… then, well, it hissed and pawned the chick.” He said it in such hastiness that he got a morsel stuck in his throat.

“Oh my, Nido!” exclaimed Vesta, and immediately began to tap his back.

Girls are weird. For Ramyon, at least.

“Gee, thanks, Vesta. You’re a life-saver!” said Nido, in a rather grateful manner.

Vesta looked away and said that it was “just a friendly gesture”. Ramyon rolled his eyes, happy that she wasn’t looking his way or he’s toast.

Friendly gesture my face.

Silence swept the place almost in an instant. But Ramyon did not have to look twice to see why. Nido nudged Ramyon in the ribs and smirked.

It was Melfile Wellin. Ramyon’s ultimate crush.

She had long beautiful raven-black hair that was tied in a beautiful braid and her equally black eyes were fascinating as always. And not to mention that she was…

“Watch out, your eyes might pop out.” Teased Vesta as Nido forced himself not to chuckle out loud.

Ramyon made a face to them and continued in staring at the girl of his dreams. He took a big bite from his sandwich, and then looked up at Melfile who was now looking at his direction. He felt his stomach cartwheel around his abdomen…

“Ugh…” he coughed. He was choking.

“Are you OK?!” exclaimed Nido, rushing to Ramyon along with Vesta who was shaking her head in the process.

Having relieved from the “near-death” experience, Ramyon looked furtively at the two.

“Well… she was shocked when, you know… she saw you....” Said Vesta.

“Gag.” Added Nido, which wasn’t the best thing he’d like to hear about.

“But it’s good thing not a lot of people were paying attention.” Added Vesta, as if trying not to get Ramyon too worked up with it.

He covered his face with his hands, “Did I look like a complete and utter idiot?”

He did not hear any answer aside from, “Uhm…”

So he’d take it as a “yes” and swore loudly.

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“Winged horses?” he stared up at Vesta questioningly as she stormed into his room, “Excuse me?”

“They’re not real.” She corrected throwing a stack of magazines, “It’s these rubbish that’s been circulating that silly idea.”

He picked up a magazine from the heap and stared at it.

“It’s Raconteur.” She sneered at the magazine as if it’s done something bad to her, “I can’t believe that something as stupid as this is circulating.”

He opened the reading material and scanned. It was full of foolish-like theories and the likes, it was probably full of false rumors too, as it seemed and more probably people’s fiction or hallucination. But there was one passage that caught his attention.

“De Le Frayes: Murdered or Underground?
The Secret of the so-called Chosen Clan”

He raised his brow, so he wasn’t the only one who doesn’t like the De Le Frayes in Mythil City. He scanned the article, and found himself immersed in the “rubbish” as what Vesta calls it; it was odd that he found comfort and excitement as he read the article sentence per sentence, it was like…

“Don’t tell me you actually believe it, Ramyon.” Eyed Vesta, crossing her arms.

He avoided her gaze, “I want to read, and it’s not a crime to read, isn’t it?”

She shrugged and told him that it was OK, but it wasn’t OK if he really believed it ‘cause it was just, well, trash.

A motherly voice called from the living room, “Vesta, phone!”

She squeaked in a rather un-Vesta like manner and scampered like a little girl out of his room.

Girls really are odd.

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It seemed odd, but the criticism of his clan somehow lightened up his mood, especially the part where it blatantly put of how great cowards the De Le Frayes were during the War. The writer, Mister Moon, pointed out that the De Le Frayes were milking so much of the Ba-Baylan craze for the past fifty years; quite the opposite from big time broadsheets such as Minerva Times, and The Daily Triumph who had done nothing but praise here, praise there, thank here and more thanks.

It was refreshing to read something that was different from all of the biased crap that those two big media outlets who only had money and profits in their pea-sized minds. But that was enough for the day; he’s still had a lot of things to do.

He closed the magazine and put it on top of his study desk, maybe later he’d read some of those “preposterous” stories he’d heard from Vesta… speaking of Vesta, Ramyon slightly wondered why she hurriedly answered the phone. Usually, Aunt Monique would call her three times just to answer their classmate’s question in the phone, and that would actually be her most favorite subject…

Curiously, he opened the door and slowly pushed it close, he had to know who she was talking too… it would be fun poking at her.

He tiptoed his way from their rooms’ corridor and down the stairs, which was rather tricky because of Moppt, their resident puppy, which wasn’t exactly quiet. He almost got caught when Moppt started to try barking at him, which incredibly failed. Vesta peeked in the stairway to look and she spanked Moppt a bit when she didn’t notice anyone; he did not know whether he should be happy that he wasn’t caught or be sad because poor little Moppt got spanked because of him.

Ramyon hid behind Aunt Monique’s Chinese antigues… it was so cold, him pressing his face on the cold surface of the humungous porcelain jar wasn’t exactly fun. But he had to know why Vesta was so acting like a…

“Really? Oh that’s great! I’d love to go out with you!” Ramyon heard her, as if trying to compress her new-found joy, but appallingly failing to do so.

He rolled his eyes as she squealed her lungs out in the kitchen. She has apparently found a new person to turn her attention to, but he still doesn’t know who it was. He pressed harder, just in case she’d slip who it was.

“So, when would that be?” he heard her ask, twirling the telephone cord with her fingers. He mockingly imitated her, and made a face about it. He heard her talk once more, in a very un-Vesta like way, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you… yeah. I… lo- I mean, thanks. You’re really doing a lot for me.”

Somehow, Ramyon felt that it was no longer right for him to do that eavesdropping. Vesta seemed to be… very serious about something else aside from her academic “pedestal”. (which is, “Nothing is much more important than my academics!”)

