Smolder breathes, and the sky obliges.
The sunset is pushed back in exhalations, its colours trailing behind as it departs. The canvas grows pale, the scarlets and pinks and ambers that have stained her heart become mute echoes, and soon even Smolder's hopes and fears are just soothed wounds, lost to another moment in time.
And then the stars are born.
Far above Moonreach Hill, the constellations creep into existence. Smolder can hear the chatter of the other students settle into rhythmic appreciation as they notice and gaze up. She smiles as she watches them, but resists the urge to join in, focusing instead on the lush coolness of the long grass upon her back. The sensation is too fleeting; her body forgets its touch almost instantly, but her mind clings on like a whelp consuming the last spots of heat from its birth shell. She knows that, living for as long as she will, these years will become weeks in time, and sensations will be forgotten like heartbeats if given the chance. Smolder wonders if that's why she hoards and treasures them more than gold and gemstones.
There's a murmur on the warm summer breeze, and Smolder looks sidelong at Ocellus. The changeling is lying on her back beside her, the book in her forelegs held to the sky as though it's a shield. Her lips move, pushing and cajoling the smile that's been on them since she joined Smolder on the crest of the hill, and her head leans between the pages and the stars. Smolder listens, partly because she's interested in astronomy and partly because Ocellus' excited voice is another treasure she doesn't want to forget the sensation of owning, even if it's for just a few brief moments.
Ocellus points out a sequence of stars, her chitinous hoof tracing them as though they're a pattern sewn onto cloth. Her voice becomes giddy, and suddenly there's a quill in her mouth and she's scribbling a tick on the page. She glances across at Smolder and giggles, and for a moment it feels as though the sun has pulled itself back over the horizon. Smolder makes a big show of rolling her eyes, but she nevertheless returns the smile, and the sun rises higher.
When their eyes meet, an increasingly inevitable event, Smolder feels the jittery yearning that's been gripping her this past year. Ocellus is radiant, and Smolder just wants to close the already small gap between them and feel the warmth of the night grow. The changeling's expression gives nothing away, but Smolder notices that she's stopped blinking. Her stomach tightens and the skin beneath her scales prickles, but she doesn't look away. Ocellus surprises her by holding her gaze firm too, despite the dark crimson blooming across her cheeks. There's a question in her eyes, or maybe a statement; try as she might Smolder can't decipher it, and instead hopes that it's simply a reflection of her own.
She wills herself to halve the distance, to quarter it even. Her heart increases its tempo, forcing blood into reluctant limbs.
Ocellus' eyes drop to the ground between them, her body a mass of hard angles. Her breathing becomes shallow as she returns to the book and starts talking about constellations again. Smolder watches her, unsure if she is feeling relief or disappointment. Ocellus chews her lip before pointing to a page, bending the book open to bridge the space between them. Smolder feels her skin catch alight as she recognises the invitation. She starts talking, asking some stupid question she knows the answer to as an excuse to move closer, and it's like the grass is mocking her as she creeps across in self-conscious jerks. She glares at the constellations above, but within seconds the anxiety is forgotten, and she's close enough to see the moonlight pouring across Ocellus' body.
They start talking about the stars again, about the whole star-gazing trip Headmare Twilight had organised for them, about how late it is and how tired they're going to be in the morning, especially if Yona starts snoring again. Smolder stands guard over the conversation, hunting for any silence creeping in between them and filling it with questions and jokes, anything to keep Ocellus' laughter ringing out against the night.
And then Headmare Twilight is calling across the orchestra of voices, her voice indulging even as she bids for calm. Companionable silence becomes thoughtful as the students once again return to their books and telescopes, and Smolder reluctantly stares at the charts in Ocellus' book. The changeling hasn't moved position, her smooth skin still cool against Smolder's scales, and the gradual realisation births a thousand butterflies. Heat blossoms across Smolder's cheeks, across her entire body, and the world disintegrates into giddy hopes and what-ifs.
Ocellus slowly turns the book into a shield for two, and Smolder moves her head closer before dragon instincts have a chance to take control. She's as close to her now as she's ever dared to be, as close as her pride and anxiety has ever allowed, and the tilted affirmation from Ocellus' head feels like it might be one butterfly too many.
