FANTASY [P]

[Lyric Shikov]

The brisk chill of the wind seemed reminiscent of Russia, at the beginning of autumn, when the leaves clung feebly to the branches but still retained their color of green. It held the threat of winter, a coldness that seeped into the very essence of the shapeshifter who walked upon the barren streets. His sole source of warmth was the hand of his beloved; his eyes fixed on her repetitively, even as she stared child-like at the surrounding ruins.  He saw their surroundings only with a cynic's eye. He knew what a city was meant to look like and the old buildings surrounding Studio Ess did not resemble a city whatsoever. They were covered in graffiti, windows shattered and rooms ransacked of any and all resources. Some billboards held stubbornly onto their old images, advertisements of merchandise that had long since lost its pull upon Lyric.  He could not help but smile at Aurora's enthusiasm. She saw now things that she might not have ever seen before, although the entire hand-in-hand scene reminded him rather eerily of an event that had occurred with Leena years ago. It had been during the same season, although the Russian air had been much colder and the street had been populated with urban noises. Leena had held Lyric's hand, humoring him, feigning that they were a couple. Lyric had gone along, dog-eyed, and thinking back upon the memory he was disgusted with himself and his eagerness to follow her.  "It's a beautiful neighborhood," he had told Leena, looking at the painted streets, alight with a different walk of life than he was accustomed. They had not been in the aristocratic upper-class neighborhoods but, instead, the ghetto of Moscow. "Oh, Zivon," she had laughed. "You are too optimistic."  In retrospect, the words were hilariously untrue. It was Aurora now who bore the optimism and Lyric the cynicism. They progressed slowly, as he had still been regaining his strength, and the pale autumn sun felt warm upon his cheeks despite the wind. He looked at her, pausing to regain his breath. "Have you never seen things like this?" He asked, softly. His eyes settled upon hers with a calm warmness, although they continued to convey the sorrow he tried so hard to contain. He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips affectionately across her knuckles.  This was the farthest they had gone from the studio thus far. It was where the other buildings began in earnest, overgrown and unattended, left to contain the resonance of the wind through open doors and broken windows. The entire trip had been provoked because they had had a conversation about what curiosities Aurora still had. It was not much, but it was the most that Lyric could do.  He took a moment to draw her nearer. As he did so, he fantasized about if they were outside of this godforsaken hell, if they were merely human. He knew, of course, that they would never have met realistically. But that tiny detail was forsaken in favor for humoring his fantasy. He fancied the idea that they would be just like this, hand-in-hand, only free.

[AURORA]

