She has fled the palace of her grandmother in unaccustomed disarray. No one has seen her such, save her family - but she knows. She knows, and that is a secondary form of distress.
     Tanira, the unflappable. Tanira, the unshakable. Tanira, with the heart of ice, aloof beauty that cannot be moved...
     Where is her serene dignity now? Fled, even as she is fleeing, to the heavens, peacock wings outstretched behind her, pinions ruffled and even shedding a few stray feathers in her wake. They may fall to earth to astonish ornithologists and inspire artists, perhaps. She doesn't give it the slightest thought.
     No, her only thought with her incarnadine mouth and glittering white-painted eyelids is of finding you. And demanding answers. Duma! Where are you? Show yourself!
     For her father, she would charge Heaven as much as any other member of her family. Did her exterior fool anyone? She is enraged, and her stance as she lands is wild, eyes darting from side to side. Do you dare tell her how beautiful she is when she's angry?

     Your emotion reached him before your voice cried out. There was anger. Fury, truly. And grief. He made his apologies not in some heavenly palace of gold and marble or ...whatever dream fabric appears to be gold and marble but in Venezuela, dressed as a tourist, encouraging the dreams of a woman who just received a micro-loan for her weaving business. He finished his purchase, his best wishes given, and then he blended in among the markets and crowds until he was forgotten.
     He arrives where and as you land, the landscape shifting to the Oasis of Dreams; specifically, the grand living room courtyard that also has the lotus-littered wading pool. Candles are lit with the dreams and aspirations of a nameless multitude. And he, their shepherd, is clothed as though he were one of them: jeans, shirt, jacket.
     There is no teasingly smug look or any sort of teasing look. "What has happened?" he says, tossing the blanket to the side, his green eyes narrowed in thoughtful concern. His own wings, grand, black peacock wings emerge despite the presence of earthly garments. He gestures for you to make yourself at home. It will be one day, after all.

     She glares at you, trying hard not to weep instead. "You tell me you don't know?" Tanira is rank with disbelief. She shudders, wings fluttering agitatedly, iridescent feathers shaking as if they might fall out. "How could you?"
     This is where most men, suitors, boyfriends, fiances or husbands, would be desperately going over their sins...
     "How could you do this to me, to us?" Her voice falls rather than rising, quieter instead of shrill, peacock or no. And the tears begin to fall, and she smothers them with her hands.

     "I would never bring pain to you or your family," he says, and in the face of your disbelief, your anger, Duma comes to you, taking you first into his wings in order to lead you to his arms. "Tell me the source of your pain," he murmurs to you in angelic, the tones like quiet temple bells. "I can only feel it, Tanira. I cannot see its origins. It is too bright for such focus."
     Eden green eyes are a garden for you, a refuge and sanctuary. Duma tilts his head to try to meet your gaze between your fingers, his black hair drifting forward like a stormcloud. "Share it with me. If I have unwittingly committed a crime against your heart, then I shall stand in answer for it."

     She stiffens, but she does not pull away; but she is angry, still. She wants to believe you have had nothing to do with it. She wants to believe there is hope. She wants to believe in Santa Claus and other children's stories, too.
     "My father is being called by Heaven," Tanira tells you, voice raw and angry despite its quieter note. "He says he has only a week left." She stares at you, tears springing into her eyes, accusation and despair writ large upon her face.

     Duma's eyes are kind and quiet. He lifts a hand to your face to brush away the tears. "A great honor but a great loss. I understand. I did not call him to a greater duty, but though I know it pains his family, I rejoice for his soul that he is being exalted. I am sorry that it may mean that you do not see him for a while. But... do you think you shall not ever see him again? Or that he would not recognize you or continue to love you? Am I not in heaven? Do I not see you? Love you?"
     Bending his head, he places a kiss upon your eyelids. "He will never be that far from you, Tanira," Duma says softly, his arms surrounding you and holding you to him. "For you, too, are an angel. You are an houri of Dreams, even if you do not live the houris vow. You can look into this pool, you can talk to him out loud, you can walk dreams together if you wish. You have that power. All of you do."
     Duma's wings surround you now in somnolent tenderness. "Sweet soul, even if you were not an angel, you would still have that connection, that relationship. Love does not pass away as we move from level to level in God's grace; it increases as our capacity to give and receive it increases. He will love you more than he can now understand. It may be that he will not be as accessible at first, but that will pass, too."

     She sobs, once, a dry, harsh sound, lifting her hand to her mouth. "That's not good enough!"
     She knows how it sounds. She doesn't care. Right now, she is for all her appearance, five years old. And her daddy is leaving her. Dying. Going away. She is inconsolable.
     Daddy... Tanira weeps, the tears breaking the dam as she pounds a fist against your chest. Not, to be fair, very hard; she is weak, trembling in her anguish. Who would believe it? Who could have seen it?

     "I know it isn't," Duma consoles softly, and there's not much else he can say. What will heal your heart are not words, but Time and Understanding. He holds you warmly, letting you pound him, accepting your anger on behalf of the universe at-large.
     You can't kick the throne of God but you can kick me. You can't shake your fist at the stars, but you can beat upon my chest. Duma accepts it. I love you, and I will be wherever you are.
     His heart speaks it to you, even as God himself would and... in fact... does, merely with the voice of everything around you. The stars, the sound of water, and in the arms around your waist.
     You will not be alone. I will be with you...

Posted by rowan at August 20, 2010 07:13 PM