[Spire of Red Lamps] To Comprehend a Nectar

[Philomena]

Spring 60, 514
The Spring-Pool,
House of Lives Lived,
Abura

Even in the heat of High Spring, Minnie felt a chill, though she attributed this mostly to the lack of a skirt - how people survived in only trousers was mysterious to her, and she felt a great pity for the poor sods who had no choice but to wear them. The trousers were at least of a good make, but if they were under her dress, she would have left them unbuttoned, to give her a bit more room to breath in the belly.

“Semiyr? Ms Semiyr?”

She stepped forward from the little alcove of the Hall, and saw Mother Semiyr lying, still as death on the bottom of the pool, her eyes open and unblinking, her wings spread wide behind her. The water trembled slightly, making the Akvatari’s face waver. She looked, for the world, as if she’d drowned.

Minnie waved shyly at her, and Semiyr’s eyes closed, opened again, slowly, before she rose slowly up through the shallow water. She broke the surface and took a breath so long, Minnie found herself wondering if it was a trick. The other woman’s eyes softened as she smiled, “But, silly, thou canst not swim in a blouse. Well… thou COULDST perhaps, but it would just flap about like a fish with a torn fin.”

“I… I haven’t anything else.”

SEmiyr nodded a moment, “Let me see…”

She floated in front of Minnie with an appraising eye, raising her hands to the sides of Minnie’s chest, measuring. She nodded, then, and said, “Close enough,” before fluttering off toward the hall. She reappeared a few moments later with a neatly folded swath of fabric, dyed a deep grey.

“There, now, put this on. Why thou wouldst wear sleeves to the wrist in this weather is a mystery!”

Minnie took the fabric, and unfolded it, and… it did not fold into any garment she could see, just a long strip of fabric, with a fine tasseling along the edges. She looked at Semiyr, then at the strip of fabric around the Akvatari's breasts, and her eyes went wide.

“Oh… oh, no, I… I couldn’t…”

“Tut! Come now! Thou hast seen my body? Noone would think ill of thy belly. Its practical, that’s all.” she took the lowermost button of Minnie’s blouse and began undoing it. Minnie froze, paralyzed, and her eyes telegraphed terror, but a particularly strange terror, childlike in its cowering, like a girl waiting to be whipped. Semiyr furrowed her brow, and stopped. She spoke, then, softly, drawing her hands back.

“Philomena… Philomena, where art thou gone to? What is wrong?”

Minnie tried to speak, but she had lost her mouth, and her fingers struggled with the button, unable to stumble it back into its hole. She trembled.

Semiyr lay a gentle hand on Minnie’s cheek, and landed on the ground, curling her tail to rest on it and bending to put her eyes just at the level of Minnie’s. She was silent a moment, looking at the small woman, gauging her level of upset. Finally, very softly, she began to sing:

[i]Long ago, on the edge of the sea,
Thou camest to me,
Thou camest to me.
I’d carried thee far in a swollen seed,
And sprouted thee up like an alder tree.

Thou camest to me,
Thou camest to me.

We pledged each other, hast thou forgotten?
Child of my First birthing—“

She stopped abruptly, the song catching in her throat, and moved the hand on Minnie’s cheek to squeeze her shoulder gently, averting her own eyes, for a moment as she blinked, the sadness passing over her with a breath of a shuddered brow.

Minnie blinked a few times, and turned around to face away, breathing deeply. Then with shaking hands she unbuttoned the rest of the buttons., and dropped the blouse off her shoulder. Her shoulders started to shiver uncontrollably, and she folded her arms over the bustline of her thin chemise, coloring pale instead of blush. The black inked words were clumsy on her upper back, always a hard place to paint.

“Oh…” said the Akvatari.

“Please, I know its a stupid thing, I just—“

She stopped, feeling lips against the painted space between her shoulder blades.

“Come, now, my friend. With this, we’ve somewhere to swim to, Dr. Lefting.”

“Say… say my name again, please.”

“Philomena, then.”

“Please they are not… my words, they are private, my…”

“Shh… come. Please, a favor to me, hmm?”

And very gently, Semiyr took the grey cloth, and wrapped it around Minnie’s breasts, leaving the chemise on until she had securely tied the binding in place, thin carefully tugging it out and over Minnie’s head, so as not to uncover anything in the process. Then she lead her to the waters edge, and gently slithered in, tail first, turning deftly about.

“Now. Come in, doctor, and we shall see about teaching thee the water.”

Minnie, more clumsily, sat on the pools edge, and lowered herself in backwards. The ink on her back began to soften and dissolve in the water.

x

[Philomena]

The water was cold, the cold of water just poured forth from a deep, deep spring. Minnie gasped a moment, then brushed the goose pimples that sprung across her arms. Semiyr’s hands then went behind Minnie’s neck and under the small of her back, and she spoke very softly, “Now. Lie back thyself upon thy back. Let the sea be a bed to thee, and she will hold thee."

Minnie nodded, a bit tentative, and leaned back on Semiyr’s hands, kicking her feet up to the surface. Her buttocks and her head both, suddenly, struck her as rather heavy. She kept her legs rigid, feeling her own weight on Semiyr’s hands.

“Now… breathe, and relax. Sleepest thou thus?” she said the words with a note of teasing to them.

Minnie tried, taking a breath and trying to relax her thighs, her calves, her back. The hands beneath her descended just a little, and Minnie, exhilaratingly, felt the buoyancy of her own flesh helping to keep her on the water - but not alone, not just so. She pressed, involuntarily, against the fleeing hands, frightened they might leave entirely.

“Shush now, Philomena. Thou must put thy trust in me, hmm? Whether my hands are at thy back, I am here.

Minnie tried to relax again, and felt the floating a little, but the hands loosened, and again, her muscles jerked, seeking the comfort of their support. And again, and then, again. Semiyr smiled, with a patient ruefulness.

“Thou must forgive me. I taught my daughters the way of the water, but they sprang from my body already floating. This part is new to me.”

Minnie, still tense, and feeling the water on the side of her face, spoke with a slight choke, moving her mouth as little as possible, “I’m okay.”

“You will not be on top of the water, you’ll be… just inside it. Your ears will be beneath the water, but not your eyes or your mouth, I think. Alright?”

Minnie took a deep breath, and nodded. She grew more rigid now as the hands let her lower in the water, but she tried to relax, feeling the water climb into her ears. And then, the world was still - or more, it was only the world she heard, for the water swallowed the individuation of noise, and purred everything into a soft whir that seemed to come from every direction at once. Minnie closed her eyes, trying to rest, trying to will her body to rest in the water, as she had been told.

And then, she realized, the hands were gone. The momentary thrill of it went down her spine, and her head dipped just a hair with the twitch of her muscles, so that her legs went involuntarily akimbo, seeking solidity. This movement plunged her in entirely, and the hands pulled her back up in more a ball than a resting body. Semiyr only smiled, though a slight confusion was in her eyes, as she lay Minnie out again.

The process repeated - Minnie floated a moment, but this time, it was not even her own twitch that set water over her face, it was simply a ripple of the surface - but sure enough, her legs splayed, and her hair poured into the water matting across her face as she sputtered back to the surface.

Semiyr frowned, now, her brow furrowed, “Let me see… try… let me try something, yes?”

Minnie, gasping now, simply nodded, and took the edge of the pool when it was offered. Semiyr reached her long, strong arms behind her head, and untied her own hair, which fell around her shoulders in a wet cowl of dark and silver. Then, she took the ribbon that had held it back, and sank beneath the water, taking Minnie’s ankles in a strong hand, then quickly drawing the ribbon round them and whirling it into a tight knot. Minnie kicked instinctually, and began pulling herself up out of the water, her barefoot landing a blow beneath the water on Semiyr’s jaw. Semiyr flew back up to the surface.