It had been weeks. Though Lyric was healing in body, there were many wounds hidden deep within him, and Aurora did what she could to help. Most days she spent in avid foraging, for even the smallest kills were beyond her. She continued to learn about survival, and whereas in Nakoma she had learned to care and grow and farm, out here there was no such luxury. With Lyric as her teacher either in short walks or by description the black eyed girl learned to scavenge and what one could eat amazed her. Many plants, roots, and even bugs were not only edible but an excellent source of protein (or so Lyric said). Aurora had watched with rapt, wide-eyed amazement when she had brought him termites. Taking each tiny insect head in his teeth he bit them free from the body and gobbled the rest down. Excitedly she had tried one for herself, and for reasons she did not quite understand, her reaction to the sour taste and strange buggy crunch had Lyric laughing so hard his eyes cried. She never knew that was something that could happen! Slowly they had begun to take trips and adventures outside, and today was particularly excited because he was taking her into the city. His strength allowed him day trips now, and she had not yet gotten a chance to see the buildings. They had bundled up in every piece of clothing they’d had but it was still cold. The breeze bit her nose and ears and her eyeballs felt frozen. Sometimes she thought snow was warmer, though she wasn’t sure why. When they had reached the buildings all thoughts of the cold and Lyric were put at a stand-still as her wide eyes drank in the buildings. It was a good thing Lyric held her hand; else she might have strayed and lost him. As it was she turned and followed him, then craned her neck to see the opposite direction. Art covered the walls in beautiful colors and letters and waves. Have you never seen things like this? His question almost went unheard. Awe struck she came back to him at the touch of his lips to her fingers, her eyes met his warmly and she smiled and shook her head. Just a moment before she had turned, she’d seen a splash of colors she desperately wanted to see, and her lips pulled into her mouth as her eyes lifted in innocence, her brows high as she looked back over to the rush of shades. Her shoulders rose as she grinned and scrunched her nose. “It is very different, Lyric. The colors are all pieced together to make such lovely things,” she said in earnest - likely the first time someone had use such eloquence to describe gang signs of skulls, baby pacifiers, nonsensical symbols, arrows, and words written backward. Then again there was also beauty. Further down the way there was a moon and stars with a little boy painting colorful coy fish in the sky that suddenly looked like the ripples of water. Japanese water lights floated amongst lilies, and in the reflection of the water a little girl watched the boy from afar. A soft gasp escaped her as she all but ran over to the mural to get a better look. Her fingers lifted to trace the outline of one of the fish fins tenderly. Fish in the sky? Who would have thought up such a fantasy! “Look Lyric, look!” She said as if he were not standing there right beside her. “Such beauty,” she whispered. The art that she had seen in her books were quite usually those that had died several hundred years ago. Aurora had never heard of the concept of street art, but it seemed more vivid, living and real to her than Monet, or Dalí. Dalí scared her anyway. She moved down the way, not realizing that she still held fast to his hand. These days she was always touching him, or he was touching her. They had been kept apart for so long, it had seemed like they were always saying goodbye. Sometimes she would wake up and not quite believe he was right there. Right here, with her. Black eyes fell upon a mermaid encircled by what looked like a can. Maybe it was symbolism? The mermaid was gorgeous, her blonde hair curled and she was wearing sea shells to cover herself! How silly! She beamed at the thought and turned her smile to Lyric whose face looked pained as if he were struggling with something. Eventually his mouth cracked a smile, and she realized he was trying not to laugh. “I think it is silly too,” she said discerning she knew what it was he found amusing. “Such a beautiful portrait of a mythical creature and they make her wear seashells. Mermaids do not wear clothes,” she said matter-of-factly as she continued to appreciate the tuna-fish logo.

[Lyric Shikov]

The bitterness that he associated with street-walking and appreciating graffiti faded at Aurora's response to what she saw. This was no Leena. This was a young woman who now drank up the new and foreign sights of a culture never touched previously. Lyric had learned from his time with Lesta that, sometimes, neighborhoods where poverty hung fast beauty could be found in abundance. Poor people were quite often the most optimistic, the most hopeful. Those with little dreamed of more, of a life beyond their reach, and that was where so many went wrong. They did not realize that prosperity did not come hand-in-hand with wealth. Lyric knew too much of cold money and how it seemed to breed only apathy. So he humored her. As she observed the art, he kept careful watch of her expressions, lips upturned in the smallest of smiles. She never ceased to amaze him, with her boundless optimism. Her touch held him fast and off they went, around corners, to spend more attentive time on some pieces of street art. To him, he found some sadness in the first graffiti she stood rapt at. The boy and the fish and the girl. To Lyric, the girl was lonely, far-away, staring at a dream she could not touch. The fantastical nature of it was there regardless and he understood Aurora's curiosity, even as she dragged him from it and toward a giant magnification of the tuna-fish logo. Lyric stifled laughter. Of course she did not know what it was! And he did no feel like giving an explanation because, in the Menagerie, she was exactly right. "I agree," Lyric proclaimed, with a soft breath of laughter. "If she were naked, it would be much more realistic." Lyric drew her close again and removed his hand from hers. He placed it over her shoulders, offering what warmth his body could give, and turned her farther into the alleyway toward more of the art. It was a profound and intricate scramble of various "artists", layers upon layers of different designs and symbols. Some were nonsensical. Others held more depth. The colors, hardly faded by time, seemed especially bright in the autumn air. "One day I will find you paint and we can come here and leave our own art," Lyric suggested. He said it, in part, to give himself a semblance of hope. I will be strong enough to do that soon, he thought, or more so prayed. He loved and appreciated all that Aurora had done for him--it went against his nature, however, to be helpless and dependent. Regardless of that, he realized just how dependent upon his Rory he had become. He looked to her for so much more now. He began to verge on another thought. "I was also thinking that when I get my strength back... you could possibly teach me to fly?" He had not shifted since the first night. He had not even tried. But the feel of being a falcon was so much different than to what he was accustomed; it had not come as naturally as being a mountain lion. To him, a cat's form was... inherent. He moved in the same smooth, indolent fashion even as a man. Lyric had none of a falcon's quick, sharp grace. Even the concept of flight was foreign and impossible. He banished those thoughts, however, and kissed Rory's temple. She had put him in a better mood than he thought himself capable of having. The cold air felt good, and awakened him. Her happiness, her genuine and perhaps naive interest, was enough to brighten his eyes until they were not so dull and listless. He loved this fragile, strong, brave thing so much.

