The Girl has taken to dipping her paintbrush into her wine, so her newest pieces have a burgundy veil draped over them. I am letting her run the scarlet maze for just a little while. So I shall tell you a story.
I was away for a bit; The Girl needed space one night, but that night dragged on in ways only my wings could understand. The only space I know comes by wrapping myself in stars. The space of the ages... the space of golden triumph.
Alas, her heartbeat is deafening when it goes pounding through the Universe, far drowning out my fellow Champions' hooves. Her heart is a drum that shakes their glittering edges, and they always kneel to me and silently urge me to follow her sound.
So I journeyed back to her window and squeezed into the amber light of her studio, where she was dancing alone with my saddle, caressing it with her paint-stained fingertips. We spoke again of the days of olde, when the starlight still created luminous pave-stones for us to gallop along. Suddenly we were family again, separated by nothing. The room dissolved. We went flying.
That reunion of flight spawned a rebirth of our relationship. She told me how she'd recently broken free of her cocoon, and how there would be no more hiding her art away from the world. It was time.
We landed atop a lighthouse, and stared out into the darkness, not able to know where the sea met the sky. She said it didn't matter too much, because I could fly... and she could breathe underwater. Together, we were invincible.
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