Divinitas

~ * ~

Divinitas

Written by Caleyndar
Website: http://cruelangel.net/divinitas

~ * ~

A/N: Thankyou to those of you who read and left a comment. XD Ch 70 was... well, it took a certain frame of mind to write, let's just leave it at that. XD 71 is a bit nicer... but pretty mean in another way. >_> We'll get to nice bits in ch 72 before it all goes to hell again. Yeah, it's a roller coaster, but where Aether and Phoenix's relationship is concerned, do you really expect them to be a happy couple?

jeazard: Yes, I liked the line "I beg you" too... it was very difficult to type that out though. >_> It's a taboo for Phoenix to say it, and I feel like it's a taboo for me to type it. >_> But he had his reasons, so it's alright, this one time. XD

.Kady.: I'm glad to hear that you feel enough for this story to catch up with it. Draco is off somewhere planning his grand world changing plans that won't get him anywhere much except into trouble. Chima is... sleeping outside somewhere? XD

amberly: Nothing is wrong with me. XD I'm just a sadomasochist at heart. That, and Phoenix is a masochist, Aether is a sadist, so all's well in the end, no?

MidnightsKeeper: We all know Aether doesn't understand, and Phoenix is finally starting to see that. >_> To be honest, I try to... stay away from giving insight into what Aether is thinking, most of the time. Because it confusing, and contradicting, and it basically hurts my brain to try to figure him out. What he does doesn't make sense to most sane, logical people, and I write that off as his "I only have half a soul" complex. >_> 'Cause that HAS to screw with your emotional well being in one way or another, and Aether was anything BUT a well balanced being to begin with even when he had his whole soul... but at least back then... he had a bit more restraint and didn't do totally mean things to Phoenix. (Okay, so that's a bit of a lie... let's just say he didn't do things as mean and cruel as what he does now. >_>)

~ * ~

071 - Anglia

~ * ~

The God of Fire awoke to the scent of freshly cooked food. Crispy burnt bacon and buttered scrabbled eggs and milk, warm and wafting over his senses. It made his mouth water. Only it was parched dry and the taste of his own blood lingered.

The events from last night came crashing back.

His eyes were open in an instant, half blinded by the brilliant sun that streamed in through the open balcony and hit his face and body. This wasn’t his little torturous cell. Everything here was luxurious and smooth and silken. And he was cleaned of blood, with bandages covering his entire aching back.

It had all been done whilst he was out cold. The smoothing of his elemental feathers, the closing of his lacerated flesh and skin. And for some insane reason, it felt like a betrayal, like something which was rightfully his had been stolen out from under his nose.

‘I can bare it! Do it over whilst I’m awake!’

Stupid thoughts of one who forgot too quickly the details of pain but clung onto pride and image and the necessity of feeling his hands sooth his tortured flesh.

The food was laid out on a silver tray on the bedside table, a piece of craftsmanship carved from light marble. A matching stool held folded garments, with his gleaming double bladed sword balanced on top. What was this? An end to his ‘punishment’? Or…

A knock on the door forced Phoenix’s eyes away from the clothes and weapon, and instead, the youth pulled the tray onto his lap and started inhaling the much needed food.

“Phoenix?”

Draco’s voice. Calm, steady, but the mere fact that he was here meant that he had worried.

“Mmm?” Phoenix replied, chewing and shoving another forkful of eggs into his mouth at the same time. He didn’t look up at the water deity. Not right now, not whilst that accusing thought still lingered in his mind. It wasn’t Draco’s fault that no one helped him. It was Aether’s, it was his own.

“I’m glad… to see that you’re alright. I wanted to continue to the palace today. Are you well enough for that?” Draco inquired, stepping further into the large chamber.

Swallowing, the youth glanced out the open balcony, feeling the slight breeze play with the locks of his hair. His wings hurt. They throbbed beneath his back’s skin, like something alive and withering. But the pain was limited only to there, and nothing else was maimed.

“I’m fine,” Phoenix answered at length before finally turning and forcing himself to feel nothing whilst he locked eyes with the God of Water. “Did Chimaera arrive safely?”

“Yes, just a few hours ago, actually. I think he spent the night out in the wilderness somewhere.”

This was such forced conversation. Draco obviously wanted to inquire about the swath of bandaged supporting Phoenix’s damaged back, and Phoenix obviously wanted to pretend they didn’t exist.

