One may wonder how it is I sit and wait for so long, in sheer silence. Years of maintaining the vigil of the Longest Night, silent and motionless in the most bitter cold has prepared me. Years of watching for the tell-tale signs of when to attack an opponent in battle and win. Years of complete, long-suffering patience.
It comes natural to me now, no different than breathing.
But now I see somewhat that makes my breath catch in my throat, that makes my fingers twitch against the branches I grasp for balance.
Phedre.
She is unmistakable, even clad as she is in unfamiliar, foreign garb, lost in her thoughts as she so often is. And she is beautiful.
I cannot believe it is so, that she is here, that I should have the good fortune to spot her. It raises a thousand other questions -- when did she find herself here? how has she fared? does she know I am here at all? -- but I am so overjoyed to see her that I barely maintain my position in the tree.
Carefully, I fish through the pocket of my cloak, pulling out part of an unfamiliar fruit that I'd eaten from earlier.
Without a second thought or a care in the world, I lob the fruit in a perfect arc, watching it land with a swift thump at Phedre's feet.
I jumped in surprise as the mango hit the ground not two inches from my feet, looking straight up and frowning when I saw there were no branches from which it might have fallen. "Imriel?" I called, scanning the trees above me with a hand shielding my face.
A glint of something shiny caught my eye, and from there my eyes traced the shape of a person crouched on a branch, the twin shine of silver from the other wrist, and the ghost of a sword hilt over the shoulder...
I simply stopped breathing. Pressing my knuckles to my lips, I took a step back, staring up at him with eyes as wide as they could go. It had been long, Elua, so long since I had laid eyes on him, and though I could barely make a whole picture of him for the leaves in the way, I could not take my eyes from the spot where he sat.
I could barely suppress a smile as she immediately blamed Imriel for the mischief; I wondered absently if that meant that Imri too was here, and how it came to pass that there were so many children here.
I peer down at Phedre through the thick leaves, only letting her out of my sight for a second to pull my cloak from the leaves and swing down nimbly from my perch. It has been a long time since I have moved from my spot, but this is a cause well worth coming to land for.
I come to rest on the ground in a crouch, cloak in a heap beside me.
I do not speak, merely look at her, a smile slowly breaking across my face. In truth, I do not speak because I am not sure that I trust my voice to be whole when I do.
He looked older, I realized with a start, but I could not even think beyond that, beyond it was him, he was really here at last. Finally feeling my head start to spin, I gasped in a shuddering breath, now both hands pressed to my mouth as tears started hot and painful in my eyes. Now I'd started, my breathing was quick, almost panicked as I stared at him, unable even to move for the shock that coursed through my veins like ice.
She seems caught between horror and delight, panic and excitation, and I am not quite sure of how to take it. Slowly, I raise up out of my crouch and take a step towards her.
She looks different, when I see her more clearly. Her eyes, ah--
They are not haunted, pained like the eyes of my Phedre, who has been to the end of the world, who has the Name of God in her head. She is different.
"Phedre," I say finally, my voice cracking and barely above a whisper. It pains me to see her so, and it is all I can do to keep from running to her and taking her in my arms.
He was staring at me in surprise, and I had barely the thought to spare to notice the age in his eyes, the shadows of things seen and horrors escaped.
"Joscelin," I gasped, my stillness breaking as I found myself unable to be apart from him for another second, the distance between us closed with one step. My arms went hard around his waist as I pressed my face against his chest, nine months of repressed hurt and loneliness coming out of me in a rush of feeling.
"Oh, gods, Joscelin," I sobbed, "you-- it's you, I hadn't thought-- I hadn't dared--" and I lost all coherence and wept as I clung to him, feeling something mend inside me that I had barely even let myself know was broken.
I could only hold her, one hand strong at her back, the other tangled in her hair, stroking it and soothing her as she cried.
It was a relief, to find her, but I felt a quivering in the pit of my stomach with her sorrow, knowing immediately that there was something larger than any of us at work here, knowing not what I trifled with.
"How long?" I whispered, face buried in her hair.
There were many questions, but this was the first, the most pressing. The rest could wait.
It took me a full minute or more, I could not count the time as accurately as I normally would, but finally I was able to speak, my gasps having quieted somewhat.
"Nine months," I whispered, lifting one hand to clutch the front of his tunic over his heart. "So long, Joscelin..." His hands in my hair and at my back gave me strength, as his touch had always done, and I felt my breathing slow with every second that passed, my panic calming as I remembered what it was to be held by him; what it was to be home.
