Saphira
O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.
O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.
He laughs with her and it feels: good. She forgets everything for a moment. There is the high, and only the high, in happy companionship with his. And she is still grinning when he asks if she really has been a whale, and she says, ”Oh, yes,” and nothing more about it, lest she remember. She is trying very hard not to, so she tries very hard to smile when he tells her that he’s happy. ”That’s good,” she says, ”don’t let anyone take that from you.” The words surprise her; they’re the kind of things she doesn’t usually say out loud, but, there’s wine in her. So it is.
”I can get some,” he offers, and she nods. ”Something will have to keep us afloat,” she says, and her expression is soft, softer than it has been in a long, long time.
Speech, @Caspian
