Cold and biting was the wind that settled against her paled skin as she stood upon a terrace, overlooking the city of bright-sapphire lights. Softly, she gazed upon the dancing dots below her, that seemed to effortlessly grace the ground as they moved forth on a journey through the city. The luminescent lakes, amidst midnight, light up a gorgeous aurora of vivid violets and blues, all swirled together like paints upon a canvas. Above the water, little glowing creatures floated about, bearing stark-yellow glow as they wandered about the lake’s surface.
Aelem had been sitting in her own silence, gazing upon the portraiture of the city of mist and lights. Her thoughts, while she tried desperately to conjure them up, were emptied. She had come to realise that she had lived a life of one singular thought- survival amidst the gnawing taunts within her mind. Without the voice, and in a place of comfort, she had no idea what to think.
She had no idea who she was, nor what she would have liked to think about. In all regards, Aelem felt like a blank slate of a person. She wondered then, if despite her aesthetic, she was more alike to a doll than the Knight of Butterflies.
Suddenly, the glass-paneled door behind Aelem opened, a quiet creak within the night. Softly, Omen stepped out into the winter air, shivering softly as he wrapped his cloak over his shoulders. His soft breaths fell hot against the air, enveloping his expression in a gentle steam that quickly wisped away.
He then stood gently beside Aelem on the terrace, his sleeves rolled up, and his slender forearms resting on the iron railing.
“Do the lights of the city conjure something within you?” Omen asked of her.
“Like what?” Aelem wondered, turning towards him.
She had to crane her neck harshly upwards to meet his gaze. Aelem had not been so close to him when standing, so she had never the opportunity to grasp how much taller he was, compared to her.
“A feeling, an emotion- a memory, even?” Omen spoke in turn. “Sometimes, those who tend to forget in their mind, fail to forget in their bodies. Our muscles seemingly remember everything, so I wondered if your heart had some enthralling attachment to the lights, since you had been staring at them with such wondrous eyes.”
Aelem shook her head in response.
“I cannot remember anything, not even in my body…” She spoke softly. “Right now, I’m not even sure how I should feel… in such a safe, secure place, shouldn’t I be happy? I’ve been given kindness, yet right now I feel nothing…”
“Perhaps the right things haven’t happened yet.” Omen smiled simply. “Even a stone is moved by the wind, so I will fail to believe that your heart is closed off to everything.”
He looked back towards the horizon of the Veil of Mist, his eyes growing gentle in their demeanor. Aelem found it interesting, that in so many circumstances, the gaze of the Butterfly Knight would shift wildly in its aesthetic. He held the expression of a doll when he was not smiling, but it was always in his eyes where his heart was displayed.
“Can you not even remember how old you are?” Omen asked of her.
“Somewhere around twenty, perhaps…” Aelem spoke softly. “I stopped counting after a short time…”
He leaned in suddenly, their faces a mouse-length apart as he gazed into her eyes with a dissatisfied expression.
“Then, has no one ever celebrated your day of birth?”
Aelem shook her head in response.
So, he smiled simply, and started to step backwards towards the door.
“I’ll be right back, so don’t disappear on me.” He winked, before shutting the glass-paneled door behind him.
Aelem directed her gaze back towards the lights. Grasping at her shirt, she knew then that her hollow heart had started to beat quietly. The wind whistled softly, and the drumming of her chest had resounded as its rhythm.
The door opened once more after a short time, and the doll of a man stepped back into the winter air, the warmth of his once-paled cheeks obvious in their bright-red blush.
“Sorry, I had to make my way to the kitchens.” Omen smiled softly. “Having lived here all of my life, you would think I would have gathered the ability to navigate the maze of the monastery’s halls by now.”
In his gentle hands, which seemed the size of Aelem’s face, he held a ornately painted blue-and-gold ceramic platter, atop which sat a confection of bright vermilion colour.
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure which colour would have been your favourite, so I chose the one that reminded me most of you.” Omen laughed, handing the platter to Aelem, who took it gently.
Her eyes rested upon the dish in her hands, as if she were treating it more as a bewildering sight rather than edible food.
“This is for me…?” Aelem asked softly, looking up towards Omen with glimmering eyes. “Why?”
“For twenty celebrations that everyone has failed to partake in for your sake, this is for you, Ms. La’arte.”
He reached out his hand, and Aelem took it in turn, still holding a shocked, quieted expression upon her face.
“Since we’re not sure when your birthday is, today will be good enough.” He smiled. “Happy birthday.”
There was a candle embedded in the center of the confection, dancing against the soft winter wind like a performer of bright apparel.
“Why do all this for me?” She asked of him.
She couldn’t understand him for a moment. He was like the monastery he had grown up in- a maze of a person, in such a way that he couldn’t pin down his true nature in the slightest.
“Is there a greater reason for wanting someone to be able to smile?” He asked in turn.
Shock crossed her expression once more. For her, he had offered her so many things she had once hoped for. Rather, they were things she had long given up on in most regards. Suddenly, her life felt somewhat normal.
So, before the doll, she smiled bright, and in turn he did too.
She stood there for a moment, simply staring at the confection she held gently in her hands, as if it were some prized, valuable work of art. Although, after a time, her eyes had blankened, and she looked up towards Omen as if asking for guidance.
“You have to blow it out.” Omen laughed aloud. “If you make a wish after blowing it out, and keep silent about it, then its said that it will come true.”
She looked back down towards the glowing platter.
“Then…”
She took a deep breath, and in one blow, silenced the dancing of the flames, leaving smoke to settle against the gentle air. She held her tongue for a moment, closing her eyes as she searched for one thing- rather, anything she could have wanted. Although, in parallel to the beginning of her night, she wondered if she had finally found something she could have felt in her heart; something she could have wanted desperately.
“How old are you?” Aelem asked of him as she opened her eyes.
“I’m… in a position where it’s hard to tell.” Omen smiled softly. “So then, since we look alike, I’ll say I’m around twenty- the same as you.”
He reached out softly, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen against Aelem’s prim cheeks. Then, as Aelem met his gaze, she could see his heart clearly in his eyes- gentle, softened, and open.
“It’s getting late, Ms. La’arte.” He spoke quietly. “Would you like guidance back to your room?”Aelem shook her head.
“I’ll be fine on my own.” She replied.
He started walking back to the glass-paneled door, his hand resting on its ornate handle.
“Then, I’ll leave you to your peace. Sleep well, Ms. La’arte.” He smiled softly, before slipping into the shadows of the monastery’s hall.
As she turned back towards the city lit up by bright, vivid lights, she took a finger to the confection, and placed it against her hushed lips. The bright-red frosting was sweet, and creamy in texture. It was a flavour she hadn’t experience often, lest she was lucky to stumble upon berries in the forest.
Still, she felt incredibly distracted from the treat that had been given to her. Her face felt hot, and more so than before, her hollow heart sounded out loud in its beats against the open air. Placing a hand against her reddened cheeks, she parted her lips as if to speak.
“Such a thing… can I wish for something like that…?”
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