i'm up against these things i can't see ;
they don't compare ; make me believe, make me believe
As
much as I had fun playing in the snow last season, I’m happy that all the snow has almost completely melted away. It brings a different smell to the world and I like it a lot better than the frosty-ness of winter. For the last few weeks, I’ve been noticing the new buds on the trees and have been watching the plants slowly sprouting from the ground. I especially love looking at the way the ferns are slowly unfurling in the woods. They look really cute (is that weird to say about a plant?) and I can’t wait to see everything once it’s all fully bloomed.
It all helps me forget what happened on the island even for a little. I haven’t told Momma yet (I don’t know how), but I know I’ll have to tell her eventually. I’ve seen the embers spark a few more times now so it’s only a matter of time that she’ll find out… or worse, something serious will happen. I really hope not.
So I’m grateful that she had Tenebrae bring me to the Dusk festival today. Unfortunately, Shadow Man is now blind so she had Bram go with us just in case. I know Momma is worried for me and she knows how I tend to like going off to explore. I know better now after the island, but I didn’t fight her on it. I like having Bram’s company, even if it’s more to keep an eye on me where Tenebrae can’t.
I look at the man now and I feel sorry for him. I don’t know what happened and Momma didn’t tell me, so I’m not sure if it’s too terrible for me to ask. He seems different since and I’ve noticed scars along his body that I don’t remember seeing before. It makes me wonder if the island might’ve gotten to him too but treated him worse than it did to me.
Maybe this trip will help us both then.
When we arrive in Terrastella, my jaw drops. There are tulips everywhere! I don’t know how someone had the patience to plant them all unless maybe someone had magic like Po did. Still, it’s so beautiful and it all almost looks like a soft bed of flowers for me to lay on. I’m tempted to do that, but I also don’t want to ruin them. (Part of me is scared too that my embers will come again and I’ll burn them all down. I look at Bram and he nuzzles my side. I think he knows).
I’m about to nudge Tenebrae and talk about how beautiful it all is, but then I remember- he can’t see them. I frown.
"I wish you could see this. Can you smell them all?" I ask, hoping his other senses might still work and articulate the beauty of all this. I notice a deep purple tulip that almost looks black and carefully pluck it. I bring it to Ten and gently touch his side with the flower in my mouth. "Here, I picked the best one for you. It’s dark, just like your shadows, Shadow Man."
Next to me, Bram sneezes from all the pollen in the air. I start giggling.
let everything happen to you, beauty and terror, just keep going, no feeling is final
Maeve is giggling. It brings a smile to the monk’s lips to hear such a joyous, playful sound. It is a welcome respite from the thoughts that he is here, in Terrastella at Elena’s flower festival. On the journey over from Denocte, a part of him had grown too loud to ignore. It was the part of him that grew restless the closer they came to the Dusk Court as it asked why he was here? Why in Terrastella where the memories of Elena are so bright and inescapable and why with Maeve, when all he can think of when he hears her voice, feels her moving beside him, how he could have had a daughter too. It brings the taste of grief to his lips again. It is a bitter, unwelcome taste upon his tongue and in his soul.
Yet when the Dencote child laughs, the sound is a balm to his soul. He wonders if the laughter of children is enough to heal all wounds of the heart and soul. Tenebrae cannot remain hurt when Maeve is laughing.
The petals of the flower tickle against his shoulder and Tenebrae smiles as he turns to it. His lips touch along the delicate edge of the midnight purple petal. “Thank you, Maeve.” He says softly. He inhales the scent of the tulip, so much stronger than the gentle perfume that rises from the plants around them. “I can smell them. They smell beautiful, don’t they?” The bandages around his eyes chafe, but the monk does not lift them. At first, it had been some strange, cruel twist of nature than had him instinctively trying to remove the bandage in order to see. Yet always, he was met with nothing but impenetrable darkness. His body has blessedly forgotten such a reflex. Now he merely feels its scratchy texture, worrying the finer hairs along his nose and cheeks.
“You will have to describe them to me.” He says lightly to Maeve and laments that he will no longer see her grow up, into her long limbs and into a young woman, already so well regarded in Denocte. He knows she will flourish amongst its ranks.
“What is your favourite flower here?” Tenebrae asks her lightly. “Maybe we can make you a flower crown to wear that you could show your mother?”
i'm up against these things i can't see ;
they don't compare ; make me believe, make me believe
T
here has never been a time where I've seen this many flowers in a field before. Even the meadows in Delumine didn't seem to have this many. They seem to go on forever and ever. Some are clustered together by color and other spots seem to form different patterns. It's all so beautiful and I wish I had a way to remember it forever. I guess for now I'll just have to take it all in and make these memories I'll try to hold on to.
