#aceyuurikatsuki

When the song was about to end - for the six time - Victor sat on the floor and joined the soles of his feet, as an silent mantra, he closed his eyes and breathed slowly before abandoning himself to exhaustion and falling back against the floor, stretching his arms above his head and beginning to smile absolutely satisfied with himself. Yuri couldn’t just let this moment pass, so he took his cell phone out of his pocket, adjusted the focus and took a picture, the click was enough to get Victor’s attention and make him sit down, that smile still on his face.

“Taking pictures of me, Yuri? I’ll charge, one kiss for each photo.”

He said in a joking tone, his ocean blue eyes stealing any thread of Yuri’s thoughts.

“For your smile eternalized in a photograph, I accept to pay any price.” Victor stared him for a long time, as if he is trying to absorb every word Yuri had said; the studio was already full of photos of them, each holding a memory and a feeling, Yuri used to take pictures of him just standing still, or thoughtful, and even hiding his face after waking up.

‘’Dance with me then, I know just the right song.’’

Without wait for an answer Victor got up and took his hand ledding him to the stereo. As the song began to play, Yuri felt a certain anxiety and could no longer breathe normally.

Suddenly Victor’s hands was moving around his waist, involving him completely as if they were just one.

In the profusion of those ocean blue eyes, Yuri saw everything he wanted, his present and future were in those eyes, that person.                             His clumsy feets finally find it the perfect rhythm and gently followed the steps of his tutor.

‘’Aren’t you tired? I mean… you trained for hours…’’

‘’A little… and still I want dance with you for all eternity.’’

Yuuri close his eyes and resting his face on Victor’s chest, with a softly smile on the corner of his mouth.

If you were to stand on the windswept deck of the airship Lydium Luck, a few moments before dawn on the tenth day of its last voyage in partnership with the ill-fated Captain Skycaught, then you would see a young woman standing before the great sapphire-like gem inset beside the ship’s wheel.  Perhaps, by the hum of the magic flowing through the airship like lifesblood, by the shimmer of the sails above you, you would recognize the Lydium Luck as one of the last remnants of a great era.  Perhaps you would recognize the jewel at its heart the soul of the great ship beneath your feet.  Perhaps you would, or perhaps you would not.

But the certainty is you would see the young woman, grey-skinned and dressed in battered robes of deep blue, hesitate before the gem, her hand hovering over its faceted surface.  You would see how the wind caught her dark hair, revealing the pointed tips of her ears and the expression of agonized hesitated written across her fine features.

You would not know this hesitation to be uncharacteristic, perhaps.

But you would see her grit her teeth and lunge forward, as if evading a strike, to press her hand against the gem.

And you would see the woman’s form rise from its faceted face, glimmering in the light of the sinking moon.

“Lydia,” Riia murmured, her tongue like cotton in her mouth.  She had not been so afraid, crawling the depths of the ship to face the beasts let loose, or even facing the murderer.  It was what had to be done to reach her destination, so she could bear it.

This was… part of that, but also something else entirely.  How in the Nine Hells had this task fallen to her?  Gods knew she could barely manage a conversation without stepping on someone’s toes.  Whose idea had it been to burden her with telling this… woman… that some measure of justice would be done?  

Riia herself, of course.  She… she had thought… something.  Something clever, maybe.  Maybe just that Lydia seemed more willing to speak to her than any of the others on board, since her sundering with her captain.  It would not be enough; Riia felt that as she felt the sky beneath them, as a great yawning emptiness.

Every moment of hesitation was making it worse.  What sort of magic did Lydia practice?  Could she, perhaps, pluck the thought from Riia’s head?  That would be worse than stumbling over it.

“We found who killed your captain,” she whispered, looking at the surface of the stone and not the lovely face regarding her with tear-stained eyes.

The image rising from the stone shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.  Good.  The voice wrapping its way through Riia’s mind was clear and sharp, but wobbled somehow.  She looked up to meet Lydia’s eyes.  They were full of galaxies, but bright with silvery tears.  Tell me.  Let my justice be done.

Riia whispered the name.