“What are you doing?” Minnie cried out, terrified, struggling to fight her way out, “Why are you doing this?”

Semiyr kicked up to wrap an arm around Minnie, "Philomena, trust… trust… canst thou hear me?”

Minnie turned, and the fear was in her eyes again, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t tie me up, please don’t.”

Semiyr did not untie her, but wrapped her arms around the small woman, holding her tight against herself, “Shh… shhh… Philomena… thou canst hear me, stay here, thou art here, with Mother Semiyr, in the pool before the House of Lives Lived, and thou art in no danger here. I swear it, I swear it… shh… listen, thine ear is pressed to my heart, listen to my heart, listen.”

Minnie shook, but closed her eyes, trying to regain control of her body, and listened. Semiyr's skin was smooth across the bust, queerly smooth, much smoother than most humans', not slimy like a fish, but soft, like sealskin, and thick beneath its surface. And there, beneath that, a heart thrummed, slow, powerful beats. She pressed her lids shut, listening, trying to still herself into the slow, strong beats.

“There… there… now, listen to me. Breathe, slow… one… two… three… now out. Still thyself, still thyself, begin with the toes, and the fingertips.”

Minnie gripped the sharp tips of her nails into her palm, and Semiyr gently but firmly uncurled the fingers.

“No, I know that trick, oh my friend. Not with pain, but with the water’s cool, or my skin. That is how thou shalt feel them, that is what will swallow thy focus, then untie its' knots. Breathe…. one, two, three… I am here, someone is here, now, someone who cares for thee. Still, still, still...”

Semiyr’s voice shook, with fear and concern now, and Philomena tried harder to still herself. Her body cried back, “We are bound, bound! We are bound up!” She tried to form a message back, but her mind was swirling.

“Philomena… your feet, I have taken thy legs, and given thee a tail. Canst thou feel it? Yes… breathe… one, two, three. And beat they tail, once, twice… canst thou feel it? The earth is a place that hast made thee crawl, and squirm, and slink, and hide, perhaps. But thou hast not the legs that cowered any more, thou hast a long, strong tail, and thou art not in the earth, thou art in the water, reborn, and here thou and I, we shall make the water thine, if the earth is lost to thee for now. Yes?”

Minnie shivered, and felt her face hot, but she was not inside of her face now, she was behind it, a shadow of herself just behind her body.

No… no, listen to her… your tail, close your eyes, Minnie Lefting, close yeour eyes, and feel it, you can think it to be so. It's a tail now, that's all, and you’re ok, and she is our friend, not like Lanie, but a friend, and she will help us.

Semiyr's heart beat beneath her, and a hot tear dripped from Semiyr's cheek above her onto Minnie’s temple. Minnie said nothing, but her grip against the woman slackened, a little, and she tried to return her clenched muscles into life. The cold water touched their hot fear, the cool comfort of it wrapping fingers as slender as reeds across her back. She lay back, and then, Semiyr’s two hands held her up as well. She breathed, and relaxed, relaxed, tried to relax, even as her lips trembled a little bit.

“And I lay like a bird,
On the breast of the sea,
And her hand went over my fevered brow,
I lay like a bird, and she cradled me.
And I thought of the lovers she'd held. Of how
Her hands had brought sighs
From a thousand lips,
Had rocked ‘gainst the prows
Of a thousand ships.
And now it was I who lay by her side.
And for just that moment, the whole sea wide,
Was mine, and only mine.”[/i]

She murmured the words, at first not realizing she was speaking aloud, then realizing it hearing the intimate echo of it through the bones of her own face, amplified by the pool of water that lay inside her ears, now, as well. She stilled into the poem, an old sailor's poem she had known for years, and through the poem, she stilled herself into the water itself.

The hands beneath her were gone. She tensed for a moment, but felt the binding at her ankles - no, at the crux of my tail and she fluttered it tentatively, feeling it buoy her up. She kept her eyes shut and breathed, slow, one, two, three. A second voice just under the water sang to her in response to her poem, distorted by the earth’s contented purr.

“Thine, it was, and only thine,
And thou couldst sigh and rock thy prow
Against her. Blow thy sheeted bow.
And then to rest, and ever, till the end of rest,
To pine for her! To pine!”

She had never heard these words. They were not the next verse of the poem. But she smiled a little bit, and lay, as still as a resting bird, on the surface of the water.

x

[Philomena]

“With thy tail, from waist to tip! Do not simply wiggle the ends, Doctor!” Semiyr laughed. Impartially, Minnie could still hear how the laugh was enchanting and lovely and deep, but in the moment, she was beginning to grow irritated with it, for as Minnie learned awkwardly, unused to such an intimacy with the movement of any muscles but her eyes, her hands and her wrists, the laugh came often and sometimes at a warm length.

“Watch, I will do it again,” Semiyr lay onto water with an effortless ease, and undulated her tail in a slow, sinuous wave, back and forth. IT was beautiful, all the precision of mathematics, with the warm organic qualities of a living body.

“Dost thou see? Start at the top, then down, down, toward the tip.”

Minnie frowned, and said with a touch of frustration, “I think, Ms. Semiyr, that I have three joints - hip knee and ankle - in the space where you seem to have thirty.”

Semiyr laughed long and hard at this, “Perhaps, perhaps. Lay, then, perhaps thy stroke shall have to begin higher, in thy back and belly, where the articulation is finer.”

Minnie sighed and lay on the surface, and tried again. She moved - she had learned to move forward a bit with a kick that resembled nothing so much as a clumsy, one-legged frog - but it was graceless, and as much (inadvertently, of course) to the side as it was forwards.

“Thy…knees,” she said the words queerly, unfamiliar in her mouth, “They are trying to do the work. Here… a moment. Still the tail. Try kicking with the breast,” she touched just at Minnie’s sternum, “the belly,” she touched at her bare navel, “And the… heaps,” and she touched just at the side of Minnie’s left buttock.

Minnie stared at her blankly, unsure of whether she’d just been insulted, “Heaps?”

Semiyr frowned, and tried the word again, “Hyeps. Hee-eps. Hyeeps.”

Minnie mouthed the word, again “Hyeps? Hee-ips? Hi— Oh! Hips!”

Semiyr looked confused, “OF course, that is what I said, yes? Thy Heaps?”

Minnie laughed now, and Semiyr gave a bemused smile. Minnie lay back again, feeling her hair trail down below her, and closed her eyes. A firm hand behind her back pushed her chest forward, while a second pushed her belly downwards. She half sat up with the awkward movement, in the water, and Semiyr caught her quickly, before saying, “Ah, but keep thy shoulders flat, and thy head lying back . And the… knees. Lay them just on the surface, and do not make them go up or down, hmm?”

Minnie lay back, and tried again. The movement felt awkward, and a bit grating on her unaccustomed skeleton - but also, in a way, it had a hint of a grace to it, a grace waiting to be had, perhaps. It was like dancing almost, like watching the ballerinas, with the clean, long curvatures of their spines, on the opera stage. It felt sinuous, or like, if her body would obey her, it would be sinuous. She tried to feel the individual bones and muscles of her back, to tack the Z shape she felt, and soften it, strengthen it into an S. Then, the hands moved, and her back was pressed flat again while her hips raised up in the water. Her feet dipped in concert, and she began to feel a connectedness to it. She tried to feel the same S, reversed now, but it rolled downwards now. The movement pulled at the muscles of her belly.