When Ten takes the flower I picked for him, I can tell he likes it as he brings his nose to the petals. He wants me to describe all this to him and I'm not sure I have all the words to do it right. I want to try though because he deserves that much. If he can at least imagine it, maybe that will be good enough. It's a lot of pressure.
"Every color you can ever think of is here as a flower. They're all over the field, as far as you can see. I can barely see the ground, there's just so many! They're just lightly dancing from the wind and don't seem to mind us stepping all around them," I say, hoping it's enough for him to picture it. I hope someday he can get his sight back and maybe I could make it all up to him for all that he's missing. I don't know how, but I could try.
His question is a hard one for me to answer. Honestly, they're all my favorite (except maybe the cluster of firey colors that look like the flowers have formed a bonfire). I look at another deep purple tulip and settle on that one. "The one I gave you, I think. It's just really pretty. I want you to keep it though," I try to make sure it's clear. Just because I like it, doesn't mean I need to have the flower for myself. He deserves a pretty gift.
My eyes light up when he suggests making a crown. "Yeah!" I tell him, hardly containing my excitement. I've seen some girls wear them before, but never knew how they were made. I felt too silly asking, so I never did. Bram offers a yellow tulip to get started and I gladly take it, then give him a kiss on the cheek.
I start to gather some more flowers near me, but don't do anything to them yet. "How do we make one? Is it hard?" I ask, although I think no matter how hard it is, I'll still try. Momma is missing out on too much here so I definitely want to bring something back to show her. Maybe she'd want to wear it too. I like sharing things with her. She's always doing so much for me, so it seems to be the least I can do for her.
let everything happen to you, beauty and terror, just keep going, no feeling is final
Tenebrae smiles as Maeve describes the scenery to him. It is not just a smile for the imagined beauty of the flowers, but for the concentration he hears in her voice and the sweeping high of happy delight at the beauty of the flowers. The monk can hear how she searches for words, how each flower has a place and a name for its beauty. The girl searches for it and Tenebrae is sure he can imagine how her face looked, the wrinkles that form atop her brow as her concentration makes its demands.
The stallion’s lips tip up as Maeve requests he keep the flower. “Of course,” Tenebrae breathes without hesitation, his head lowering, his poll tipping to where he thinks the girl might be stood. “It is a gift and a gift is always worth keeping, especially one as valuable as this.” The flower turns as his telekineses holds it. Its rotation is slow, as if Tenebrae takes the time to study its every angle. And maybe he does, within his mind. Maybe behind his bandages is a flower even more beautiful than the one he holds. Or maybe the flower is less beautiful, yet no less precious because of how it came into his possession.
His grin turns soft and light. It is a far cry from the shadowed grins of a warrior. “We need wire to make a crown, I think,” The Disciple murmurs and even without eyes he knows that there is likely to be no wire found within the sea of tulips. “But, we could probably string something together with my magic first, and if you like it, we can find some wire with which to make it permanent.” As he speaks, Tenebrae can only think that Elena would be better than he at building a flower crown. Though she is somewhere near, he knows, he still feels the inevitability of her presence in his soul, he does not dare to find her in the flowers.
“I think you should pick the flowers you want to weave into your crown first.”
i'm up against these things i can't see ;
they don't compare ; make me believe, make me believe
T
enebrae's smile makes me smile, but also makes me feel a little bit of relief. I didn't think I could do this place justice with what little words I can figure out how to use, but it seems I did a good enough job.
I'm happy too that he wants to keep the flower I gave him. Maybe there's a more special one out there, but I've been told a little bit about something called "intuition". It was the first one I saw and wanted to pick, so that must mean something. I don't know if there's a way to preserve it, but hopefully there is so he can keep it for a really long time.
He tells me a little more about how we'd make the crown and it does sound a little complicated. "Wire?" I ask, not entirely sure what that is. I don't know if it's anywhere around here and I crinkle my nose a little. I think I still want to try though so I can look pretty in flowers. He tells me I should just collect flowers first, so I nod but then realize he can't see me nodding. "Okay," I tell him so he knows I understood. Eventually I'll figure that out.
Since I have the yellow tulip from Bram, I decide to keep to colors that go well together. I start to pick more of the warm colors- red, pink… but then I hesitate when I get to the orange. For a moment, I don't see a flower, but a small fire on top of a stem. I think about the embers that sparked at my feet - the ones I created. Not just once, but twice. I'm thankful they didn't last long, but how many more times am I going to come close like that? How quickly could it become a raging wildfire?
