T E N E B R A E
On my body, the grace of shadows
and in my heart: all Hells
and in my heart: all Hells
He watches the proud curl of her lips, happiness gleaming through her smile with all the brilliance of light upon water. She likes her nickname, he assumed she might and, honestly, the Disciple cannot think of a better name for a girl born of fire, adorned as a phoenix this night.
Maeve watches the way the shadows curl like smoke, peeling from his nostrils and maw. Her admission makes him chuckle. He is not surprised this is her first party, youth still rounds her cheeks and grows her limbs long and spidery. Tenebrae has forgotten quite what it is to be a child. Yet Maeve gleams with contented innocence. It brings a smile to the monk’s lips. “We can learn together.” He agrees lightly.
Their shift in conversation causes the smile to slip from his lips. Maeve shifts, doubt still clouds her wide eyes and anxiety darkens her rounded cheeks. “Sometimes people just get hurt Maeve and there is nothing we can do about it. Our loved ones have accidents, our friends get injured… Sometimes no matter what we do we cannot avoid hurting people. Hurt is a part of living and it is how we grow. The very fact that you want to make sure you don’t hurt people, will be part of how you use fire wisely. You are already good of heart Maeve, and so very brave. Do not let fear stop you living. Fire is a gift, we cannot live without it. It is how we eat, how we get light and warmth. If we fear fire then we lose all of those benefits. Respect fire, live alongside it, embrace it but do not fear it.”
His words seem to hang heavily. He said more than he ever meant to. Tenebrae lets his eyes lift from Maeve to skip across the stalls and revelers. “I hear parties are good for dancing and sweet snacks. Have you ever had a honey cake, Phoenix?” His gaze tips to a nearby stall laden with trays of sweet treats. Children are gathered all around it with sweet-sticky lips and cheeks and longing eyes. He moves a short way to the stall, drops some coins upon the table and plucks away a honey cake. Returning to Maeve he holds it out for her “Here. I must go now Maeve.” He has seen a flash of crimson, a girl wicked and sharp in the sea of people upon the street. She calls to him, like a siren. “Don’t fear Maeve, or else you might forget to live.” He looks to the child’s cake and then back up to her golden eyes. “When we meet next time, you will have to tell me what the cake was like.”
Tenebrae nudges her slim shoulder playfully before he turns, disappearing into the crowds.
@Maeve - I hope you don't mind that i wrapped it up here? I am desperately trying to get control over my post list! eeek.
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