Smolder steals glances at the changeling, wondering whether Ocellus has also been waiting for a moment like this, whether the last year for her has too been an exercise in compression, in hoping. For a moment it doesn't appear as though Ocellus is thinking about anything at all, her eyes wide and staring at something beyond Smolder's reach and ken. She bites her lip as her tail begins to cut a glittering arc through the air, coming to a rest against Smolder's leg. There's a pause, and as Ocellus' body gradually relaxes, Smolder realises that her body is doing the same. She searches for her gaze, but Ocellus keeps her head forward, a burble of words about some constellation or other pouring from her mouth.
The mere suggestion of a challenge is enough to be seized on, and Smolder pushes her nerves aside and moves her head again. It's barely an inch, but it's enough—she can feel it make contact with Ocellus' cheek, and though her voice trembles the changeling again makes no attempt to move away. Instead she lifts a foreleg across Smolder's stomach, bent awkwardly as her other continues to grip the book. Smolder holds her breath as the foreleg makes wide circles over her ventral scales, painfully hesitant at first but growing bold in the absence of an interruption.
Together they watch the stars, sharing favourite constellations like secrets that have been hidden away for far too long. Ocellus talks about The Selkie, about how all changelings have come to revere the story of the pony who couldn't decide which skin allowed her to truly feel alive, and who chose to relinquish both to guide other lost souls from the sky. The blush across her face deepens as she stumbles through the explanation, and Smolder is again reminded of how vulnerable the changeling is when talking about identity. It's a beautiful fragility, and Smolder yearns to take it and wear it as her own.
So she starts to talk about the stars too, blushing as she recalls the nights she chose to spend buried in textbooks. She points at The Colossus, looming across the sky beside The Selkie, and offers up what it means to her. Mostly it's the fact that she really likes the idea of being someone who will stand strong between her friends and danger, but as she speaks Smolder realises that such fragility is a double-edged sword. Quickly she mumbles a revision about it being the biggest constellation, and so obviously the best, and is relived to hear Ocellus' giggles smooth out her exposed edges.
A look from the others and they fall silent, mapping the sky with shared eyes. Time and time again though Smolder is drawn back to the edge of her constellation, to the point where it reaches out towards The Selkie. If she squints, and if she forgets all of the celestial knowledge she's worked so hard to learn, then it almost appears as though the two are seeking unity. Almost, but not quite.
She turns to Ocellus, and finds the changeling already looking at her. In the silence they stare at each other, snouts almost touching. Smolder wishes she could read the changeling's expression, that her own expression is earnest and unguarded.
She can feel Ocellus' hard chitin move a fraction closer against her scales.
And still they stare.
Smolder forces air down her throat. She lowers an arm across her chest, leaving it to rest beside Ocellus' foreleg.
And still they stare.
Ocellus bites her lip, and then her guard falls. For the first time Smolder sees the deep ambience of her wide eyes, the hard strong angles of her chitinous face. She sees the smile, scared of its own existence. She sees the Ocellus who is confident in the rules of her own world, and the Ocellus who might crack and break beyond it. Smolder sees her laughter and her tears, her hopes and her dreams.
For the first time in her life, for the first frightening time, Smolder wants her heart to be that open. She wills it to be that open.
And still they stare.
Ocellus breathes in ragged puffs. Her eyes are anchors of moonlight, holding Smolder in place as her head moves in little jagged movements. Pins dance across Smolder's body, her senses smothered by the changeling beside her. It might be her imagination, or just the cascade of moonlight against chitin, but Smolder is certain that Ocellus has begun to glow. She wordlessly urges the changeling to close down the remaining distance, so that she too can light up the night sky.
A cool breeze washes over them, carrying sweet pollen and the fragrance of the wilds. Smolder drinks deep the magic of the moment, her head full and heavy. Her free arm trembles as she slowly reaches out towards Ocellus' face, and light bleaches her amber scales. Smolder takes a breath. So does Ocellus.
High above, dancing across the sky, the reflections of their constellations collide.
Author's Note
Thanks for coming along and having a read, and I hope you enjoyed this little... thing that I made. I had hoped to write a slice of life piece that focused on a specific moment in time, and without dialogue cluttering things up. Plus I just wanted to have a play about with a different tense, and overindulge in some descriptive writing. Hopefully it didn't veer too far into pretentious territory, but if I failed there then at least it was a fun attempt.
As always, comments and feedback will be appreciated and snaffled up.