Conceding with a silent sigh, the God of Water sat down on the end of the large bed. It wasn’t like the huge four posters they had at Genesis… this was minimalist yet luxurious, a large carved slab of the palest marble with a soft silken mattress and sheets on top. And everything was white still. Ah, how long had you left your followers to follow you so blindly, Aether? Did they not even know you preferred black now?

“Aether ordered a carriage with eight black horses,” Draco said finally, watching the other pause in mid bite before almost angrily shoving the next forkful of food into his mouth. “I’m thinking the best arrangement for the procession up to the palace would be Chimaera and I to lead the carriage and for you and Gryps to follow behind. It offers the most protection for the carriage and Aether. We’ve also unloaded our belongings from the Divine Beast of Earth and stored the trunks in the carriage, so Chimaera and his Divine Beast should have a more comfortable ride.”

“Oh stop it. If you want to know, just ask, Draco. Don’t circle around the point until you wear a track into the bloody ground,” Phoenix bit out, having finally finished all the food and shoved the empty tray away onto the crumpled white sheets. “You want to know why Aether suddenly decided not to ride with me, and instead picks a mode of transport which requires close contact with other humans. Well, the answer’s simple. He’s disgusted and disappointed with me. Because I can’t take forty-four lashes and not beg for him to stop!”

Draco’s sapphire eyes glanced towards Phoenix’s back before making eye contact again with the enraged God of Fire. “Maybe we should postpone until tomorrow…”

“Don’t bother. Not like he or anyone else would care. Just get this stupid procession of yours over and done with so we can go home.”

The God of Water placed a steady hand to Phoenix’s shoulder, careful to avoid the other’s back whilst demanding his attention. “I do care for your well being. And I regret I am unable to lift a hand to stop Aether from doing what he does to you. But I follow and serve him, just as you do, and I will not defy a direct order from the one commands me. Please understand that.”

Silence followed, pregnant with unspoken words. Finally Phoenix just brushed Draco’s hand from his shoulder and eased himself off the bed, careful not to move his back too violently. His nakedness didn’t even cause him to blush, too tired of it all to care. Besides, it was just Draco. Older brother, retainer of sorts. He pulled the fitted black pants on, followed by the leather boots. Another pair, different from the ones he’d worn yesterday. Those had probably been burned and singed beyond repair. He reached for the final garment but stopped.

It wasn’t his. This garment of fine black velvet and gold threading. Long sleeves and a full front and back that didn’t leave an inch of skin exposed. None of his top garments were anything but sleeveless and baring most of his back to the world.

Just hiding your handiwork, Aether? Or do you really care?

Finally sliding the garment on and clasping it at the front, the God of Fire picked up his weapon and gestured for Draco to lead the way. You could tell it wasn’t his. It was slightly too big. And he could smell the fiend’s scent on them, so much so it almost smothered him.

All along the route through the long passageways within the temple, the priests ignored his existence. They bowed to Draco, but adverted their heads, refusing even the chance at eye contact with the God of Fire. But Aether’s actions the previous night had taught their lesson well. The priests weren’t people Phoenix could ever turn to for help. They loathed him, so he might as well do the same. No. Forgetting their existence was better. He had too much hate in his life already.

The first person who’s face brightened upon seeing Phoenix was Chimaera. The youthful deity broke out into a huge grin and bounded up the temple steps to meet the God of Fire, throwing open his arms wide to catch him in a bear hug. It was only Draco’s quick intervention, latching a graceful hand onto the God of Earth’s collar, that prevented the enthusiastic bundle of energy from knocking Phoenix over with a hug that would have had the other god screaming.

Quick lies of assurance had the younger deity grinning again, and Draco was able to usher him back to his Divine Beast who stood patiently in front of the a black luxurious carriage with gold fittings. The purple velvet curtains were drawn over the lead glass widows, hiding the passenger inside.

Did Aether wish to avoid him that much?

The griffin was already standing in its place behind the carriage, with the Griffin of Dark seated comfortably on his back, smirking unpleasantly to himself. One could see him plotting.

Walking past the carriage, Phoenix noticed the young driver perched at the front, clenching the reins and whip in death grips. He was too young and too intimidated by the mere idea of driving for a person of any power, let alone the God of his realm. Wouldn’t others more experienced have vied for the prestigious job? It was only then that Phoenix noticed. The age, the looks. The youth looked suspiciously close to himself, only with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Even the hair style was the same.

