I want to lay my body down, I can't go without
cause I'm forever bound
The cliffsides were abuzz this chilling evening, decorated in a manner similar to the Twilight party held in the same spot over a year prior. The briny seawater fought for dominance over the aroma of delectable, tantalizing sweets wafting in the breeze, and the waves crashing against the rocky ledges were drowned out by cheerful voices and the occasional bought of laughter. Fires crackled away as they were stoked, effectively warming those who huddled around and near them.
In the dim firelight, Atreus sought out the form of one familiar figure, the woman of pale lavender and ivory. He had approached her earlier in the day with an invitation to join him here come evening, and after a tender touch and a promise to see her then, he’d disappeared into the hospital for a day’s work. But standing here now, away from anyone else, he hoped to catch her gentle gaze soon so that he may relish in her company for the remainder of the night. Settled atop the table next to him was a glass bottle, its light blue contents secured by a cork. Around it was a simple leather bag, pulled shut by a drawstring to make it just a little less noticeable in the eyes of a passerby.
Perhaps with a bit of luck, he would also have the chance to finally hear Fiona’s voice tonight, as well.
and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book
Fiona stood on the cliffs with a winter wind biting at her skin, looking out over the lulling waves, dark as the sky above. On that wind fluttered scraps of paper like leaves, twisting and turning, as equines of all ages cast their wishes out to sea.
She stood there, twirling a brittle, dried bloom between her fingers like a piece of string. Back and forth, back and forth, watching its pressed golden petals and deep black center blur and blur and blur. She'd received the flower the season prior and had saved it, but looking at it now it reminded her more dearly of someone else. Someone with eyes not too unlike the flower, whose gaze she would hold as gently as she did this fragile thing.
Fiona let it go, allowing the wind to whisk it away. For a time she watched it, sending her hopes with it, until it fell below the cliff edge and out of her line of sight. When she turned back to the tables, lined with food and drink and bodies, her lavender gaze alighted on those eyes of gold, burning as brightly in the night as the bonfire behind her.
A smile tipped up the corners of Fiona's lips as she made her way closer to his side. Tenderly, she reached out for him in greeting, and her heart sang his name like it was her the music of her soul; Atreus. Then, her eyes landed with great curiosity on the wrapped bundle he'd brought with him, the question plain in their lavender depths.
so give me life, give me fire
cause I'm drowning in the ocean of you and I
It wasn’t long before he spotted her, and a smile most tender pulled gently at the corners of his lips, genuine in a way that only she could invoke. She started toward him and already Atreus found himself eager to reach out and feel her, pull her close and revel in the warmth they shared. Behind her stood a conglomeration of Terrastellans, scraps of paper held against their breast and whipping in the wind as their wishes were released to the sea. Atreus hadn’t participated in the ritual himself, thinking it archaic and frankly a waste of time. But, even if the healer believed in the power of the ceremony, he didn’t need a piece of paper and wishful thinking to bring him what he sought most, for she was already here.
Helping to lessen the distance between them in those final few paces, Atreus pressed his nose into her petite frame and gently trailed it over the crest of her neck. She was a soothing balm against the volatile thoughts that so often gripped him, left to fester until they rose to the surface years later, robbing him of rest and little iteration of a normal life until then. With her, though, he was at peace – his favorite place to be – of which he had never been given the chance to know intimately.
“Fiona,” he spoke her name affectionately, lingering a moment longer than might have been necessary to anyone else before he took a step back to gaze into her benign eyes. Noting her curiosity, he followed them back to where the leather bag was situated atop the table. “Ah. This?” he hummed warmly as he shifted back over to it, glancing imploringly for her to follow. Carefully he undid the leather strap which secured it shut, unveiling the small bottle filled almost to the brim with a soft blue liquid. Leaving it for now, he craned his neck to focus back on Fiona, his expression growing somewhat pinched as he considered what to say.
“It’s a gift, for you. I’ve been working on it for quite some time.” And he had, having begun his research just before his departure for Delumine. The roan frowned when he continued, his tone dropping a decibel or two as he considered the fact something may not come off the way he intended. He only wanted to bring Fiona a small fraction of the happiness she had brought him. “… Drink this, and there would be no more having to write your every thought. My dear, it will give you your voice.” The one he so longed to hear for himself. He recalled when he had first returned to Terrastella and how she had been the first to greet him, a somewhat timid creature who had quickly showed him that she was so much more than he could’ve imagined. “But… please, don’t think that you must.” Another reach, another reassuring touch, this time to her cheek if she allowed him the privilege. Oh, the things he wouldn't do just to see her happy.
She deserved this small token for all she had done, but let her be the one to decide if it was what she truly wanted.
we will press promises between us like flowers in a book
He pressed closer to her, closing the distance between them just as she did. His touch ignited a flame in her that was as unfamiliar as it was warm and comforting. It was unlike anything she had ever felt for anyone, the way her heart skipped like a filly through a field was he was near. The way it sang and fluttered and danced, and how she never wanted to stop looking at him, and looking for him, everywhere that she went.