I skip the orange flowers and pick some more yellow. My chest feels tight and I sigh. I haven't told anyone yet and I think that's making me feel more crummy. I look at Tenebrae and I know he would understand. I don't think he'd tell Momma either.
"Tenny…" I start to say, using my more recent nickname for him. It's easier to say than his full name at least. "Did you ever not want to have magic? Like when you first got it, did you want to give it back?" I'm hoping my question makes sense. I want to see what he says before I say anything about the fire I might have. I'm hoping he might know a way to get rid of it.
let everything happen to you, beauty and terror, just keep going, no feeling is final
When they return to Novus, he will show her what wire is and how to twine her flower crown together with it. But for now the monk listens to how she moves, the fluttering of her breaths as she considers the flowers she wants to pick. Soon he knows when she finds a flower to pick, the short intake of breath, the huff of affirmation and then the sound of the flower being plucked. The breaking of a stem.
He wonders why he never heard these things before. Tenebrae knows why - of course he does. He saw it, so he did not need to hear it too. But now he listens to the whispers of the world as every horse interacts with it. Every sound tells a story, every sound is a layer of interaction and emotion. Tenebrae immerses himself within it, drowns himself in the tide of noise and existence.
The black of his shadows reach out. They run like fingertips around petals and along stems. They feel the endless curves of each delicate fluted tulip. Until, suddenly, the flutter of small, fast moving wings, cut through his shadows. Tenebrae flinches suddenly, as if struck. A Malachite Kingfisher flies through his shadows, rising out of the flowers and up into the sky. The monk hears the flutter of its wings, he turns to track it, but it moves swift and bright. “Maeve.” Tenebrae says, “quickly look, a bird just flew out from the flowers.” He turns in the direction it flew. “Do you still see it? What kind of bird was it?” Before, the monk might never have cared, but now, with his sight gone, curiosity and intrigue made every sound and every touch a mystery.
The moment passes, too fast. The sound of the small bird is gone and it is replaced by Maeve’s quiet contemplation. When she asks of magic, it is a question Tenebrae had never considered yet he hears the tremble of her voice. He hears in her silence all the things she does not say. He knows, in that moment, why she asks.
He is quiet for so long. The dark of his shadows gather around Maeve a comfort of touch, for her, for him. “No.” The monk murmurs, honestly. “I have always loved my magic. It has always been a dear gift to me from Caligo. A sign of who I am, what I am.” The Disciple does not talk of the pain his identity brings him now. They have never talked about why he was blinded, why it was a punishment for his sins. It is too much for a child.
Tenebrae turns into the direction of her voice. He wishes he could see her, but he lets the map of her sorrow sketch her worry into his breast. “Why do you ask, Maeve? Has your magic started to come through?”
And he thinks how this is the start of many things she will grapple with as she grows into adulthood.
i'm up against these things i can't see ;
they don't compare ; make me believe, make me believe
I
am caught up in watching Tenebrae's shadow tendrils that I almost don't see the bird fly in front of us. It seems to catch us both off guard and we both flinch. Bram is watching it intently next to us, probably trying to decide if he wants to make it his next meal. It's small with a beak nearly as big as its body. I've never seen one so brightly blue before.
When Ten asks me if I could see the bird and what it is, I frown again. I so wish he wasn't blind. There's so much he's missing now and I wish I could do something about it. If I had any power at all, I would give him his sight back. For now, I guess I'll try to use my words.
"Yeah! It flew right in front of us. It was a little guy, bright blue and orange. I don't know what it was though. It had a long beak?" I watch as it flies off into the distance. "I think it's heading for the water." I don't know this area very well, but I know that there's either a river or a sea shore close by. It's very faintly in the smell of the air, just hard to figure out with the strong smell of all the flowers.
There is a silence then after I've asked my question. I guess it's a lot to be asking him and I feel bad. If I could, I'd take the question back and maybe ask Aspara instead or just figure it out on my own. Maybe I've been leaning too much on others lately.
When he does finally answer, he mentions his magic was a gift from Caligo. It makes me wonder then if what happened back on the island had been a gift from her too. Had she seen I was in trouble and sent me that power so I could get away? It hadn't been just a one time thing, unfortunately. The embers have shown up a couple times since that so it seems it's something permanent I'm going to have to figure out.
Of course, I wasn't being very subtle because Tenebrae put the pieces together of what I was getting at. I sigh.
"Y-yeah…" I stammer and close my eyes. Bram leans into me then as he's been doing a lot lately and I'm grateful for it. Thinking back to those embers and the flame that came from nothing and the heat of it just gets to be too much. I don't want that to be me. I never wanted it to.