[AURORA]

She smiled when he laughed and leaned into him softly when his arm stretched snugly over her shoulders. She was careful still. Though she was slight and normally he could easily lift her above his head, his healing had taken his strength from him and even a small amount of pressure from her could knock him off balance. Her wings ruffled and settled happily as they strolled, looking at the wall art. We can come here and leave our own art, he suggested. The idea stunned her into stillness and she turned wide eyes to him that quickly narrowed in a large grin that lit up her face. How wondrous! One could leave a piece of themselves on the walls for others to see! She bounced once and nodded enthusiastically. Old habits died hard. Aurora was never one to speak much – her entire upbringing had been centered on protecting her singing voice, but with Lyric they had never much needed words. However, worried that he might miss the cadence of talk he might have had with his comrades she had more recently made an effort to speak her mind and comment when he spoke. “Brilliant!” she said, her british-accented voice using an expression she had once heard her maid use long ago. “To think we can create our own colorful piece of world and leave it for someone else to see,” she smiled to herself as they continued to walk. She loved to sketch in her notebook, to think what she could do with a space larger than she was! In the silence, her attention settled on him. Lyric had been thoughtful of late, though he had always been rather quiet and withdrawn, or angry and acting. Aurora would never have known the difference. What was ‘normal’ and what was not was relative to the anthro and more than once she found herself watching Lyric with a loving, soft expression. He was so hard on himself for reasons she often did not understand, but she loved him with every fiber she had. On quiet mornings she would muse through the memories they shared. She remembered all of it. Every single second. That first evening. She had known nothing about the Menagerie, and he had known nothing about her. Thinking back, she realized with new knowledge and experience that he should have killed her. Even then he had protected her, even then they had bonded, even then she had loved him. The memory of lowering to the ground in caution caught her, her fingers touching the icy forest floor as the elegant form of golden cat, seeming brighter and clearer than anything else, emerged into her life. The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile … Teach me to fly? His words caught her off guard, and she stopped a moment to peer up at him in unembarrassed evaluation. When last he had shifted, he had been frightened, and she had been scared too – she had not known what to do. She considered, her intelligent book educated mind assessing the probability of teaching him to fly. To fly as a human had taken her a very long time to master and in fact, they had forced her in the bad place to try over and over until she’d had a basic grasp of it. She’d been sore and black and blue before they’d been done with her. The memory darkened her eyes. It would be different to fly as a bird, to actually slip through the air with the ease of an arrow because that was what you were built for … and not only fly, but soar. She had remembered the falcon form he had taken and they were predators in their own right - one that a blackbird might call death. Aurora had never flown with anything but determined progress, like a swan flying south and taking it easy for the long trip. But Lyric had asked her to teach him something. Could she teach him? She was not sure. And so, ever honest and pragmatic Aurora shook her head softly and smiled. “I can try,” she offered and lifted her small hand to his face. “The translation of human flight to that of a bird’s will be a rough one,” she said in one of many moments that, despite her usual worldly ignorance, showed her inarguable intelligence. No, Aurora was not stupid. Though she was unsure whether or not it was something she could do, it would never affect her nature. Aurora was gentle, but not one to accept defeat without the effort behind a loss to know a true failure. The possibility that she might lose would not deter her. She would try whether or not she thought she could do something. It was a sense of pride she’d had even as a little girl; bravery even the strongest person often lacked. “I will try my hardest Lyric,” she said determinedly as if readying herself for battle. “If not, we will figure it out,” she said with a shrug, using a phrase and manner she’d heard him use previously to express a given then rose to her tip toes to kiss him sweetly, her warm lips lingering on his in support and confidence. Though she could not have said so exactly, her instincts whispered that he was vulnerable on the subject, so despite her honest admittance in doubting her own abilities, she would not allow the thought that he could not learn at all to enter his mind. Lowering to her heels, she smiled at him and scrunched her nose to keep the mood light. Though it had taken time, the sheer naivety she once had between them regarding conversation, mood, and that additional sense that something was wrong had strengthened in her. In the interest of keeping Lyric from being unhappy she had become a pro at catching a line of sadness and all but blowing it from her fingers like dust - and just like that she winked and bounced from him in play. He grinned and when his hands darted out to catch her she danced away again, and around the corner to go hide. It was Aurora’s favorite game, and Lyric always found her. She settled into her hiding spot with a soft, excited sigh. He would always find her.