“Oh, fuck you,” Phoenix spat before turning on his heels and stomping his way to his place beside the Divine Beast of Air. Or tried to. Two steps and he was grinding his teeth against the jarring pains that shot up his back, forcing him into a more modest walk.

The God of Air smirked as Phoenix called forth the phoenix and swung up onto its back, bemused with the dark looks Phoenix kept giving the innocent coachman. “Many of the older coachman offered themselves up for that position, and our Lord Aether didn’t seem to care either way. But then he saw that youth and singled him out of the crowd,” Ari grinned, recalling his little excursion to the stables earlier that morning, enlisted by Draco to accompany their wayward God of Soul. “The boy was all ‘who me? I can’t!!!’ and Aether just glowered, saying ‘you would defy me also?’ in his most displeased voice. The boy just shut up after that and did what he was told,” the silver haired god snickered. “A far cry from your usual response to such things. But for Aether to pick him… hmm… have another lover’s spat last night, Little Bird?”

“Bite me, Gryps,” Phoenix fumed, irked by both the presence of a youth who looked too much like himself and the sharp ache of his wings beneath his skin. “When did you become such a bloody gossip anyway.”

“Ari,” The Griffin of the Dark said simply. “Gryps wouldn’t like being out at the moment. So I’d rather you call me by my name. Ari,” the God of Air repeated, smiling still. “And I became a gossip when your sulkiness and pouting became such an amusement to watch.”

“You know what I’d find amusing to watch?” Phoenix hissed, barely hearing Ari’s words. “I’d like to watch him live through what I live through every bloody night!

” The darker God of Air just laughed, a distinctly unpleasant sound that sent a chill down one’s spine.

It wasn’t long before the carriage began to move, its eight ebony horses pulling it with ease. Many of the priests had gathered at the entrance of the Aetheist temple, bowing deeply to their departing deity. Did they despise at all that Aether didn’t even bother to draw back the curtains to acknowledge their loyalty?

Only a fool would want the worship of millions.

If anything was true, it was Aether who despised them for such actions. Such a selfish hate though, to not even reveal the reason why. A silent, festering hate. One almost felt sorry for those blindly loyal priests, those who clung onto belief for a reason to exist, and knew not that their own god loathed them.

The route from the Aetheist temple to the capital of Anglia, a palace-like city where the ruling royal family resided, was crowded with onlookers and guards. It became more so as they approached the central business district, where the wide streets were almost impassable due to the sheer magnitude of curious spectators.

The griffin hissed every time the crowd pressed in too close, and Gryps, who had returned once the Aetheist temple was out of sight, kept running a cautioning hand over its silver ruffled feathers. The phoenix on the other hand preened, delighting in the awed comments and stares directed at it, much to Phoenix’s chagrin.

There was a different air here though, in terms of acceptance and atmosphere. Fear, yes, but excitement and awe overrode that. People wanted to see, they wanted to press in and touch, if only to run a fleeting finger over a golden feather. It wasn’t like the festive parades, or the return of heroes and knights from some historic battle in a honourable war. There wasn’t confetti or streamers, or elated cheers and clapping. No, it felt more like the procession of a condemned beloved prince to his final stage where they might hang him or lop his head off.

How did they appear to these humans? To these people whom they had been a part of only a few moons ago? If he had been out there, in the crowd… seeing such undeniable signs of divinity. Amazed, elated, thinking his prayers and pleads had been answered…

“This was probably a bad idea,” Phoenix breathed beneath his breath, his own pain and frustrations momentarily forgotten. He felt… naked, exposed, and guilty. Guilty for being here, for sitting upon this Divine Beast of Fire, when he had been one of them, mortal, and so very human. Once.

He shut that thought violently before it could go there.

“Draco has something planned. He would not do this if he did not,” Gryps spoke up quietly, silver eyes forward, staring at the back of the highly lacquered black carriage. His hand stroked deeply into the griffin’s white fur, keeping a tentative bond between them at all times.

Phoenix didn’t reply, merely tightening his hand on the hilt of his weapon where it rested on his thigh.

Trumpeting fanfare sounded shrilly in the air as they approached the high arch of the main entrance into the palace. It cut above the noise of the crowd, announcing to those inside the closed palace walls their arrival. It was a grand, gaudy affair, all of it, but Phoenix couldn’t suppress the thrill that ran down his spine, seeing the tall arched wings of the many angelic statues stretch skyward, already high on the surrounding stone walls. Carved from granite, the many winged statues seemed to stand like unreachable guardians of this unreachable place he could never have entered once upon a time in another lifetime. This fairytale palace he had looked up to so many times when he had wandered in the city below, wondering how life was for those on the other side. Now he would know, now he would be over his head in that life.

