The waters reflect the light of the city, the lights on the gondolas that still, even at this hour, move at the beck and desire of those who fill Venice tonight. So many of them from other cities, from other lands. But whomever in Venice is a Venetian, so the travel brochures say...
     ...The lights of candles sparkle in multi-colored glass votives. Surrounding a window overlooking a small canal. The sounds of the Grand Canal are not far off, no. Wafting like the wind through the narrow passages of this old city. This old 14th Century gothic house, now separated out into various flats and spaces for rent, boasts some of the loveliest arched windows in all of the city. They are opened now, to let the breeze flow in.
     Votive candles also fill the room. Red and blue and green and purple. Little flickering lights. The walls are undecorated, the apartment is modest enough, but seems vast for the lack of furnishings. In truth, there is only a bed.
     Black curls go their own way, in his eyes and out of them. Kit stands in a window, his shoulder to the easing of the nearest wall. He wears only linen trousers, even his feet are bare. And there is only one adornment -- a leather thong around his neck, with a bit of recently polished basalt.
     He has been quiet since his arrival here. This, the first stop of he doesn't know how many or for what cause. But he stands in the light of the many votives, backlit against the window like a native of this city. Darkened to an olive-copper by some agreement between him and the sun. "I think I will like it here..."

     "It's an old city," comes the voice from the bed, languidly so. Soldekai turns upon his side to watch you, illuminated only by the candles you often light and the power of his own word.
     He sighs, causing the sheets to rustle around his bare form. He has gotten used to spending so much time in this vessel. So used to spending time like this with you.
     Soldekai sits up, hands behind him as they anchor him to the bed. "They say...that Gabriel and Blandine both had a hand in this place. That David carved the lagoon and set islands afloat. That the old keeper of the grotto," the place you and he sometimes share, "...filled the lagoon with beautiful water. And thus...Venice was born." He's never been one for myths.
     "It suits you," Soldekai whispers, moving from his tale. How handsome you are with glimmering shine and dark hair. Maybe this will become our city, Soldekai thinks, but says it not. "You want to come back to bed?" he wonders, not meaning much beyond it, save to have you closer.

     "Yes," it is an easy thing to say. An easy thing to want. There is one last look for the window, the city outside of it. "I've always fancied living in an apartment with a myth..."
     That was almost vintage, Galadriel...
     As Kit turns, bare feet whispering against swept stone, "I can believe that of them," and a smile begins. "I have not heard this story," he seems suddenly skeptical. As if he should have heard them all. "But," the smile cuts slanting, even if slightly, "we will have to tell them one day... how fitting we found it..."
     The smile fades as he settles on the bed, a moment from reclining. "Sol," where are the grandiose nicknames? "... I am sorry... if I have not been myself. I had hoped that I would leave Heaven feeling relieved and laughing all the way to my new assignment. That, once the... trial was done... as such it was, I would be... more..." You see a shoulder twitch. Wings would motion and then shrug. His hands echo the motion a moment after as he swings about and reclines. More Myself. As God sees fit for me to be...
     Blue and green and red and purple. the votive lights color you both. "But I will juggle, if you like," he offers. "I surely can't have forgotten that..."

     "You haven't," Soldekai grins, scooting closer between the sheets. "The trial was just the first part, hmm? I can understand why you do not feel yourself. Something has happened. But I have faith in you, so does Blandine, yes?"
     "Hey," he whispers, leaning so that his jaw is upon your shoulder. "I don't want you to feel sad, raven," Soldekai whispers. "You were worthy of this. To go forth in this place." Others would not have had such opportunity. "You are well loved..."
     "I love you," Soldekai grins slightly, knowing you should expect no less from him.