The hands moved back, and she tried to replicate the shape herself. It felt awkward, more like the snap of a whip, and she began to sink, but felt the hand of Semiyr buoy her a little, and saw the hint of a glint in the woman’s eye. She kept trying, and then, like a revelation, her feet whipped downward as the musculature wave rolled down her body - and for the first second, she felt, almost, as if she DID feel transformed, made into something like an Akvatari. She closed her eyes again, and tried it again, and her body jerked forwards. She stood up, “Was that closer?”

“Don’t stop, now! Again! Again, connect it together, rolling, rolling!” Semiyr’s voice was excited now.

Minnie, a little flustered lay on the water, again, and tried the kick, but she did not think through it, and it snapped instead of fluttering, making a splash, but no movement.

Breathe, calm, calm, you’re a seal, you have a long, smooth body, Minnie Lefting, that flutters in the water.

She concentrated, breathed, one-two-three, feeling each of her muscles slowly, from the toes and fingertips inward: the movement was not natural at all, for all that it was graceful, and she had to think almost bone by bone, muscle by muscle, simply to decide what to pull and what to push. She fluttered just a little, in the water.

Like an Akvatari with no wings, long, long, flowing, flowing… her hair picked into the current flowing in curls across her neck with the churning of the water, Flowing, flowing. What would my name be if I was an Akvatari? An anagram… Writing sister… no… Inking Sister. And Lanie could be Story Sister. Kinstreising? And Streisytros. That is nice - it sounds like we’re sisters. And Mara would be... Treddoha. Would she be a sister? I do not know... I do not... I wonder if Lanie would love her as I did. And The Evalin would be Aunt Dowplisha, and Qalaya… no, Qalaya’s name is perfect already. Mother Qalaya, that’s already a name, that is…

A hand wrapped round her back taking her shoulder, halting her abruptly, and she realized she’d been moving… almost quickly, hands stretched out long and slender above her head, in… well, a little curve, but not so bad. Something quite like forwards.

“I had it, I… why did you stop me?”

Semiyr smiled, and laughed again, but the laugh did not grate now, “Well, thou almost had it into the side of the pool, Philomena.”

Minnie turned, and saw that she was nearly at the end of the long pool, and laughing alongside, her small giggle spiraled like a spindle in the center of the long broad strokes of Semiyr’s laugh.

x

[Philomena]

At the end of the pool, a gateway lay beneath the surface of the water, into an underwater passage. Here the spring swept down beneath the surface to pour forth again at the bottom of a small hill. For all of her newly found skill, Minnie did not follow Semiyr’s urging into the little tunnel, instead climbing from the pool, and picking her way down a fall of rough, old stone - broken pieces of what had once been a clearly colossal statue that, much to Minnie’s dismay, she had no time to decipher the shape or significance of. There was not even an old path through it - it was trackless, and not designed for feet.

In the crevices, bits and pieces had wedged themselves over the years - the broken body of a doll, half of its face staring plaintivey upward, a snapped canvas, rain-sodden with only the faint shadow of an unhealthy smile, a length of rope, stained dark with something that Minnie endeavored not to examine too closely.

At the bottom, she lowered herself from the enormous pupil of a broken stone eye towards a pool, where Semiyr swam below. Her feet did not reach, and she only hesitated a moment before letting go to plash into the water. The trousers, for all of their better qualities, chafed at her with the force that only a sodden seam on a damp cold thigh can, and the water, with its lubricative qualities was a welcome blessing. She struggled a moment, her legs splaying again, and Semiyr took her up, tying her feet tightly together again. Minnie did not watch, but she did not panic, breathing, slow long breaths, the way she had been shown, feeling the pressure of heel to heel, the conjunction of her sharp anklebones into each other, and the taut force of the ribbon on her ankles. She felt all these things, and with deep breaths, accepted them. Semiyr's heart was not beneath her ear, but instead, Minnie pressed her hand against her own heart, feeling it pulse, slower and slower and she breathed.

“All is well?”

Minnie breathed deep, but nodded, “All is well.”

Here the spring poured into a canal with a fair current, so that Minnie hardly had to swim at all, merely kicking plaintively to continue to wash the feeling of the movement across herself. The ink was washed nearly entirely from her skin, only a grey shadow of Lanie’s name still visible across her chest. Semiyr said nothing, simply guiding her along.

The canal was a thoroughfare, it seemed, only in the commercial sense. There were very few other swimmers (pedestrians seemed, to Minnie, entirely the wrong word, given the circumstances), but the did swim slowly past the occasional barge, carrying things too heavy to be borne in a flying Akvatari’s arms - a load of glimmering green marble, shot with veins of milky white, a roasted sea-beast that Minnie did not recognize, nearly as large as three men together and served cold with green cakes around it like kelp fritters, a great, wooden crate with a decidedly nervous looking Akvatari hovering about it, calling commands to a group of dark-skinned men with clothes wrapped over the hair, in a tongue Minnie did not recognize. Even these barges were rare.

There were a few arched entryways. Most of these seemed empty, though a few bore the shadows of avatar, mostly sleeping in the heat of the day. Occaisionally, ropes would lower around them, from platforms jutting out from the spires that towered overhead like phantasmagoric skeletons of long-dead trees. The ropes bore pails, or pots, that sank into the water, filled, and were lifted, sparkling, back upwards to the platforms.

The sun was hard and strong, and they meandered in the water, keeping to the shadier corners, but the canal was, mostly, a dead river, its banks carved long, long ago from the native sand-stone, but with no plants, or even soil, to be seen. It was a bleak sort of beauty, and it was heavy on Minnie. She stayed very close to Semiyr.

Then, the canal wound toward a stone wall. The wall was unadorned, a round building, broad like a cylinder, and with a lip that folded outwards, so that they stood in its shade. Seamer stopped just under the canopy, landlocked at Philomena, with a half-smile, “Well, we shall rest now, then.”

Philomena frowned, realizing she was panting for breath - the swimming, as limited as it had been, was exhausting work, “Is it… far from here? Where are we going?”

Semiyr smiled and fluttered upward, utterly unwinded, and took Minnie’s hand, pulling her onto the shoreline, “Its just inside these walls.” She ignored the second question altogether.

Minnie sat awkwardly with her ankles still bound, “Wait.. .then.. why don’t we just.. go inside?”

“I will wash thy hair a bit, and thou shalt regain thy breath, and rest. Besides… I would have thee see the place, the first time, in the dark of night.”

Minnie nodded, compliantly, and Semiyr unbound her feet. Minnie stood, and rotated her feet stretching the stiff ankles. Semiyr floated on, to a little building, shaped like the bloom of a rose. IT was worn, but carefully, beautifully carved.

“What is this?”

Semiyr shrugged softly, “A house.”

“Whose is it?”

Semiyr laughed, “I do not know. It's empty. It's ours, then, at least for today. Come.” She flew to the lip of the petals, and bent, reaching to grab Minnie’s hands, helping her climb up awkwardly. The middle of the rose opened into a small chamber, painted a deep rose color, with a deep cushion in the center, and a little shallow pool just below.

Minnie felt uncomfortable - the cushion did not look old. In fact the linens seemed rather freshly changed. She sat very awkwardly on the edge, “Are you sure that… no one lives here?”

Semiyr smiled, as she fluttered to the little pools, lying her tail in it, “IT is unlikely - most will tie a marker out their door. If it is, I’m sure they will be understanding. Now, come.” Minnie came by the pool, and squatted on her hams. Semiyr laughed, “Come, enough of that, in the water with you, I’ll wash your hair.”

