Hands worked with grace and harmony, guided by eyes so deep and dark, a braid they made in unison, for Socia.
It had been many months, and she felt at home in Liberty, among the glamour and the calamity. The city was a beating heart, a forge which created so much art, fueled by the dreams of everyone.
She was now a professional, who, in front of the camera, could be anything she needed to be.
So that the shot would be perfect.
Perfect poise at photoshoots. A perfect form in a fight.
Turn your head a fraction, offer the camera a better side.
Lower your guard, to invite.
It was all the same.
That her man had shown, and even more.
No secrets were there between them.
But to her Lady she had not talked about her man. A secret he was.
And as she saw her Lady’s eyes in the mirror, Socia’s eyes slid past her gaze to avoid being caught by it.
Shame.
She was her Socia.
There should be no secrets between them… too.
She was not her property. That is what she told herself. But in the mirror on her head, slightly above the middle of her eyes, she could see it.
Her mark.
Her Lady’s hand had done their work, left her hair, and now they rested on her shoulders.
A finger did rub her left shoulder, and her Lady’s gaze found her eyes, locked them down.
Trapped them.
“We should go skiing this week,” her Lady said.
“I know the most wonderful place.”
“With mountains imposing.”
“And suitable slopes to enjoy.”
Thumbs rubbed Socia’s shoulders, made them relax.
“You should bring your man as well,” her Lady said.
Socia’s eyes they went wide, and tried to look away, but her Lady would have none of that.
“What I of you do not demand, I cannot forbid,” her Lady said.
“I know your man, and his pain.”
Her Lady’s hands now rested on her shoulders, they didn’t move.
“If with love you would ease it,” her Lady said.
Socia felt the warmth in her palms, in her voice.
“You have my thanks, my Socia.”
In her Lady’s eyes, there was gratitude.
“He is a gallant knight.”
And sorrow.
For him.
The speed, the rush of the air against her hair, it was intoxicating.
Her skis pressed against the snow, and she knew when to shift her weight, so that they would cut the snow right, and make her race.
Down the slope.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Faster and smoother, down she went, with her man and her Lady, left behind.
Shame was gone, it had evaporated, absolved by her Lady’s words and her touch.
Pictures of them her man had taken, apart and together, in the slopes, in the heated halls.
She had not seen them yet, for her man had not yet processed them, in a darkroom.
But what they would show, she knew, she felt.
Happiness.
Joy.
He even caught her Lady’s laugh in one shot, what a shot.
And her eyes he caught with a flash and a lens.
And in it, her eyes deep and dark, showed not sorrow, but joy.
Joy.
And as Socias hands were wrapped around a mug of heated wine, it was not its heat which warmed her, but their presence.
Their love.
It had been the greatest week in her life.
More important events had occurred in her life; she had seen such wonders.
A song to the dead, under the moon, amid desolation.
A shining star on beach, whose cheeks she held.
An oaf turned into a god, flying high above the endless white.
Miracles and wonders, which her Lady had promised she would see.
A promise she had kept.
At the bar, they talked to each other, her Lady and her man.
Her hotshot.
They had rapport, one so poised and calm the other so smooth and strong.
They were in harmony, under her gaze.
Until they were not.
He threw his mug at the mirror behind the bar.
With such force, it broke through the wall behind it.
A rain of glass. And a sharp crack.
Socia, she stared, unable to even blink.
“You owe me my boon!” her man said.
His voice loud, the rumble of an avalanche.
The other guests stayed silent and fiddled with their mugs or picked up magazines to shield them from the commotion.
None dared talk, nor intervene, for she was a Daughter of the Ambition.
But her man had no bounds, his will unyielding.
“I have given you what you wanted, now you will give what I want!” he said.
With a snap he pulled a part of the bar rail free and threw it past the Lady.
She stayed composed, didn’t even blink, but the window behind her broke, and the cold was let inside.
The joy was gone.
The miracle had ended.
Even the warmth was slipping away.
Socia rose up with such haste, her mug she dropped.
It broke like her dreams.
“You have love now, gallant knight!” her Lady said.
“My Socia!”
As she for once raised her voice, only for her to lower it again.
Her gaze on Socia fell with such a force, it compelled her man to look at her too.
Socia stopped and did not know what to do.
Behind her, a broken mug, wine on the floor.
In front of her, those she loved, more than anything.
Both broken.
In different ways.
She felt It.
It.
“Her love you will lose if you choose my boon,” her Lady said.
“Not because I so would command.”
“But because your hate.”
“Your love will.”
“Consume.”
Time didn’t stop. Socia this knew, but it felt as if it had.
This world is choices after choice; this her man had her taught.
And she had learned.
Listened.
“The boon!” he said.
The word with a crack, her heart.
Broke.
Socia snapped and screamed out aloud.
And for a moment those she loved paid attention.
At her Lady she yelled.
“Why! Why!”
“Why did you agree!”
By then all the other guests had disappeared, only the bartender remained, too afraid to leave, luckily for him the Lady with wave of her hand dismissed him.
He scurried away and left them there.
The Lady composed but Socia quite out of control.
She wanted to say worse.
Call her a piece of shit.
But her eyes made her refrain.
“There is nothing I can do, my Socia,” her Lady said.
“Only you can save, our gallant knight.”
Her eyes, so deep.
Broken too.
“It’s you he loves.” Her Lady said.
“In this I have no power.”
“It falls to you.”
“To save your man.”
The man who had slipped away and the Lady with a finger pointed to where he went.
Tracked him down, she did.
Pressed him against a wall.
“You piece of shit,” she said.
She struck his chest, but it did not faze him, he only held his hand high and took the blows, as she struck, again and again.
“Why?” she said.
Pressed her head on his chest, tears now streamed where blows had landed, but they too had no effect.
“This world is cruel, its God a tyrant, and I will strike him down.”
Her tears still fell as she tried to speak, as her chest heaved.
“But there is joy, too.”
And she looked up into his eyes.
“And love.”
“Is my love nothing to you.”
Her gaze he fled from, and his face turned away, but his arms he did her embrace.
“He gives us joy only so he can then take it away.”
“The greater the joy, the greater the pain.”
“Can’t you feel It, baby.”
Her breath found a pace, a steadier one.
“Don’t you baby, me. You piece of shit,” Socia said.
But in his embrace, she stayed.
“This world, it should be a paradise, it wouldn’t even cost him anything.”
“He doesn’t need It!”
“It’s a toy to him. To do as he likes.”
His hands now cradled her face, and his face and eyes he brought close.
“I know the truth of this world.”
“And so does your Lady.”
And Socia in his gaze saw him.
Not a shining star like her Lady.
His heart was a raging fire, a mighty forge, fueled by hatred and love.
She saw his hatred, it hardened his bones, pumped within his veins, steeled his skin.
And his love.
She could see it as threads in the air.
So many threads, so much love did he have for this world and the people in it.
And for her.
“Baby, I gotta be me,” he said.
And his tears fell on her, to mingle with her own.
“I love you, baby. Can’t you see it?” he said.
She could.
A cord, so thick, and full of life.
It would never be over, even in death.
And now she truly knew why her Lady had become on that beach a shining star.
A night they spent.
Bodies intertwined, in sorrow and delight, and then when tomorrow comes.
The boon granted. A duel with a mighty being.
A daughter of God.
Her Lady.