     Raven...
     You remember the black bird, with black eyes the color of night sky. But more than this, more than the bird, it was the trickster in him. The trickster in me. That trickster is gone now. Perhaps what it has left behind is more handsome, easier to recognize without all of the sleight-of-hand.
     Your jaw on his shoulder, your words in his ears. How could he not smile? And the sidelong look. Grey and glittering. "I could not, in such brilliant company, pass ten minutes into a sad country. The sun ..." he tips his head, "would not allow it, yes?" Kit moves, sheets shifted, he now between them. How easily he melds to you. Back and shoulder against your chest. You are right.
     What am I saying, Archangel. It is not as if you could be wrong...
     "I will try not to be sad." A hard task, with all of the dissonance. Dissonance that surely must be making your hands twitch and your ears buzz. Kit looks to you, smiling in a rakish curve. "And I love you, Brilliance...I am glad you are here with me while I am getting settled... I do not have much to unpack yet. You still have my rocks, my collection from America?"

     "Yes, the rocks, and the candles, and the glass stones, raven," Soldekai grins proudly. "There are also small balls of varying colors and tones," he recalls, sitting up. "I think..." he looks around at the mess of a room, "...they are over there." Under a pile of something.
     "Here," Soldekai whispers, kissing your ear before causing the bed to sound loudly. He rolls quickly opposite, from between the sheets to where he's pointed. "Ah," he smiles in his glory, bending to pick up a large bedroll. "It wasn't as far in as I expected," he explains, padding back towards you.
     Knee rests upon the edge of the bed, and Soldekai unrolls the coil, presenting each of your items in sealed notches. "I think the larger candles are in a box," he murmurs, grinning ear to ear.

     He rolls as you do, turning upon his other side, and as you stand -- your glory, indeed, and glory be to God who made you -- Kit props himself up. And then sits up. As you unroll, his eyes widen, and linen colored knees draw upward to his chest.
     You saved each one...
     Each piece...
     Each bauble...
     You salvaged the Raven's horde...
     Kit's form uncoils, strength and grace, lean and supple both. A finger skims over the treasures you kept for him. All of the things he collected on his first journey. Things to remind him of his time on Earth, his time in America. Answering dreams. Inspiring to Aspire. Here, pieces he collected for you, for him, for thoughts of you. Pyrite. Obsidian. Onyx. Smoky quartz.
     "You... care so much for me," Kit whispers. "I am so fortunate. We have always talked of your hope, Soldekai, and your dreams. Aspiration. And you ... have answered one of mine." Kit sits back, eyes on you, back resting on the cushions and covers. "It's not the things, though..." the smile is immediate to his mouth. "... they are good to have, they will give me hope. Hope," he repeats. "They will help me remember things I may forget sometime next week. Brilliance," his voice goes soft. "... it is you who restore me."
     Then the lips twist in that... oh so familiar ribald smile. "Undo me, too..."

     "No, you shall be my undoing," Soldekai grins, slipping into the bed and over you. Such convenience that you sit back, for roll of stones rests upon you as Soldekai settles likewise. "They are your things," he murmurs, "...and I cannot imagine you without them, raven." Hazel eyes look to the gathered colors and shapes.
     "This," Soldekai explains, "I remember from Pakistan. And this..." he points at something green, "...from my tether." The one in Iceland. "This one too."
     "But, raven," he goes on, "...I want you to be hopeful, okay? I'll be with you, and time shall pass us both by so quickly." And things restored. "But I'll not leave you, raven," the archangel murmurs, perfect sight to behold, "...this I swear." With that, Soldekai closes his eyes, placing a kiss at your shoulder that wanders to your ear.

     When they asked me about this, all I could do was speak the truth in a roseate violet. My eyes could not hide it. My smile could not be stopped. I answered their questions. I answered them and they could see it.
     Who could not love you and not want this feeling?
     Just because Love damned Himself, why should Love itself be treated as Fallen?
     "I hear this city has the brightest, most beautiful glass," Kit whispers, grey eyes closing before they can turn silver. Arms surround your shoulders, fingers move against your hair. "I will buy..." Yes, buy, "... pieces of glass to hang in my windows. They will catch the sun..."
     And you will be with him, even when you have to be away...
     There is a breath that bears his voice. "I will be hopeful, or when I am not, I will remember you asked me to be until I can be..."

