15 - “Timeless Moment”

Originally Written: September 16th, 2000

September 15th, 2000

Neither dreaming or awake, a place where dreams dwell in the heart.  Among eternity’s ever drifting ebb, and far beyond the soul.  She believed in his power to protect her from the ills of the world.  An unspoken declaration of his undying love was the steady rhythm of his heart, pulsating within the muscular width of his great chest.

The windows spattered with the drops of a parting summer thunderstorm, a last tantrum perhaps until after the Winter.  The stone walls of his ancient home kept the tempest at bay, lashing upon the battlements with an abandon of what nature could summon from the corners of it’s realm.  His home, and now her home, carved generations before her birth, stood proudly against a pillar of stars, blanketed with clouds marking the pristine skies.

The rain still fell and the claps of thunder growled above in a savage cry, yet she heard nothing.  Within the folds of lavender leather she lay, hearing only his breath, pouring through where his wings didn’t close completely, releasing into the still air of the room. His hand, an imposing sight of three sharpened talons, gently smoothed over her distended stomach.  Her child, his child, their child, a baby born of their love and devotion, would in less than two months, grace their lives.

She shuddered, as his hand briskly pulled away.  The child within her moved.

“It...it shifted...” he whispered, the first words spoken in hours.

“It’s awake.”

“Does this happen often?”

“More and more frequently.”  She gasped as the child moved again, grasping her slender fingers upon his shoulder.  “There it goes again.”

“Was it a hand, or a foot?”

“Neither,” she replied, dragging her own hands over the stretched skin, “I think it was a wing.”  She laughed quietly, at the delicate remarkableness of her child.  He laughed as well, bringing a smile to her lips.  It seemed only in her presence, would he let his guard down, when his stoic features softened to a smile unlike any other.

“Less than two months left to go...” she sighed passionately, while turning her head slightly to meet his eyes.

“And then we shall hold our child in our arms.” her mate promised her in a trusting susurration.  “I find myself...growing impatient.”  His eyes lit up, as if a young boy on Christmas morning, an undeniable expectation lying there in his charcoal gaze.

Yet another smile of his met her eyes, and she quickly reached up and traced his lips with a single slender finger, wanting not to forget how a simple gesture brought her so much joy.

Husband and wife they had become, joined in each other’s essence though barely half of a year, yet it seemed as if they had known each other their entire lives, waiting for that moment when they met above the streets of Manhattan.  He had saved her life when she fell, and soon a promise would be born of their friendship, he would always be there to catch her.  A promise kept through love, triumph, disaster and death.

Only when he moved to reposition himself, was she broken from her pensiveness.  He was so massive, she thought, how could he be so gentle as to barely disturb her reclining form.  “Are you getting uncomfortable?” she asked.

He fast replied, “Never, when I am with you.”

“That’s good,” she murmured drowsily, taking refuge in his powerful arms, “I could lie here forever.”

“As could I.  Yet...”

She looked up, as his words trailed off.  “What?” she asked of him, imploring an answer to his change of mood.

“I,” he seemed embarrassed, “have to go to the bathroom.”

A sudden burst of laughter broke the silence of their room, as she filled the cavity of his wings with a rousing cheer.  Even more uncommon was her husband’s abashment, for he raised himself to be staid and solemn, most of the time.  Through her tearing eyes, she caught his annoyance and immediately tried to suppress her chortle, painfully so that she would snicker within her cupped hands until her husband left the security of their bed. He shot one last look at her before disappearing into the bathroom.

As her laughter subsided, she turned her attention to the windows, and between fervid flashes of lightning ripping across the surface of the dense cloud cover, the water sheeted down the vast expanse of glass, eventually draining away from sight.  She loved the sound it made, a soothing melody played upon the cornices of her home, their home, carved generations before her birth, yet seeming as if made just for her.

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