Part 4
Up amid the snowy skies there floated Two such sprightly girls That at first glance one might assume That they were fairies, light and bright. But indeed it was just Saera, And with her was Marin also, Floating, hovering upon the swirling wintry breeze, As snow and snow were falling. This was Saera’s doing—after all, she was the Elemental Of the Air, so she could use the winds to make her fly, Her and others—that was how the Elementals Traveled when they moved about. Now they floated over the great city, dark and gloomy gray, Prickled here and there by great blooms of a soft and golden light That meant the city’s evening revels were now underway. “Are you sure about this, Marin?” Saera asked, with worried glance. “Yep,” said Marin, with a smile. “I know that Cordelia’s people Will be having a great party In that penthouse down below us In only ten minutes more. We can both sneak in and speak to her, And ask her about Isaac. I just know she feels about him like he feels ‘bout her!” Saera put her lips together, Silver eyes went seeking, searching, Peering at her oldest friend. Marin smiled at her intensely, said, “Let’s do it! Come on now.” Saera breathed a little sigh, Marin did not hear. “Okay, Marin,” Saera said. “Yes!” said Marin, cheering loud. “Look down there and find a balcony where we can land.” Saera peered as evening light went filtering out of the sky, Giving way to night that was immensely filled with snowy clouds. With her eyes she could behold A balcony off of the space, Something quite neglected amid all the finery. Winds went whipping fiercely, warmly, Keeping cold out of their midst, And now letting them fly downward, Down until they landed soft. “But one thing though,” Saera said, As their booted feet touched down. “Look at us, how will we make it into such a party? We are not in dresses that would fit in at a gala, With our clothes there’s no way that we’ll ever get inside.” Marin grinned. “Leave that to me; let’s get indoors, first off.” There was a large and open doorway, Filled with glass stained brilliant green. This they passed through, entering into an empty room. “Now,” said Marin, smiling brightly, Let’s take off our cloaks and boots. Take your skirt off, and your sweater! Just get in your underclothes.” “Um, okay,” said Saera. Worried, troubled, but still trusting Saera slipped her garments off, Until she, along with Marin, Only dressed in underwear. “Well, now what?” asked Saera, shivering a bit in cold. Marin grinned, and stood up on her toes, In her old ballet pose, Raising high her eager arms While both her eyes flashed blue. All at once a rush of snowflakes swirled into the empty room, Spiraling around them with a chilly wave of white. They spun around Saera, Marin, Looping in two great cold swirls, Closer, closer, closing in around both teenage girls. Saera felt, all of a sudden, That the snow had pressed against her, But its coldness suddenly was numbed, and shaped, and moved. There was a large piece of glass that hung upon a nearby wall. Saera turned and saw it, and in it she saw herself. With a shock she saw a dress begin to form about her, What a dress—stark, pretty white, embroidered perfectly. Snowflake patterns laced along the skirt, and up the lovely train, Coming high into a sleeveless top, With a high collared neck. White gloves ran themselves along her fingers, Up her forearms too, Where they stopped and closed around her elbows near the top. Each of Saera’s earlobes then felt cold, As earrings sprouted there, Looking like bright diamond studs that flickered in the dark. “Marin, this is—Marin, you!” Saera turned, with flowing dress, Seeing with a shock that Marin also had been gowned. Marin’s dress was midnight blue, The glacial blue of old, cold ice, And it was laced with streaks of silver Up along its skirt, And also to its neckline, Which plunged down a bit, And gave a glimpse Of Marin’s cleavage. Even now as Saera watched, Ice crystals formed, like diamond stones, Up in Marin’s hair, and swirled it Into an elaborate coif, In which was set a final chunk Of ice that gleamed, clear, cold, and sharp, So that it seemed that Marin wore A regal diadem. “Well?” said Marin, turning to the mirror as Saera did. “What do you think? Pretty cool, huh?” And she smiled, and turned. “Wow, I even got the back right,” Marin said, with backwards glance, Turning round to see the back of her elaborate dress, Grin upon her face as she beheld her handiwork. “Marin, what is all of this?” asked Saera, glancing downward, Picking out the sparkling snowflakes on her dress’ train. “Ice and water!” Marin said. “I can make it, I can mold it, I can make it into clothing. I learned this a while ago, And I have been using it. But I’ve never done it like this! I’ve never tried so much before, Or so elaborate!” She laughed, and smiled, and spun about, To swirl her dress about herself While her blue eyes were aglint like sunlight on the sea. Saera glanced within the mirror, Saw herself in finery And smiled gently, quietly, to see her lovely clothes. “Now, come on,” said Marin, Turning, Heading for a nearby door. “We can sneak inside for sure, find the party, check it out. If we are discovered we’ll just say that we got lost.” Marin