She did - it was divine, though Semiyr laughed at the amount of dust and grime she found buried in the short locks. Minnie realized she had not properly bathed since… she could not remember quite how long. The asylum? Then Semiyr went and lay on the cushions, and Minnie pulled the trousers and binding off, and dipped herself into the water, and scrubbed. There was no soap, but she took handfuls of sand and scoured her skin with it.

Then, she crawled out, exhausted from the swim and the scouring, and crawled back into the clothing. She rolled onto the cushion and sighed - it was so terribly, terribly soft and deep. She closed her eyes, and then immediately felt a warmth beside her, as Semiyr rolled sideways, and rested a hand on Minnie’s belly. Minnie grew stiff at this, and Semiyr backed up a little bit, lifting her hand. Minnie’s eyes opened just a moment, and took the hand and put it back on her belly. one of the great moth wings folded over her, and the fine, silver-grey dust of it fell on Minnie’s skin. She closed her eyes, and slept.

x

[Philomena]

She dreamt a queer dream, and a short one, a nap-dream with the half-conscious elements of that sort of dreaming. It involved Lanie, and a city beneath the sea full of beautiful fish-eyed people, and a magical ship that went beneath the water instead of over it, and she could not remember just what happened, but it had been a pleasant dream, and Minnie had been there, and could breathe beneath the water, and felt the same exhausted peace as when she had stopped swimming.

She awoke because she had grown mildly chilly, and looked about her to see that Semiyr rested on her tail, now, upright beside the bed, her wings folded over her back. She had her hands raised up behind her head, and was carefully tying her hair into a complex knot. She turned hearing Philomena, and it pulled the muscles of her neck, so that they were highlighted in the faint moonlight that poured into the flower’s opening.

“Good evening. Come, we’ve one more stretch to swim, but it’s very, very short.”

Minnie nodded, feeling the pleasing laziness of tired lambs enwombed in warm, deep bedding. She stretched, not like a cat, but something (at least she imagine it so) like a seal, legs gathered together like a curled tail, back curving out, and then in, rotating the juncture of her hips back and forth,then up and down.

“Where are we going?”

Semiyr smiled with a glint of mischief in her eyes and turned back, beginning to finish her hair, “Let a woman have her little secrets.”

Minnie, if she was honest with herself, enjoyed the not-knowing a bit. She trusted her guide, and the whole day now, in retrospect, felt like an adventure, in a way that she hardly remembered in her past. She had not felt the inklings of an adventuring spirit since… well, not since Lanie, it seemed, not like this, just the pure joy of new and undiscovered things, the tang not so much of danger as wonder.

She pulled herself up to her feet, and readjusted the band around her chest, and shook out the still-damp trousers on her legs. Her skin felt plump and filled with water still, and gloriously, freshly clean, still rosy with the warmth of a hard scrubbing. She followed Semiyr, who tied the last of her hair into the knot, and now fluttered up over the lip of the flower. Minnie scrabbled out and onto the edge of the petal, where she tried to climb down, but instead slid, to land with a plop on her feet, like a fisher’s daughter playing at sliding down the scum-slick boulders in the harbor back home. The sand squeaked beneath her feet, dry, and still holding the last warmth of the day’s sun. They went to the canal’s edge, and Semiyr went to take Minnie’s feet. Minnie sat on the edge and offered them, leaning back and stretching her back again.

“Wait… there is nowhere left to swim here. We’re at a wall.”

“There is a gate, beneath the wall," she tied the knot tightly.

Minnie stopped and looked down, “Under… the water?”

Semiyr smiled, “I will help thee, Philomena. Thou hast trusted me so far, yes?”

Minnie frowned, and paused, but after a moment she nodded. Her feet tied firmly, she slid into the water, with a half turn. She had not realized how deep the canal had grown when she had been swimming earlier, her feet found no purchase beneath them, only empty, deep water. Looking down, this was not simply a function of her height: She could not see the bottom in the dim light. She pushed, with still a bit of tenativeness, out onto her back, but immediately, her body felt a vague familiarity. She breathed: one, two, three, out, one two, three, and felt the cold water on finger, palm, wrist, forearm, the crook of her elbow, ever inward, ever closer to the center of her.

Then Semiyr touched her arm, “I will keep thy hand, let thy heart be secure. I would not take thee into danger without warning.”

Minnie nodded, and kept her eyes nervously fixed on Semiyr’s.

“Now: it is the breath that matters. Pour thy lungs full of it, until they burn with the fullness. Fill them to the utmost corners. Ready?”

Minnie nodded, and she drew in air in a long, deep gulp. Semiyr breathed deeply, then with flip she went beneath the water. Minnie turned over on her belly and kicked, sinking slowly.

Beneath the water, the light grew tricksy and inconstant, flickering, lighting up Semiyr’s eyes then dancing against the rock wall. Semiyr had rolled onto her back, now, and held her hands out toward Minnie. Minnie kicked - the feeling of swimming on her belly instead of her back, and beneath the water, was odd. She took the other woman's hands, and Semiyr beat her strong tail, pulling Minnie down, down, down. Minnie beat her own tail, trying to keep time with Semiyr, but mostly she was pulled along. Her lungs tingled, and her body began to grow upset. They swam into a gateway, Semiyr undulating, quick and strong, the snap of her tail-fins sending a knot of water Minnie could feel roll down her body from her neck to her feet as she swam.

No, not my feet. Wy tail. We can swim through this, we are Akvatari.

She went to close her eyes, but then, the light came. Beneath her stood a stone arch,and Semiyr pulled her faster and faster into it. The tunnel was long and fairly narrow, and the stone walls of it were carved in a pattern that rushed past so quickly that Minnie could not place it. Organic, flesh-like almost. A light shone at the end, pale red-to-pink, dim, but brighter, and brighter as they approached, and then flew out of the tunnel's end. Minnie’s lungs hurt now. She poured air from them out into the water, in a great, irregular bubble that flew upwards to escape out the water’s surface. Her mind began to reel, and the red light grew stronger, defining itself into a series of points, coming from every direction. She began to fight furiously upward, a touch of panic entering her, and Semiyr tugged her harder and harder up, up, up.

And then, she burst from the water with a splutter, and dozens of points of red light grew sharp and clear, spiraling up, up, up around her, upwards into the sky. Minnie gasped, gulping air down with powerful urgency, drinking the red light with it. She could almost feel the light filling her belly. She raised her hands, and saw the gloves superimposed on the light, like white birds. Semiyr drew her to a shore, a lip of stone, and Minnie drew breath.

The points of light were, she could see now, as her mind slowed and clarified, lanterns, beautiful lanterns of burnished brass. Some sat on the sand itself, some hung before doorways, but most were suspended on long curving rods, by alcoves in the stone - it was these that had made the effect, for they rose in the sides to the very highest parts of the wall. There were other alcoves that stood empty, like shut and shadowed eyes, and still others where a lamp hung, but it was put out, only a faint yellow gleam of the moon showing the metal.

And a strange odor, an odor of musk and clean damp, the animal version of a flower. Sweat, and damp fur mixed into the scent, and wavered in the air, blending with the clean, pure scent of burning spermaceti. She could not place the smell, though it seemed familiar, like a variation on a song that she had heard long ago.

She pulled herself up with the help of Semiyr, and heard, faint with distance, a song, low and thrumming like a hymn, somber and haunting. It came from high on the wall, and Semiyr squeezed her Qalaya-hand, so that even through the glove, Minnie could feel each contour of the strong fingers. Semiyr’s wings spread slowly, and her eyes closed. The hymn grew richer and deeper, and very… body-ish. Earthy.

