skin to bone
—
She could not find her father in the crowd.
Aghavni bit down on her lip, cross. Granted, she wasn’t meant to be looking, but her eyes were accustomed to searching for things they didn’t have the business to seek. She couldn’t not do it. The habit – she lacked a stronger word for it, so ‘habit’ would have to do – wasn’t something she could just… turn off, like twisting a leaky faucet shut.
Mother-of-pearl brooches, diamond-choked hairpins, her father’s ruby horn – things that liked to glint under the sun, her magicked-green eyes liked.
But her eyes had always liked, even when they’d been grey. My sly little magpie, Mother had called her. Or so Father had said.
They'd left separately, despite her protests. Father – Lord Hajakha, she reminded herself with a sigh – had journeyed to the island at blue dawn, the sun-softened leather of his traveling cloak pulled low over his brimstone eyes. She'd informed him that, though dashing, the cloak did nothing whatsoever to conceal his glowing horn. He'd responded with a withering smile before he’d sheathed his scabbard to his hip (a fine weapon – he’d let her hold it once, but that was as far as she’d been allowed to go) and stepped off into the drowsy gloam.
Her working theory was that some part of her father wished to be recognized, and that the cloak was really, as she’d vocalized, just a dashing accessory.
The shriek of a seabird gliding low over the shore drew Aghavni's eyes to the distant tree line. Yet before bright green could settle upon lush green, they caught instead on the winking facets of a floating emerald pendant.
Several floating emerald pendants, hanging from – her fervent gaze trailed up and up and up – the immense antlers of a towering bay stallion. The effort of looking at him as he passed, all of him, strained her neck.
The stallion seemed young, at least younger than Father, and wove through the crowd effortlessly despite his size (or was it because of his size? she would never know). And before he could stride too far away, Aghavni crept after his swishing tail to follow in his wake.
Her curiosity was a hungry creature. Though she indulged it as much as she did any of the alley cats that sometimes slipped through the Scarab’s doors, feeding them scraps or whole slices of ham on festival days, there was one thing her curiosity creature would not stand for: inaction.
And as any creature-keeper with a shred of decency would do, Aghavni spoiled hers. The stallion’s antlers had been strung with a legion of glittering green jewels. Surely he wouldn’t miss the absence of one.
There’d been something else, too – something about him, in the brief glance she’d gotten, that had seemed… unearthly. Like a blade with magic worked into its very metal, its spell undetectable unless you tilted it under the light at just the right angle –
She'd done this enough times to know just how far away she needed to be to escape notice, yet still be near enough to keep her quarry in view. Thoughts of Father, the Scarab, August Minya Raum, were pushed aside to make room for her newest pursuit.
So focused was she, that Aghavni barely noticed when they crossed from crowded beach to sentient forest. So focused was she, that Aghavni didn’t think much of it when the man sidled over to a sprawling ash tree, sank down cradled like a wood sprite in its massive roots, and closed his eyes. It had never been this easy before, but –
A lingering awareness in the back of her mind declared, boldly, even if he catches me, he will surely see me as harmless. A girl barely come of age. And harmless she was, for she only wanted his jewels.
“I’d have thought that anyone brave enough to steal with a god about would be a better thief.”
Aghavni flinched, startled eyes staring wide and unblinking into a gaze as young and ancient and green as the sea-borne forest. A curl escaped from her tightly-pinned mane as she froze suspended over him, a wraith aghast at being seen.
He'd awoken, or he'd never been asleep at all. Clever man. Hesitantly, she drew away, looking from the dangling emerald earrings she’d intended to take (she’d only seen them when she’d approached, and had stifled a delighted gasp at their magnificence) to his bemused, fanged smile.
Father had fangs too, though his were thinner – and sharper. Harmless, she told herself, with a burgeoning smile. She hadn’t needed Father to tell her that all men could be simplified into one of two things: a lamb wrapped in the skin of a wolf, or a wolf draped in the fleece of a lamb. She’d learned it for herself.
“Who said anything about stealing?” she replied, voice as light as a lark. And about gods, but Aghavni filed the troubling comment away for later. Smiling, she brushed the loose curl back into its bun before settling herself right down in the roots besides him, taking the time and care to arrange her limbs into delicate formation. Like an expensive porcelain doll.
She leaned forwards to stare wryly into his blithe, verdant gaze. “I would’ve asked. But then you fell asleep.” Wolf or lamb. What would he be?
