"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
And though she hadn’t missed the flash of light, gilding the Dale in its golden light for a full second, she can’t bring herself to seek out its source. He’s back, though, she knows. Her guardian angel, her protector and confidante, her own guiding light. He’s home after years away, and still she cannot bring herself to find him. Not at first, anyway.
Instead of the warmth of Tiphon’s side, she immerses herself in the darkness of her thoughts. They are more familiar now, a comfort to her weakened soul. The years without him had been torment. She had lost herself after Ramiel’s ascension. She knew what it meant – that Tiphon had found his release and way out, that he’d leave them for god knows how long once again – and it had shattered the peace that she’d spent years building. Fractured and spent (but also rebuilt and reborn soon after) she’d gone to the Gates. Where else might she find another angel but heaven? Not her angel, of course, but how easily she’d seen him in Jason’s face that night. She’d found Tiberios next, awash in her guilt for her transgression. He’d been that burning emblem he always had been. She thought about running away with him. She thought about taking from Tiphon what he took from her every time he disappeared: her eyes in a vast, foreign world, her breath in an airless space.
She missed him deeply and terribly.
But she changed in his absence, too.
New parts of her heart expanded in her grief, pressurized and inflated by his loss. She saw that stoic smile many times on their son, and she smiled in turn each time because it reminded her of him. When the sun rose after a stormy night and the sky was painted crimson and gold, she thought he had held the brush. It became, if not good, then okay. She strengthened and hardened against tears that never again fell. She forced herself from the shadows and became radiant with her gleaming skin once again. She realized that he hadn’t forgotten about them – that he would return like he always had – until finally he did.
But she stays away at first for herself.
Talulah can no longer be so dependent. Her happiness cannot rest squarely on the shoulders of one whose traveling wings already take up so much space. She’s already given him her heart, her promise of forever – but now, she keeps her happiness for herself.
When she does seek him out, it doesn’t take long to find him. He smells like the clouds, like spices on the summer breeze with a trace of lightning-sulfur. The metal woman drinks until she nearly drowns with the scent that she only now realizes she’s not forgotten. How could she? Talulah finds the crook of his shoulder. She curls into the familiar space, porcelain meeting silver, smiling at the way her body fits. But she’s quick to pull back. She allows herself only small steps, little tastes so as not to be blinded again. He is like a drug she once could not function without. Her gaze is hooded with all her new secrets, but still she’s smiling. “I have missed you every day.” And because it’s there, lingering like a melting sweet on her tongue, she adds, “Tiphon.”
Tiphon would never - could never - forget Talulah. She has been one of the few constants in his life, one of the few smiles that he has always found solace in. While the outside of her is made of brawn and metal somehow Tiphon has slithered through the cracks to see the tenderness that lies within her. It's a place that he never wants to leave but it's also a place he doesn't want to stay. He adores her, cherishes her, but he is dangerous to any hearts. The wind lifts him away on days they least expect and it leaves them - Talulah and Elysteria - wondering if he will ever return. Seasons will pass and the heat of summer dissolves into frigid winter snow. He returns to them always but what if there is a day that he doesn't? The thought wracks through him uncomfortably. The gentleness of his molten eyes cast down to the ground as Talulah finds the curve of his shoulder and nestles herself into him. It seems so perfect, this moment, and yet his mind still tries to resist.
She isn't the problem, nor is Elysteria. It's him, always him. For decades Tiphon had eluded the promise of love. He didn't want to experience having anyone so dear and close to him because he knew life would take them from his side. One day everyone would be stripped from him and he would be alone and alive. The immortality that courses through his veins can't be injected into his counterparts. One by one they will die and he will still be here, young and thriving, but lonely.
Love wasn't in his agenda, but it found him. It found him in the form of his children, of his friends, of the Dale, and of Talulah and Elysteria. For years he didn't want to admit it and even now he still doesn't. Can he love two of them? Can they live comfortably with the idea that there is someone else? Reluctant to see their reactions Tiphon has simply held his tongue. He hasn't said he loves either of them no matter how powerfully the word throbs in his head and burns into his tongue. He just doesn't want to hurt them more than he already has.
