Cicada Sentences Vol. 2, 7.7.24
“The Vessel's We Inhabit"
@env0writes C.Buck
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We are slaves to our wishes and desires
Shackled to them
Bound by them in copper-bronze jars
Capped with wax seals like the Djinn
Fleeting and as full of whimsy as much as of fury
Confined to the parameters
Of our vessel, our body
This rudimentary complex that ferries us
From birth to death
We are ferried into and out of this life
At the wishes and desires of others
So too are they bound
Tethered to their deeds, mis- or otherwise
We test our mettle yet are never made of it
Through fire we are forged
But we are only silt and stardust
Burning at a lesser rate than the sun
Fire in a bottle, stoppered, and slung to the side
Waiting for a softer hand upon our cheek
To wish us after our work is done
So that we might be free
Of that cycle and our wishes
How I wish to wish no longer
The conversation continues...and a revelation happens..
“Which is?” Astaroth queried with a touch of hesitancy in his voice, wondering what his wife had in store for him now. A zoo’s worth of animals on the island? Another island paradise to hideaway in? A mountain one this time? A baby? Primus Sator forbid!
Taking a deep breath, since she felt kind of foolish for asking, but that seemed on par for the course of the evening, “Could we try a first date again? Maybe just the two of us? You know, since I ruined this one.” Yara looked away from him, trying to keep the tears from building in her eyes. The thought of how to ask, or even how to plan it on her own, had been what was keeping her awake. She wanted to have a romantic time with her husband. She wanted to show him she wasn’t a lost cause.
If Yara had been trying to hide how nervous she was to ask that question, she failed spectacularly. Astaroth was impressed she wasn’t physically trembling in his arms when she asked though, as bad as her voice shook and cracked. That was tempered with pride in her for being able to actually get it out instead of hiding her thoughts like she had a habit of doing. Her looking away didn’t bother him, he’d rather her look away and be able to speak her mind than them keep tripping over one another.
Gently, he used two fingers to tip her chin so that she was once more looking at him in the very low light. “Do you mind if I change it a little? Make it so we both have a better time and are more relaxed?” His fingers gently caressed the edges of her face as he looked at her adoringly. There were mistakes that he had made that he didn’t intend on making again. He was learning he rather enjoyed having his wife in his arms, and the sound of his name rolling of her tongue.
“Whatever you want, but I just…” Yara paused as she nodded, she honestly didn’t care. It could be a completely different type of night, she just wanted a second chance. He already meant something to her, and was beginning to mean a whole lot more, she didn’t want to drive him away or to actually look at someone else longingly because she was an emotional mess. The thought of that was killing her, even with his promise that it would be just the two of them. “I just want a special time for us, and not to ruin it this time.” Her head pressed firmly against his chest, her eyes closing.
He tsked her, shaking his head slightly, before kissing her forehead. “You did not ruin it, Papilio. You learned that you are cared for, and will never be abandoned or rejected.” He held her tighter and sighed. “Life is not an all or nothing, with me, not for you. We will learn one another, and things will get easier.” Another kiss was placed on her forehead, as he tried to figure out how to better comfort her, and also wondered why it was that her upset troubled him so deeply. This whole relationship was a new experience.
“Dinner was amazing, but you know that the rest was not what you had envisioned, or what we could have had.” There was an undercurrent of sadness and remorse to her voice that displeased him. There was no reason for it. Yes, she had misunderstood the situation, but she had not done anything to purposely ruin the night. Her sitting there silently was the exact opposite of how he would have expected her to react to seeing someone flirt with him, and assuming he was receptive.
“True, but such is life. So, we shall have a second date. I do want to keep my wife happy. I wouldn’t want her eyes or heart to wander to someone else. After all, she is becoming very important to me.” The seriousness of the conversation gave way to a slight tease in his voice.
“Asti….” She scoffed and lightly thumped his chest with her hand, looking up at him like he’d just told her that Lucifer was a fluffy bunny. Still, she had not missed his last statement, and it hit her deep.
“I do love it when you say my name….” That wasn't a lie, which the deepening of his voice and the darkening of his eyes gave credence to. There were even times he wished she said it more. He had to be losing his sanity, but for the moment he didn't care.
“Astaroth…” Yara’s voice lowered and became husky, his name becoming an almost purr that reverberated against his neck before she placed a soft kiss there. To find out that she had an effect on him emboldened her, and gave her a newfound sense of satisfaction. The woman at the bar might have been more seductive than she was, but it was clear that she hadn’t affected Astaroth. If Yara was able to with just his name, well that was definitely a bonus in her favor.
“Keep doing that and I might keep you in bed all day tomorrow, Papillio.” His own voice lowered as well, his wife's seduction working fully on him. Even tired after an emotional evening, he would not refuse her. Not with the new feelings taking root in his heart, and how enjoyable their first encounter was.
“Is that a threat or a promise, love?”
“Both.” Astaroth kissed her lightly, enjoying the tease and seduction of the moment. Fingers sinking into her dark locks, he pulled her closer for a deeper kiss before pulling back to look into her eyes.
“Te amo, Astaroth Anthas, Mortem meam.” (I love you, Astaroth Anthas, my Death.) Yara slipped into Latin as easily as she breathed. For some reason, saying the words in that, instead of Demontongue, was easier. The admission that she had already fallen in love with him, since the moment he had learned all about her past, yet had not pushed her away like the others, terrified her. She had handed him the instrument of her own destruction.
For a full beat, Astaroth was convinced he'd translated what she'd said wrong in his head. There was not a possibility that she could feel the same for him. He knew her doubts and fears, her insecurities; but he also knew that after their conversation earlier, she would not say such things lightly or in jest. His belief, once more, that the Fates were involved in whatever was transpiring, seemed confirmed.
Yara had felt like she couldn't breathe, maybe her heart didn’t even beat, while she waited for him to say something. Once she had said it, it was too late to take it back and the expected rejection was causing her to want to run from the bed and the room. Even though she knew he would not be cruel or mean, that almost made it worse. He would be kind in his denial of mutuality.
The last thing Astaroth was going to do was leave Yara wondering his reaction to her admission. Rolling over so she now was the one on her back, and he was looking down into her soulful eyes that he adored, he gave her his answer. “Te amo, Yara Anthas, amica mea papilio et amator animae meae.” (I love you, Yara Anthas, my darling butterfly and lover of my soul.)
Her eyes searched his for any sign that he was just placating her, her heart trying to escape her rib cage as it thundered inside. If he had not been so close, his eyes capturing hers with their intensity, she would have sworn she hallucinated those words, those words that no one had said to her before in her life; and they came from the only man that would ever matter to her for the rest of her life,
Astaroth truly loved her. Her, the daughter that no one wanted. Death loved. In some way it was poetic, but in every way it was perfect. As they came together once more, sealing their bond and their love, both felt whole for the first time in their existence; like they had truly found the part that was missing.
*****
On Olympus, Clotho sat back from the pool and looked over to Atropos with a smirk. Both Fates had worked hard for this day, this hour, this minute. More was coming, some dark, some light, and a lot bloody. Lachesis came with the wine and goblets and they looked over at the twelve tapestries with threats binding them. It was coming together. Soon the Primus Sator would summon them, and it would begin....
