two lovers went hand in hand;
Breaths they both held, tension they both felt, bleeds out of the world on a wisp of smoke, painting the sky with relief and smiles when they begin to bond once more. She felt his absence sorely, dearly, truly, in the very depths of her heart. Eik is a diary, a confidant, a dear friend even though they’ve met so few times. To the phoenix, it feels a lifetime of memories are shared between the two.
His smile is brief, but bright and welcome. Sun breaks through clouds of her mind, and she remembers that he is from Solterra and there is more in the world than Denocte. Than the house that has become a home and the people that have become family.
There is more than Isra and Asterion and Caine and Sera and Eik.
There is more.
The more comes in the dark, forceful tones of Eik’s voice. So very few times does he use such harshness, such intensity. Ears curl back into dark hair, short hair. But she listens.
Dark lips that could be an old scab purse, and then, "I would not lie to you though - not in the past, and not now. What I know to be true and what I think to be true may change and my perspective may grow or shrink with my world, but I will not lie to you, Eik.”
Honesty is, perhaps, one of the phoenix’ worst and best features. In times of peril, she reassures and lets all know the truth. In times when one seeks reassurance or a pure opinion to compliment and uplift the spirits, words become glass shards that can glide along skin or pierce tender flesh until hearts ache and tears well.
After a small sigh, she continues gently. "Some days, I wish I were born beside her, but our unicorn has her own heartaches aplenty and skeletons that haunt her. We all have chains about our throats with memories weighing them down.”
It is not so easy a thing to love people who give their heart to the world because they so often would let their life be put at risk - Isra is like that at times. And I will put her well-being before my own. Don’t you do the same? I see no difference save for the sexual nature of things,” at that, a small chuckle and knowing look is passed on to her companion before golden eyes stray again. He is distant and mournful, but the artery in his neck pulses more quickly, sweat not from island-heat beads clear and bright and bold. Nerves are shown in the way dark, beautiful eyes dart to and fro just as his tongue darts over dark lips. She reaches out, brushing his shoulder with her own: an act of solidarity and comfort. "I know the woman whom he loved and who loved him more fiercely than the sea loves water and the clouds the sky. I know he was of my court. I know when flowers ate his corpse, when Raum struck him down, my heart bled for all of Denocte and Isra and the soldier who died and can never be forgotten. If we’ve sat together for longer than a moment, a meeting, I remember so little of it. But I know of his name, of his lover who grieves him, and of a nation that will always remember how he gave everything.”
What more could she say of the brave soul that haunts so many now? How ashamed she is that she’d left early, believed that Isra would be fine! As her Emissary she should have talked more with others at the festival, been aware of who and what was happening. Maids’ gossip should not have been the thing to warn the conflagration of a woman that her heart had been stolen and a citizen of her home slain right under their noses! It hurts, it aches, but not as much as seeing Bexley so near madness and tears did.
It’s hard to swallow, but at last the lump in her throat goes down enough to spew out final words, soft words, midnight-smoke words in that husky voice of hers. "Do you think I could ever be that brave? I feel so selfish lately for wanting another, for letting myself act on those basic needs. One day, perhaps, I will be as brave as Acton - as brave as a lion.”
notes: is this a small novel yet? :P