"I've missed you so much," he whispers into her neck with his eyes closing. His breath is hot against her skin, fanning across her like a blanket. If only he could be as secure as one or as reliable. "Time and time again I fail you and disappear," it hurts to admit this, to accept that he is a disappointment, "And yet time and time again you forgive me and come back to me." His face buries into her mane and his cheek feels the cold of her metal. "You deserve so much better than me," he sighs dishearteningly, "but I can't let you go."
Their bodies would allow it. They could grow roots, deep, anchoring tendrils into the soil of the land they love so much, pressing themselves into it forever. They could stay like this – her with her spine bent and curved and him with the encapsulating angle of his body, cradling her – until the end of time. Seasons would pass and years would go by and the world would end around them, and still, she could stay.
And if she’d had the inclination, she might have.
But time has put into motion feet that were once still in waiting. When she withdraws from Tiphon, she does so regretfully, but pointedly as well. She cannot put her life on hold for him, as much as she treasures the moments he is here. As much as she wants him to stay, always, she knows better than to believe he will. And where she once resented this fact about him, Talulah now understands, somewhat, why he leaves. She knows that he needs the release of the traveling clouds, the escape from a world he desperately wants to save, but doesn’t know how. She had seen it in his eyes a long time ago, the piercing pain that carved the marrow from his bones. She saw the secrets he hid from her under a guise of pleasant stoicism. He was - is – so much more than his secrets, but she doesn’t think he believes it.
The angel lets the pressure of his hidden past bubble up. Instead of releasing it, (sharing the burden, as she’d asked him to several times before unsuccessfully) he leaves the Dale and his family behind. Every time. It’s a vicious cycle that she sees no end to, not without some give on his part. It’s wildly frustrating that after all these years he won’t let her in, not fully. Even now, sparing a look into his golden eyes, she can see that he means to keep them longer.
For the first time, though, the metal woman has secrets of her own. She loathes to admit them now. Not when he’s still so close that she can see each of his whiskers illuminated by the sun. Not when her heart lurches inside her chest, beating with the same urgency it always does when he’s near. She takes a steadying breath when he says he’s missed her as well. Maybe more so, the thought a dark cloud that passes over her brain. She wonders what he’d think of her if she told him all she’s done. Would he still hold her so tightly? Would he still breathe over her, claiming her as much as she claims him body and soul. She shakes her head violently at his words. “I don’t. I don’t deserve more. This time is different,” she says, her voice quiet and meek and out of character.
And at first she doesn’t explain herself. At first, her words stretch away into the stilled air, a rope thrown into waters that will soon be turbulent. She can feel herself drowning in all the words she wants to say. They clot in her throat until she thinks she will choke on every truth, and deservedly so. Talulah knows that most her transgressions are no worse than his. He’s fathered many and more children, after all. He’s brought forth life from loveless nights and made political bonds from the matches. He’s loved another, even. In this, she’s almost glad. She’s known of his feelings for Elysteria and has made no comment, not ever, because she’s been in the same tangle. Her heart’s been severed by light both golden and blazing white. Standing before one of the wielders, she’s shamed, not by either of them, but by herself. Talulah meets his gaze, her amber eyes searching. “This time, you have to know that I love you.” Her heart sings and her throat opens a little with one released truth, but she knows it’s not the only one. She looks away from him then, unable to hold his gaze. Already, she can feel the new life stirring in her gut – life given by another. “I don’t need all of your heart – I know I don’t have it, anyway – but I want you to know that I’m happy with the part I have. It’s more than I deserve, more than I ever expected…” She presses against his porcelain shoulder, stealing strength from its warmth. “I’d rather have half of you than none of you.” The silver mare can’t bring herself to say the rest. Part of her hopes he won’t notice that she’s held back. Most of her hopes he does.
