If not now…

__freyja_by_cerine-d4roucs

Barely old enough I am obscurely allowed to take part in the evening’s festivities. Tomorrow our men go across the sea. Many will not return. I suspect this is the only reason I am welcome though nothing could keep me from this night. I know, the one whose eyes I hunger for leaves on the morrow and I know not if I will ever find those haunting hazel eyes on mine again. I serve all the warriors and shield maidens, meat and mead with a smile regardless of errant hand, easily scolded. It is clearly known among us who has eyes for whom and although this knowledge has me flushed with embarrassment tonight is not a night for such qualms. If not now, perhaps never and this is not our way.

I catch his eye; he is a little older than me yet his bravado out weighs his knowledge in war and in love but he, as I, knows this is the moment. As I fill his mead horn his eyes drink my all and I welcome it. I would welcome his errant hand but he is content to wait and the fiery smoulder between us grows. I feel the flush of passion fill my body in a way I have never felt before. I remember the first flicker of this flame, it was a few moons ago; I knew it was because I had found my kindred soul and that it meant I was becoming a woman leaving my childhood behind. How I wanted him to be mine. I wanted him to be the one to explore this feeling with me, to take me away from prying eyes and taste my lips to drink of me for this first, and perhaps last, time. As I watched him I poured this intent into my eyes and offered soft prayer to the goddesses and gods that it would be so.

Finally he moves toward me taking the mead jug and platter from my hands he placed them on the table then lifts me effortlessly into his arms. We leave the hall to a cacophony of jubilant cheering and blessings. Once outside in the cold air he looks deeply into my eyes and smiles. Lowering me to the frozen earth he brushes stray hair from my face, kisses each of my eyelids and then eyes locked to mine brings his lips to taste of me. The flame that scorched through us leaves me flushing with heat. The steam of our breath in the frigid air mingles as we gaze at each other with naked want and mutual understanding. He gathers me into his strong arms again and carries me toward his home voice raised loudly in song of gratitude to the beautiful Freyja for bringing him such a fine woman, such a fine wife.

Image courtesy of Cerine from deviantART

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Right on time

“I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently…but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.”

– Michael Ondaatje, ‘The English Patient’.

I bathed in moonlight and scented myself in the night. I dressed ritually, as if for a wedding or some other rite of passage. Finally, soothed, prepared, cloaked to absorb some of my unseemly iridescence, I enter the scene. I know this is the right place and moment. My glance takes in the room mentally checking my celestial clock… right on time. I see him glance up and smell the air. I pass through the room lyrically dancing between the press of swaying intoxicated bodies, smiling knowingly and with warning at the men attempting to intercept my path. They fall away hearts pounding as they watch me move beyond them. You feel my approach turning as I confidently pause. We have not yet entered each others proximity but you know. Your hazel yellow eyes widen and your cloak deepens as you extend a hand. I meet your gaze with my impossible blue eyes as I take your hand I let my cloak fall before you. Lifetimes of faces dance between us as you devilishly smile. Yes you remember me; I have found you once again. My hair still echoes my movement, such little real time has passed. Laughing deeply you take in my smile and offer me a drink. More devil than human you hope to diminish my angelic charm. We have danced this night a thousand times, a thousand different ways, perhaps tonight we might get it right? With a gleam in my eye I reply, “I’ll have an Angel’s Delight.”