Rocky coast and frothy, cold seas. In the middle of the cold ocean, sits a volcanic child, with smooth worn sand of millennial erosions. And with the coming and going of the world's waters, pools and eddies fill, and trapped fish are freed.
     The seas here are quite cold. There is not much to wash ashore in this high Atlantic oasis, but leave it to Kit to be able to find shells, fishing them out with his fingers if he has to.
     Khakis have been rolled up to his calves and he is shirtless despite the cold, his mortal flesh pink with the temperature. He wears a necklace of shells around his neck, having beaded one for him and for you -- they are matching -- and his barefeet sinks in the sun-warmed sand. The ocean has turned pink with the oncoming sunset.
     It has been a good vacation. Restful. Full of love. He has had your attention. He has needed this respite. You could not have missed that. Not seeing it so plainly as you have.
     Kit bends, fingers brushing at the sand, freeing another shell from its half-forgotten burial place. Loosening secrets. Shaking off the dust of the earth. It is a good metaphor. In many ways, is he not doing this himself? He holds up the shell, blows on it, and the wind moves through his dark brown hair.

     "I haven't been to the abyssal plain for a while," Soldekai says, walking towards you. Only Aphrodite from the waves may have been more stunning. "Hard to do that in this," he says, hands at his stomach. Bags of flesh can be quite limiting. "Want to swim?" Soldekai smiles, shaking his wet head. Time with you and then time in the water. It has been a great holiday. No lingering talk of work or councils.
     "I can take you to the reef..." Soldekai says with a sigh, dropping to the sand next to you. His shorts are wet, but with a wave of his hand, they'll soon be dry again. He props upon his elbows, letting his long legs stretch forth. "All sorts of things there," he goes on, falling back upon the sands, hands beneath his head. "But, we'll need to go a little deep to see the good stuff. Maybe sixty feet or so." And that would require a little song or two.

     No, such talk has been avoided. Truly, what more is there to say? You and he reached an understanding of that when you first brought him here. When he spoke of his promotion. When you left to 'talk' to Michael. Those things were spoken then. And they have had their moment.
     The rest has been simply you and him. Without the attunement. Without the work. Without anything other than the simple pleasures. Of you sending him exploding over all the universe -- of him putting himself back together again. There is still a tremble of that poor mortal flesh -- from the last time you held him and he held you. His soul is still shuddering.
     In a good way...
     Kit smiles, and it is radiant, the Christopher beneath beaming through, past the physical eyes and mental perceptions to the true essence and beauty of that soul. You have restored him. He is better than he has been in a year. He comes sitting beside you, tumbling and rocking in the sand, taking up a yoga sitting position and holding aloft the shell. It's pinkish-white. Like the color of a rose. "Ah, that is my Brilliance," Kit murmurs, "...he so enjoys taking me to the edge and back." A laugh. Aha! My wit is still intact. He rests his chin upon his knees, feet in the sand again. "I would like that," Kit says softly again, and seriously as he looks to you. "To go to the reef. To see some of our fellow creatures. Angel fish," he smiles. "Are there flowers blooming beneath the sea, Soldekai? Stars stuck to the sides of rocks?" Starfish he means. Kit reaches out with his free hand, shell held in the other, and he moves fingers over your stomach. A light, skimming touch. I am here with you. You are here with me. "It has been such a special moment," he says, another turn toward seriousness. "Thank you. I needed this, Sol..."

     "I didn't do anything," Soldekai objects, winking simultaneously. "Making a new necklace?" he asks, fingers touching his present one. "If you are, we can go diving afterwards. No angel fish here though," he smirks. "Too cold. But anemone, yes, sturgeon further out. Whales south. This reef is but coral, I am afraid." Not tropical. "We can go tropical, if you want..."

     He shakes his head, dark curls moving as he does so and even afterwards, as the wind continues to play in it. "No, here is fine. Besides, you are right beside me. It is tropical enough." A laugh, and a true one. It has the sound of divinity in it. He rises, hands going to his pockets and he empties out a handful of shells, some of them only fragments, washed here from warmer seas and bays. Some of them made a far journey. "I will make another one later... after a while. I think I will wait until I can wash them and lay myself on your bed again."
     He likes it here. It resonates with him. The sea, the pools of clear water in the volcanic shore, the sand. Kit gleams with it. Like sunlight against obsidian.
     Making a pile of his shell booty, Kit straightens, dusts the sand off his hands, wiping them on khakis and he looks from you to the waves. And back to you. The smile is ribald once more. "What you have done has been unspeakably wonderful. I will have to compose a song about it one day. Hmmm... something about spasmodically chiming bells, I should think."
     And his feet make prints in the sand as he heads for the water. Now... to go sixty feet and in this cold water...that will require something. Hmmm... nothing in my repetoire, I do not think...

     Soldekai winces and jumps up to follow you. Somewhere, the Symphony chimes. A song of preservation. A song of warmth. Soldekai's voice lilts easily over the bars, his arms stretching above his head. Notes combine for safe keeping, the real intent of the short tone.
     He comes up behind you, at the water's edge. The ambient temperature has changed around you. Soldekai's right fingers slip into your left hand. "And the fire of the Archangel enveloped them both as they walked into the sea..."
     Soldekai smirks, chin at your shoulder. "At least, we shall be comfortable," he finishes. "I'd hate to see us freeze or implode. Bends aren't pretty either..." he wryly adds.

