AMALIA
He drops into the trees below and Amalia watches in some surprise, wondering at the ability of that wingspan to withstand the boughs, the breadth of his limbs longer than she is tall. But he is a shockingly graceful creature, musculature built to dance as well as fight. Always Deimos seems aware of his body and the space it fills, even when he is using it to knock down revelers, weaving mischief and mayhem and delight. It is different from the baker who is eternally awkward, lost in her own body except when carefully directed, focused, but otherwise sprawling and spiraling through the world. She stays above the canopy, keen eyes searching for flashes of black and gold, the dim light nothing for an owl's gaze, and besides, never could the girl lose sight of him.She wears him like a shadow, keeping pace from high above, matching his wing strokes with two of her own, laughter and amusement fluttering like feathers through the bond between them. How long will he keep this up, hiding from her in the dense boughs of the grove, testing the limits of his new body, learning the secrets of this form. Forever, she hopes distantly, wishing every moment could last, that they could stay like this for eternity, that the play would never have to stop. If she flew off now over the horizon, would he follow her into a new world? Would he leave it all behind, abandon this place and its troubles, give up Swords and Shields and Spires, all for the sake of her?
She will never know the answer, because she will never ask. He has already been ripped from his world twice, family lost through portals and death. She will never ask him to give them up again, no matter how much she longs for escape.
He rises again, cresting the treetops, and the owl trills her imminent triumph, closing her wings as she barrels through the air. Again her talons extend in preparation as she follows him up and up, dancing over invisible currents, almost touching but never quite. The chase is prolonged, sweeter for anticipation as the smaller bird darts around him, spinning and spiraling and yes, showing off, her nimble body graceful in the open air.
When at last her talons brush him she is quick to fall away, plummeting suddenly toward a break in the trees, following the reflection of light on water. The Oasis glitters far below, starlit and silent, an inviting thing. She falls until she is nearly upon it before abruptly opening her wings, one talon brushing the surface of the water, a long stripe of ripples extending in her wake.
You are flesh and blood
And you deserve to be loved
and you deserve what you are given
And oh, how much
And you deserve to be loved
and you deserve what you are given
And oh, how much
