A Cobblestone Fairytale

[Victor Lark]

HD

23 Fall, 511

There was an ache in her thigh, like a bruise or a stone or a bad memory. Roxanne rolled onto her back, keen on silence even through the malaise of waking. Her whole face furrowed as she stifled a yawn and wriggled her arm out from where it had served as pillow for another sleeping head; she felt around for the source of the pang and discovered a little blue pendant. It must have fallen out of her coat as she slept, as that was where she had left and forgotten it when she had found it days ago. She pulled the little trinket up to her eyes and its thin chain spilled over her mouth and neck as she turned it over, remembering.

It was indigo stone, or painted that way, shaped into the caricature of an iris flower between a delicate silver frame. Threads of yellow paint were chipping away at its center, revealing its age and wear. The woman who had been using it apparently thought it was not good enough for the waters of the Emerald Pond, and left it at the shore. Anyway, she was probably done missing it, Roxanne figured. It was hers now, hers to give.

The alley where they slept had been made of fur when they had chosen it, rising and falling as if some sleeping beast had surfaced beneath the clay and stone buildings. Abby always knew, somehow, where the alleys were the safest, and Roxxie had since decided that she could tell which part of them served best against whatever weather they would have to endure. But it was a fruitless game to play, the predicting. The street had become plain old stone by morning, and Roxanne would roll into a stinky puddle if she moved any further.

So she did not. She turned her body towards her friend’s again, pressing her playfully against the warmed wall. She wove her fingers around the chain, smiling wide through the faded paint on her lips, and stretched her arm up above her. The necklace dangled precariously over Abby’s slender cheekbone, until it barely touched...

At the first sign of a reaction, the Kelvic jumped with delight and whispered hastily into the ear beside her, “I got you a present!”

[Abalia]

For an outsider, a visitor from distant shores, sleeping on the streets of Alvadas was unlikely to be an appealing option. Abalia, however, did not mind. The city had become like a mother, though an oft cranky one, and she rarely felt unsafe. She slept like a baby wherever her head fell, especially since she had found Roxxie and they had become something of a permanent fixture in one another's life. It was just fine to sleep in a cozy corner of the city alone, but much closer to pleasant to share that with someone as beautiful as her once lover, always best friend. "Mmph," she complained incoherently, lifting a hand to absently swat at the tickle. Whatever it was, she managed to knock it away, until the heaviness of it brought it swinging back to tap against her knuckles.Grogginess made it difficult to focus, at least at first, and she yawned widely. Roxxie's soft laughter in her ear did more to ease her passage into morning than anything else, and she found herself smiling despite herself. "Is it tall, dark and handsome?" Abalia teased as she rolled into the familiarity of Roxanne's frame, forcing one eye open to peek upwards at her. Roxxie was breathtakingly beautiful, at least Abalia thought so, and with the light of pleasure dancing in her eyes, a self-satisfied sort of pride an eagerness, Abalia couldn't deny her. She found herself smiling against the sleepiness that still muddled her thinking, one hand wiping across her eyes in an attempt to awaken more fully. "Or sweet, like candy?" One slender arm snaked above her, and Abalia indulged in a long stretch. When, at last, she had recovered from it, both eyes managed to open and peer up at the kelvic with tousled hair and an irresistible smile. "Or good morning kisses?" she said, only half joking as her extended hand trailed back downwards to a less awkward rest, routing along the soft skin of Roxxie's shoulder, her arm.

[Victor Lark]

Roxanne’s lips curled between her teeth as she tossed the chain up and caught the charm at its end. She pulled it close to her heart, hiding it still. Her eyes sank into Abalia’s when she finally got a glimpse of them, savoring the growing light in her waking mind, searching for the answers to questions spoken by teasing lips. How she loved Abby’s touch, and how she had missed her warmth! The days between nights like this one were becoming more numerous, but Roxanne knew no resentment, only mild confusion and occasional anticipation. The man her friend had come to know was not dark and handsome, but pale and alien. She did not like him, but she would not dare say as much. Still, she wondered: was she allowed to share those lips with him?

Hers had known others, Roxanne reasoned; a sudden decision propelled her forward, where she stole a bite from the corner of Abalia’s mouth. Darting away again, she immediately sealed the hasty kiss with the touch of her real present, planting the palm-warmed stones against the soft of Abby’s laugh line. “No,” she answered with a blithe shrug, feigning the dismissal of that which excited her most. “Only a little thing. Doesn’t taste very good—” Her expression suddenly became very serious, but there was an obvious laughter in her eyes. “Trust me.”

She sat up, tipping the hand that may have lingered on her arm to the bend in her waist. She curled a leg beneath her as her fingers ran a shallow path over the top of Abalia’s scalp. Out of habit, she glanced up at the gray morning sky and inspected the roof lines, then craned her head towards the front of the alley. It did not matter if any one saw them, but she liked to know if they did, and she liked to see if there was something else to find, in this changing world. Alas, there was nothing. The next second saw her golden-hazel gaze returning to the big eyes beside her. “Get up, sleepy cat,” Roxanne insisted, retrieving the chain and the prize at its end, opening the loop so that a head could fit inside. “Let me see it on you.”

