***AN- Anyone know how to make the italics and spacing remain after you
upload it? *swears***
Shakily, he rose to his feet, deciding to make an effort of adjusting to things as they now were. Half conscious of his actions, he unsaddled the mare and curried her, to her obvious relief. Then he stripped off his leathers, tossing them in a side pool of the brook to soak.
Wading ankle deep to the edge of the water, he tried to discern his new face on its surface. The fast moving, spring-rain fed current didn't cooperate and when he had first saw this body, its hair had covered its face. Vanity had been furthest from his mind before but old mindsets died hard. He returned to the saddlebags, seeking a mirror. He found one in a shaving kit, and he was annoyed by the realization that he had three days growth. His old body barely had body hair at all, and wasn't sure if he remembered how to shave.
Going back to the stream, he laid the mirror, shaving kit, and a bar of soap on the bank and hopped from rock to rock until he came to a drop-off in the water about six feet deep. His toes were getting cold, but two days of unconsciousness had left his body in need of cleaning. Steeling himself, he made a shallow dive, getting the shock of cold water over with quickly.
The copse echoed with his yelp as he popped up out of the water and ran for the bank. "Oh my vulking God! Now I know you have a sense of humor for choosing this place!" After ten centuries of artificial cold, he had forgotten what "shrinkage" meant for living men! Shivering, he soaped up, cursing with phrases acquired after centuries of exposure to the worst of demons and immoral men. All the same, he made a second dive into the freezing water. This time, he got out chattering to hard to swear. The mare snickered, though her back was to him as if she hadn't noticed his antics. "T-Two words, gl-glue factory." She swished her tail and carried on grazing.
Wrapping himself in a sleeping bag, he sat by a rock where he propped up the small mirror, turning his head this way and that trying to see all the details. Blue eyes, he noticed, but a shade so dark they appeared more like black. Long dark lashes, thin brows, and. His eyes went wide. "What's this?" He removed a brow ring and shook his head at such an odd thing. He swept the straight black hair over his shoulders and a few strands caught on his ear. He brushed at them and felt more metal. He looked at them in the mirror. Each ear was pierced all the way up. Bewildered, he began removing them all. At the last moment, he replaced a dangle and a stud at the bottoms and a hoop at the top. Earrings were unlike him, but he wasn't himself anymore. While he was at it, he removed several rings from his hands and a toe ring from each foot. He saw the hoop belly ring, but didn't know how to take it off. He allowed the single necklace, a love chain, to remain to honor the soul's wife, since that was how modern couples married.
"Magpie!" he declared as he glanced at the small collection of jewelry. "And he seemed like such a nice boy," he grinned as he made chiding, clicking sounds. And then he realized something. He stuck his tongue out in the mirror. Sighing, he untwisted the bar.
The mare approached and appraised him, probably wondering about the change in her owner's demeanor. She sniffed the jewelry and then nuzzled the back of his shoulder. "Ugh! You drooled! I don't want another bath! Shoo!" The mare casually obliged, moving on towards a patch of clover. Assessing the damage, he peered over his shoulder and saw more than grass there. "Dear God, is that a tattoo???" Grabbing the mirror, he tried to catch the darker patch in its reflection. "A fire bird."
Before he could ponder that, a thud distracted him. The mare had thrown herself to the ground and was rolling like a happy filly in the sweet clover. He couldn't help but laugh at her. "I have to name you." She looked at him then rolled some more. She stopped a few seconds, long enough to take a few nips at clover heads, and continued rolling. "Clover? Nah. Paint? Too common. Hey-you. It would work. How about One-in-a-Million?" The mare snorted on cue. "Okay, it's a bit presumptuous. Ah! I have the perfect name for you! An intelligent woman with a great sense of humor, who I will never meet again and therefore won't be able to get mad at me for naming a horse after her. Would you answer to the name Ciana?"