… But maybe he had expected too much.

Passing through the high arch of the main entrance, through the immense iron gates, the palace of Anglia spread out before him. Pretty gardens rolled forth like a great green patterned carpet, speckled with starbursts of colours from the designed flowers in bloom, drawing any travellers to the castle that rose up at its centre like a great white flower. Yet despite it’s obvious richness, with flags rippling in the wind and finery everywhere, it paled in comparison to the palace in Ten and the Castle of Genesis. It simply lacked the inherent power Genesis possessed, and in terms of aesthetics, Ten outstripped it completely.

Another reminder of what he was and was not.

A being that had lived in another world and life, that could never look at this world again with purely human eyes.

Aether’s black carriage pulled in a stop in front of the palace steps, wide bare stone with a rich red carpet laid over it, painting a clear path from the carriage door to the main entrance. Sweating nervously, the young coachman had clambered down from the front of the carriage and opened the side door, bowing deeply with a visible tremble.

Phoenix dismounted smoothly from his phoenix’s back, keeping a hand on its fiery feathered neck. Watching that boy annoyed him. Because of the obvious reasons Aether had chosen him, and what he stood for. Did Aether want him to be like that? Someone who served him completely, who quivered like a leaf in his presence, who couldn’t put a coherent sentence together because he was so intimidated?

“Don’t be so shallow as to let a mortal dig under your skin,” Gryps advised flatly, watching as dozens upon dozens of royal guards lined up on either side of the red carpet, flanked by a cavalry of well groomed mounted soldiers. “Even if by some cosmic twist our Lord Aether does pick him over you, he’d die within a few dozen years.”

“That wasn’t necessary!” Phoenix hissed, glaring at the boy, and catching the youth’s hazel eyes, sent him frantically blushing and breaking eye contact.

The shrill brassy trumpets sounded again, silencing the deities’ conversation and announcing the arrival of the royal house. The King and Queen of Anglia, and their daughter, the young, pretty Princess. All dressed up, and decked with so many jewels Phoenix found them almost too dazzling to look upon.

It was only then that Aether stepped forth from his carriage, a stunning butterfly emerging from a black cacoon. Even more graceful than usual, with a black velvet cape lined with royal purple silk and gold clasps, draped casually over one shoulder, and his silky golden hair brushed to a high luscious luster.

And the first thing Aether did was place a hand on that young coachman’s shoulder, tilting his divine head to whisper unheard words into the youth’s ear. All this before he even looked at the royal figures, and without sparing a glance even at Phoenix.

That hurt. It really, really hurt. Those eyes which had once looked so deeply into his own soul it felt close to defilement… those eyes which had cried because of him and him alone… they were being denied to him. It made Phoenix press his teeth together silently in pain.

“Welcome, Lord Aether,” the King of Anglia greeted with a deep bow of his head as Aether turned his amethyst gaze upon him. “We are honoured by your visit to our humble abode. The palace and its resources are at your disposable for as long as you desire, my Lord.” Such a diplomatic voice, cultured and practiced and tuned specifically to please. Impossible to tell if there was displeasure or resentment behind those words… words a King would normally never have thought, much less pass from his lips.

It was long, tense silence before Aether answered with similar tones, the light spring breeze playing with his golden hair as he voiced his acceptance of hospitality and kind welcome with a smile that did not reach his amethyst eye. “I apologise,” Aether continued, inclining his head towards the Queen and Princess. “I do not know your names, and I’ve neglected to introduce my… companions. But I’m not one for such formalities. I despise them. Perhaps we can do this more casually over lunch or dinner, and let my coachman and horses rest after their harrowing ordeal in seeing me safely to your doorstep?”

“Of course,” the King conceded, signally discreetly for a servant to come forward and see to the care of the coach and accessories. “And what of the…” the ruler trailed off, gesturing to the four Divine Beasts. Admirable, that he didn’t even falter with a raised eyebrow or twitch in his check.

“They’re of no concern,” Aether responded dismissively, turning to his right and giving a slight nod to Draco. A quick, smart bow back, and the dragon disbursed in a shower of cool water drops, creating a brief rainbow before the droplets settled over their clothes and ground in a cool mist.