started boldly forward, ice gems sparkling bright. Saera smiled and followed her, moving soft behind. They were not discovered; And they soon found light and life. Great bright chandeliers were gleaming all throughout the halls. Trained and kept-up human servants Flitted here and there, Two of them now coming close To guide the girls within. Bright electric lights were shining, Rare within the city towers, But within this space they glimmered, Brilliant in the night. Highborn men and women mingled, Reaching out for chilled white wine, Many very thin and tall, Those who’d had their genes made pure And kept their bloodlines clean. But there were great many men And women too who were less strange, More of pretty human stock And dressed in finery. “Ah, such pretty girls,” Said one tall gentleman, in tie and tails, Draped about with an elaborate dark trailing cape. “Who are you, then, and what might your heritage be, now?” “I am from a noble line,” Said Marin, with a sweeping bow, “I am from a royal house that’s nested in the sea. We have clung tight to the coasts The open ocean is our home Our castles sink beneath the waves And plumb the cold and dark. I am Mariana, that is my own name, ‘tis true, Mariana Matthia Meni—to be precise, But you may call me Marin,” And she smiled at him coyly, Stretching out her hand to him, And he bowed down to kiss. “This is Saera Luka Alhimov, my dear best friend from far away, A castle in the air is hers And wind is at her back.” “Well, well, well, two foreigners!” The man said brightly, with a smile. “We are not so often visited from very far. But I bid you welcome to our city, cold as it may be, And I shall admit that it has seen its better days. Still, I hope that your time in it Has been a very lovely thing, And I hope the night’s festivities Will suit you well.” “They have indeed,” said Marin With a flash of her blue eyes. “However, I have heard of one I’d dearly like to meet. Her first name is Cordelia; I do not know her family’s name. I’m told she’s here tonight.” “She is indeed!” the man exclaimed. “I dare say that you’ll see her wand’ring Here and there throughout the house. If you know her name and face You’ll find her soon enough.” This he said, and with a bow He left them there, to prance about. “Come on,” Saera softly said, “Let’s find Cordelia.” So they went and wove their way About the gentlemen and ladies Keeping court and holding conversations In the night. “Ha!” said Marin, stopping brightly, Plucking glass from off a tray. “Sparkling wine!” she brightly said. “Have some, Saera, grab a glass!” “But we’re underage,” said Saera. “Does that matter any more?” Marin said. Saera thought, and Saera pondered, As her silver eyes shone bright. Then she shrugged and said, “I guess not,” And she plucked a crystal flute. Both girls drank And Marin gagged And winced and staggered to and fro. “Mmm,” hummed Saera, With a smile. “This is pretty refreshing, yes.” “Oh, ho, what’s this?” called out a voice. Both girls went turning, spinning, whirling, Flowing all their dresses’ trains To see a group of ladies gathered And amid their midst—Cordelia! There she stood, in finest silks, A torch amid the cold dark night. She wore a dress of finest crimson; It set off her auburn hair, And made her eyes of emerald green Come off like gemstones in the torchlight And make her a vibrant figure Even all amid her fellows Women there, resplendent dressed. “Do you enjoy the wine, my darlings?” “Yes indeed,” said Marin, smiling, Hiding her enormous wince As once again she took a swig. “Such a lovely vintage, truly, What a perfect time to drink it. You’re a master as a host.” “Ah-ah-ah,” a proud girl bantered, “This girl well knows how to flatter, She knows how to butter up. But is she of proper breeding? Something in her makes me pause. That hair’s strange—it’s navy blue. And your friend standing quietly Has bright white hair, and eyes of silver. Very strange, And very weird. One might think your genes were ugly, That they had been tampered with. Not us! We’re pure, of finest bloodline. Are you fit to join our ranks?” “Hush,” Cordelia said, and snarled, And bent her eyebrows at them all. “Pure or not, they’re fit to join us. Look how wonderful they’re dressed. Whoever stitched up their clothing Shows that they have splendid taste.” “Ah, ah, thank you,” Marin said, Moving quick, with swirling dress, “You’re so kind—Cordelia, was it? I think we have met before.” “Yes, we have!” Cordelia said, and smiled, And laughed to see the girl. “Yes, you were with Isaac just now, Just a few short days ago. I did not know you were so resplendent, and so finely fitted, This is a surprise—delight!” “Oh, IS-AAC,” said one sharp woman, Black of hair and blue of eyes. “How can you still think on him, Cordelia, with such finery? He is so common, and so ugly, With his candles, with his dirt! Scrubbling, pudging, crawling, scraping! He’s not fit to lick my shoes. I know you were raised with him, Cordelia, At your parents’ wish. But that time is past. He has grown past it. Why can’t you?” “I...” Cordelia whispered, murmured, Bashful in her dress of red. And her green eyes faltered, slowly, As though she was much ashamed. “Well, go on!” the black-haired girl