BECAUSE I PROMISE I'LL LIGHT THE BEACONS
OF YOUR DIMMED AND HOLLOW SOUL
EVEN IF I HAVE TO STEAL THE FIRE
FROM A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS
Ariel, more often than acting as guardian, as guidance, feels as if his purpose is entirely to bear witness. Even as he warns Orestes, Orestes finds himself unbearably attracted to the dangerous appeal of this woman. She is the same wild darkness of the sea in the storm; of the sun on a windy, midsummer day in the desert; the stars when they fall. And her smile, her smile, possesses all the gravity of a disaster, and a black hole.
Of course she says, above the lion’s rumbling snarl. But walking is no way to think.
She snaps her wings again, but now against his side; the gesture causes a sharp sort of stinging, which Orestes almost relishes. Then she settles them above them, blocking the stars, blocking the light of the city. The poet is strumming his violin. The music reaches into the dark, and Amaunet tugs his mane hard enough Orestes almost exclaims in pain. But he doesn’t. He lets his golden glow light up the dark of her wings and, things like us are made to run while we wonder. Her lips touch his cheek and Orestes thinks, like a sigh before sleep, Marisol. But he is already consumed by this strange woman’s burning.
Keep up king-who-does-not-know-how-to-burn, or I might be forced to leave you behind. Orestes laughs with her; it does not take long for him to coil his haunches and launch after her. Ariel releases a roar into the night; and if the crowd did not part for Amaunet’s impressive charge, they would for the Sovereign and his Bonded, alight like small stars.
Orestes assumed she would stop past the crowd; he had thought, quite ignorantly, she would still at least past the garden, or among the market, or as they thundered past the violinist’s rising song. But the girl-who-does-not-fear-burning does not stop—and because she does not stop, neither does Orestes.
Not even when she breaks past the Court and into the open desert beyond.
The fresh night air greets him; he is lathered in sweat, and marvels at her speed. Their wild gallop leads them further, into the soft sands and the starry night beyond. From behind her he shouts,
“You’ll have to do better than that!” Although his voice comes out broken with his breath, there is a part of Orestes that feels as if he can run forever, especially in such a cool desert night. Seeing her trail ahead of him, Orestes increases the speed of his gallop to near her; playfully, he stretches out his neck to nip at her billowing tail.
Just hard enough to hurt.
@Amaunet
