What a fantastical world they weave-- well, Isra is the weaver, Eik is the thread. I am! I am! I am! chimes her soul, and the gulls that swoop past with hearts that have only ever known the joy of flight. He is quiet, savoring the way her wonder feels indistinguishable from his own, and tries to remember this moment: the ring of her voice all around and the swell of his heart and way the world seems so, so large.
(Some of the fish that circle round have known fire- their flesh crisp, bellies sooty- and when they swim past he tastes ash in the wine-water on his lips. But here they are not ruined for it but actually made stronger. His ghosts have never seemed beautiful until now.)
And then the two are flying up and up, until their wings glitter with frost in the moonlight. The world below looks so delicate and so impermanent from up here-- it becomes clear how their lives are just grains of sand on an endless beach. "Together," he promises for the second time tonight, although that word she used- forever- catches in his throat and drifts back to earth, lazy as a feather waiting to be blown by the breeze or caught and treasured.
(could such a perfect thing last forever?)
It is not a sadness when he returns to his body, for he breathes in the smell of her with as much wonder as he felt for the world they spun of magic and memory and self. And when they return to their secret world and she lays her horn across his secret heart, he sighs and the waters grow warm and loving and just a little greedy-- they gently grab at her legs and climb upwards in embrace, more vine than water, although the moment she wades back to the shoreline they fall away and let her leave in peace.
Is there a name for this thing we are doing to each other?
A school of small silver fish, a thousand swimming fast and strong, crowd around the word that lies waiting in his heart. (love) In small glimpses he sees what they hide, enough to know it is a single lonely word but not enough to read it. (love) He reaches out to grasp at it, but they only swim closer in defense. (love)
(he knows what it is they hide, of course he knows. It is tattooed on the inside of his skin.)
He quivers with a hundred answers until one finally steps forward. "We are playing with Magic."
Magic? The coward! The word sits lamely between them. Magic is what first drew him to her but it is not what binds him. Magic is the waters they splash in but not the wings they use to fly. Oh, to be as fearless as Isra! To listen to his heart's sad song and put words to the melody. He looks at her and thinks the evasion must be obvious in his eyes, in the way his mind wilts a little.
But he's chosen a course, and he sticks with it. "It lives in the chest," He shows her with his mind, for it is far easier than describing it, how the core of the wild magic lies in wait like a stone or a seed at the center of the self. How long could it sit there, unnoticed and provoked? "Just... observe it at first, and let it observe you."
He channels his magic with a force he's never used before, reaching past her mind to read her magic itself, a great body of still water. He observes the way it glimmers in anticipation, and he senses that it is definitely different from his own, but in ways still unknown.
Only later will he realize how the effort has drawn the strength and the sweat from his body. For now, all he is aware of is how his magic feels like fire, and hers like ripples on the surface of still water. It should hurt where they touch in bursts of steam, and maybe it does but more than that it satisfies. How often pain does that.
Through their connection he shows her the world inside of him in hot waves of energy, so she may feel what it feels like when magic runs through you (his a white flame) and so she may hear what it sounds like when it sings. "Let it fill you from earth and air." His mind's voice is not like his own anymore. It is the sound of something between man and god. It is Eik, pure Eik, but stripped of uncertainty and full of magic in its place.
The surface of the water does not yet break, but it jolts with wild ripples. Something wild and deep is rising to the surface. Does she feel it? Does she feel how powerful she is, how powerful she could be? It seems to build off his excitement-- or is that her excitement? Or the both of them, buzzing together like hummingbirds.
He feels her magic swell in a beautiful wave. "There it is!" And then he withdraws, because only she will know what to do next, and it is a thing that ought to be done or not done alone. He keeps his lips pressed to her neck, so she knows he is there (always, Isra) but also for his own comfort. It suddenly feels very lonely inside his own mind.
Eik takes this quiet moment to observe the bold curve of her cheek and his stomach clenches with words unsaid. He's still riding the wave of his magic, remembering the feeling of power seeping through his veins. It gives him the courage to say what should have been said earlier. "Or-- did you mean the other thing." He draws away from her only so he can meet her eyes with a level gaze. Silence suits the secret of secrets, and when he whispers it to her he shows her his heart, and how it blazes for her. "Not magic, but close. In stories I think they call it love."
It is a funny thing- once he says it, the fear is gone. The school of fish scatter from the secret they keep and all that is left is love, raw and tender but strong enough to endure the sunrise, even when all other dreams fade into the day. "But that I can't teach you." His mind-voice sounds faraway as the magic flickers and recedes to the small place it inhabits in his chest.
He blinks and the rest of the world comes back. They're facing the east, and before them the sky is tickled pink from a sun still below the horizon. "I'd like to see you in the sunlight," his words are said shyly still, even knowing her and being known as intimately as they do. He gestures forward, something almost like playfulness gleaming in his dark eyes. "Will you show me?"
@Isra we could close here or keep going, totally up to you! <3
