Amalia
only lonely hid the morning from the stars
✩
It is Jyoti who suggests the Observatory, her desires twinkling and sparkling like starlight inside Amalia's mind. Secretly she wonders if the whale is lonely, yearning to be closer to the sky; more secretly, she fears the calf will fly away, return to the heavens and leave her behind. It is selfish, she knows, but now that she has found the child she cannot fathom the grief of losing her, cannot contend with the unmitigated loss the starwhales's absence would cause.
Ah, but she cannot deny the creature; and so, obliging, the girl takes wing, her owl shape more comfortable in this place of small creatures and smaller doors. Jyoti draws attention as they fly by, and she trills in delight at the ooh's and ahh's, breaching on invisible currents of air and leaving rivers of stardust in her wake. Beside her Amalia is invisible, unnoticed, and so more at ease. She loves the love her companion feels for every new experience, sight, and sound, and shares the feeling in turn.
At last they reach the top of the tree, just as twilight begins to rise. Landing gently on a rail, Amalia gazes in fascination as Jyoti eagerly explores. The calf is quick to dip into corners and investigate crevices, leaving bright light in her wake, but it is the collection of candles which draws the girl, hauntingly familiar in its pull.
Amalia would know a shrine anywhere, and in finding it, feel at home.
Landing awkwardly among the candles, Amalia hoots softly to Jyoti, who obligingly returns to her companion's side. The little whale is tired from her first long day on Earth, content to nestle among the warm feathers on Amalia's back.
This is a shrine, Jyo. Just as when she learned her name, Amalia does not know how she knows the whale can hear, but she knows it to be true. For Safrin, I think, and... Vi. Would you like to hear about them, little star?
From her downy nest Jyoti burbles, her great blue eyes transfixed on the sky, a song rising up as she calls to her home.
Ah, but she cannot deny the creature; and so, obliging, the girl takes wing, her owl shape more comfortable in this place of small creatures and smaller doors. Jyoti draws attention as they fly by, and she trills in delight at the ooh's and ahh's, breaching on invisible currents of air and leaving rivers of stardust in her wake. Beside her Amalia is invisible, unnoticed, and so more at ease. She loves the love her companion feels for every new experience, sight, and sound, and shares the feeling in turn.
At last they reach the top of the tree, just as twilight begins to rise. Landing gently on a rail, Amalia gazes in fascination as Jyoti eagerly explores. The calf is quick to dip into corners and investigate crevices, leaving bright light in her wake, but it is the collection of candles which draws the girl, hauntingly familiar in its pull.
Amalia would know a shrine anywhere, and in finding it, feel at home.
Landing awkwardly among the candles, Amalia hoots softly to Jyoti, who obligingly returns to her companion's side. The little whale is tired from her first long day on Earth, content to nestle among the warm feathers on Amalia's back.
This is a shrine, Jyo. Just as when she learned her name, Amalia does not know how she knows the whale can hear, but she knows it to be true. For Safrin, I think, and... Vi. Would you like to hear about them, little star?
From her downy nest Jyoti burbles, her great blue eyes transfixed on the sky, a song rising up as she calls to her home.