[Abalia]

Abalia repaid the stolen kiss with a soft laugh, a lazy sound parting rosy lips as her heavy lids threatened to close again. It wasn't until the gift itself was actually revealed that interest piqued her attention enough to draw her out of the haze of slumber. Roxxie had sat up, then, and Abalia moved to pillow her head against the warmth of a lean thigh. Roxanne was nothing if not a wonderful cuddle. "What is it?" she intoned sleepily, a softness in her tone that few others had ever known. Abalia was most often like this with Roxxie; gentle, open, soft. It wasn't until they collectively turned their attentions towards Ionu's playground that she became more wily and attentive, more reserved and cautious. Here, now, she belonged to Roxxane. Soft, sleepy fingertips fumbled with the gift, holding it up to Syna's emerging light. She'd only gotten a glimpse of it, of the intricate, fading beauty, before token was swept away in hands she trusted through and through. Her smile was indulgent as she pushed up first to her elbows and then, at last, to sit as well. "It's lovely," she cooed, leaning over to reflect the kiss that had been stolen with one more substantial. Soft, full lips pressed to Roxxie's own, borrowing a comfort that was more a token of days gone by than the present. Dolvich possessed the brunt of her romantic fascinations, but Abalia had not forgotten the simple, intrinsic comfort of the days when Roxanne had been a lover as much as a friend. The human girl reached up and, tangling her slender fingers in her own dark hair, lifted it away. Doing so exposed the smooth column of her throat to the attentions of her kelvic companion.

[Victor Lark]

Quick fingers slid across the thin chain, searching deftly for a hook or other break. Before Roxanne could find it, her face was lifted by the lush embrace of Abalia’s reply. The kiss pushed new warmth down her spine and hastened the rhythm of her waking heart; it lasted a second and a lifetime, all at once. A dull ache, a heaviness from within the deepest part of her, lifted up and reached out and pulled her fingertips towards the human’s soft, sharp body... and then the contact was broken just as easily as it was made, and Roxanne was left to find her sight between the tremor of rising eyelashes.

The slack frown that followed was immediately replaced by a broad smile. She opened the chain and slid it over Abby’s head, pulled her hair out from beneath it. The back of Roxxie’s hand lingered against that bare stretch of neck before it traced the delicate silver line to the charm at its end. “It’s a flower.” Her answer floated on happy derision. She caught the dancing pendant from where it hung beneath her friend’s breast. “Real ones die when you pick them, but this one won’t. It chips in places, though.”

She turned it over, and its silver backside seemed smoother and cleaner. Her thumb brushed over it, as if she could make it shine in a light that had not yet risen into the narrow alley. She sucked in a short breath, hesitated, and looked up to lock their eyes. “Are you meeting—” A beat. “Are you going anywhere today? We could go find the Bazaar for breakfast. We could find the right fisherman or baker, or whoever, and we won’t even have to pay!”

[Abalia]

There it was again. That flickering emotion that twisted and churned deep inside of her, that demanded attention no matter how she tried to stifle and quiet it. It made her dark eyes lower, her lower lip become the captive of twin rows of pearly whites. Guilt. She and Roxanne had always spent time apart, but not nearly as much as they had since she met him. They might romp around different parts of the city for an entire day, but they always found one another at night. For body heat, for protection, for affection and homecoming. Now, though, she was spending as many nights curled in her Symenestra's arms as she was with the pretty kelvic. Roxanne hardly complained about it, at least not directly, but those beautiful eyes accused her, and Abalia felt so torn. "I was.. I mean... later..." A quick peek up revealed that the lovely face she was so familiar with had faltered. The knife twisted, and she bit back a sigh. "I can see him tonight. After we've spent the day together. Would that make you happy, Roxxie? A day with just the two of us?" More hopeful than she ought to be, Abalia reached up to touch the trinket she'd been given, thumb sweeping blindly and affectionately over the face. "And whoever has a heavy pocket that we need to lighten, of course," she added with a bit of a grin, hoping to incite a spark of happiness and playfulness in Roxxie again. It was better when they weren't even discussing Dolvich.

[Victor Lark]

Roxxie’s face lighted easily, almost glowing in the reflection of Abby’s answer. “Of course,” she echoed almost sarcastically, though the sentiment was genuine. Roxanne was not ignorant of her own desperation; she knew it was pathetic to be jealous and she was almost certain that Abalia never meant to abandon her entirely. But she also knew what she wanted and would not let herself be embarrassed by it. She was beaming as she rose clumsily to her feet. After glancing automatically towards the alley’s entrance and the sky, she offered her hand.

“Lead the way,” Roxanne recited with a bounce, tiling her chin at her own personal native. She had said it many times before and, as usual, she did not wait to be led. She turned toward the mouth of the alley on her toes, keeping bent toward the wall, if only out of habit. Her fingers strayed out behind her so as to catch at least a glancing touch. She stepped lightly to the corner, peeked cautiously around it, paused. Then she straightened and strode out into the street.

Looking back, she reached a heavy hand to wrap it around Abby’s. “Wear that tonight,” she offered. “It looks good on you. Maybe he’ll like it.”

She had not taken the hint.

Only after she said it did she recognize the bitterness in her voice. She regretted turning her gift into an accusation, but it was too late to take it back. Anyway, this was the first time in too long that she had the chance to learn about him, and she was curious. “You really like him, Abby? He’s good to you?”