"It's fire. I guess I'm a phoenix after all…" I admit, wondering how Leo would feel about this. I didn't tell him the last time we were together. I couldn't bring myself to say it. "I don't want to be."
But there is still that part of me that wonders if Caligo is playing a part in this. I know Momma's not so sure about her and doesn't really talk about her much to me. What I've learned has just been from legends, but nothing about present day. Tenebrae would know.
"Did Caligo do this then?" I ask then, part of me hoping he says no. Because if a deity I'm supposed to love and look up to cursed me like this, I don't know what to think.
let everything happen to you, beauty and terror, just keep going, no feeling is final
Tenebrae laughs, a low rumble. The sound of it is strange after many months with little reason to laugh or rejoice. Does it sound as strange in Maeve’s ears as it feels in his throat? His laugh is born of fondness and the ludicrousness of his situation.
It is good to have a smile upon his lips. The curve of them sets the dark shadows that made it solemn, scattering. “There are many birds with long beaks.” The monk whispers indulgently. The company of children is refreshing to a monk dragged through his darkest of times. Maeve is a light, a spark flaring bright, scattering the shadows of his dark mood.
Even in her sorrow, her worry, she remains a brightly lit flame. Fire, the best part of her, of this Tenebrae is sure. Oh, Maeve, the monk thinks, do you not perceive it? He knows he could find his way home by the light of Maeve and he reaches out to gently smooth the hair across the girl’s brow. A touch, gentle, reassuring - as much as he could be, at least. He feels, beneath his touch, the way Maeve shudders and leans into her bonded. Their small bodies press close.
“Phoenixes are amongst the most coveted and adored creatures in creation, Maeve. They are noble and brave and so very good.” He wishes for his eyes then, to see her face, to see how her sadness paints and moulds her. “But you do not have to be a phoenix if you wish. You can be anything that you want. Fire lights the darkness, a sign of hope for many people. It offers warmth for those who are cold and weary. From fire comes rebirth. Destruction is only its worst quality, we live alongside it and take joy in its creation because it brings us life, Maeve. It helps us live.”
His voice is low, enough only for her to hear, in the small space between them. The flowers sway, pressing petal soft kisses along their ankles and shins. In that small moment Tenebrae wishes Elena were here her words for the young girl likely more valuable than that of a shamed monk. “No. Magic comes from our parents, mostly. Your mums have passed on a part of themselves to you. You might have received your mother’s link with fire, but this is your magic and it will be so very different to Morrighan’s. You are different to your mother.”
His smile is small. “I am excited to see who you will grow up to be, Meave.” Then he sighs softly. “It is probably time we returned to Denocte. Come on, we have a long road back and many more opportunities to discuss your magic.” He turns, toward the paths out of the fields and knows she will come too; a companion to walk him home.
i'm up against these things i can't see ;
they don't compare ; make me believe, make me believe
M
any seem to call me a phoenix, even if they haven't seen one themselves. I don't even know if they're real since I've never seen one either. Maybe it's not fair of me to not want to be one then since they could very well be kind creatures. It's just the fire that scares me. I think it always will and I just wish… I wish it didn't have to feel like such a burden now.
As Tenebrae speaks, I start to feel myself relax. He always knows the right things to say and I think that's why I wanted to tell him first. I knew he would understand and that I could trust him. Eventually I should tell Momma, but I'm not ready to yet.
When he says I don't have to be a phoenix, I breathe a sigh of relief. This feels like my fate and I'd rather find a different way than to have to worry about possibly destroying everything around me. I mean Momma says she just had to practice to be able to control her fire, but I can see the way it sparks whenever she's frustrated. Even the littlest things make it appear out of nowhere. How can I make sure that doesn't happen at all? But I guess he's right with all the ways fire can help too. I don't like how this feels. I'm still a kid, can't I enjoy being carefree for a little while longer? This seems like too much of a responsibility.
"You are different to your mother." He says and although that's all I've ever wanted, it feels strange to hear it out loud from someone. "You really think so?" I ask in disbelief. I love Momma, I really do, but I only want to be strong like her, not destructive or irritable. "Just… don't tell Momma about any of this. I don't want her to know yet…" I hope he won't do the adult thing and tell her anyway. I hope he can be my friend and keep this secret.
These are the thoughts and worries I take with me as we start to head home. I press my nose into him for a moment, feeling comforted by his warmth. There's a lot for me to process, but at least I won't be alone in this. Bram nuzzles my shoulder as we leave and I know that he'll always be watching over me (and Momma) too.
