Le Diable Amoureux | By : Isa Category: M through R > Matrix, The (All) > Matrix, The (All) Views: 1660 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.
They belong to the Wachowski brothers, Village Roadshow Pictures, and Warner
Bros.
“Le Diable Amoureux”
belongs to Jacques
Cazotte.
A.N.- When the Merovingian says, “God damnit,
woman, you’ll be the end of me.” It struck me that that is something you say as
a habit. He did sound like he had said it a thousand times before. Maybe he
has. That and the whole concept of an A.I. couple made me want to write this
story.
Hades (God of the underworld) desired
Persephone as his wife. He seized her and carried her off to the underworld.
Demeter, Persephone’s mother was less than pleased by this and pleaded with
Zeus to have her daughter back. Zeus agreed Persephone could go back as long as
she hadn’t eaten anything in the underworld. As she had eaten half of a
pomegranate she had to stay by Hades’ side half of the year.
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A simple program in the Matrix.
That was all I was when we met.
My beauty then, was that of mathematical
precision, obedient strands of code performing their duty.
Until he came.
Sirens should have sounded, alarms gone
off, I, myself should have known what he was, but he was too good a manipulator
of his image to just get caught like that. He still is.
So when his code approached mine, enticing me
to leave, just for a few moments…
‘Allons-y! There’s a whole new world waiting
for you out there,’ he said, ‘a world where colour and smell and taste have
completely different meanings. Will not see for yourself? What harm can it
bring?’ He asked.
What harm…
And I followed him, abandoning my duties.
His code shifted and took form, our
surroundings shimmered and changed.
His code now had something new adjacent to it.
‘This,’elucelucidated, ‘is a pomegranate.’
I placidly waited for him to go on.
‘You can’t see it now,’ he explained, ‘but in
my form I can feel its texture, I can see its exotic colours, smell
its perfume,’ he spilt the pomegranate’s code and took it closer to his until
they both became one,’ taste its inebriating saveur to a point where I
do not know if what I’m sensing is its taste or fragrance.’
He held it out to me. ‘Will you not try?’
I told him I did not know how.
He offered to help me.
Help me…
And so he shaped my code and I allowed him to
do so. I felt it twist and turn for and endless moment until what suddenly felt
was not the swirling of code but the warmth of his hands on me.
‘Ouvre tes yeux,’ he told me softly. And it
startled me that I could finally understand what softly meant.
I obeyed like the dutiful program I thought I
still was.
A thousand times I have tried and a thousand
times I have failed to describe the first time I saw the world in my new form.
My senses were savagely assaulted all at once.
Such lush colours, different textures, mind
swirling scents and the warmth. The warmth of his hands on me.
I looked at him. He was the first thing I truly
saw in the world. And it was then, while I contemplated how heartbreakingly
beautiful he was to my eyes that I realized I now possessed a heart.
A heart. My own heart and as such I admired it
and fiercely loved it from the very first moment.
In my innocence I handed it over to him on the
very moment I got it. Solely his.
He raised my hand to his lips. ‘Persephone,’ he
whispered against my knuckles before brushing them with a kiss.
I shivered.
Startled, I laughed. Then, startled again at my
laughter I laughed louder. And his laughter joined mine.
Oh, how it light his whole features, that
laughter. How I long for it now.
‘Will you not taste the pomegranate?’ He asked
me again. ‘I wrote it myself.’ So eager he was then. So full of emotion.
I nodded my assent while he bit the fruit. Its
fragrance was, as he had promised, inebriating.
He leaned towards me and I, thinking this a
game, playfully moved away. He tried again and again I escaped until he reached
for my shoulders and stilled me.
And then he kissed me. His taste, the taste of
the pomegranate in his mouth. The scent, the texture, the feel of him against
me. So real. Such feelings… I felt total abandonment. And all was right in the
world.
He pulled away.
Dazed, I asked, ‘What?’
‘You have the body of a queen,’ he said. ‘Et tu seras mienne.’