The mare stopped and stared at him. After a long moment, she snorted delicately, got to her feet, and came to him. "I'll take that as a yes. .And I'm seeking the consent of a horse. I've gone mad." She bumped her head against him, wanting attention. He grinned and stood, wrapping his arms around her neck. "Aren't you lucky that I am the original horse lover." She only sighed in contentment as he rubbed under her bridle.
"It would be nice it you could tell me what my name is." She seemed to be paying attention so he tried a few names on her. "How does Mikel sound? It means, 'of God.'" She didn't look impressed. "Gabriel, the messenger? Mamoru, the protector. Jirrod, down to earth. Stefin, a crown." The unhorse listened but still didn't give a hint of preference. The young man looked off to the horizon, trying to think of more names. He happened to look to the east, the direction of the rising sun. "Fine then, how about Dawn?" The mare immediately perked up. "Dawn? Are you serious? It's a girl's name!" She twitched an ear in annoyance. He thought on it. He had acquired a new body with a firebird tattooed on it. The name actually suited the theme of fresh beginnings.
"Very well, Ciana Mare-day. Dawn Firebird it is."
At his proclamation, a breeze kicked up and stirred the branches of the nu- cherry boughs above them. Pink blossoms fell and swept about the pair. Cherry petals, age-old symbols of rebirth and vitality, clung in Dawn's hair and caressed his bared skin. He laughed in great pleasure at the good omen, overjoyed that God blessed him with the sign of His approval.
Once, long ago, the Prophet of the One God had fell from grace. From the ashes of that name sprung the powerful Prince of Jahanna. The will of God demanded that the prince would fall as well. No grace is greater than God's grace and no power is greater than God's power. God's will be done.
The Phoenix had arisen. Amen.
***Postnote- For other Coldfire lovers, I am in the process of making a fansite at www.geocities.com/phoenix_of_jahanna/ It's a little thing now, but if you would like to contribute to it, I would be quite appreciative. Either email aravan_fox@yahoo.com or leave your addie in my reviews, I will happily reply ( ***
Shakily, he rose to his feet, deciding to make an effort of adjusting to things as they now were. Half conscious of his actions, he unsaddled the mare and curried her, to her obvious relief. Then he stripped off his leathers, tossing them in a side pool of the brook to soak.
Wading ankle deep to the edge of the water, he tried to discern his new face on its surface. The fast moving, spring-rain fed current didn't cooperate and when he had first saw this body, its hair had covered its face. Vanity had been furthest from his mind before but old mindsets died hard. He returned to the saddlebags, seeking a mirror. He found one in a shaving kit, and he was annoyed by the realization that he had three days growth. His old body barely had body hair at all, and wasn't sure if he remembered how to shave.
Going back to the stream, he laid the mirror, shaving kit, and a bar of soap on the bank and hopped from rock to rock until he came to a drop-off in the water about six feet deep. His toes were getting cold, but two days of unconsciousness had left his body in need of cleaning. Steeling himself, he made a shallow dive, getting the shock of cold water over with quickly.
The copse echoed with his yelp as he popped up out of the water and ran for the bank. "Oh my vulking God! Now I know you have a sense of humor for choosing this place!" After ten centuries of artificial cold, he had forgotten what "shrinkage" meant for living men! Shivering, he soaped up, cursing with phrases acquired after centuries of exposure to the worst of demons and immoral men. All the same, he made a second dive into the freezing water. This time, he got out chattering to hard to swear. The mare snickered, though her back was to him as if she hadn't noticed his antics. "T-Two words, gl-glue factory." She swished her tail and carried on grazing.