The opera singers at home tried to sound as if music came from them with the an effortless grace. This hymn was different. It frayed and wavered with each curl and corner of the singer’s throat, with less the inhuman grace of a dancer, and more… in the end, it reminded Minnie of a stevedore she had seen once, when she was young by the quayside. He was a beautiful, long-limber man stripped to the waist, hoisting hogsheads of salt-beef from the quay to a ship’s gunwales. He had been at it for some time When Minnie had seen him, and his muscles strained at the weight of them, moving with a purposeful force that seemed like a spirit of the hot wind of his breath, powerful gasps that jerked the great barrel up, and then down with a percussive joy.

The hymn grew and then changed, reaching a kind of bridge, where melody left it and it droned on a winding monotone, still flecked with the breath and gasp of the singer, with the force of diaphragm and throat and mouth. The drone grew stronger, stronger, until the tone of it was gone, and all that was left was the gasp and unearthly breath, too strong for an untrained throat, and echoing through walls like the panting of a god. Semiyr trembled visibly, and Minnie turned to put a hand to the woman's cheek in concern. Semiyr pressed her cheek against the hand with enough force that Minnie felt the woman’s breath fluttering past the flesh of her cheek, quick and a little ragged.

And then from far above, a second voice came, but its sound was animal, untrained, a groan of an ending of a thing, and the drone wrapped around it as the groan rose with a thrill,and fell away into silence. The drone sunk, and fell back into a spare, solemn melody, growing quieter and quieter. Semiyr relaxed beneath Minnie’s hand.

Minnie spoke softly, her voice unsteady, “They are… they just…”

Semiyr nodded, her smile sad and soft. Far above, an akvatari spread a pair of bright yellow wings, and circled upwards toward the sky. The platform from which she had risen had a lantern with no flame. A second Akvatari flew to sit lazily on the edge. She took a taper and lit the lantern again, the red light shining against her bare skin.

Minnie turned to look at Semiyr, “Semiyr… I… you’re kind, I think, but, I don’t… I don’t...”

Semiyr laughed, her face dark and her eyes almost invisible in the playful light, “Yes, yes. I know, Doctor. The world has other pleasures, come. I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

Semiyr fluttered on, but Minnie did not follow for a moment. This felt too fast, and too close, and she felt of a sudden cold and frightened. Semiyr turned, and her face was sad, but kind, “Philomena, I have perhaps asked too much of thee, today. Know, please, I have asked it of love for thee, friend. We shall leave if thou wishest it.”

Minnie said, very, very small, “No… y'will… y’will keep me safe?”

SEmiyr, smiled and kissed her cheek, “I will leave only when thou askest.”

Minnie nodded, with a frightened solemnity, “I will come, then, where thou takest me.”

Semiyr took arm, and Minnie clung to it, though, with Semiyr’s low flight and greater height it was an awkward gesture. They crossed, then, the surface of the earth. The air was still now. They stepped from the stone lip, and Minnie felt grass beneath her, sweet-smelling as the short timothy and bruised thyme of a walk in the Zastoska foothills. flowers, shadow-dark in the red light, brushed her calves. They crossed to beneath the lip of a great ledge in the rock, with a pool beneath it. Here, a great basket, something like that which Minnie rode in the shaft of the House of Lives Lived, floated placidly on the water.

Semiyr flew over the water to pull it to shore; as it moved, a head arose, and then a second, and a third. They were Akvatari children, their wings still small no broader than an octavo volume, with dark hair and eyes the color cold tea. Between them lay what Minnie could only guess was a toy or game of some sort, a silver disc with smaller discs of colored glass scattered over its surface. In the center, a silver ewer rested, half-filled with the glass chips.

The smallest of the three children, so young that Minnie wondered if she was weaned, held one of the green discs to her mouth, probing the corners of it with her tongue solemnly. Another of the three, a boy perhaps a few years older than the other two, spoke with a soft lisp, looking to Minnie.

“Who are you?”

Semiyr smiled, “Good evening, Lebgynsol. Thy elder sister hath her lamp lit, yes? I bring her a visitor.”

Lebgynsol frowned, a petulant childish look that made Minnie think of Gypa from long ago, filling her with a longing kindness. The boy responded with almost a sputter, “But she has legs!”

SEmiyr laughed, softly, “She is a friend of mine. You will understand that, perhaps?”

The boy frowned, “She can’t fly. How will she get up?”

SEmiyr quirked a smile, but Minnie spoke to the boy with a quiver of the echo of her harbor-son, “Can I take your boat, child? I will pay you a fare, if you like?”

Semiyr grinned at this, but said nothing. The boy cocked his head in thought, “What dost thou make?”

Minnie clucked her tongue, and blushed a bit, “I’ve no craft—“

Semiyr interrupted, “—but for telling stories. Philomena will tell you a story, that will do, yes?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up and she dropped he disc from her mouth, “A thtory! Thtory! Libby, we want a thtory!” The third child, a little girl, smiled winningly while blushing a hue of rose made richer by the lantern light above her head. She turned and burrowed her face shyly into the cushioned bottom of the basket.

Lebgynsol frowned, but nodded, “A story, yes. But not just with humans.”

Minnie stammered a bit, but Semiyr smiled reassuringly.

“You… want a s-story about an Akvatari?”

Lebgynsol, nodded imperiously, “Yes, that will do. A child. Adult stories are dreary.”

Minnie nodded, and stepped carefully into the basket, and to her surprise, Semiyr followed after, slithering to the far side to take the baby into her lap. The baby burrowed into her with the familiarity of long acquaintance, and turned her head to watch Minnie. The middle child pulled a blanket around her, so that it hid all her face but her eyes, but shifted just a little closer to Minnie. The boy - a big boy, of course, and not so babyish as the other two! - Sat politely at one side.

Minnie thought. The tale she had long ago told to a little girl who had been hurt by her father sprung to mind, and her eyes closed a moment, remembering wrapping her tight in an old skirt, to make a tail. No. Not that story, not… that story. It was hers.

[i]But other stories, you told them stories, we could bend one just a little bit, perhaps?[/i[

“Very well, I'll tell a story, but you may not believe it. IT is a wonder-story. Will that do?”

"A wonder story?" The middle girl peeked out from her blanket just a little bit.

Minnie nodded, "A story of strange things, and queer occurrences."

The baby squirmed on Semiyr's lap, "An' animalth?"

Minnie nodded, solemnly, "Not just any animal, but one of the greatest of animals: a mouse."

The boy clucked his tongue, "A mouse? That's not great!"

The middle girl frowned, "Hush, Libby! What knowest thou? It would depend on the mouse."

Semiyr chuckled softly, "The child speaketh wisdom. Tell on, Raconteuse."

And she took a deep breath and slid the fingers of her left hand inside the glove, quietly, to touch the Q on the back of her right hand, and thought of Gypa and of Shearsy, and of long, long ago, remembering…

x

[Philomena]

THE BIRTH OF TILETI
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
———————————

SETTING: A Basket-boat that floats upon a pond
CHARACTERS:
PHILOMENA: Come from far-away, and with no wings or tail, who tells the tale
SEMIYR: Auntie to all children
LEBGYNSOL: Libby, then. A child of ten, just tinted with th’unwondering sorrow of adults
BELSLEA: Bella, seven years, and shy, but dear to those who seek good listeners
REMRY KECHE: Or, Tumbledown, who lithps quite prettily: The baby, wicked in the dear way of an infant.