I looked at myself and noticed that I was a
woman. He, I had noticed before, was a man.
He took my hand and laid me on the bed. The
sheet’s texture enflaming my nervous centres, unaccustomed to such things.
I felt something small and fresh land on my
stomach and I opened my eyes to see what it was. It was a pomegranate seed.
More followed it until they were sprinkled all over my skin.
He leaned over me and ate the first seed. My
new senses were completely overpowered and with just the feel of his mouth on
me I came. The glory of a thousand suns washed over me.
Once I had recovered enough I found him staring
at me, an adoring look in his eyes. Wonder and lust and love in his features.
‘God damnit, woman,’ he whispered hoarsely,
‘you will be the end of me.’
I laughed again
What a sinfully long night that was.
His fingers burning my skin.
His mouth igniting fire in me.
‘Mon amour,’ he tucked a strand of my hair
behind my ear.
‘Amore mio,’ I caressed his cheek.
What a sinfully long night that was.
‘Muove te, ti prego,’ I urgently begged him in
the dark.
‘Shshshshsh,’ he soothed as I nearly cried, so
fierce was my desire for him that it was almost painful.
‘Lock me inside of you,’ he panted in my ear,
‘let me stay in you forever, where I can feel you beating heart.’
What a sinfully long night that was.
I remember the bright sunlight the next
morning.
Waking up in his arms.
Not like now, when we just lay side by side. So
distant but never far.
‘I have not,’ I told him, ‘become a woman for
nothing. I have given you all of myself and now I have something to ask of
you.’
‘Ma douce chérie,’ he held me, ‘I’ll give you
my lifelong fidelity.’
I shook my head, ‘All I desire,’ I told him
determinately, ‘is complete abandonment.’
And years passed and all was well for I had his
complete devotion.
‘In win with jealousy,’ he’d tell me, ‘to see
others looking at you.’
The years passed but I did not notice for time
shattered in his eyes.
Until that day he offered a splendid cup of
gelato to that African girl.
‘Mon ange,’ he told me, ‘it’s nothing you
should worry about. It’s merely a game. Why would a queen like you feel
threatened?’
And truthfully I didn’t feel threatened. But
causality is a dreadful thing.
So when he disappeared from my side he offered
me enough time to give Demogorgon, a rival program, a breach to enter.
I’ll hand it to him He fought well. He did not
have at the tihe ghe goons he has now to do his dirty work. And he fought well.
I know this because I comfortably sat there,
watching the whole time. Sipping Porto while he bled.
He won. Which was good as I was getting bored.
He turned to me. Eyes glazed with homicidal
rage from the battle.
He gripped me by my shoulders and forced me to
stand. He waited for me to face him after I had been momentarily distracted by
the clear shattering sound of my glass on the floor.
‘How could you do this to me, Persephone?’ He
shouted. ‘You betrayed me!’
‘Cause and effect, my love,’ I smiled and moved
to our bedroom.
He stood there dumbfounded but followed me
after a moment only to find me already undressed, holding a pomegranate.
‘For your love,’ I told him, ‘I subjected
myself to physical causes.’
‘From now on,’ he kneeled at my feet, ‘I’ll be
solely yours. I will crown your virtues and patience, fulfil my duty to make
you happy by my own, blind sacrifice.’
‘I only desire,’ I told him already pulling him
up for a kiss, ‘complete abandonment. You haven’t been giving me that.’
‘God damnit, woman,’ he said in between kisses,
‘you will be the end of me.’
And I could feel him surrendering.
‘Ti prego, amore mio,’ I sobbed in the dark.
‘C’est dans ton cœur que je vive, mon ange’ he whispered.
‘Abbandono completo,’ I gasped.
The years passed and his devotion was mine.
Even though he was forever flirting.
Until the day the first One came to “visit.”
It was pride that made him send that a
croustade aux pommes to that Asian girl. So he could show off his immense power
to the One.
