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by ~shadagishvili.
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from his eyes came
subtle acknowledgement
subtle acknowledgement
from her eyes falls
gently his peace
[WARNING: Some strong language]
When they arrived at ground zero, a boy and a newer member to the camp—a man not well known by most at present—hustled out of their way. Here, Dellasseea found the visage exactly as it had been given her to know so very long ago.
On a dank and muddied ground laid an all but lifeless body. Torchlight glistened in the blood pooled and flowing free from the gaping chest wound. Another of Dellasseea's personal guardians sat cross-legged; cradling The Interpreter's head in his lap.
Though Styian's feelings belied what he knew, he was still no less amazed when he looked to her and said in a thick EastSector accent, "I don't know how he's even still alive!"
Those were all the words Interpreter needed to hear to know his final embrace was near. Dellasseea witnessed his body tense as he tried, with great effort, to open his eyes and search for hers. Blinking uncontrollably, trying to focus, he managed a fragile smile as the woman he followed into war struggled for something to say.
Though Dellasseea chronicled so many years ago, of no words being said, her heart found none even now. Her eyes hurt with the pressure building up behind them. Her throat tightened as she knelt down beside his pallid body. The odor of his spilled blood permeated the air. And the moment she held his dark gaze, an all-but-forgotten fragment of their past together, came to the fore of her thought. She welcomed its remembrance with a frail smile.
~~~~
Newly wed, Dellasseea N'Syis [Perrie Stevens] stood in Geffen’s [Ray Lynn] arms, at the front of the stage, waiting while Salisbury’s frontman queued the band to jam on through the intro; until The Interpreter could be found.
She rested her head back upon his shoulder as Geffen circled her neck with kisses. ‘Here he comes.’ Geffen whispered Within,
Dellasseea lifted her head and tried to hide the grin forming as she watched Lionheart march The Interpreter without mercy—hand to his back—across the dance floor. Could he truly not have known that this was their song? Or had he simply meant to keep a respected distance?
“Not a good idea to keep the bride waiting, Asshole.” Lionheart chided. Dellasseea may have been comfortable with him mingling in and amongst The Allies, but Lionheart clearly was not.
Geffen removed his arms from around her waist and relinquished his bride to the next dance.
Dellasseea charmed the rest every step of The Interpreter's approach with an all but perceptible hint of a smile; holding out her hand, ready and waiting for Interpreter to take into his own.
Overwhelmed by his nervousness when he took her hand, Dellasseea took a quick breath and put forward, "Relax!" And then broaden her hint into a full-grown smile.
Upon further sensing a reluctance—an actual indecision on his part to dance close or at an arm's length—being ever-mindful of his prudence, she offered reassuringly, "No one from my camp will question how you hold me. No one!"
With that, she felt The Interpreter slide his hand in fluid motion, round and about her waist. As he pulled her to him, Dellasseea cupped her left hand over his shoulder and laid her head down upon it.
With that, she felt The Interpreter slide his hand in fluid motion, round and about her waist. As he pulled her to him, Dellasseea cupped her left hand over his shoulder and laid her head down upon it.
This moment belonged to him and an extended version of Salisbury’s, Eyes. He moved into the perfume that lingered about her neck, took a deep breath— and relaxed!
Though well staged, most of the onlookers knew the evening's true significance. Knew well what the years to come would bring. All knew this night to be one of the last calms before a long and violent storm. Having taken so long for her to be allowed among them, each who danced before The Interpreter—as would each who remained to follow—all had earned the right for their moment in chronicled Time.
~~~~
Throughout the Awakening Years, the Allied bands used their music to help affect her awareness and understanding. While it was an old track from Silent Lion, that gave her the visions of The Interpreter's death, it was Salisbury’s track that helped Perrie/Dellasseea focus her attention on his importance to their future. They used that one song to invoke her chronicling of his part in the telling of the Forbidden World’s story. Though The Interpreter had known well the music she listened to, she could only trust he knew which songs provoked what visions of their future together.
Throughout the duration of The Interpreter visions, Perrie/Dellasseea fought with incessant coercions to confront him. During the Awakening years the battlefields then were still concealed deep within the minds of those fighting for the truth. Ever wary that the pressure came via her opposition—as both ally and enemy used the same tactics and technique—she never asked him direct if he knew she had seen his death. Never asked if he knew of his role as their interpreter. And, had he ever truly known just how protective of him she had been all of those coming years?
It is many years passed, now, since either she or The Interpreter heard Salisbury’s music. Uneasily, Dellasseea whispered with great affection, "You were so nervous the night ..."
What smile The Interpreter still held, broadened in acknowledgment of his place in her memories.
Lost in the moment, Dellasseea all but heard the night's sole voice of sporadic rounds of ground fire that continued to plague her people. A sudden gust of wind swirled about those standing over them; carrying with it the stench of war and its sorrowful demise. Loose wisps of dry hair danced about and caressed her face as the uneasy smile she held began to fade.
The scrutiny with which The Interpreter held her gaze was intense. He was not so unlike the many in that her eyes reminded him of twin suns, totally eclipsed in a gray-blue sky and no matter how the many tried to discredit her, he could always look into them and know the True.
Dellasseea loosened a small strap with her teeth, and removed the fingerless glove protecting her right hand. Once free, she then held it briefly fisted at her breast.
Most present noticed, but understood her hesitation; knowing exactly what to expect. The inevitable now firmly established, Dellasseea reached down and took her fingertips gently inside the wound. Inside the torn flesh and displaced ribs, she searched through the fluid warmth until she captured the pulse of what remained of his life.
Interpreter's dark eyes—sparkling with torch light—widened. Not so much by the sensation of her hand about his heart; but in acknowledgement of the audacity of her having done so. Simultaneously, Dellasseea sensed his wonder. His own realization of a once cryptic promise only now truly believed. With a short and quick intake of breath, The Interpreter raised his right hand; taking an abrupt, but solid grip of her left arm. Affected by the force, a slight involuntary groan escaped her.
Lost in resolve, Dellasseea all but noticed Interpreter's eyes flutter and then close; slowly. The flesh about his face rippled with the set of his jaw. As he opened them again—just as slow—through an ebbing whisper he conceded; as if he owed her the answer, "I knew."
The pressure behind her eyes swelled. Styian reinforced his own grip on The Interpreter's shoulders and with that acknowledgement, Dellasseea N'Syis could no longer hold back the tears that welled and blurred her sight. Feeling the first actual tear form she fought the desperate temptation to reclaim her arm and wipe it away.
Subject to his own anticipation, Dellasseea watched as The Interpreter refocused his gaze upon the droplet that crested, and began its escape. His eyes followed its descent. He then gave her permission to, "Let it fall!"
Dellasseea tensed and closed her eyes. And with all the strength he had left to him, The Interpreter pulled her closer. She, of all people, would not deny him peace. And so it was there—directly over his fatal wound—that their Fated teardrop left her cheek.
In that incalculable moment of time, everyone present stood witness as the single tear fell. They watched the sparkling droplet fall away and mingle with his blood. In that instant, The Interpreter's hand loosened from her forearm and fell away; like the strings of a marionette having just been cut. And there, in her fond embrace, his heart ceased to beat.
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