And right when he was about to leave, he felt a rather compelling presence behind him, and he didn’t need another two seconds to make him dart out of her sight.

“RAMYON GRAILLE!!!!!!!!” she shouted in the top of her lungs as she stomped her way to try to grab the scruff of Ramyon’s shirt.

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The sundae began to melt by twelve noon and she still hasn’t come yet.

It took him two horrible weeks of suffering under the “bondage” (as he prefers to call it) of his adopted sister, Vestavia just for him to actually talk to the “real university star”, Melfile Wellin.

Unnecessary thoughts flooded his brain and his unknown insecurities had risen up to the surface for the world to see.

Ramyon could feel his hands shaking rather badly and the sundae didn’t look so good after being under the sun for an hour.

He knew it was a bad idea to ask Vesta about this when she was angry about him eavesdrop her conversation with her “boyfriend”, as Ramyon would assume.

Ramyon could feel his sweat dripping freely; rolling down his face, his neck, his… he shook his head frivolously. He knew he’d heard from a TV show that girls like making guys wait.

He balled his fists and shouted with a big “Boo-Yeah!”. People stared at him like he was an escaped kid from a nearby mental hospital despite the fact that he was “the Graille boy”. He then proceeded to draw sticks on the ground with large letters of “MENTAL” on his head.

A shadow of a woman darkened his drawing spree, he looked up at the person.

It was Melfile Wellin.

“Uh… you’re Ramyon, right?”

He felt his jaws drop off his face. She kept her promise after all.

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Ramyon bought another 2 sundae cones for the two of them right before they started to walk in the park; Vesta had indeed kept her promise that she’ll make a way that they could talk together, alone. He really was grateful about the deed she had done, but also regretted that he didn’t ask for any more hints about “girls”.

He shyly gave it to Melfile. He reached out his hand with the sundae and waited for her to take it, while looking at the dusty park ground. His hands were shaking a bit, but it didn’t seem like she cared, because when she took the sundae, she was even smiling at him. He could see a hallo on her head, outshining everything…

“Uhm, Ramyon?” she stared at him as if he was doing something really odd, “Are you OK?”

Realizing how stupid he looked, Ramyon coughed a bit and acted like nothing happened; but even if he tried pushing away those… “ugly” thoughts, they seem to pop right out of his head.

“Well… What kind of food do you like?” asked Melfile, “Vesta told me you like spicy food.”

Ramyon nodded, “Yeah. I do… actually I like different kinds of food. I like chicken curry, spicy Hatchian spaghetti (think of Italian spaghetti). I also like playing basketball.”

“Oh.” Muttered Melfile, “So… what are you there?”

“Power forward, best in the players, you know.” He beamed at her as if what he was saying was the best thing around.

One thing he noticed about her was that all she did was nod with what he was saying, but not that he was surprised with all of that.

He’d had three girlfriends and all of them did the same thing: go out with him, snog, joke around, rinse and repeat. Not even a single speck of, well, intimidation and closeness, but not that he complained either; he simply loved the way they worship him like he was a Messiah or something like that. Whenever he says something bad about Eripd, they just nodded and giggled, and even spread gossips about Eripd.

He smirked; he finally got back his confidence, “Well, that was really nice to talk to you, Melfile.”

“That’s quite a change of attitude.” She said, rather snappily, “You were cute when you were all meek about this date. But she was right.”

Ramyon stared at her, what was she talking about?

“You’re a pathetic little kid who wants attention.” Melfile told him, “You know, if you really like someone, you should ask her more about herself. It’s not always about you.”

She took her purse and nodded at him, a sign that she was leaving. She took out a fan and waved it in the air, the nearest blue cab swiveled its way before her.

“Wha… wait! Melfile!” he exclaimed, “You’re ditching me?!”

She turned to him, and with an arch of the brow, she said, “Yeah. So?”

Ramyon stared at her unbelievingly as she rode in the cab. He couldn’t believe that she ditched him. Him. No girl had the guts to do that.

“Serves you right.” A rather old looking woman appeared beside him, her toothy grin looked like she was going to eat him alive, “You should know how to please ladies, young man, or you’ll never fulfill whatever’s in store for you.”

He arched his brow (which seemed to be a habit of his that day) in disbelief and turned his back on the old woman who seemed to have a rather odd glint in her eyes. First, his date left him. Second, this old woman… was lecturing him about women. What the heck was going on?

He turned to face the old woman again to ask her why she said those things, but by the time he did that, she was already gone.

“Was she a member of the track-and-field team or what?” he muttered out loud, taking the attention of the people strolling in the park.

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SOME WORDS…

Awditas: fairy
Ba-Baylan: messenger of the "Creator"; 1 an angel 2 a priest or priestess
Fifen: Ramyon + Vesta + Nido
Gargouss: A kind of language similar to Latin in the real world
Hugden mini-tree: A bonsai with fire red-colored leaves
Jujuk: leech
LeFay: A demon
Methylican: A kind of language similar to Filipino in the real world
Minerva Times: A broadsheet newspaper
Mythil City: The city where everything takes place
Quintence drink: a tea made from the orange fruit
Raconteur: A magazine known for its obscurities
Sas-wein: Stupid, moron, idiot
The Daily Triumph: A broadsheet newspaper, Raconteur is a section of this newpaper
Westeride road: It is where the “elites” live

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Culture of the Mythil people: *for the clearance*

“Shut it.” - stop whatever you’re doing
Nodding after standing up or taking the bag - a polite way of saying “Goodbye”
Waving a fan (in the air) - something like, “Taxi!”
Waving a pen (clockwise) - asking for a fight
Waving a pen (counterclock-wise) - stop whatever you’re doing