     "That's all any could ask," Soldekai purrs, so headlong for this love. Could you have said this of him in the last years? Is that how long it has been? But these bodies keep good Time...
     "We shall buy colored glass and hang them upon strings." Once you spoke to him of his hopes and dreams. Is it obvious that they are fulfilled? "Maybe a crystal fountain to watch water trickle in the sun."
     You taught him to speak thusly. When he could not speak of things in his heart, but only of duties. When floral words stuck in his throat while you sang of prophecies and dreamscapes. He wondered how you did that, and if he was lucky, maybe you would show him how to speak sweetly, to dream.
     Angelic hands brush your skin like feathers. The sheet rises over you both as the man upon you slips lower between the coverlets.
     "I love you, raven..." he whispers from beneath crisp cotton, voice fluttering like the sheets that soon envelop you both.

     When you say it thus, I find my wings again...
     Midnight...
     I see the Herald within me, that I know I am... sentinel of dreams. Guiding the way, and guarding the borders, of my Master's Word. And the triple hematite globes sparkle with music pure. Dark wings, dusky complexion, eyes like stars...
     And the strength that is there, that will be found again as it is earned again, I can feel it, Know it...
     When I hear your voice speaking the name you have given me.
     A grin, and then beneath the sheets, the laughter gives way to something deeper. Far deeper. Sheets turn to nebulae. Fingers to feathers. Laughter... to something more... lyrical.
     A murmured song...
     Softer...
     A whispered word...
     You hear your name...
     Soldekai...

     The universe is gathered here, in spectral lights of blue and green and yellow. In reds. In violets. Glass votives hold candles cupped and colors scatter against the stone walls. Every breeze creates an ethereal spectrum.
     Only you and Blandine could know that this haphazard, seemingly chaotic -- although vibrant -- display was orderly. Constellations of colors, formed in fire and colored glass, encircle the entire apartment. There is not a surface that is not crowded with votives. Even the window sill. In truth, more seat than sill. And the window is only slightly cracked. Just enough for a breeze to move in off the canals, guided by the labyrinth of gothic structures.
     And the floor, once bare, is now covered in rugs. Two of them quite new -- from bazaars of Eastern villages. And another from India. And cushions. Silk. Velvet. All brightly colored...
     He has turned a simple, even small apartment into a corner of the Marches. Full of dreams. Reflecting visions. He has made it, in short, home.
     ... a body in motion...
     Legs are splayed and sheets are half-on and half-off. Bare the form beneath it, splayed upon his stomach. His head resting on folded arms, arms buried in a feather pillow. "I have missed the quiet," Kit whispers, and though it comes from the mouth of the vessel by that name, it is Galadriel, it is your Herald in his Quietude, in his Essence that speaks now. "Lying in a soft bed. Surrounded by sparkling things." There is the pulling of a smile, wide and sliding ribald. "Is it a sin, Brilliance, to be used now to such comforts? Should I, like a monk, sleep on pins?"

     Hazel eye peeps open, smile curling beneath it. "How is that sin, raven?" Soldekai murmurs, half-asleep. A wonderous thing about vessels...they have requirements that you do not. MIght as well enjoy it.
     Large thigh lifts as Soldekai's foot comes to rest upon the bedding. He sighs, sending the sheets scurrying down his stomach. "Does not God provide our vessels comfort? Did he not say ease was the reward for the one who works? And what of us, celestial? We know comfort in Heaven. It is bliss. What we experience, is held as a goal for mortals." A shrug of his shoulders causes rustling upon his pillow. "I do not think it is sin. Sin...is overindulgence. In all things."
     "Should we not comfort each other?" Soldekai wonders, cheek turned upon the down to see you. "We would at Home, and why not here?" He has gotten used to your magic, Soldekai has, and in this space of flickering colors, wafting breezes, and floating constellations, he rests so easily now.