Exclaimed And cruelty shone about her, Flashed within her light blue eyes. Marin’s sapphire eyes were sharp, and hard, And she said “That’s enough,” beneath her breath, And turned her wrist And suddenly the gathered women Felt a sharp and awful coldness Settle in their bowels and guts. “Oh, excuse me,” said the black-haired girl Who turned and hurried off. “I must go,” another girl said, Hiking up her skirts to run. Off again and off again the others left, until at last Cordelia stood, alone, unguarded Looking round about, she shrugged. “Well, this is a prickly thing,” She said, as she went searching round. “I have not been all alone for many hours now. But,” she said, and smiled at them, “I am very glad, I say. They are all bitches, aren’t they, really? You two seem much kinder sorts.” “I hope so,” said Saera, nodding, sipping gladly on her wine. “What is your name, friend of Marin?” “I am Saera Luka Alhimov.” “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Saera! I bid you welcome to this house. Marin has already made herself a friend of mine, you’ll see. Any friend of Isaac’s, truly, Is someone I’m bound to love.” “So, Miss Cordelia,” said Marin, “You like Isaac very much?” At this word, Cordelia gasped, And drew in breath, In cold of night, And on her sparkled all the lights and lamps Amid the party space. But those twinklings were not equal To the light that shone within, To the glow that came out of her eyes That, like the emeralds, shone. Now she huffed a quiet breath in. Now a flush came to her cheeks. And Marin held back a smile For she knew she’d hooked her prey. “Isaac...” trailed Cordelia softly, Looking soft against the light. “I think about him a lot now, Think about him every day. I know that I shouldn’t, yet I must, and do, and surely do. He has always been my model Of a man of proper state. Strong and sturdy, prim and proper, Yet kind also, gentle, soft. Not so rigid, not so hard-edged, But still firm when he must be. I would love him, I would—oh!” Cordelia caught herself, and gasped. Marin blushed to hear her speak so. Saera smiled, but silent stood. “No, and no, and double no,” said Cordelia, with shaking head. “It was wrong of me to say that. He is not my destined one.” “Why not?” Saera asked, and stepped forth, Silver eyes now bright and clear. “If you love him, if you cherish him Why don’t you hold him tight?” “Well,” Cordelia said, “Well, it would not be--” And she dithered there, and waited, As Saera in finery Stood firm, and pressed her silver gaze And Marin firmly stared her down. “Well, maybe...” Cordelia trailed off, “But it would be so improper, But I could not do it well. What, now, would my family think?” “Who cares? You do love him, right?” said Marin, With a leaning hunger, As she pushed upon Cordelia brightly, And, at last, Cordelia said, “I think I’ll think about this some. You two girls both seem friends of his. Will you come to tea sometime? Any friends of Isaac’s should be friends of mine, I feel!” “We would love to!” Marin said, And bowed, and Saera bowed as well. “Splendid!” Cordelia said, and nodded. “Now I should see what’s gotten into all the girls I know! They have not come back yet, And I really ought to check on them. My house is large, and salmon-colored, On the great Algonquin Street. You can’t miss it if you look for it, So come to me! Farewell!” At this, fair Cordelia went and left, Her red dress trailing fast, Leaving Saera, Marin also, standing there amid the night. “Yes!” said Marin, with a pumping Of her fist, and joyous cheer. “We can wind her up and make her come to Issac, I am sure!” “Marin,” Saera slowly said, and Marin said “We’ll go to her And gradually become her friends And get her to confess her love. Then when she is ready we’ll bring her to Isaac, right!” “Marin,” Saera gently said, and touched her friend upon the arm. “Marin, why are you so focused On the love life of our friend? I like Isaac too, I’m grateful For all he has done for us. But I’d never dare to intervene like you’ve done so much now. What is it? What’s wrong?” At this her friend’s blue eyes grew dim. “I just… I want him to be happy,” Muttered Marin, Turning round with swirling of her glacial skirt, Her dark blue skirt With glittered sparkles Of the ice contained therein. “Marin?” Saera asked, and paused, And bent a little closer, Close enough to see her friend’s eyes Filling up with tears. “Do you--” “I love him!” Marin cried, And wiped her leaking eyes. “I love Isaac! I love him so much! I’ve loved him for a while! But I know that I’m way too young, He’ll never love me, never, no!” “Marin--” Saera started, but her friend kept going on. “So, so I’ll just help him out,” She said, and wiped her teary eyes. “I’ll unite him with his true love, then we all can leave. Then I can go far away, And I’ll forget he ever was. I’ll leave the two of them together As a token of my love.” So Marin spoke, and Marin sobbed And Saera held her tenderly And bent her silver eyes upon The windowpanes outside. The city darkly glowered, with a few lights here and there, And in the evening she could see The snow keep falling down, Snow and snow and everlasting snow Kept falling down.
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