[Lyric Shikov]

Lyric had known that hearing something like that would make her happy and, as cliche as it was, her happiness directly influenced his own. He grinned, rather pleased with himself, and the expression he bore for a moment resembled the smugness of a cat with a canary. It was ephemeral. The previous Delta had always been notorious for stoicism; his smiles were all too often brief and in this he had not changed, particularly due to the severity of his thoughts. He had not expected her to deny him and yet that fear was there, perhaps a leftover distrust of people that he had inherited in his youth and never quite shaken. He knew that this was his Rory, who denied him nothing and gave him everything, and so her rejection would have been more of a surprise than her agreement. Regardless, he still felt the same endless surprise toward her generosity, her love. He marveled at it and, with a quiet shake of his head, he smiled wider. "You are an amazement. Your love is so sweet." And her strength was so remarkable. Her intelligent, brighter than Lyric's would ever be. He kissed her back with just as much sweetness, conveying through touch what he struggled to convey with words: thank you, thank you with everything I have, with more than I have, thank you for everything that you give. She was so determined and he felt a hope growing inside of him. They could make the best of this, together. They would be able to make the most of the situation and, one way or another, he would learn to fly. Then she was slipping away from him. Lyric let her go, wearing that stupid smile of a man in love. He watcher her go with the knowledge that they would not be parted for long. To humor her, he closed his eyes. "One... two... three... four... five... six..." He walked as he counted, miniscule steps. "Seven... eight... nine... ten... Ready or not, here I come!" It was a childish game. There was no place in the Menagerie for such things and yet there it was; a testament to their humanity. He had seen the direction she had headed and now he pursued her, thoughtfully, looking for signs of her presence. He trailed down another colorful alleyway and... there. He saw the brilliant shadow of a wing against the wall. "C'mon, Rory, you gotta do better than that." Lyric teased as he rounded the corner and reached for her. He tugged her, giggling, into his chest and kissed the top of her head. "Since I caught you I think... I think I should just..." In a moment of rare childishness Lyric licked his lips and planted a slobbery kiss on her forehead... then another on her nose, and her cheek, and her jaw. He held her tight but not so as to hurt her; laughing he turned his face away and dried his mouth on his sleeve before finding her mouth. It was a lingering kiss, full of mischief, full of affection. "Do you want to go back for the day?" He did not want to admit it but the walk had exhausted him.