     "I like your philosophy!"
     There is sunlight in darkness, my Chamberlain. There are so many stars, there is no counting them. There is only the exercise of wonder. And so it is with you. What is there to question or to riddle where you are concerned. There is only Cosmos and fire. And love...
     And peace...
     Kit rolls over, pulling sheets and covers with him. From stomach to back, the splay redirects itself. A turn of his head and dark curls rest against broad shoulder. Your basalt at his throat. Hematite orb held pendulous on another chain. But as it is with him now, there is more matter and less art. "I find such comfort a daily want," Kit whispers, and he tilts his head back, craning to look at you. "You... are sought after? I must confess, though we are in no booth, that I... am dreading the first night apart."
     Grey eyes hold shards of silver. Colored lights reflect against them as he looks from your eyes to some space ahead.

     His brow furrows a little, then release. You know him too well. "I will have to go....later." Soldekai grins. Not now. "And I find such comfort a daily want too, raven," his arm bending and rising to touch the basalt.
     You misspeak, Malakim. You mean need.
     "Need," Soldekai smiles. "I...want not to be away from you, raven."
     Not unlike needing to know God's Love. How could They ever have thrown that away?
     "But that's later," he whispers, turning upon his side. A mountain moved.
     "I like your apartment," he teases, using the same intonations you did earlier. "It is...so wonderful." So like you. I see you everywhere in it, and I feel better. I am not alone. "You won't need to miss me," Sol's eyes staring into yours, "...you will have your things here to occupy you...not to mention much work to do."

     To a raven, Venice is nirvana. Paradise. Heaven. In time, perhaps it shall be so for the Herald Himself. Perhaps there is no better place for his restoration than this city of labyrinths, water and colored glass...
     "I will not need to miss you, but I ... will miss you," oh his voice, you hear in it the pull of Truth and the pull of Understanding. Oh, how well I know how I shall be when you are not here, Archangel. How dim the world will seem when you are not here illuminating ... everything...
     Even me...
     But... it will not be dire...
     No, it will be... as it will be...
     "It is becoming home," Kit says of his surroundings. "Much more... it is strange... than Clearwater. Maybe, I needed a place as ... unreal as I... even though I cannot fly through her alleyways and scoop up the fallen treasure of her inhabitants... I ... hope to find my use here."
     He turns his head, a motion toward you. "I wonder... what I shall do here... what my task will be... I yet... do not know..."

     His eyes linger over you, Galadriel. See how they wander, much like his fingers and wings not so long ago. A smile forms on Soldekai's lips. "It will come to you," he suggests, "...and you will brighten them, who need you most."
     Like I needed you.
     "So, this is home, and I will find you here most often? Do you not have to find the tether that is here?" Was that part of the requirement?

     It will come to you...
     You speak it, I know it. You wear it on your face, I understand it. And I remind myself -- it was like this before, when I was searching out my Destiny here on earth. When I found you there. The millennia between us fell like so much cosmic dust.
     "I guess... I will see what I am to see... I cannot ... make the dream come to me. Or know whose dream I shall answer. Maybe... my own. I do not know."
     Notes fall out of rhythm...
     A drip-drop of dissonance...
     "... The tether... yes... that is my first quest," Kit murmurs suddenly. His lips twist, the smile sardonic. "I should drop bread crumbs, but the gulls will eat them. Maybe eggshells would be better. I hear it is in a holy place. Venice has... only one or two of those," it is not quite sarcasm -- but it is a wry sort of humor. An understatement. Venice has hundreds. It will be a journey all its own -- just to get to the Beginning. I should close my eyes...
...I should unfold my wings and bring you to me...
     Violet and midnight. Dusky. Grinning. Juggling the three globe of time and timelessness in my hands...
     "Roll me again," Galadriel speaks, soft angelic tongue twisting vessel's tongue....

Posted by rowan at May 15, 2003 11:50 PM