mihtal

all the world is waiting for the sun.

If Najya has noticed anything peculiar about my demeanor, or has any inclination as to the thoughts in my head (a black, dripping, mess of a web), then she is considerate enough to not show any sign of it. The conversation seems to carry on as any ‘normal’ one would, much to my relief, although I can still feel the weight of attention laden across my shoulders. I try not to fidget too much (despite the persistent thrum of electricity that vibrates incessantly and uncomfortably through every one of my muscles). Instead I focus on my breathing, trying to force all of the air from my lungs before I slowly begin to inhale again.

I watch the white dragon with a wary (but curious) gaze, and diligently remind myself that the creature has a name—A’mal, A’mal—before the turmoil of other (irrelevant, unsettling) thoughts evaporate this little piece of information. It would be embarrassing to have to ask for it again. Fortunately, the dragon does not seem to be put off by me not consuming the fish myself (can the animal even experience feelings like we do?), and with a display that is both fascinating and distasteful, the fish has disappeared through the dragon’s gullet.

When Najya speaks, I glance to her with a tense smile, forcing a breath of laughter as I glance back to A’mal. The dragon’s approval is unexpectedly satisfying. I hadn’t expected to care (because I don’t care what the other birds of the air, or fish of the sea might think of me, and try to no avail to ignore the eyes of any others) but, somehow, A’mal seems less...judgemental. Like she wouldn’t care if I was a mess (which I am), or if I was haunted by the darkest, most secretive thoughts (which I am), or if I was coming apart at the seams (again, which I am). I feel like the dragon is much more simple than that; good versus bad, and kind versus mean, where there is only black and white with no complicated gray.

It is strangely comforting to, at last, be grouped into a more favorable light.

I grin more genuinely towards A’mal now, my attention lingering on the creature even when the russet mare continues. I hear something about a key and wings—none of it is really making any sense. After spending my entire life among the same sands, sequestered among the others of my harem, it is difficult for me to imagine a meager key being able to give me wings that will allow me to fly. It’s just all a bit hard to swallow.

Soon the other woman is placing her key into a pillar, and asking if I’m ready to try this impossible thing she’s just described.

“Um,” I hesitate, shifting my weight as I lean backwards, dragging the length of my hair through the grainy sands. Suddenly I’m wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. If Najya had been any less welcoming, I might have very well turned around right there, and not looked back. However, she is kind, and while I’m not necessarily driven to make her happy, I definitely don’t want to hurt her feelings. So I suck in a deep breath, trying to work past the tightness in my throat. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” my voice is soft and fragile, mirroring my eyes as I cast them out across the ocean, eyeing the distant island cautiously.


notes; I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense, I feel like I rambled :3
“Speech.”