Part 2
“We’re home!” said Marin brightly, As she danced into the door. Isaac sighed to enter, for within it was quite warm. Indeed, it was of mighty warmth: The glow of candles lit his shop Which also served as where he lived. There was a fire blazing in the hearth that he could see now, But the fire did not full explain The warmth he felt. Warm and gentle air came wafting At him as a girl emerged, A girl so pale, Her skin seemed white, And her short hair was purely white, And her large eyes were silver, Gleaming gently in the dusk. “Saera, did you warm the house?” Asked Isaac with a smile. “I and Ardo did,” she said, With gentle voice, and pointed then Beyond her shoulder, backwards, Where a boy with red hair stood. His skin was brown, His hair was chin-length, And it was a fiery red, Red also were his eyes, like rubies, As he gazed their way. He was now standing by the hearth, And even as they all observed He flicked his wrist, and sent a burst Of flames into the space, Feeding and enhancing now the fire that burned, Burned merrily, And brought so much a greater light and heat into The candle-lighted space. “Oy, what’s up?” the boy then asked, “You brought our dinner, right?” “Yes, I did,” And Isaac walked deep into the dark hallways, Ardo following behind, with flames upon his hands. As he walked he flicked his wrists and lit the candles hanging, Casting soft and golden glow within the empty space. Friendly lights that flickered gently in the darkness there. “Hope you all like sausages,” Said Isaac, smiling down at him. “Awesome!” Ardo cried. “That does sound good,” next Saera said. “Terry?” Isaac said when he at last entered his workshop, For within there sat a boy, pale-skinned with dark brown hair. The growing light of Ardo’s flames Revealed his hair to be of bronze-ish brown With a metallic sheen, And his eyes, underneath his brows Were copper-hued, and glinted some. “Why are you alone here in the dark?” asked Isaac, frowning. “Just thinking,” said Terry, With an arching of his brow. “Is dinner here?” “It is indeed.” And Isaac walked, with bags in hand, Across the space to where there was A table set, And where the candles very brightly gleamed. “Terry, please come have a seat,” Said Marin, softly, gently, bright, “And let’s have a good time tonight, Without a worry, just for once.” “Yes, please come and sit down,” Said Isaac, smiling at the children there, The four of them, laid out, spread out, Their hair brown, red, and blue, and white. They frightened him a bit, ‘twas true; He’d seen the things that they could do. He’d watched them twist the sky and land, Manipulate the flame and surf; He’d seen them summon rain and rock, And make a fire in their palms, And fly—lift up into the air. So as they now were gathered here He kept these things in mind, because It was so easy to forget Their power, as they sat around, They sat around the table there, Just teenagers, who seemed so weak. “Oh Lord above, who truly is The one who gave us all this food: Do bless it now, we pray to you, And bless us too, as it we eat. Amen.” “Amen!” said Ardo, laughing Reaching for the plates that stood Upon the table, loaded there, So full of food With roasted meat And soft, warm bread And pungent cheese. It was not the most Luxurious meal But it was tasty, flavorful. The food was hot, The food was good, And Ardo thought it very fine. “I met Isaac’s girlfriend today,” Said Marin, with a witching grin. “His WHAT?” said Ardo, choking on his bite, And hacking with a cough. “It’s not like that!” said Isaac, sharply, Crimson flushing up his cheeks. “Cordelia is an old, dear friend; I’ve known her since we both were kids. We’re like two siblings--” “That’s not all!” Said Marin, with mischievous smirk. “You like her too—I know, I know! I could tell—don’t you try to hide! I used to sniff these sorts of things Out all the time at our high school. A boy who has a crush Gives off a stink that’s clear to smell.” She smirked at him and bit her bread And quirked her navy brows. Saera made a face at this but kept it to herself. “Even if I loved Cordelia—which I didn’t say-- I could never be with her, and that’s the simple truth. Her family is old and rich, Quite old indeed, and much renowned. Her parents never would consent; They’ve kept me from her all this time. I am just a candlemaker, One of lowly birth.” “Oh, pish posh,” said Marin, With a glimmer of her eyes. “True love conquers all! You only need a little help.” “I didn’t say I loved her!” stammered Isaac, With a flush. “Let’s just eat, okay?” said Ardo, chewing on some bread. So the subject was not broached again. All the night, however, Marin thought, And Marin stewed. Even as they ate their dinner, drank their warm red wine. Even as they