| The information Andromeda provides is not useful. Not to say that it is meaningless, useless, or malicious: it is merely inconsequential, an affirmation of the girl's lack of insight, another door holding no treasure within. The firechild sighs, underwhelmed by the answer, by this entire encounter; she is growing weary of being confused, and longs to find the information she has concluded Andromeda cannot give. Dark eyes turn to scan the dry horizon, wondering how far they are from the sea. Too far, she knows, to hear it or see it; if only she could fly, the world would be in her reach! She feels a twinge of envy as she looks back to Andromeda's wings, envy outlined and accentuated by fierce curiosity: oh, how she would that she knew how to fly, what it felt like to be held aloft in the tender grasp of a summer breeze!
She cannot fly, though, and Andromeda's voice pulls her back to earth, her words casting shadows instead of enlightenment upon the filly's mind. She frowns, confused by the suddenly broad, boastful words. Huh? asks the boy, as lost as his sister- I don't know, she responds, a light frown pulling at her lips. The sudden burst of ownership - my duties, my apprentice, my queen (our queens, the boy reminds, but this is irrelevant) - makes the girl wonder if she has made some mistake. Andromeda has seen friendly, if distant, to this point, and now the girl feels cast away, unwanted and a child. Has she in face been removed from her post? She would not be surprised, though the idea gives her pains, makes her angry at herself for losing the last thing she had left. "I see," the girl murmurs, a quiet emission of the too-deep voice. "That is... good."
She tries to sound supportive; she knows the anger she feels is wrong, that it is not Andromeda's fault she has lost her way. Muscles ripple beneath the crimson coat, betraying her indecisive desire to turn away, to leave, to not come back for she does not belong. It is only the silver form bursting through the lazy haze of heat which stills the girl, preventing flame and shadow from fading back to whence they came.
She tastes the magic of Africa before the mare is more than a blur, but recognizes it easily, the delicate blue and musty teal. The girl turns into the mare's voice, letting her eyes dance across the one-winged form. As much as the girl longs to fly, she thinks that this fate must be worse- to be cursed and trapped, unable to re-attain the glory she has once tasted, unable to become who she once was. At the back of her mind Tandavi thinks she may understand... after all, it was not so long ago that she was innocent, and fierce, and unafraid.
"We met once." The girl corrects her, unable to help the twinge of doubt at how easily she has been forgotten. But then, she faded quickly on that night, as she is wont to do, she thinks. "I am Tandavi. This is Natraj. We have been... lost." The boy does not respond to his name: he is staring, rapt, at the bird who flies above, enraptured by the beautiful feathers and wondering if it is anything like a dragon. Tandavi turns her attention from him, letting it settle back on the queen. She is beautiful, the girl thinks, beautiful and sad, and wise; firechild sinks black eyes into gold, and quietly confesses, "We don't know what we are."
@[Andromeda]
THE FIREDANCER
for it was I who walked among the falling stars, and did not burn | |
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