Atreus trails his touch along her neck and she loses herself among his burgundy curls for the too-short moment of their embrace. Fiona would stay by his side forever if fate would let her, and even as he pulls away, speaking her name, her body remembers the feeling of his against it, holds to it sweetly. He turned toward the bundle on the table, and she followed, far more curious now at the expression he wore on his face.
The object unveiled, Fiona considered the small bottle and the shining blue liquid inside it. She knew he was a master of potions, often toiling away on some project or two, but she had no idea what this could be that he had brought to share with her. The shift in the expression on Atreus’ face, however, caused her pause. Her lavender gaze settled on his face as she waited for him to speak, as he seemed to be thinking.
But oh, how the words he said were not what she had been expecting at all. A voice, he said, and Fiona’s eyes widened as she glanced back at the unassuming bottle, which had not so unassuming powers within that blue liquid inside. A voice? The very thing her own birth, her own creation, had kept from her. The reason her mother had left them, she and her father. The thing she had grown up without, rarely even thought about, until that day that the floods had come.
That was the first time she had ever felt for what she didn’t have, longed, wished, angered for even. The first time she had felt betrayed by her silence, instead of made unique, made stronger, by it. Sometimes, those feelings still lingered, though more peaceful times had brought the smile back to her lips, and Atreus had returned the joy to her heart. When he reached out to her again, she pressed her own nose to his cheek in kind. Fiona closed her eyes and breathed, thinking.
Was this what she wanted? Was she deserving of such a thing, to reverse what was clearly meant to be her path in life? Did accepting this gift mean that all those years of learning and working to be just as good as everyone else even without a voice, meant nothing? Then she thought about all the things she could do with it, to share her joys with much more fervor than she could ever write. To sing, to laugh. To love aloud.
Fiona pulled away from Atreus’ touch at last, taking in a breath to fill her lungs with the courage she would need. She looked into his eyes and thought of the flower she had let go into the wind that reminded her so much of them, and wonder where it had fallen to the sea, rocked gently by the waves. The way her heart felt, when she was in his embrace. Fiona smiled, and nodded. Yes.
so give me life, give me fire
cause I'm drowning in the ocean of you and I
The look of confliction in her eyes ensnares him with worry and guilt. Guilt, that his gift might not be perceived in the way he had wanted it to, and worry that she might think he sees her as imperfect – but that was the last thing on his mind. Fiona was just as capable as anyone else without her voice, if not even more so, resourceful and witty in ways that few others could dare try and match. It was just one of the many traits his heart had fallen for, and he wished more than anything to be able to convey it using any means necessary. She deserved the world, and damnit, he would do it. This was only the beginning.
As she stood mulling it over, gazing at the innocently placed bottle atop the oak table, Atreus allowed her all the time to consider what she had been told. There would be no rushing from him, no adamant urging that she must take the potion to appease him. For all the cared, she could take it in her grasp and toss it over the face of the cliffs, leaving it to the mercy of the sea and he wouldn’t bat an eye so long as that was what she wanted. Whether she accepted his offer or not, it didn’t matter, because she would always be leagues above everyone else in his eyes.
When she stepped away from his touch, Atreus was certain she was about to reject his offer, but just as he opened his mouth to speak and assure her it was alright, she nodded. She said yes, and in that moment his vile heart skipped a beat, his eyes sparking with delight and, dare he admit, excitement.
Exhaling steadily, the roan nodded his head in return, carefully picking the glass bottle up off the table and pulling the cork free. It fizzed gently as the air mixed with its contents, the scent balsamic with a faint hint of mint. How it tasted, Atreus couldn’t say for sure, but if there was one thing he did know, it was that it would work. It had to.
“Take your time,” he said as he delicately offered the bottle to her, a reverent smile tugging at dark lips as he waited.
we will press promises between us like flowers in a book
The first thing that Fiona was certain of when Atreus uncorked the top of that little bottle and it fizzed into the open air, was that it did not smell anything like she would have imagined based on its appearance. It had a sort of vinegar sharpness, paired with undertones of mint. To be honest, it smelled like something she might dress a salad with. How curious.
His gentle encouragement convinced her to take the bottle without much pause, but once she held it she could not help but look into its softly glowing depths and wonder how much this tiny little potion would change her entire life. Like the delicate flap of a butterfly’s wings.
Fiona looked into Atreus’ eyes, for courage, for assuredness, for love. What would others think, once they started to find out? Oh, she just hoped they would not think less of her for it. She hoped they would be as understanding and supportive as the man in front of her. Fiona smiled, softly, and then took in a deep breath to steady her suddenly racing heart.
After a moment, she brought the glass vial to her lips and tipped it back.
The second thing she was certain of is that it did not taste as it smelled, nor as it looked. It was quite bland but somehow bitter, the flavor sticking to her tongue and all the way down her throat. It had a strange, warming sensation, and she could almost feel it settle into her stomach. But to tell the truth, she had expected to feel something more. Something magical, she supposed, even though Fiona knew it was more science than magic.
As she placed the now empty bottle back onto the table, she couldn’t help but begin to think: “What do I do now? Is something supposed to happen? Did it work?” She looked at Atreus, confused and questioning. How would she know if it had worked at all? Certainly it wouldn’t have failed, she knew he was very good at what he did.