[AURORA]

COURAGE DOES NOT ALWAYS ROAR She could hear his voice counting down the numbers as they echoed off the walls. He counted quickly and, thrilled he was willing to play, she ducked behind an ages-old abandoned car just around the side of the building. The day had passed too soon and the orange brilliance of setting sun now glared through the dark structures - casting shadows of all. C’mon, Rory, you gotta do better than that, his voice chided. As he scooped her into his arms her happiness pealed from her in relentless giggles. The kiss atop her head she smiled, but when his slopping kisses assaulted her she squeaked and wiggled. He was getting stronger she realized, for though she squirmed she remained fast in his grip. When he sobered and kissed her mouth, she melted against him and returned his care with interest. She was so happy they’d had a good walk, and happier still that his strength was returning to him. Do you want to go back for the day? He asked mildly. She smiled sweetly, tendrils of long dark hair straying in the cold breeze and nodded. It was almost freezing, and without notice of her own doting tucked his jacket closer about him before she took his hand and strolled back toward the shelter of the Studio that they had called home in relative safety for far longer than either of them had anticipated or hoped for. But, it seemed, for the first time The Menagerie was being kind to them, though it would not last. There was a quiet thrill inside of her that he finally wanted to work with his second shift. He had not shifted into either form since that day he had shown her that the keepers had given him the ability ... and she had never brought it up. She had been too busy anyway, gathering food, tending to his injuries, working with him to regain use of muscle, and sleeping when she got the chance. Since winter had began to set in, food had been more scarce, and the cold had kept them in bed to keep warm and save energy. Today had been the warmest day in a week, and Aurora had wanted to get Lyric out. Especially since being kept in such close quarters was rather hard on her ... she'd spent most of her former life before in a lavish apartment staring at the outside but never being apart of it. Even this brief walk was worth it. The fresh air was helping her stomach as well. The last few weeks nausea had caught her in waves at random moments, and though she had cleaned and cleaned she could not find the source of the smell that irritated her nose. She'd ignored it, but was grateful for the reprieve. Looking up to Lyric, she smiled again. She couldn't help it - it was the longest she'd been with him since they'd met so long ago and even seeing his face made her so happy.

WORDS:500 | TAGS:Lyric Shikov | IRONCHILD@THEMENAGERIE

[Lyric Shikov]

The return trip passed with little excitement, aside from a herd of wandering deer that trailed through the ruins of the city and then fled at the sight of the two inhabitants, clasping hands and walking with the leisure of a couple in New York admiring Christmas lights. Lyric watched them pass without expression, admiring their simplicity for a moment.  He found himself admiring much more, in fact. There was the straining light of the sun through the light clouds, making everything seem whiter than usual, more pure. The air was crisp and fresh enough that it carried no scent aside from that of snow or rain to come. He rubbed small circles against the skin of her hand. It seemed to him as though a cloud had lifted. Even exhausted, the world seemed to appear more promising. He would learn to fly and make use of himself. He did not have to return to Carna and he could learn, again, how to survive in the wilds of the Menagerie. It could simply be him and Aurora against the rest of the dome and he would, quite simply, be pleased with that. They made it back to the studio and ascended until they reached the loft. It had become quite homey within the last few weeks, mostly due to Aurora's efforts. She had scrounged up an assortment of supplies, mostly from the studio itself. They had heavy blankets (and while they may have smelled slightly strange, they were warm) in preparation for the cold and some books that had been left laying in one of the rooms of the studio. Lyric had passed his days reading them to her aloud, and sometimes her to him. Without exchanging words they settled down in order to sleep. Lyric quickly found himself distracted, however. He kissed her passionately, all fire, before lowering until his head rested against her stomach. He embraced her at the waist and relished her warmth. He found it a strange thing, to lay against her, but it was also enjoyable. With his enhanced hearing he had found himself capable of listening to her heartbeat, which soothed his thoughts and eased his nightmares.  She played with the hair at the nape of his neck and it sent tingles down his spine. He was so comfortable here. So at home, and that sound of her heart-- There was something strange about it, this time. His eyes opened and he listened more closely, easing his own breath to a rhythm. It wasn't possible...  He thought for several minutes. He was not hearing his own heartbeat, no, because he could feel that. It was not her heartbeat, either, because Aurora's was quick and fast and heavy like a bird's. It was lighter, a quiet pitter-patter that Lyric almost thought he was imagining. He sat up abruptly, hand on her stomach. It wasn't possible... but at the same time it was entirely too possible.  She was pregnant. Lyric knew because he had just heard his child's heartbeat.

[AURORA]

END OF THREAD!