And something else, too, the subtle differences in her frame, her eyes, her very being.
I took her face in my hands and kissed her lightly on the brow. "I am here. I stink of leaves and the out-of-doors, but I am here, love." Gently, I wiped at her tears with my thumbs; it hurt to see her so, this tangle of emotions for reasons I could not yet discern.
Phedre could take someone apart with a single glance, knowing one's innermost soul. I will always be mystified by typical D'Angeline nature, but I will always know Phedre.
"I would not care if you were bald and smelled of horse dung," I said, pulling back with a tearful smile, looking up at him with wonder in my eyes.
"Elua's mercy, I have missed you," I whispered, wrapping my arms gently around his neck. "So long, I thought I would never see you again..." There was so much to say, so much to ask of what had happened to him before he arrived here, and yet I found my questions melting away as our eyes met.
Slowly, barely breathing, I tilted my face up to his, brushing his lips softly with mine. "Joscelin," I breathed, just for the joy of saying it.
I met her lips eagerly; spending days on end in a tree leads one -- even me -- to think alltogether too much on certain matters.
"A week and some I have been here, desparate to find you. I cannot imagine..." I shook my head slowly and gathered her in my arms again, holding her fast to me.
"I am here now," I repeat. It is all I can say, to reassure her that I am real, that I have come and iwll remain despite whatever she may have endured here.
"Yes," I said, burying my face against his chest again, holding him tighter than I ever thought possible. "You are, and I am not like to let you go anytime soon. Gods, I have been so lost without you," I breathed, pulling back to cup his cheek in my hand, my eyes roaming his face, cataloguing the dear familiarity of him, how badly I needed him close. Pulling his forehead down to mine, I murmured, "Elua, how I love you."
I relax in her touch, all of the tension pent up being released at the feel of home, of love.
It is more than enough; it is almost too much.
"And I love you," I say, tipping my forehead to hers and letting my own loose hair cascade down and mingle with her own, a stark contrast as always.
I meet her eyes and hold them, seeking, and then I cannot hold back my question. I have heard some about this place, in passing and in conversation, on how time works and tricks us all. "Phedre. How old are you, here and now?"
"Twenty-three," I said softly, my eyes wide on his. I could see he was older, both in his face and his eyes, and I wondered if he too was from that strange time in the future that Imriel spoke of.
"I know there is much in my future I do not know," I said before he could reply. "There is a boy-- Imriel-- he has been here nearly a month. He told me some of what... some of what happens to me.. to us." I looked down then, not wanting to read the emotions that would pass across his face.
A look of astonishment crosses my face, barely concealed before I stamp it back down. Ten years, and then some, that separate us, ten years of peace, then horror after horror until all was said and done.
So much that she did not know, that she knew only from the words of a boy. I despair that Imriel was the one to break it to her, a burden even he should not have to bear. Yet, I could not say that I was glad to be able to avoid reliving Darsanga to tell this Phedre, this young and relatively unscathed version of my only love.
"I wish I could have been here sooner," I say quietly. "Imriel cares so very deeply for you -- for us. I can't imagine--" I shake my head and reach to tip her head up to kiss her once again.
"It will be alright," I breathed as his mouth met mine, my fingers splaying over his fine, high cheekbones, then sliding through his hair, which tumbled long and tangled over his shoulders. Elua, it was like breathing again after drowning, to have him thus, close and safe, the taste of his mouth on mine. When I broke for breath I gave him a dazzled smile, the tears drying on my cheeks.
It comes natural to me now, no different than breathing.
But now I see somewhat that makes my breath catch in my throat, that makes my fingers twitch against the branches I grasp for balance.
Phedre.
She is unmistakable, even clad as she is in unfamiliar, foreign garb, lost in her thoughts as she so often is. And she is beautiful.
I cannot believe it is so, that she is here, that I should have the good fortune to spot her. It raises a thousand other questions -- when did she find herself here? how has she fared? does she know I am here at all? -- but I am so overjoyed to see her that I barely maintain my position in the tree.
Carefully, I fish through the pocket of my cloak, pulling out part of an unfamiliar fruit that I'd eaten from earlier.
Without a second thought or a care in the world, I lob the fruit in a perfect arc, watching it land with a swift thump at Phedre's feet.
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A glint of something shiny caught my eye, and from there my eyes traced the shape of a person crouched on a branch, the twin shine of silver from the other wrist, and the ghost of a sword hilt over the shoulder...
