====October 23, 2013
====Cerise, Jiamoth
====A life's first night seen with new eyes. (Jiamoth Vig)

Who Cerise, Jiamoth
What A life's first night seen with new eyes. (Jiamoth Vig)
When There are 0 turns, 11 months and 15 days until the 12th pass.
Where Hatching Sands, Southern Weyr

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Hatching Sands
The Sands are surprisingly soft to the feet and to the eyes: rich grains of gold commingle with the ground basalt-black that mark the shores of Azov's Sea. The whorls of lighter color pattern into the sands, larger-grained and often settling at the top, as golden driftwood against dark shores. … but the moaning from above sounds like the chorus of the damned, lessening the natural beauty here below.


Darling, darling, doesn't have a problem
Lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top shelf
It's alarming honestly how charming she can be
Fooling everyone, telling them she's having fun

It was dark. She didn’t yet know the word for dark but the concept was clear: dark is closed in, dark is cramped, dark is a lack of air and the need to move, to stretch, to escape. Dark is to be fled from, defied, escaped.

Dark is a name hovering just out of reach, the knowledge of something she needed to find. It wasn’t here, in these closed confines.

It was time to discover what lay beyond her dreams.

She says you don't want to be like me
Don't wanna see all the things I've seen
I'm dying, I'm dying
She says you don't want to get this way
Famous and dumb at an early age
Lying, I’m lying

She had no idea that it was possible to feel discomfort. Words were beginning to come to her, buzzing in her mind like vtols: shoulders, neck, limbs. Was this an arm or a leg? This was a wing, she could picture it clearly but what she felt did not match the image that floated before her in the darkness of shell and mind. Wings were meant to be spread; hers felt crumpled, flat, compressed.

She wiggled again and something gave away.

Light! This was light! It it rolled over her like something she still had no label for.

Knowledge. That’s what it was. Knowledge was another word for illumination, for light. There, her mother, her father. How could she not recognize them? Theirs was a presence known from the moment she had senses capable of passing the brittle barrier that had kept her from the world.

And this, this beneath her talons was sand, strewn with broken shells- sand and shells being dead things, unimportant, she knew that in an instant. They lacked the spark that danced in her heart, drawing her out into the great beyond. Dismissing them, she swung her head up and saw where she was meant to go.

The boys, the girls, they all like Carmen
She gives them butterflies, bats her cartoon eyes
She laughs like god, her mind's like a diamond
Audio tune lies, she's still shining
Like lightning, ohh, like lightning

It was a joy to move, so much of a joy that distractions abounded. Her spine pleaded with her to stop and stretch; the muscles of her shoulders demanded that her wings flare outward. She wanted to stop, to wiggle her talons and feel the scrape of tiny grains against her knuckles as they sunk into the sand. But there were people watching her! So very many people and under the weight of their eyes, she knew she was compelled to move forward.

It struck her that she needed to look into their eyes. They had such small eyes! How could anyone tell what they were feeling, with eyes so small? Poor things, to be so lacking. Her heart ached for them, though they hardly seemed aware of what they were missing.

She gathered herself and proceeded carefully forward to the nearest.

Carmen, Carmen, staying up til morning
Only seventeen, but she walks the streets so mean
It's alarming truly how disarming you can be
Eating soft ice cream
Coney Island Queen

But none of them resonated with her. She walked and walked and looked and looked. With each step, the sands slithering beneath her paws was less pleasurable. And her belly- there was nothing good about the ache that had taken root there!

So many eyes. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes, all so very flat, all missing the spark and whirl that she expected.

All of the tiny pleasures she’d begun to catalogue and store away for later reflection slipped from her grasp. They were lost to her memory, awash with mounting frustration and the first hint of fear.

She says you don't want to be like me
Looking for fun, getting high for free
I'm dying, I'm dying
She says you don't want to get this way
Street walk at night, and a star by day
It's tiring, tiring

Fear. Of all of the unknowns, this was the strongest and most exhausting. If she let it take her, she knew she’d be lost. Lost to the cold, to the dark again, where even aching shoulders and a crick in the neck would be a distant pleasure. Lost to nothing.

As fear’s soft fingers began to curl around her heart, something teased at her senses. A flash of light, perhaps? Of color. They all looked the same, in their flat white skins and their flat doll’s eyes. But something drew her focus and she gave herself to it, turning in that direction. Drawn. There. There! What was it?

Baby's all dressed up with nowhere to go
That's the little story of the girl you know
Relying on the kindness of strangers
Tying cherry knots, smiling, doing party favors
Put your red dress on, put your lipstick on
Sing your song, song, now the camera's on
And you're alive again

The ghost of music long since heard, the memory of joy in the body’s strength and movement. A great, echoing emptiness like the thing that she herself fled from. But most of all, there was warmth. Sweet and soft, sharp and sour, an all-encompassing warmth.

The name for it came to her in the same moment she realized her own name. She was Jiamoth, and this was love. As she circled around the girl who’d drawn her, moth to flame, cold fingers to warm skin, she knew.

Here was her home, where her heart could make its berth.

Looking up into eyes that sparkled with shades of brown and green and gold, confirmation came to her in a jolt. Hers! Hers was here, and she was here, and they were one. Jiamoth watched Cerise fall to her knees in the sand, felt the scratch and burn of their heat on the girl’s (her) knees.

Bliss! Oh bliss. How pleased and proud Jiamoth was, for having determined the function of a life in the scant few minutes she’d been alive in this world.

Mon amour, je sais que tu m'aimes aussi
Tu as besoin de moi
Tu as besoin de moi dans ta vie
Tu ne peux plus vivre sans moi
Et je mourrais sans toi
Je tuerais pour toi

Carefully, so very carefully as she felt how soft and fragile her chosen was, the green stepped close and curled her head over Cerise’s shoulder, wrapped her wings around that tender trembling body to share each shiver.

Like lightning, ohh, like lightning

Everything after that was just details.

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