     He laughs, ringing notes. Though they cannot sing in chorus to the Songs you tap into, still the sound is complementary. Melodic. "I should call you an ill romancer," eyes widen at the term, you behind him, your chin at his shoulder, "...if you were to give me the bends. That sounds unpleasant," Kit notes, "..what is it? No, no, don't tell me. I do not think I want to know. And imploding would be bad. Though this vessel and I have something of a love-hate relationship, it's not his fault. He is a good lad." More or less. No more, no less than I at any rate.
     You sing and he is protected by it. Uplifted by it. More than perhaps you know. If that is possible. When he came here, it felt as if his wings had been broken, he battered and bruised. He thought he was wrestling Jacob's angels. He was only wrestling with himself. He will say it is your warmth that has let him feel... more himself again. He taught you to dream. You reminded him of who he was. Just when he was beginning to lose that.
     Now, if he were to begin to dream for himself... what things he could accomplish...
     "Comfort is not such a bad thing," Kit muses as he walks with you into the water, not feeling the chill it would truly give. He is filled and surrounded by warmth. "I have enjoyed it these last few..." Nights or days or weeks or however long it's been. "I have not been this happy in a while," and yet he says it so seriously. It is a different kind of happiness these days. A deeper sense of what it all means. As if he were finally putting it all together. He smirks, glancing over his shoulder.
     "I am sorry. I do not mean to speak so ... gravely?" No, that's not it. "We will swim. And you will sing. And I will listen and find shells." This is planning enough. The rest, perhaps he should leave to God's Will...

     He stays behind you, letting your fingers go. Instead, his arms mirror yours, lifting them upwards, parallel to the sea. "You don't want to know about the bends," Soldekai smiles, "...maybe I'll explain it later, when we're out of the water."
     The sea's chill is gone. Gabriel's blessing is all that is left, plus something remembered from Oannes ages ago. This is how Soldekai remembers his earliest Superior teacher, an eternal affection for water. Neither knew then Soldekai would end up in the Legions of Flame, or as its Chamberlain. "Don't try to swim," Soldekai whispers as the water reaches both pairs of knees. "And don't worry about the fish...they will ignore us."
     "And I have enjoyed our time, angel of my heart," Soldekai adds quickly. A kiss lands at your shoulder. "More than I ever thought I could enjoy anything..."

     "No, no it is alright," Kit quickly, quietly adds. "I do not need to know the ins and outs of the bends. The term alone says it all." He glances to you, grey eyes sparkling. Showing a hint of the ethereal silver. An eyebrow cocks up and his mouth slides a smile. He looks back to the sea ahead, your arms on his arms, warmth everywhere. He expects to see the sea bubble and churn with it, but it doesn't. The two of you pass easily. Feet, knees then thighs submerged.
     "I have that effect on you," Kit thinks to say and thinks to laugh. "I show you the unexpected. You show me the unimaginable. We are a good fit, Soldekai." He speaks your name these days, abandoning the trappings of all those clever nicknames. No artifice. No teasing. It means more to him than that. Or perhaps with the raven in him altogether gone, the cawing of nicknames simply no longer occurs to him. Not that he minds it now that the appellations are his to bear. He smiles. He continues on until the water is at his belly. There is a breath for the expected chill that does not follow.

     "We are a good fit," Soldekai admits. How his world of possibilities has changed. Poetic tongue comes so easy now. "Any last words?" he grins, seeing that the waves now lap at your collarbones. "After this, we'll have to resort to old tried and true forms. Speak now, or forever...." a quirk. "How does that go..."
     Waves are eager to take you both, to possess and rend you both to pieces. But the waves do not expect celestial figures as yourselves, quick to counter the water's power. They did not expect benefactors of Oannes' blessings.
     "My last words!" Soldekai laughs, taking a mouth of water, "I love you..."

     Forever hold your peace, I think it goes. Though, that's such a tough bargain. Forever holding one's peace. A good deal to expect from anyone, let alone someone as loquacious as Christopher. But as it has ever been, and as it shall perhaps ever Be, his last words are comprised of laughter.
     A quick comment in rapid angelic tones: I love you. Love, the old citadel sparkles no doubt. Continuing, despite the loss of its Archangel. Are the two of you not proof of that.
     The sand gives way beneath his feet, and suddenly all is watery bright and watery dark. His vessel takes a breath. There is instinctual fear of death. But it passes. For what is death but a beginning? The rest is dreams...
     You make a formidable alliance. A palpable pair. The universe ripples with the two of you present. You are Possibility. And You are Action. Those who foresaw such a thing half-closed their eyes, a blend of exultation and apprehension. But all great beginnings have begun thus. With suffering. With sacrifice. With love.
     The water folds away from you both, even as it moves forward. You create an undulating current as powerful as any that naturally occur. A momentary El Nino current...
     Kit's fingers twine around yours, grasping, like a sailor submitting to the charms of a mermaid. In this case, merman. The shells of the necklaces he has made float, moving suspended in the waters.

Posted by rowan at May 18, 2003 10:54 PM