I simply stopped breathing. Pressing my knuckles to my lips, I took a step back, staring up at him with eyes as wide as they could go. It had been long, Elua, so long since I had laid eyes on him, and though I could barely make a whole picture of him for the leaves in the way, I could not take my eyes from the spot where he sat.
Reply
I peer down at Phedre through the thick leaves, only letting her out of my sight for a second to pull my cloak from the leaves and swing down nimbly from my perch. It has been a long time since I have moved from my spot, but this is a cause well worth coming to land for.
I come to rest on the ground in a crouch, cloak in a heap beside me.
I do not speak, merely look at her, a smile slowly breaking across my face. In truth, I do not speak because I am not sure that I trust my voice to be whole when I do.
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Reply
She seems caught between horror and delight, panic and excitation, and I am not quite sure of how to take it. Slowly, I raise up out of my crouch and take a step towards her.
She looks different, when I see her more clearly. Her eyes, ah--
They are not haunted, pained like the eyes of my Phedre, who has been to the end of the world, who has the Name of God in her head. She is different.
"Phedre," I say finally, my voice cracking and barely above a whisper. It pains me to see her so, and it is all I can do to keep from running to her and taking her in my arms.
Reply
"Joscelin," I gasped, my stillness breaking as I found myself unable to be apart from him for another second, the distance between us closed with one step. My arms went hard around his waist as I pressed my face against his chest, nine months of repressed hurt and loneliness coming out of me in a rush of feeling.
"Oh, gods, Joscelin," I sobbed, "you-- it's you, I hadn't thought-- I hadn't dared--" and I lost all coherence and wept as I clung to him, feeling something mend inside me that I had barely even let myself know was broken.
Reply
It was a relief, to find her, but I felt a quivering in the pit of my stomach with her sorrow, knowing immediately that there was something larger than any of us at work here, knowing not what I trifled with.
"How long?" I whispered, face buried in her hair.
There were many questions, but this was the first, the most pressing. The rest could wait.
Reply
"Nine months," I whispered, lifting one hand to clutch the front of his tunic over his heart. "So long, Joscelin..." His hands in my hair and at my back gave me strength, as his touch had always done, and I felt my breathing slow with every second that passed, my panic calming as I remembered what it was to be held by him; what it was to be home.
Reply
And something else, too, the subtle differences in her frame, her eyes, her very being.
I took her face in my hands and kissed her lightly on the brow. "I am here. I stink of leaves and the out-of-doors, but I am here, love." Gently, I wiped at her tears with my thumbs; it hurt to see her so, this tangle of emotions for reasons I could not yet discern.
Phedre could take someone apart with a single glance, knowing one's innermost soul. I will always be mystified by typical D'Angeline nature, but I will always know Phedre.
Reply
"Elua's mercy, I have missed you," I whispered, wrapping my arms gently around his neck. "So long, I thought I would never see you again..." There was so much to say, so much to ask of what had happened to him before he arrived here, and yet I found my questions melting away as our eyes met.
Slowly, barely breathing, I tilted my face up to his, brushing his lips softly with mine. "Joscelin," I breathed, just for the joy of saying it.
Reply
"A week and some I have been here, desparate to find you. I cannot imagine..." I shook my head slowly and gathered her in my arms again, holding her fast to me.
"I am here now," I repeat. It is all I can say, to reassure her that I am real, that I have come and iwll remain despite whatever she may have endured here.
Reply
Reply
It is more than enough; it is almost too much.
"And I love you," I say, tipping my forehead to hers and letting my own loose hair cascade down and mingle with her own, a stark contrast as always.
I meet her eyes and hold them, seeking, and then I cannot hold back my question. I have heard some about this place, in passing and in conversation, on how time works and tricks us all. "Phedre. How old are you, here and now?"
Reply
"I know there is much in my future I do not know," I said before he could reply. "There is a boy-- Imriel-- he has been here nearly a month. He told me some of what... some of what happens to me.. to us." I looked down then, not wanting to read the emotions that would pass across his face.
Reply
So much that she did not know, that she knew only from the words of a boy. I despair that Imriel was the one to break it to her, a burden even he should not have to bear. Yet, I could not say that I was glad to be able to avoid reliving Darsanga to tell this Phedre, this young and relatively unscathed version of my only love.
"I wish I could have been here sooner," I say quietly. "Imriel cares so very deeply for you -- for us. I can't imagine--" I shake my head and reach to tip her head up to kiss her once again.
At times, words are not enough.
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