|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 8:22 pm
Cesc's words were still floating jumbled in his head as Melisande spoke, hopelessly trying to string together some reply. He could only offer her the barest edge of his stunned smile as the muse leaned forward again, her lips on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed over his eyes as she touched him again, surrendering to the feeling, the vision, the beauty that washed over him.
It was like being in the presence of his beloved Dawn. It was like coming home, enveloped in warmth and comfort. He could hear so clearly the singing of the earring in his palm, could see so cleanly the images it projected.
My woman lives not so far away! the earring whispered, joyous, giddy. I am precious to her, take me back to her! It sang, and lit the way in the stag's mind. He could see the address, the place the earring longed to go, the rush of relief at being understood after hours of laying cold upon the ground, forgotten, forlorn! It was so grateful, and Cesc -- Cesc felt so grateful, himself. This was not his talent. Whatever he could hear, whatever his soul allowed him, this was far beyond it. Gratitude lit him from within, bubbled a laugh inside of him.
"Melisande--" he said, his voice hushed, pinched, but filled with joy. "If you cannot hear it -- if you cannot hear what you have caused -- I can see it. Its way home. And it -- it is so happy..."
He gaped again, shaking his head. To be so close to her, to have felt her pain and her beauty and then her warmth, her power! Cesc looked at the muse with true admiration, his eyes gentle. Perhaps it was just a little thing, just a trinket, just an earring he could deliver back to its mistress. But it was so much more than that as well, a glimpse into his own calling, a silence to the rolling insecurity in his head that he might never be able to help anyone whose pain he felt...
... if only he could help her, this beauty, this worthy.
He could think of only one way to phrase what he felt.
"I cannot thank you. You are the sun, you know," Cesc said."What you bring is light."
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 8:46 pm
She watched again, as the change come over him. It was riveting, mesmerizing, and Melisande hung on his every word. Her smile wavered, so sweet, as he described what he was feeling. Melisande could feel the connection, but the effect, the calling, was truly lost to her. When he finally shook his head and broke the spell, she let her hand fall.
"Thank you." She whispered. The feeling faded as soon as the touch did. Suddenly, inexplicably, Pasha felt alone all over again. "Take it home?" She tugged down the too-long sleeves of her grey dress shirt, and smiled kindly at the Frei. He had found the connection he needed. That would have to be enough. Though she blushed at his kind words, Melisande was acutely aware that the experience Cesc had endured was uniquely his own. The bauble would find its home.
Melisande was still lost.
"Will you visit again? The shop, here where we met?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 9:08 pm
She pulled away, the sun going back behind the clouds. Cesc was left with an address, with the memory of the earring's joy, and now again with the muse's feelings of loss. He watched her move, and he smiled a slow smile of understanding. The warmth from his experience had not yet died. And although he knew so little of the muse's true story, he now had hope that she would find her way, just as she had lit the path for the earring.
If only he could have seen her path, led her to what she desired. Taken her to her home, where she could rest and mourn and find solace.
"I will," Cesc said with a gentle nod that was more of a bow, his hair falling over his eyes as he moved, pink over gold. "I will be more than happy to see you again."
"Ah..." He righted himself, his free hand dipping into his vest pocket for one of the bakery's business cards. He held it out to the muse with an amiable, encouraging expression. "If you are ever in Gambino and wish to see how a wedding cake is made... or anything else." He laughed, a low sound thrumming from his chest, a comforting sound. "This is my home, and you are always welcome."
"Until then -- please, rest well." He meant more. He wished he could say more, offer more.
Cesc's hand was gentle over the earring, carrying it like a sleeping, living thing. He could no longer hear it, but he remembered its voice. Little steps, he thought. Maybe some day he would be able to decipher it all, all the little tugs and whispers that called to him, all the sorrows that sometimes rolled past him, like a wave. Maybe some day he could help the Muse, who in her pain had helped him see.
For now, it was enough, just to see the bauble home.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
