Author:
Wesimbi / the Old One
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Date Posted: 20:07:10 09/12/05 Mon
In reply to:
Nashota
's message, "Re: the Heart of the World" on 10:43:25 09/10/05 Sat
The King was silent for awhile in the wake of Nashota's story. In the silence Wesimbi sifted through a little pile of jewels beside him, with a furtive air. The King's brilliant blue eyes - eyes that matched Wesimbi's - were half-closed and faraway, glittering with an unearthly light, and after a long moment a smile curved his red lips. He looked up at Nashota.
"Your father lives. He runs with another tribe, far to the south, but he thinks of you and your sister often. He has a permanent limp, though. Pity. Shall I bring him to you?"
"Wh-what?" Nashota looked stunned.
"No, my lord," Wesimbi said quickly.
The King shrugged. "Suit yourself." He stood with eerie suddenness, moving with such fluid grace as would befit a Jellicle, and in an instant stood close in front of Nashota, looking down at her thoughtfully. He reached out with a gloved hand and touched her chin, tilting it up, and she could feel the heat radiating from that hand, as though a fire smoldered beneath the glove. "A lovely story, Talenashi," he murmured. "Such tragedy. And yet you are so strong. You are indeed my daughter, little singer.
"And so, I have a mind to give you a gift."
The World Rock turned and stretched, and as he did so it seemed that the entire room flexed outward, as though made of rubber, before relaxing back into place.
"My lord Father?" Wesimbi made to move closer to Nashota, but the King held out a hand and the phoenix stopped, frozen by forces far greater than him. The King turned around, a wide lazy smile on his face, and his eyes seemed to glow.
"Hush, fire-son," he said, and Wesimbi's beak snapped closed. "You are far too concerned with mundane matters. What is it to you, if I choose to give my daughter a gift?" But he paused then, and his smile widened as he looked at the phoenix. "And now that I think about it...I believe I will grace you with a gift, as well, my son. Perhaps the greatest you will ever receive."
He held out his gloved hands, smiling serenely, and as one Wesimbi and Nashota began to glow with a fiery light. Wes could feel the light on his skin, crawling like a living thing, and felt fear in his heart - looking across to Nashota, he saw the same reflected in her face, and tried to reach out to her, anything to offer some comfort...and when he did, he saw that his hand was not his own.
He felt his body twisting and his very skin seemed chokingly tight; he could not feel his wings or his tail and his legs seemed to explode in pain. "F-Father," he gasped as his vision began to fade. "The...killings...."
The killings will end. Consider that another gift, fire-son. WesimbiCharel.
I don't want this! Let me go, let me go, what am I...?
You are always yourself, little prince. You will find your wings again.
What? My...my WINGS? No! Father, no, please...please....
- - -
Wesimbi woke to the sound of a woman crying softly. Groggy, he opened his eyes, trying to focus and finding it difficult. His head felt full of molasses.
"Wh...wha?" he muttered, sluggishly shifting heavy limbs. He felt very small and vulnerable. Who was crying? The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
"Oh, Wes!"
He wheezed as a small figure cast herself upon him, clutching his shoulders and weeping onto his bare chest. It was a young human woman with porcelain-pale skin and long hair like molten silver that felt like liquid as it draped over him. Her shoulders shook.
"What?" Wes was feeling more awake now, though decidedly odd. "Who are you?"
She looked up then, confused and frightened, and Wesimbi's heart skipped a beat. In a sweet human face were set two almond-shaped eyes, a very particular (and familiar) shade of cobalt blue...but without white or pupil, a color as solid as his own, or that of the Dragon King.
"Nashota," he whispered, perfectly shocked. She nodded miserably, wiping at the tears. "What...what happened?"
The Jellicle (now a lovely human girl) did not answer, but took his hand in her own and lifted it for him to see. Wesimbi sat up slowly, staring, and memory and realization came crashing down like the Great Mountains as he saw human legs in his own worn slacks, felt a human face with a very human hand, and felt the crushing emptiness on his back where once his wings had ridden. Now - nothing.
A long face, rather sharp but not unhandsome, bronze of skin and lightly freckled, stared into Nashota's with Wesimbi's blue eyes. For a long moment they sat like that, surrounded by waving blue grasses on a cheerful afternoon with the Dark Spear Mountains visible to the north.
"Your eyes," he said at last, and touched her cheek gently. "I'm sorry. I do not know if we will someday find our true bodies, but this change, at least, is irreversible. It will be strange for you...to see as I see. I will help you as best I can."
He sighed. "My father has an odd sense of humor, anwe. But we accomplished our purpose - he has told me that the killings in the Valleys will stop. Our Gabriel's brother will have no say in the matter - my greatbrothers will direct their attention elsewhere."
Nashota nodded, and fresh tears coursed down her cheeks; Wesimbi smiled with human lips and brushed them away with his thumb. "Do not be afraid, little singer," he whispered. "We will find our way."
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