sat around the fire talking late. Even after Isaac said, “I need to turn in now; The four of you can stay awake, But please do not make noise.” So she waited until he had walked up the long long stairs, Waited until all the candles upstairs were blown out. She held firm until his door at last was heard to close, After which she said: “Let’s match them up!” “I fucking knew it,” Ardo said, And rolled his crimson eyes. “Come on, it would be fun!” she said, A smile upon her face. “And he clearly likes her—and she likes him too, I know! I know! They’re a perfect match, let’s do it!” “Maybe,” Saera said. “No, it’s no big deal,” said Marin Twirling navy hair, “I’ll meet up with Cordelia and get to know her some. Then we can arrange a spot where she and Isaac meet. They’ll confess their love—like in a song!” “Eh, why not?” said Ardo, fire dancing on his fingertips. “Isaac has been pretty cool, we ought to help him out.” “I suppose,” said Saera, with a whisper of the wind. “We could try, I guess.” “Well, Terry?” Marin asked, the last of all, The final one of them. “How about it? Will you join us, Help us out with this?” Terry stared into the dying fire, glowing red, Creamy-colored sweater stained to scarlet By the light. “I’m not sure if this is very wise,” He said at last. “Actually, I think it might be time for us to leave.” “What?” snapped Marin. “Terry, why?” asked Saera, very soft. “Dude, these last few months have been our least stressful in years,” This was Ardo’s voice. But Terry said: “It’s been too long. Don’t you see? We’ve stayed in one place for too long a time. It’s been nice to rest, I know, And to relax a bit. But the Technocracy is still out there, hunting us. We’ve been here almost three months; I think that’s way too long. Every moment longer that we stay here, We increase the risk we have; And not just risk to us, we four, But to all those around us now. I like Isaac—maybe even love him, at this point. He has been so kind to us, for no reason at all. But I worry if we stay he’ll only be destroyed, Killed by the Technocracy as they strike out at us. For his sake, we have to leave. For his sake, we have to go.” Now the fire glowered lower, Casting such a shade of red Upon the room that it appeared The four of them were splashed with blood. And Saera, as she looked now, Could detect that same red hue, That same blood red, The cold, cruel red, The neon red, That was the Technocracy’s color. “Terry’s right,” she said. “I do not want Isaac to die.” “Shit,” spat Ardo, glowering, And now his eyes Flared neon red. The fire rose up bright. “Fuck!” he snarled, And suddenly the fire roared, And burned bright white. “Calm down, Ardo!” Marin snapped. “Sorry,” he said, Cooling off, Cooling down the fire, too, Until it almost went full out, Went down to deep and dull red embers, And the shadows filled the room. “I guess you are right,” He said to Terry, at long last. “Can we please at least match Isaac and Cordelia up?” Marin said this in the dark; her blue eyes shimmered some. “Let’s do it before we leave; We can make it our parting gift, Our thanks for all that he has done: We’ll pair him with his love.” “That seems fair,” said Saera. “Let’s unite them both, then leave.” “I don’t know,” said Terry, his voice quavering a bit. “I’m just so scared.” “We all are, man,” said Ardo, with a sigh. He snapped fingers and bright fire blazed upon his hands. “But let’s do this one good thing, and repay Isaac back.” Terry looked upon them, Saw their hopeful smiles and eyes. Bile rose inside his throat, His spine was crackling sharp. But he could not turn aside, Could not refuse his friends. “Fine,” he said at last, and sighed. “We’ll match them up, then leave.” “Yes!” said Marin, pumping her right fist in joyous fun. “I’ve already started planning things. I’ll make it, wait and see! I’ll make it just perfect, Make it like a fairy tale!” Saera chuckled at her friend. Soft wind swirled round Saera’s feet, Floating her up off the ground, Hovering her in the air. Floating there, she cross-legged sat, Head in hands and arms Upon her legs. “Here’s what we will do,” said Marin, And the fire was nearly out, But the room seemed bright and lively As the blue-haired girl continued. Terry heard her talk, but he had trouble listening. He wandered across the room to the far windowpane. He looked out into the night, The night that was but vaguely lit. Gas lanterns, perhaps a few electric lights somewhere. Snow, and snow, and everlasting snow Kept falling gently downward, Muffling the noise from outside, Clouding up the night. But the Technocracy could see through the snow like nothing, Could see through all things—so Terry watched, and was afraid.
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