MINNIE: Long ago, then, once, there was a girl,

BELLA: An Akvatari girl?

MINNIE: Indeed she was!
An Akvatari girl: hair dark as sea
In Autumn storms, but skin like winter wheat--

SEMIYR: Or sugar-sand, if wheat thou hast ne’er seen,
As sand upon the strand beneath the chalk--

MINNIE: But most of all, her eyes, like pearls, with stone
Of sable-black embedded in them.

TUMBLEDOWN: Oh!
How pretty then she must have been!

MINNIE: So much,
In fact, that all the Akvatari ached
To see her have a child, to carry on
Those fateful eyes, for all to look upon.

LIBBY: Whose eyes are like that, though? I’ve never seen —

BELLA: Of course not, it’s to be a tragedy,
She’ll have no children, will she? She’ll be lost!

MINNIE: Not quite: this tale is not the tale of she,
But of her daughter.

BELLA: Daughter?

MINNIE: Yes, indeed!
We’ll come to that. But first a name —

TUMBLEDOWN: A name?
I want to pick it —

LIBBY: Thou canst not do that!

TUMBLEDOWN: Why not? Thomeone mutht pick the name!

MINNIE: I’l let you pick the mother's, how is that?

BELLA: But Tumbledown’s a baby: She can’t spell.

SEMIYR: Then Belslea, be her sister. Let her choose
The word, and you should tumble it for her?

TUMBLEDOWN: I want to name her Pretty Cat.

LIBBY: You’re such
A baby!

BELLA: Hush… I think that I can make
A name of that: Of Pretty Cat —say… Cytteprat.

MINNIE: That’s pretty, Bella.

TUMBLEDOWN: That’th not fair! ’twas I
Who picked the word!

MINNIE: You’re right, forgive me, love,
You both are champion namers, in my book.
So now we have name: the next shall be
A day when Cytteprat goes by the sea,
And sees — well, that’s another tale. Indeed,
I could have chosen that to tell to thee:
How Cytteprat was wed to the Goldfish Queen.

THREE CHILDREN: Goldfish Queen!

MINNIE: A queen she was indeed,
She wore no crown, because she had no need:
Her golden scales were like a hoard of fire,
Her whiteness eyes so round, that they aspired
To rival e’en the sun! Her fins were thin
As tissue-vellum. So, my darlings, when
The moon shone on them, ’twas not trapped therein,
But filtered through a cast a glow of rose
Where, had she legs, then she would have had toes!

LIBBY: How dost thou expect us to believe
She’d turn from her own kind, instead to cleave
Unto a fish!

SEMIYR: She warned you, Libby-dear -
This is a wonder-tale.

TUMBLEDOWN: I’m glad it is!
I want to be the houthwife for a fish!

BELLA: But tell us that tale next time! Tell us now
About her child.

MINNIE: Well, late one Winter’s Eve,
The Goldfish Queen grew pensive, and received
A whisper from the Goddess of the Fish.

LIBBY: What god is this!

MINNIE: I couldn’t say her name.
The sort of god to which men cannot pray.
Her name will not form on the lips of men,
For its in Fish’s tongue, and can be said,
Alone, by creatures of the pond and sea.

But luckily our queen was one of these.

TUMBLEDOWN: I want to hear the Goddeth Fish’th name!

SEMIYR: But hush, did you not hear, my dear? She can’t!

MINNIE: Well… if you’ll all lean forwards, I shall tell,
A secret to you: I’m a fish as well!
At least in part, My father was the son
Borne of a sturgeon and a washerwoman.
So, if you promise,you will keep your peace
About my secret, I’ll endeavor here
To tell you all the Goddess-fish’s name.

TUMBLEDOWN: I’ll never tell!

SEMIYR: My lips are sealed as well.

LIBBY: Alright, I’ll promise, for my sister’s sake.

BELLA: I’ll carry it, a secret, to my grave.

MINNIE: Such solemn words! Then listen close to me.
I only say it once outside the sea,
And only to such confidants as thee:
Her name was Glubglubbubbleflubbenflool.

TUMBLEDOWN: That’s a silly name!

MINNIE: Oh, but it’s not!
In fish tongue, names like that mean quite a lot.
Her name means “She who wanders through the waves
And hears the prayers of fishes, and obeys
Their pleas.”

SEMIYR: That is a solemn name, indeed.
I wish all god-words were as kind as these.

MINNIE: What do you think the Goddess-Fish would say,
Upon the chill of that sea-winter’s day?
She whispered very soft: “I’ve heard your prayer.”
“But Goddess!” said the queen, “I’ve never said
My prayer aloud!” “Ah yes, you’ve prayed instead
Inside your heart: you wish to have child.
With Cytteprat: No, do not be ashamed,
It is a worthy prayer, so that in fact,
I’m here to tell you how, with Cytteprat,
Thou might, this once, conceive a little girl.
And she shall be a great one of the world:
Shall do great deeds, much larger than you’d think,
An Akvatari and a Goldfish Queen,
Could presuppose. A heroine she’ll be.
And when she’s born, you’ll name her Tileti.”

BELLA: T-I-L-E-T-I - decrypted, these
Spell Little!

MINNIE: Yes, indeed. And so, my love,
Consider as I tell the rest to thee,
What lesson such a name hath taught to me.
And then perhaps to thee.
And so, she told
A secret way, the child was to be born.
The Queen went to her chamber, where she lay
And pressed from out her wombs a clutch of eggs.
And in the midst of these, she found the one,
As clear as water from the mountains, run
Toward the distant sea - and this she took
And brought it to the Queenly Mansion’s cook,
And had him make a dish of bread and cheese
Such as a man might eat. And she took these
Foodstuffs. And in them placed the limpid egg
to bring to Cytteprat, and bade her eat.
And Cytteprat, a gracious kiss bestowed
Upon the Goldish queen’s most queenly nose.
And nibbled at the bread and cheese alone.
Until she finished. Then lay on a stone
And went to sleep, but presently awoke,
A called unto the queen, and thus she spoke:

“I feel a quickening in my womb, and yet,
I have not known a man, you must believe
That I am faithful, in all things to thee!
I’m frightened, for I do not know what deed
Was done to put a child inside of me.”

Then came the Queen unto her, happy-teared,
And told her their good fortune, and they shared
A joy, in that, that has not been eclipsed
By joy on sea-floor, current, air, or ship.

And later, by year, and then a day,
In agonies, she birthed a lovely babe,
And came the Goldfish Queen, in fishy tears,
To meet their daughter.
Oh, but was she dear!
She bore the eyes of Cytteprat, indeed
she bore that mother’s traits entirely,
Except atop her head, where curls unrolled
Of finest hair, in tints of rosy gold!

The Goldfish Queen, then struggled to espy
Her daughter’s beauty with her rheumy eyes -
You are surprised? The Queen had grown to be
An ancient of her people. You must see
That goldfish live for 30 years, and not
A dozen years past that. And in the space
Of one year and a day, she’d nearly spent
The last of her earth’s tenure, so she went
To look upon her child as her last act,
And so it was to be, in point of fact.
For first she kissed the child, and in a voice,
Made venerable by age, she gave the name
Her goddess had bestowed upon her child:
“She shall be called Tileti,” and a sigh
Of great fatigue enrobed her, so she lied
Upon the bed beside her b’loved bride,
And with a kiss, she closed her eyes, and died.

I’ve made the story somber, now—

I’m sorry."

x

[Philomena]

Belslea’s eyes were wet, but she pushed herself with her tail toward Minnie, and lay her head in the woman's lap. The other two children looked somberly down, without embarrassment.

