lift with your knees, atlas

AMALIA

He follows, and she is glad: glad to share this moment with him, glad to be graced by his light, glad that he is her shadow, her umbra, the sun by which she is eclipsed. Through starlit air and onto the bough the owl flutters gracefully, ever aware of the eagle behind her until they both alight. It is not the highest branch, but it is high- higher than she reached as a child, higher than she dreamed she would ever climb. And this time she has not undertaken it alone: she has him, and she has Safrin, too. She has everyone who believes in her, who loves her, who supports her.

For this moment, she is not afraid.

It is their first time truly touching since taking these forms, and Amalia wonders as she settles against him if he can feel the adoration radiating from her, the excitement and pleasure and pure instinctual joy. He is larger than her now just as ever, a pillar, a tower, a mountain of strength. Thank you, she whispers through their bond, not looking up, not saying anything, letting the moment stretch on comfortably, taking solace and comfort in his nearness, in sharing this triumph.

But ah, they cannot stay here forever, and there is one more thing she wants to accomplish. Stepping away from the pleasure of his comfort, Amalia looks up at the eagle, clicking her beak affectionately before turning her sparking gaze to the oasis below. A moment, two- and then she falls, her body twisting, changing, adapting, fur taking place of where feathers had been, wings stretching out into arms with claws. Like a stone the Otter drops into the water, delighting as the act is at last repeated, but intentionally this time. And when she rises, she sees not faces of consternation and concern: only the night sky, only the trees, only him.

Only home.

You are flesh and blood
And you deserve to be loved
and you deserve what you are given
And oh, how much