Aghavni bit down on her lip, cross. Granted, she wasn’t meant to be looking, but her eyes were accustomed to searching for things they didn’t have the business to seek. She couldn’t not do it. The habit – she lacked a stronger word for it, so ‘habit’ would have to do – wasn’t something she could just… turn off, like twisting a leaky faucet shut.
Mother-of-pearl brooches, diamond-choked hairpins, her father’s ruby horn – things that liked to glint under the sun, her magicked-green eyes liked.
But her eyes had always liked, even when they’d been grey. My sly little magpie, Mother had called her. Or so Father had said.
They'd left separately, despite her protests. Father – Lord Hajakha, she reminded herself with a sigh – had journeyed to the island at blue dawn, the sun-softened leather of his traveling cloak pulled low over his brimstone eyes. She'd informed him that, though dashing, the cloak did nothing whatsoever to conceal his glowing horn. He'd responded with a withering smile before he’d sheathed his scabbard to his hip (a fine weapon – he’d let her hold it once, but that was as far as she’d been allowed to go) and stepped off into the drowsy gloam.
Her working theory was that some part of her father wished to be recognized, and that the cloak was really, as she’d vocalized, just a dashing accessory.
The shriek of a seabird gliding low over the shore drew Aghavni's eyes to the distant tree line. Yet before bright green could settle upon lush green, they caught instead on the winking facets of a floating emerald pendant.
Several floating emerald pendants, hanging from – her fervent gaze trailed up and up and up – the immense antlers of a towering bay stallion. The effort of looking at him as he passed, all of him, strained her neck.
The stallion seemed young, at least younger than Father, and wove through the crowd effortlessly despite his size (or was it because of his size? she would never know). And before he could stride too far away, Aghavni crept after his swishing tail to follow in his wake.
Her curiosity was a hungry creature. Though she indulged it as much as she did any of the alley cats that sometimes slipped through the Scarab’s doors, feeding them scraps or whole slices of ham on festival days, there was one thing her curiosity creature would not stand for: inaction.
And as any creature-keeper with a shred of decency would do, Aghavni spoiled hers. The stallion’s antlers had been strung with a legion of glittering green jewels. Surely he wouldn’t miss the absence of one.
There’d been something else, too – something about him, in the brief glance she’d gotten, that had seemed… unearthly. Like a blade with magic worked into its very metal, its spell undetectable unless you tilted it under the light at just the right angle –
She'd done this enough times to know just how far away she needed to be to escape notice, yet still be near enough to keep her quarry in view. Thoughts of Father, the Scarab, August Minya Raum, were pushed aside to make room for her newest pursuit.
So focused was she, that Aghavni barely noticed when they crossed from crowded beach to sentient forest. So focused was she, that Aghavni didn’t think much of it when the man sidled over to a sprawling ash tree, sank down cradled like a wood sprite in its massive roots, and closed his eyes. It had never been this easy before, but –
A lingering awareness in the back of her mind declared, boldly, even if he catches me, he will surely see me as harmless. A girl barely come of age. And harmless she was, for she only wanted his jewels.
“I’d have thought that anyone brave enough to steal with a god about would be a better thief.”
Aghavni flinched, startled eyes staring wide and unblinking into a gaze as young and ancient and green as the sea-borne forest. A curl escaped from her tightly-pinned mane as she froze suspended over him, a wraith aghast at being seen.
He'd awoken, or he'd never been asleep at all. Clever man. Hesitantly, she drew away, looking from the dangling emerald earrings she’d intended to take (she’d only seen them when she’d approached, and had stifled a delighted gasp at their magnificence) to his bemused, fanged smile.
Father had fangs too, though his were thinner – and sharper. Harmless, she told herself, with a burgeoning smile. She hadn’t needed Father to tell her that all men could be simplified into one of two things: a lamb wrapped in the skin of a wolf, or a wolf draped in the fleece of a lamb. She’d learned it for herself.
“Who said anything about stealing?” she replied, voice as light as a lark. And about gods, but Aghavni filed the troubling comment away for later. Smiling, she brushed the loose curl back into its bun before settling herself right down in the roots besides him, taking the time and care to arrange her limbs into delicate formation. Like an expensive porcelain doll.
She leaned forwards to stare wryly into his blithe, verdant gaze. “I would’ve asked. But then you fell asleep.” Wolf or lamb. What would he be?
@Septimus | "speaks" | notes: this was so! fun! to write <3