“What did she make for her?” Belslea asked.

Minnie looked down, at the voice, and into the eyes of the little girl, “What do you mean?”

“When she died, what made she for the Goldfish Queen? She would not let her die without making something?” her eyes had a queer quality, almost pleading. The baby looked up hopefully at this, and even Lebgynsol sucked thoughtfully on his lower lip.

Of course, Minnie Lefting. They would make something when someone dies, wouldn’t they, here? her mind turned it over and over.

“A… erm… a song.”

Belslea nodded, “What was the song?”

Minnie’s mind thought of this. A number of songs occurred to her, first an aria mourning a lover after a suicide, that she had heard long ago - but opera seemed a bit… formal for a children’s story. So she thought instead of folk songs, the sort that old women sang on the banks of Mathew's Bay while they scrubbed clothes or scaled fish.

“Sing me a Diraline, I shall hear—“ she spoke, clearly and slowly.

“No, not like that!” spoke up the baby, “Thou mutht thing it.”

Minnie blushed hard, and nearly refused, but their eyes did her in. She cleared her throat, then sang in a creaking, pitchy voice, the voice she would have crooned her own darlings to sleep with, long ago:

Sing me a Diraline, I will hear,
Sing it both soft and true,
And I will wait beside Lhex’s gate,
I will wait for you, my love,
I will wait for you.

The baby’s eyes grew very wide, stunned to quiet, for a moment, before she stumbled words over her chubby lips, “Why… thy mama did not teach thee to sing!” And at this the baby’s lip began to quiver in something between shock and pity.

Libby, now, seeing that the baby was growing upset and Minnie embarrassed, piped in, “Then, we shall have to help, for thou art our guest. Come Bella.” And he began in a mezzo-soprano as clear and vibrationless as a desert sun, to sing a dance-like pattern of triplets, soft and legato.

“Lu—la, Lu—la, Lu—la, Lu”

Bella listened for a moment and then with a voice still carrying the slender beauty of a child’s song began at Minnie’s melody line. It was not quite the same as the Zeltivan tune, for Minnie had not sung it clearly, but it was lovely, and it danced light as air across the stones of Libby’s triplets:

Sing me a Diraline, I shall hear
Sing it both soft and free,
And I shall wait at the Lhexine gate,
I shall wait for thee, my love,
I shall wait for thee.

Then her eyes closed, and she went into a verse, perhaps scraps of poetry of the Akvtari that she wound into the existing chorus. Hearing this, Semiyr began humming a low and pulsating drone, in a rich, aged alto. Libby changed the timbre of his triplets, just enough to blend with the alto line.

I’ve gathered my flowers,
And prayed my prayers,
I swam in the depths of the sea.
And though Gods may have thought that I would not dare,
I called unto thee, oh child of the west,
And took thee and held thee against my breast,
And pledged myself to thee.

The baby joined in a harmony, lisping the words as she went, as the chorus came up again,

Sing me a Diraline, I shall hear
Sing it both soft and free,
And I shall wait at the Lhexine gate,
I shall wait for thee, my love,
I shall wait for thee.

Libby sang the next verse, with the mild and heroic aggression of a young boy:

Though the heavens send tempests
To drown my song
In the shouts of an angry sea,
Put thy hand to earth and before too long,
You shall hear with your hands, through the echoing stones,
My heart beating songs through the earth’s own bones:
Songs of my love for thee!

And at this, a plaintive cry, not of a voice, but of an instrument fell, pulling the four singer’s strains together. Minnie looked up, and there on the ledge above them was a man holding a mandolin in his hands, with a long, solemn face, and a scar across his lips. Behind him, hovering serenely on pale butterfly wings patterned with a thousand shades of white, was a beautiful Akvatari woman, perhaps nineteen years old, with hair the color of forged iron, and a generous, sensual mouth. Her left hand was wound into the mandolinist’s hair, and her right was against her belly. She sang a ringing counterpoint to the melody, in a voice as broad as the sea itself, so that as the group sang the same humble chorus, the woman sang not a Diraline, but an echo of it, the song of the heart’s anger at the fickle injustice of fate:

Sing me a Diraline, I shall hear: Though I quell at the stare of the eyes of death
Sing it both soft and free, Yet my heart is much the fears of my mortal breath
And I shall wait at the Lhexine gate,
And I shall wait for thee, my love,
I shall wait for thee.

And the song grew still, the voices stopping and holding on a unison note, except for the baby, who simply grew quiet, and the mandolin, which strummed the unison note with a flutter of fingers, and the woman on the platform, who took a deep breath, and then with a great tenderness, slowing the tempo by nearly half, she sang a last, quiet verse.

So, fear not the pressure of Dira’s lips,
Or the shadowy spirit-sea.
For thy cheek, after death, shall bear one last kiss!

This word rose into a high, piercing note, a fermata that pulled the other voices into silence.

For e’en in the heavens, no love has been,
Like the love of Cytteprat for her Goldfish Queen,
Like the love that I bear for thee.

And the little nest was quiet for a moment, and still but for Belslea, who rose to sit up, again. It was Semiyr who broke the silence.

“Hello, Krindre-my-Leibsänger.”

The woman on the platform smiled with a sad tenderness, “Hello, Semiyr-my-Geldescrier. Thou bringest me a guest, fit to make my sparrows sing, hmm?”

x

[Philomena]

Minnie at this, half rose, and performed a curtsy, turning red as a beet, “Philomena Lefting of Zeltiva, Ms… Kraindere. At y’humble sairvice. I’m sorry for the… the noise… I can go if you wish.”

The woman smiled, and spoke, “What odd creatures Zeltivans are, for they apologize for their virtues, and then offer you a vice in recompense! Thou, milady Doctor, art welcome to encourage my brother and sisters to naughtiness whenever thou wishest.”

The mandolin player rose, and leaned in to kiss Krindre’s cheek, “I’ll get the lamp, thou my dear one.” He turned then, and stepped to the platforms edge, and opened the glass of the brass lamp, lighting it. It shone a steady, cheerful red as he flew away.

Semiyr smiled, still petting the baby’s hair quietly, “The fair doctor is here to employ the gifts of a Leibsänger.”

Krindre frowned,and Minnie paled, “A human? I have not heard of this. I have met humans before. They have sought an animal, in my experience, not an artist.”

Minnie blushed hard, “I… I dunny know what… I dunny want--”

Semiyr reached her tail to touch Minnie’s foot, gently, and Minnie met her eyes. She was smiling calmly, “This one is a friend, my Leibsänger. She seeketh no animal, that I can assure you.”

Krindre was silent for a moment, and cocked her head, “I am become curious, thou knowest too well my weakness, Mother Semiyr. Very well. Come in.”

Minnie blushed again, “I dunny… I dunny know, what we’re… I can pay my own way.”

Krindre laughed softly. Her laugh was cold, but not cruel, the cold of a chill evening wind after a hot day, “Pay? Very well, if thou wishest it. Thou may pay in the telling of the other half of the story thou hast begun. Afterwards.”

Bella looked up to her older sister with shining eyes and a broad smile at this. Minnie blushed, unsure that she wanted to tell a bit of silliness in front of the imperious young woman, but Semiyr met her eyes reassuringly. She nodded, “Very well.”

Krindre half-turned then and nodded tot he shadows, from which emerged a dark-skinned human child with beautiful, curling eyelashes, who bowed, and began turning at a winch set in the wall. The basket trembled, then smoothly began to rise up toward the platform, spinning very slowly at the end of its tether. Semiyr rose and set the baby down with a kiss, then, fluttering up to the ledge to reach a hand to Minnie, helping her out.Then they both turned to Krindre who smiled with something like amusement as she once more extinguished her lamp.

