Mishak

I have loved you for a thousand years, oh Queen mine.

I let my desiccated hand delicately trace the fine lines of your face in the painting once more. The exquisite agony of the memory of your flesh on mine ripples down my arm into my heart, and I am strengthened by it. As I have always been. As I will always be. My eyes take in the burns on your painting, my greatest shame. I could not even protect your image.

But your face remains, and it is enough. A thousand years, I have forgotten not one freckle, not one line. A smile threatens to crack the dry skin of my face, but it is tempered by my patience.

There can be no joy without you. The last ten centuries have proven this.

I fold my arms into my sleeves, and stare into your eyes. Soon.

I do not know how long I spend with you on this day. Or those days? Time has become such a nuisance. An impediment to progress. But I am nothing if not patient. I am patient, for you.

At last, my mind is sufficiently filled with your divine beauty for me to continue my work, and I can turn away from you. For now. The ache settles instantly in my heart, but I can bear this burden for now. As my ancient eyes adjust to the light, I see an assistant scuttling towards me, his boots clicking on the stone floor.

"Sir?" He asks quietly, not sure if I have been roused from my reverie. I nod slowly, to show my attention is on him. He gulps, and holds out a scroll. With a flick of my wrist, it levitates from him to hover before my face. I cannot read it.

Sigh. The glasses.

I reach in to my robes, and pull out a pair of golden rimmed spectacles. A quick polish on my flowing robes, and I place them on my dried face. The words congeal from blurry lines into a flowing, precise script.

The fourth cask has been unearthed. I nod my approval. Soon I will allow myself a smile, I think.

I hand the nervous assistant back his note. He bows respectfully, and begins to back away.

"Mishak," I call his name out, and he freezes. His eyes rise to meet mine, wide and anxious. "It is nearly time. Have the altar prepared."

"Aye sir." He replies swiftly, once again bowing.

"And when you have finished," I continue calmly, replacing my glasses in the cloak. "Bring me your daughter."

Mishak's face brightens visibly, and he stands a little straighter. "Thank you, sir!"

Your painting tugs at me from behind, but I do not turn. I cannot be lost in memories now, not when things are so close. Mishak's daughter has already suffered overlong due to my childish reveries.

"Your service has been impeccable. It is past time she was cured, I can only apologize for my tardiness." I bow my head slightly.

"No apologies necessary, your Worship," he bows deeply, thrilled, before turning to run off and complete his task.

I watch him scuttle out, his zeal renewed by the love of his family and the knowledge that his work will bring them the relief they deserve. My bones ache. You call to me, in the painting.

But I cannot be with you now, my Queen. Soon.

I have loved you for a thousand years, and soon I will tell you so in person.

With A Dinner

People always ask how it all started. How the two of us met, how we became what we are today. I like to smile, and tell them to be careful what they eat, because it all started with dinner.

Dinner was served as the moon rose over the horizon, full and vibrant. The couple was washed in silver light while they ate and conversed, trading smiles and loving looks.

As evening turned into night, and interest grew into love, the young couple's conversation deepened. The weather turned to religion, passtimes to politics.  Simpatico is the word. Unified, perhaps.

The woman looked out over the moonlit city before them, and asked the love she had discovered across the table. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

He turned his gaze from her for the first time in a long time, and let his eyes drink in the silver city. The home of both of them. It was very gorgeous, twinkling like a jewel in the night.

"To the eyes, yes." He replied. He also made some comment about her beauty being greater, but it was not important. She laughed, though. He liked that. "But inside it is rotten." He finished, a tone of defeat in his voice.

"Mmm." She replied, by way of agreement.

"Corruption and despair are rampant in our beautiful city. Would that we could save it." He said mournfully.

There was a pause. She sipped her wine, and let it swirl in the glass before gazing at him sternly.

"Why not?" She asked.

He cocked his head, and looked at her confusedly.

"What?"

"Why can't we save it?"

This gave the young man pause. Why not? A hundred, a thousand reasons! The corruption ran so deep, the institutions of this city were long since beyond saving.

"You'd have to raze the government to the ground, and start fresh. One could not, in one lifetime, save this city within the bounds of the law." He asserted.

She swirled her wine more.

"Nor even two." She agreed. She drank more of her wine, and set the glass on the table. "Within the bounds of the law." She looked into his eyes.

He stared back into the green depths of her eyes, and swam a lifetime in their beauty. And a thought occurred.

She smiled. He smiled back.

And that is how it all began. With a dinner, and a moon, and a love to last a thousand lifetimes.

That, is how you start a revolution.

Yeh

"If I just lay here, for the rest of my life, would that be so terrible?"

"You'd get et."

"Yeh."

Bren was sitting in the meadow, chewing on an apple. He looked down at Valla, laying in the grass nearby.

"You'd die." He prompted.

"Yeh. But I'd get to lay here for the rest of my life."

"Mm." He mumbled around a piece of apple.

Silence hung in the warm summer air. The sun played briefly behind a thin cloud, dimming only slightly. Giving the whole world a pleasant swelling of brightness as it returned.

Bren finished his apple.

He stared at the core intently.

"I'd be sad." He said at last.

One of Valla's eyes slowly worked its way open, to look at Bren.

"What?"

"If you got et. I'd be sad." He casually tossed his apple core into the tree line. He leaned back, resting on his palms.

"Oh."

"Yeh."

The warm summer silence returned.

Bren lay back in the grass. It was nice. He closed his eyes, and felt the sun playing across his face pleasantly.

He felt Valla's hand snake into his. It was... soft.

"Maybe not the rest of my life then. Just for a bit, huh Bren?"

Bren's stomach felt like a hive of bees dancing around a flower. He smiled, keeping his eyes closed.

"Yeh."