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12-08-2013, 11:13 AM
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I’d had the power to control fire – it would rise and fall on my command, it would twist in my heart and my mouth and engulf me. I was never fond of the fire, but I was content to wear it as I wore so many of the other elements – the ice I bequeathed my children, my poor, lost bargaining chips, the darkness I spun artlessly around me, the light that shone from the tips of the feathers – once upon a time, I was alight with life, and I’d never felt more terrible.
So, it was the fire that called me down to them – brought me down from my nighttime flight like a moth. I was careless; I was growing careless in this peaceful land, this place I knew not and understood less of the more I grew used to it. I could feel his presence – not here, but somewhere close, somewhere near – and it was enough to send a shiver of – something – throughout my body.
He was near.
“Diviner?” I caught only the tail end of the conversation, the stallion seemingly concerned with the mare’s state, the bird hiding with it – and, truth be told, so was I, concerned that is, the moment I saw the wound on her shoulder. It made my own wings fold around me in a sympathetic wince.
Still, it was the concept of divination that seized me – and made me wonder…
“Hello,” I said, because I had manners and manners demanded I at least introduce myself. “I am Meraki. Who is the Lord of Dragon’s Throat?”
I was quite new, after all.
And politeness, apparently, only went so far.
So, it was the fire that called me down to them – brought me down from my nighttime flight like a moth. I was careless; I was growing careless in this peaceful land, this place I knew not and understood less of the more I grew used to it. I could feel his presence – not here, but somewhere close, somewhere near – and it was enough to send a shiver of – something – throughout my body.
He was near.
“Diviner?” I caught only the tail end of the conversation, the stallion seemingly concerned with the mare’s state, the bird hiding with it – and, truth be told, so was I, concerned that is, the moment I saw the wound on her shoulder. It made my own wings fold around me in a sympathetic wince.
Still, it was the concept of divination that seized me – and made me wonder…
“Hello,” I said, because I had manners and manners demanded I at least introduce myself. “I am Meraki. Who is the Lord of Dragon’s Throat?”
I was quite new, after all.
And politeness, apparently, only went so far.
Meraki.
“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.”
— T. S. Eliot