“I am to have two instruments to play at once,then?”

Semiyr quirked a grin, playfully, “No instruments at all. Let us say, a canvas and a muse.”

Krindre laughed, and her laugh ticked across Minnie’s spine with a prickle of fear and adventure.

When Minnie had expected desk at the House of Lives Lived, she had found a bed. When she now expected a bed in the inner chamber of Kindre Leibsänger, she found three, tucked into a wall, but so small that even she would have been cramped sleeping in one - they must, she surmised, belong to the children. The room otherwise was high-ceilinged, and looked like nothing so much as an arc of natural stone. Long stalactites of translucent blue stone dripped from the ceiling, two falling so far as to make delicate pillars to the floor itself. Otherwise, in the end of the room were three black cabinets, tall and carved from a wood whorled of black and red unlike any grain Minnie had ever seen. The drawers and doors had pulls carved of clear crystal-glass, in the likeness of faces, some weeping,some laughing, some blank with sorrow, some grinning with mischief, all shadow-cast in the steady light of a steel lamp that hung from the ceiling. But the floor was unfurnished, but for a thick round rug, covered in monochrome of interweaving vines , that seemed to meld, in arms and long fingered pale hands, winding back into the vine work, or grasping at each other’s fingers. The air was rich with the scent of whale-oil and sex.

Krindre entered to the center facing away ,and said nothing, but reached behind beginning undo a ornate silver hook that held her garment closed. Minnie breathed in sharply, and Semiyr spoke, “Thou hast no need to undress, my Leibsänger.”

Krindre turned, and raised an eyebrow, “I really am curious now. What is it that I will need?”

“I have brought thee canvas, did I not say? Thou wilt need brushes, very soft, and what thou wouldst paint with on living skin.”

The other eyebrow went up, now, and she smiled, a purring cat’s smile. She turned now to Philomena herself, “Philomena, thou wilt forgive me for my cautious judgement, earlier, I beseech. Thou hast, a subject that I will portray?” she turned, then, and opened a cabinet, drawing out three brushes. She pulled her long hair up into a pile and slid two of the brushes into the heart of it, to hold it up. Then she drew a glass vial out and shut the door.

Minnie coughed, swallowed hard, “Just… words, ma’am.”

“Words?” she turned and crossed the room on the slow beats of her cast white wings, very slowly. She said nothing as she went, only looking at Minnie’s eyes. She stopped just before here, “What word?”

“A… not a word. A.. a name.”

The Akvatari leaned in, her head tipped just to one side, “A name?” The brush meandered languorously, now, up Minnie’s bicep. Of sudden, she felt keenly the lack of her blouse. The hair of the brush was exceptionally soft, and it quivered just barely at the surface of her skin, goose-pimpling her, “What name, my dear?”

“There;s… I… I put lots of names… I…”

“Choose one, hmm?” the brush perambulated in a slow circle on the divot below her shoulder.

“I canny…”

“One… little... name?”

“It’s… secret… they are secret…”

The brush stopped, and Minnie’s body leaned towards it instinctually seeking it out. She realized her eyes were closed, and reopened them. Krindre had grown solemn, “Thou do not my laws. I am not as other artists, and my oaths are different than theirs. My works are meant for an audience of one. I would not publish what I know unto the world, daughter of men. I swear it on my lips and eyes.” She touched the lips first, and then, she shut her eyes and touched the lids. The lids were painted with lines as fine as spider silk, an image on the left of an avatar boy, back arched, pressed forward as if to copulate, holding a mirror at arm’s length. On the right, was painted in lines of a deep chestnut hue, the outline of her own iris and pupil, but in the center of the pupil, a single letter in lowercase, voluptuously rounded: an ’N’.

Minnie stuttered the name out before she could think again, anxious to have the eyelids tucked away again, “Lanie.”

The lids fluttered upwards, and Minnie’s eyes were locked on the eyes of the Leibsänger. “Lanie?”

The brush painted a new stroke now, long her shoulder blade, Grinder’s arm wrapped around Minnie’s body to reach the spot. Her breath fell in slow beats on Minnie’s face, it smelled like ambergris. Minnie could not form a word, her body shivering, now.

“Say the name again, to me. So that I can hear it properly.”

The brush danced slowly up Minnie’s spine. Minnie struggled to speak, and spit wthe words out, “I can nae say it! It’s… so much, like this…”

“Perhaps…” and the Leibsänger leaned in close, so that her lips brushed the lobe of Minnie’s ear, and her voice feel to a whisper, the cold breath tracing a filigree across the intricate curvatures of the ear-flesh, “Perhaps you can whisper it to me?”

Minnie gasped for breath, and pulled the air into the very bottom of her lungs. Her voice came out foreign to her ears, so close to her breast that she could feel the shape of her throat in the letters of it, “Lanie.”

The brush followed up the spine, now, “Lanie..”

Her chin dropped down to rest on Minnie’s shoulder and the brush went up the spine to play at the bottom of Minnie’s hairline, “L…”

The lips brushed against the other side of Minnie’s neck, and the brush circled to brush at Minnie’s ear, “A..”

Minnie whimpered weakly. The brush descended following her jawline, “N…”

The lip brushed now against the skin with every letter, “I…”

And the brush now, followed down her throat to where the ragged scar crossed it, “E”

Minnie cried out, “Yes, that’s it!”

The Leibsänger backed away, the brush making one last stroke down the length of Minnie’s scar. Minnie feel to her knees, with the same suddenness as if her throat had been cut, gasping and shaking. Semiyr settled off the side silently on the rug. The Leibsänger snapped, a single, sharp snap of her fingers, and then lowered herself onto her tail, untying the binding around Minnie’s breasts. The dark boy with the beautiful eyes slipped into the room silently.

“Child, some supper, for three, hmm? We shall be a bit of time.”

The boy bowed and left. The Leibsänger turned the lid of the vial, and a damp, earthy smell tickled at Minnie’s gasping nostrils. Softly, the Leibsänger began to sing, as she dipped the brush:

Though I may form my eyes of stone,
And make my lips of cold glass,
My love,
My body yet shall weep for thee…

x

[Dravite]

Philomena

XP Award:

• Logic: 3
• Observation: 5
• Socialisation: 5
• Swimming: 5
• Planning: 1
• Begging: 1
• Singing: 3
• Endurance: 2
• Teaching: 2
• Wilderness Survival: 1
• Bodybuilding: 1
• Deduction: 1
• Philosophy: 1
• Organisation: 1
• Meditation: 1
• Storytelling: 2
• Childcare: 1

Lore:

• Swimming: Cannot be done in clothes
• Semiyr: Can be very asertive at times
• Semiyr: Is very observant
• Philomena: Selfconciousness can be crippling
• Swimming: The basics
• Swimming: Relax and you will float
• Semiyr: A determined teacher
• Mathematics: Angles
• Mathematics: Weights in water
• Swimming: Breathing techniques
• Socialisation: Trust
• Swimming is exhausting
• Swimming: Submerged
• Lebgynsol: Reminds you of Gypa
• Teaching and storytelling go hand in hand
• Krindre: Has met no humans before you

Notes: You’ve ruined me, how can I ever grade again after that masterpiece. I had to read some of these posts twice because I kept forgetting I was here to grade them so if you feel I have missed anything, please don’t hesitate to point it out via PM. Stunning work, I’m only sorry it took me so long to find it. Enjoy the rewards and be sure to edit your grading request.

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