Underneath her, the decks of the ships shook, and a low wail began in her wind, rising to a piercing, pained noise that split its way through her mind.  Before she even knew it, she was on her knees before the jewel, the deck beneath her spinning.  Her hands were still pressed its cool facets, and she could not bear to pull them away, not now.

The ship shook for a moment, the wail trailing off into a low kean that sounded half like sobbing, half like the whistle of the wind through sails.

The gem shivered beneath her fingers, and then shattered, dark spiderwebs of cracks appearing at its center and spreading outward.  Riia stared for a moment, frozen, then scrambled to her feet and began to cast her cantrips of mending, wracking her mind for anything else, wishing she knew more.  Magic flowed from her fingers and made the gem glow a little, closing a few of the cracks, but it was still broken.  Broken.

In the back of her mind, some lecture on magical artifact of the golden ages came to her mind.  Most of the living ships were gone, because they were such great works of magic that they lived, had personalities and existences of their own, but they had no lifespan.  They could live forever, hypothetically, yet having personalities, having the cares and griefs of a person, meant most…

Most had not lasted the centuries.

“Lydia?” she said softly.  A part of her wanted to tear her hands from the stone and walk away.  It was none of her concern; she had done her part.  She did not need to hurt more.

But she could not.

A voice sighed through her mind.  Do not worry too much, little mage.  The gem warmed under her hands for a moment, and she pressed more magic into it.  Silvery laughter echoed through her mind.  There is no need.  I will live.  I believe.  But you are kind.  Riia laughed a little, a blush creeping up her cheeks, and ducked her head.

The whisper of Lydia’s voice had a brittle edge to it, even telepathically.  An edge of bitterness.  I always have before.  It merely hurts, losing her.  Losing all of them.

Riia opened her mouth, but said nothing.  She just stood there for a time.

“Will you be… alright?” she whispered at last.

In time.  Perhaps.

*

If you were to stand on the windswept deck of the airship Lydium Luck, a few moments after dawn, on the seventh month of the tenth year since the murder of Captain Skycaught, you would see a young woman standing before before the great sapphire-like gem inset beside the ship’s wheel.  You might note the fact the years had clearly improved her station, that her well-tailored robes shimmered with magic in the dawn’s light and her cloak of brocade and shadow looked like something from legends.  You might also note, as the wind caught in her dark hair, that the years had not changed her features, or altered her youth, for the drow live long, long lives.

You might suppose that grants them patience, every one.  Or perhaps you would know how false that is, and how impatient the temper of this woman ran.  You might understand how unusual it was, that she stood for some time before the gem, her eyes fixed on the silvery cracks on its surface and her hand outstretched, not quite touching its surface.

Finally, you would see her step forward and press her hand to the ship’s soul.

“Lydia,” Riia breathed, softly.  Hopefully.  Despite what the sailors had told her; their great airship flew, had not fallen like the others of her kind, but she no longer spoke.  More great cannons had been dragged aboard her decks, to protect from raiders and dragons; no longer did the ship itself perform magic to protect its crew.  No longer was she the marvel she had been.

Riia was not quite so impatient with this.  She knew the length of grief.

“Lydia,” she murmured again, hesitantly, beginning to feel a bit foolish.

Then, the gem warmed under her fingers, silver light creeping across the cracks in its side.  As she ran her hand over them, she realized they were no longer cracks; they were veins of silver, hot beneath her fingertips.

A silvery figure rose from the gem.  A young woman, her hair loose, her eyes bright with constellations familiar and constellations unknown to Riia.  Riia stared up into her face, as captivated as she had first been.

A smile crept across her face.  “Lydia.”

Little mage.  You returned.

“I had to,” Riia said.  “I think I… I think I promised to take you to dinner, the first time we met.”

I do remember you being bold.

“I… I shouldn’t have, maybe.  I was only trying to make you laugh.”  Riia grimaced.  “At least, I shouldn’t have without… understanding the nature of your relationship with…”

You did make me laugh.  Lydia’s starry eyes danced, and bright laughter echoed through Riia’s mind.  Step closer, little mage.

Captivated, Riia stepped closer.  Lydia reached out to cup her cheek in one hand.  It was surprising how real her hands felt; they were warm, like the warmth the decks soaked up on a sunny day.  I’m glad you returned.