Chapter 7
It was in a dream she laughed, high and clear; great peals roaring into the air. Roaring, free, up and up and then swooping, writhing with delicious pleasure then relaxing, falling. Laughter.
She felt the wings on her back go slack suddenly, collapsing gracefully and sending her plummeting. She fell into ice. Flying to ice-ice! she could have wept.
It was a wasteland of barren straits, and as she put down a foot, prisms danced away from her. She knew better than to try to catch beauty, and stuffed her hands under her armpits for warmth.
There! Rising out of the world was a shapeless blob.
She took off, sprinting, leaping, falling, sliding over the white. Later, she could never say how long it took, whether she was caught in a second or within a decade.
The compulsion drove her on. Run. Runrunrunrunrunrunrun-her heart spluttered-runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunRUN!it didn't end, and she couldn't make it stop. So she accepted it.
It was an instant death; suddenly she was anywhere and everywhere at once, screaming in euphoria (or was it agony?) And then abruptly, she was standing utterly still on the plain. The world reeled around her and her wings fluttered lifelessly behind her, the thin membrane already adopting a blue-black lace. She drew them about her like the folds of a cloak, and then proceeded with agonizing slowness, on foot. The compulsion was placed with a mind-numbing quiet. Solitude of ice. It fit.
It was a sculpture, she saw, of a woman. It caught the sullen light and flared to turquoise fire, and then faded-extinguished by her shadow. Raising a hand, she traced the jaw, the lips, the lidded eyes, curls and ribbons woven within them. Cupping the cheeks, she ignored the melted water running down her arms. She stared into the sculpture and noted the imperfections within the ice, and little bubbles caught within then. Angling her body to cast less shadow, the fire rekindled and turned each imperfection into a glimmering star.
She wanted to catch each and every one of them, and she pressed her hands against the woman's sides, letting the fire of her life drain into the task. The ice sucked it away greedily; taking more and yielding little. Her breath no longer fogged before her, and every breath seemed like swallowing a dagger.
But she was making some headway, and at last she caught one. A flaw, some imperfection was caught and she saw her hand pass through the fire. Gasping,the irony suddenlyoccurred to her, that she was trying to catcha star. She laughed and laughed and wept through her laughter.
She woke to a shadow bending next to her fire, stirring the embers with a careless hand. The smell of burnt flesh flickered like a lazy snake and disappeared as youki blood did its work.
"You were laughing." It was just a statement; holding no inflection. Not a biting remark, only holding a thought given life.
Smiling, she shrugged, "Perhaps."
Morning, and a pretty sunrise...
Pretty! She snorted in derision. It was not for her to judge beauty of the lack thereof. What was it that they (who were they?-the age old question-) said was beauty? Just words to express an oppinion and once a label is taken, it cannot be undone. Whoever said that words could never hurt you, obviously never thought it through. Words are like tatoos; quick and sometimes painless, but never fade.
Review Corner:
Boyo: Don't be afraid to tear me a new one when you write a review! I want critique! But it means alot to me that you review-love you!
Yavi: I'm starting to have her think, does that count as a motive? Time passing-working on it...>.>Your reviews always mean so much!
AN: Sorry guys-I'd wanted to have this chapter be one of more substance but as my bio says, I've had alot on my plate.