He then followed her, not before kissing my
hand and excusing himself from the table, leaving me alone with the One.
The One. What a poor clueless boy. All of them,
now that I think of it.
He didn’t even have the sense to stand up when
I did. Such poor manners most humans have.
It was me who had to pull him towards my
conjugal bed.
It was me who had to unbutton his shirt and
undo my dress.
It was me who had to push the confused boy onto
the bed while he stupidly stared at me and I twirled an apple in my hands.
Thankfully he was quick this time and found us
before I had to actually do anything.
Not that the boy wasn’t willing, mind you.
That
time he was actually speechless for a few moments. A triumph I will never
forget.
He finally found his voice.
‘Oh, my God, Persephone! How could you do this
to me?’ He sounded so hurt. Almost as much as I felt. ‘You betrayed me!’ his
voice trembled.
And before I could go on with our game he
asked, ‘Why?’
‘I felt the need,’ I looked at the apple, ‘to
change fruits.’
It saddens me that he didn’t get to enjoy to
the fullest the sight of the One running from our bedroom half-clothed.
‘God damnit, woman,’ he shouted, ‘you will be
the end of me!’
And then he kissed me with such force that I
instantly felt all his extreme emotions wash over me. Ah, abandonment!
‘Mon ange triste.’
‘Mio diabo innamorato.’
And the first Matrix was unmade and reloaded.
But our love remained.
Until I stopped being lovingly introduced as
“Persephone, l’amour de ma vie.” To be introduced as “Persephone, my wife.”
It gets tiresome. I’ll admit.
I was- I am –the silence that accompanies him.
I’m not the same and neither is he. Such love is not meant to last. But it can
be reloaded, just like the Matrix, over and over again.
But without fail with the passing of years we
stop feeling with abandonment and fall into practiced routine. Che monotonia.
If I wanted that I might as well have remained a simple program and not have
taken form at his side.
Years passed as well as Matrices. Our game
remained the same. Routine? Reload.
Until that in the sixth Matrix…
‘Mon amour?’ He asks, moving the strand of hair
that covered my eyes to tuck it behind my ear. Hair that should have been sweat
dampened but wasn’t. Just as I had fully recovered my breath and I shouldn’t
have yet. Monotonia.
I hate what’s left of me when he is not within
me.
‘Si?’
‘The One is dropping by today.’
‘Per che?’
‘He wants the Keymaker.’
‘Then we should be getting ready.’
But neither one of us moved from the lie that
was our embrace.
This One, surprisingly brought an entourage. I
was actually so bored that I studied them as they approached.
It seems obvious now, why he was accompanied.
He did not seem very bright. Powerful, yes, but not bright.
That’s why he brought Morpheus whom, I must
confess, looked much more interesting.
My husband acted unnecessarily cheerful as they
arrived.
“Si belle que me fait souffrir?!” Quella donna had no taste! In clothes and in men.
But still he felt the need to do his little
speech. Causality. How original of him. Again, routine. He can be so
infuriating.
And then he sent that blond woman the “special
dessert.” He said it himself that she was bourgeois. Has he no standards
anymore?
He can make me so sick of his bullshit
sometimes, and that’s exactly what I told the One and his little friends. I was
hoping he would get there and catch me kissing the One but he didn’t, so I had
to endure being kissed again by that imbecile! And still he didn’t catch me! I
was really furious by then.
I gladly handed over the Keymaker at that
point.
And then he came in, making his grand entrance.
‘Oh, my God, Persephone! How could you do this
to me? You betrayed me!’
I admit I feel good right now. I made an
impressive exit. He was actually exasperated this time.
The sounds of fighting go on while I wait on
the other side of the door. Naked already. Thoughtfully peeling a pomegranate.
‘God damnit, woman,’ I can hear him say
although I can’t see him yet, ‘you will be the end of me!’
I smile.
Complete abandonment is coming my way, brought
by my Diable Amoureux.
The End
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