the monarchs flew free;
yet they circled around her.
“Mamá, where do the birds go every winter? They always leave, always, and only return when the sun shines bright again.”
“The birds call many places home, Cyrene. Their wings do not let them settle for long. Gaia shaped them from the wind, and gave them the fate of wanderers.”
“We have wings, too. Are we wanderers, then?”
“So many questions! But no, dear. Our ancestors long ago shed that fate; and though we are farther now from the heavens, our hooves are tethered firmly to the earth. For to wander for eternity is a tragic fate indeed.”
---
A soft breath escaped her lips as Cyrene watched the hazy memory flutter away on wanderer’s wings. They always chose to visit when she least expected it, when they were certain their knives would slip past her battered heart’s weary armor. Though this time, she did not mind. Her mother’s words had imprinted themselves like a glowing brand upon the walls of her mind, and Cyrene felt her resolve strengthen like a tightly drawn bow as she turned back towards the dark-haired man.
“Will you help paint me in Vespera’s colors?”
"I shall.” Yet my help alone will not be enough, I suspect. In the space between her words and his own pensive reply, the keen girl’s ever-flickering eyes had settled—though hazily—upon a head of raven curls dancing and laughing through the cavorting crowd. A trail of crimson petals fluttered cheerily in his wake, as telling a sign as any; and Cyrene’s smile glowed as bright as the lanterns above as a plan weaved itself effortlessly into motion.
"But first, allow me a moment as I gather some… supplies!” As swift as a lark’s shadow, wine-red feathers vanished into the raucous crowd without a second’s delay—his reply, if he uttered any, would be met by nothing but empty air. Deftly did she twist and turn through the crowd, sable curls bobbing with heightened focus as the girl swiftly ducked swishing silks and stumbling legs. Blazing lion’s eyes held only one color in reverence: red, red, red. Like breadcrumbs, Cyrene followed the singing crimson petals as they led her faithfully to her target.
"Boy of flowers!” And there he was: the little boy from before. Fate was not finished with them yet. At his widened gaze of recognition, she gestured affectionately at the blooms that were knotted just like her own through his tumbling mane.
"I have a task especially for you—gather your friends and follow me, if you dare!” At her spritely jest, they flitted like bumbling bees to her flowers—three, four, five laughing youngsters pushed and jostled their way after her. It was not possible for her to smile ever wider—the girl could not remember the last time she had felt so light, so joyous, as she did among the zealous children.
Unlike before, the curious crowd parted of their own accord for Cyrene and her band of little bees; and quite late in coming, she wondered what
he would think. Surprised, for sure; amber eyes glowed with amusement as she mused at the expression that would skim across his fine features.
And there he was.
"I hope you are not too startled, but I brought along some company.” Lowering her head to smile fondly at the children who gathered behind her, Cyrene addressed them all in a hushed tone of conspiracy—drawing them closer, beckoning them to join in on her preciously wrapped secret.
"This man over here wishes to be painted with Vespera’s colors, and the task is much too daunting for me alone. Would you help me, little ones?" At their shy, shifting gazes, she whispered one final line:
"I shall spoil you all with treats after!”
Cheers erupted from their flushed lips at that; and as the older boys and girls raced for the pots and brushes, she bent down to peer softly into the meek gaze of the youngest one, a chestnut-feathered little filly.
"And what is your name?” "Elaheh," came her dainty whisper.
"Well, Elaheh—will you be my personal helper?” The girl’s sapphire eyes widened in excitement as they finally met Cyrene's own, and her heart lurched in bittersweet sorrow.
Cygnus would have loved her.
As she righted herself again, she felt her winged hooves softly, tentatively, skim across the surface of the earth. Perhaps… it was at last time to shed her own restless, empyrean feathers.
@Asterion | phew this was a doozy! but I'm so excited to see this adooorable plot unfold <3
