10-21-2016, 09:33 PM
Each of them stops, and they stand apart.
“Yes, it’s us.” he affirms, with a smiling growl of his mouth. “We missed you too!” cries Spark, happier than she has been in hours (days, weeks, months even), as she presses up close to their friend and nuzzles her shoulder. Her lovely face falls a little as her lips land upon a scar where a scar ought not to be, “Lily, your wings…” she trails off, unable to go on as her lips soothe little psalms of love and apology over the puckered edges of skin.
Spear & Spark
Once, that would have been offensive to their very nature as twins to be so separate in thought and action. Now they embrace it, and even though their eyes slide to one another’s skins (each of them can feel the heavy heat of it trying to bore deep into their dark secret hearts) for moments at a time that feel stolen and cheap, they slide back away again and seem less together and more individual than they ever have before.
The meadow rolls out before them in sheaves of grass and wildflower; most of it is turning brown in stages of death that make them contemplative, but also look away. The decay speaks to something in each of them, something that is unwelcome but embraced as they feel the chill in the wind that bites at their necks beneath their upflung knotty manes. Briefly, their eyes meet then slip away and they hide behind thoughts that neither of them mentions to the other. How did it become this way for them?
It was the fork in the road, the decisions they made to go different ways.
Because of it, they were forever changed.
More than likely, they are on the cusp of something momentous occurring in both of their lives:
Growing up.
Splitting up.
Change.
Neither of them is frightened, more like resigned, to what is to come. But what comes is a familiar black horse, having grown a little more into herself like they have. Her mane is still as red as a male cardinal’s tailfeather, and the eyes that find them are the same rich gold that they both remember. Lily was always at odds with her nickname, they both thought. Such a sharp contrast between the fierceness and fire of her colors, and the nature of her sweetness that always bubbled up to the surface of her skin in quick flashing smiles and happy close touches. Each of them sighs, almost in unison, as memories move like ghosts through their minds. Something about her is different though…
“No wings,” he says.
“She must have her fire back,” she says.
That is the only explanation for why there is one but not the other, as she calls out to them cautiously. Spark tilts her head curiously at the caution, not sure why their childhood friend feels the need for it. Maybe, she is far more perceptive than either of them gives her credit for and maybe she picks up on their great divide… Spear shrugs, the motion still little more than a coltish twitch of muscle between shoulder and wither.
“Yes, it’s us.” he affirms, with a smiling growl of his mouth. “We missed you too!” cries Spark, happier than she has been in hours (days, weeks, months even), as she presses up close to their friend and nuzzles her shoulder. Her lovely face falls a little as her lips land upon a scar where a scar ought not to be, “Lily, your wings…” she trails off, unable to go on as her lips soothe little psalms of love and apology over the puckered edges of skin.