Chimaera blinked before following Draco’s lead, sending his Divine Beast diving beneath the gravel paved ground, making the effort to smooth out the earth until not a hint of the disturbance remained.

It took some effort on Phoenix’s part to unclench his fingers enough to draw his phoenix back within, whilst Gryps complied with easy flourish. It grinded him also that he was left to walk at the back beside the God of Air, like some lowly, meaningless servant. Oh yes. He was certainly regretting this whole excursion now. Regretting it like a selfish little boy who thought he was denied everything, only to realise he could be denied even more.

The God of Fire barely noticed as the royal family of Anglia personally took them within the palace. He should have been paying attention, noting the lay of the grounds, the key landmarks, the contents of the tall paintings mounted on elaborate gold leaf frames and the richly patterned carpet underfoot. But all he could do was glare at the back of Aether’s head as he walked out in front beside the King of Anglia. Glare and think childish, stabbing thoughts.

“I have had five suites prepared for you,” the King was saying, smiling his pleasantly pleasing smile. “Please make yourselves at home and freshen up if it pleases you before lunch. I will have one of the butlers come and inform you when lunch is served.”

Phoenix found his mouth open in protest, the words already in his mind, longing to be spilled from his pouting lips. “Four-”

“Five is fine,” Aether answered smoothly, returning that ever so pleasant smile. As if to goad Phoenix on, he turned, and acting every part the gentleman, lifted the Queen’s and Princess’ hand in turn and placed a chaste kiss there before taking his leave and disappearing into suite of rooms offered to him.

Ari snickered beside Phoenix, unable to help himself has he watched Phoenix’s mouth open and close like a goldfish. “Cosmic twist indeed, hmm?” Ari whispered with a sly smile. “Why not enjoy your peace and quiet whilst it lasts? Or are you really that much of a masochist and just deny it for the sake of image?”

The God of Fire spluttered and hissed.

~ * ~

The servants were nothing but pleasant and complying. It made Phoenix’s skin itch. He knew it was an act. Knew it and it irked him. Because he would have very much liked to bite someone’s head off, and stalking around his appointed set of rooms like a caged animal surrounded by pleasantly smiling servants only made that desire grow until it felt like a festering disease.

They had delivered his trunk of belongings, unloaded from the carriage a little while earlier, and had asked if there was anything, anything at all, that they could do to make him feel more comfortable. Refreshments perhaps? Tea? Coffee? The God of Fire had ended up almost screaming at them to get out. It was only the presence of the Weapon of Fire glowing dangerously that had sent them on their way finally.

His own actions frustrated him. Jealousy and nothing more. He was hurt, he was really hurt. To be first abandoned like that in the dungeon, and then to awaken alone and not even a cutting glare or cruel word since. So yes, there was the breakfast, and yes, there was the top garment. But these mixed signals just confused him. And he was meant to hate the bastard. <>Hate him! Yes, he did, very much at this moment. But for all the wrong reasons.

Really? Was that really true? Wasn’t the reason that hate had sprung up in the beginning rooted in Aether’s neglect of him? His ignorance, his silence? Ah, but it was infinitely more personal and imitate now, wasn’t it. And that was what caught Phoenix’s chest up in clenching pain and made it impossible for him to put Aether from his mind. Fiend.

A great part of him wanted to storm into Aether’s room and yell at him until he was hoarse. Or better yet, pin him up against a wall and kiss that smirking mouth of his until Aether brought his own arms around him and smothered him close.

What insane thoughts were these. To think this when the night before had seen him hung by his wrists and thrashed until his wings were raw. Or had he so quickly forgotten the bandages that still covered his back and the sharp deep pains that arched up his body with every unwise gesture?

Or perhaps Ari’s words were the truest of all. He was a masochist, and after the deeds were done, he didn’t care or resent them in the least. He had always revealed in the pain Aether inflicted on him. And he had been wrong to say those four words to Aether, and had lost some part of himself when those words had passed from thought into reality. Aether, who wanted and needed him for his will and desire to live, his never flickering flame. Why had he wavered? Caught up in a mortal memory within a childhood where pain had mattered, where pain had been feared. Where pain had not been a twisted form of love, but a threat to his very life.

No, he should not have said those words to Aether. He should have kept his vow. To never, ever beg to God of Soul for anything.

But that wasn’t the only reason you said those words, was it, Phoenix?