Wrapping himself in a sleeping bag, he sat by a rock where he propped up the small mirror, turning his head this way and that trying to see all the details. Blue eyes, he noticed, but a shade so dark they appeared more like black. Long dark lashes, thin brows, and. His eyes went wide. "What's this?" He removed a brow ring and shook his head at such an odd thing. He swept the straight black hair over his shoulders and a few strands caught on his ear. He brushed at them and felt more metal. He looked at them in the mirror. Each ear was pierced all the way up. Bewildered, he began removing them all. At the last moment, he replaced a dangle and a stud at the bottoms and a hoop at the top. Earrings were unlike him, but he wasn't himself anymore. While he was at it, he removed several rings from his hands and a toe ring from each foot. He saw the hoop belly ring, but didn't know how to take it off. He allowed the single necklace, a love chain, to remain to honor the soul's wife, since that was how modern couples married.
"Magpie!" he declared as he glanced at the small collection of jewelry. "And he seemed like such a nice boy," he grinned as he made chiding, clicking sounds. And then he realized something. He stuck his tongue out in the mirror. Sighing, he untwisted the bar.
The mare approached and appraised him, probably wondering about the change in her owner's demeanor. She sniffed the jewelry and then nuzzled the back of his shoulder. "Ugh! You drooled! I don't want another bath! Shoo!" The mare casually obliged, moving on towards a patch of clover. Assessing the damage, he peered over his shoulder and saw more than grass there. "Dear God, is that a tattoo???" Grabbing the mirror, he tried to catch the darker patch in its reflection. "A fire bird."
Before he could ponder that, a thud distracted him. The mare had thrown herself to the ground and was rolling like a happy filly in the sweet clover. He couldn't help but laugh at her. "I have to name you." She looked at him then rolled some more. She stopped a few seconds, long enough to take a few nips at clover heads, and continued rolling. "Clover? Nah. Paint? Too common. Hey-you. It would work. How about One-in-a-Million?" The mare snorted on cue. "Okay, it's a bit presumptuous. Ah! I have the perfect name for you! An intelligent woman with a great sense of humor, who I will never meet again and therefore won't be able to get mad at me for naming a horse after her. Would you answer to the name Ciana?"
The mare stopped and stared at him. After a long moment, she snorted delicately, got to her feet, and came to him. "I'll take that as a yes. .And I'm seeking the consent of a horse. I've gone mad." She bumped her head against him, wanting attention. He grinned and stood, wrapping his arms around her neck. "Aren't you lucky that I am the original horse lover." She only sighed in contentment as he rubbed under her bridle.
"It would be nice it you could tell me what my name is." She seemed to be paying attention so he tried a few names on her. "How does Mikel sound? It means, 'of God.'" She didn't look impressed. "Gabriel, the messenger? Mamoru, the protector. Jirrod, down to earth. Stefin, a crown." The unhorse listened but still didn't give a hint of preference. The young man looked off to the horizon, trying to think of more names. He happened to look to the east, the direction of the rising sun. "Fine then, how about Dawn?" The mare immediately perked up. "Dawn? Are you serious? It's a girl's name!" She twitched an ear in annoyance. He thought on it. He had acquired a new body with a firebird tattooed on it. The name actually suited the theme of fresh beginnings.
"Very well, Ciana Mare-day. Dawn Firebird it is."
At his proclamation, a breeze kicked up and stirred the branches of the nu- cherry boughs above them. Pink blossoms fell and swept about the pair. Cherry petals, age-old symbols of rebirth and vitality, clung in Dawn's hair and caressed his bared skin. He laughed in great pleasure at the good omen, overjoyed that God blessed him with the sign of His approval.
Once, long ago, the Prophet of the One God had fell from grace. From the ashes of that name sprung the powerful Prince of Jahanna. The will of God demanded that the prince would fall as well. No grace is greater than God's grace and no power is greater than God's power. God's will be done.
The Phoenix had arisen. Amen.
***Postnote- For other Coldfire lovers, I am in the process of making a fansite at www.geocities.com/phoenix_of_jahanna/ It's a little thing now, but if you would like to contribute to it, I would be quite appreciative. Either email aravan_fox@yahoo.com or leave your addie in my reviews, I will happily reply ( ***