Phoenix shook his head, and turned his attention to the door opening. Chimaera’s boyish form slipped into his rooms, his long scythe and chains clunking together with each step, and Phoenix found himself staring at those links of shining silver metal. Nothing common like iron. White gold perhaps, mixed to some ratio with alloy metals to strengthen it. Chains and their ever present reminder of the one who used them so often on him. Ah, not again.

“I don’t want to stay in my rooms,” Chimaera pouted, tugging on the sleeve of Phoenix’s borrowed top. “I want to sleep outside. It’s stuffy in here, and I don’t like the people. They smile, but they don’t mean it. They don’t like us.”

With a slight shake of his head, Phoenix forced a smile to his lips, placing a reassuring hand on the other’s shoulder. “I know. No one will notice if you sneak out the window and sleep under the stars. Even if they do, what can they say?” The God of Fire let his hand slip off the youth’s shoulder, moving off towards the bathroom to ‘freshen up’ as the King had so pleasantly put it. His pacing all this while had kept him otherwise occupied.

“I still feel like a child…” Chimaera voiced, echoing the thought that was never far from Phoenix’s mind.

The God of Fire didn’t respond, just splashed cool water onto his face from the basin and rubbed his face dry with the soft cotton washer. With a sigh, Phoenix tossed his water soaked locks from his eyes and looked back at Chimaera, feeling older than his meagre years. “You still are… and I’m not much more. Are you hungry? Or do you want to skip lunch. Maybe we should act like the children we are at heart and run wild in the fields.”

Chimaera’s eyes brightened, and his usual grin stole once more over his face. “Mm, let’s do that!” the boy answered enthusiastically, latching onto Phoenix’s wrist and pulling him awkwardly along. Phoenix barely had time to snatch up his weapon before Chimaera pulled him from the room, half running down the hallway.

Tall glass windows on the far side of the hallway flashed by, revealing beautifully tended sunlight gardens in bloom, and sparkling water fountains dotted about an extensive hedge maze. The sunlight nearly blinded Phoenix as Chimaera jerked him out into it, and the fragrant fresh air sent him into a swoon. Genesis didn’t have such gardens. And those in Ten weren’t so heavily scented. That had been more ethereal, and this… this was alive and pulsing.

“Not here!” Chimaera had chided when Phoenix made to slow down at the gardens. Instead the God of Earth continued running, chains on the scythe jingling almost prettily in time with their footfalls. They flew through the high boundary walls, barely noticing the guards there that tired to stop their headlong flight.

A deep quiet forest surrounded them, its tall bare trunks and dense canopy leaving easy trails on the ground to walk upon. Few smaller plants grew here. Fungus, mostly, amongst the thick carpeting of pine needles, wedged between the space around the rough-barked trees. Only here did Chimaera slow to a walk, face flushed but grinning.

It was so quiet here that they could hear each footfall on the soft carpet of fragrant decay. Occasionally there would be a lone bird call, but never a sign of life. It seemed removed from reality, this place. Caught in dream and darkness.

“These are imported trees,” Chimaera said softly, touching a gentle hand to a tree trunk as they passed by. “Not of this place, so the animals find it alien and do not live here. They grow these only for its wood.”

Phoenix only nodded, following Chimaera as he led them deeper into the forest. He felt the trespasser here, breeching into a realm that was not his to see or touch.

The pines suddenly gave out to a lush meadow, bursting with greenery and life. Sunlight returned, lighting the thousands upon thousands of yellow daisies that grew upon the carpet of lush green grass. Starbursts of them, bright and cheerful. Birds weaved and dived over the expansive space, and butterfly flittered from one bloom to another.

“A field of daisies,” Chimaera grinned, dropping his Weapon of Earth and bounding down the slight slope into the midst of a daydream, his childlike laughter mixing in harmony with the song birds.

Chikyuu can be beautiful too. That was what this place seemed to say, what was intoned through Chimaera’s laughter. Anglia might have its darkness, its cruelty, but it was beautiful too, so remember that.

Who knew how long they stayed there like that. Chimaera running around and rolling in the meadow, chasing butterflies. And Phoenix sitting on the gentle slop, smiling softly and watching the tranquil scene. No obsessive thoughts plagued him. Just a tender sense of peace, of happiness.

It was only the oncoming darkness that called them to return. That, and their growling stomachs. And even with Draco’s severely disapproving expression greeting them at the palace, it didn’t dampen that slight contentment Phoenix felt.

~ * ~

End 071, Continued in 072.