[Incorrect, but she only realizes that as the speed of their ascent makes her lose her breath, a lightheadedness joining the warm haze of alcohol in her bloodstream. Youko clings on tighter, idly hoping she isn't pulling at any plumage with her hands by mistake while trying to refill her lungs with steady breaths.
The first thing her eyes see, adjusting to the dark void his wings are keeping them hung in, are the fast moving figures of Hyouki and Hankyo chasing up from the palace, her poor shadows as disarmed by Calhir's speed as she was. She tries to turn into the wind, angling her head so her hair on the breeze doesn't whip them both blind. Then the night on a wider stage becomes shades of blues and blacks she can parse, and she can see Mount Gyouten, smaller, dotted in miniature by pinpricks of lanterns and rooftops catching moonlight. It is something she may have seen when they first marched on the capital, not that she remembers much beyond the fighting. It is so small and fragile looking to her.]
That— yes, I can see it.
[She doesn't feel brave enough to lean back, but she relaxes her grip just a little.]
[ Even if it makes her struggle, even if it fights her. ]
I don't think the distant view is a false one. There are things you can't see from afar, and things you can't see up close, but they're both views of the true thing.
[ He waggles his wingtips at the shadows as they draw closer, a salute of sorts... though perhaps there is a little mockery in it, for being forced to catch up. His life has delivered a few lessons in humility, some of them sharp and lodged close to the heart, but not so much that they've killed his pride entirely. Especially not when he flies.
Then he wings over - a stomach-turning maneuver for his passenger, most likely - and rolls, so that his body is between her and the palace with its earthly light. There's just the sea of clouds below and, where they're facing, the sea of stars above. ]
At night it's difficult not to favor the stars, though...
[ There is the ultimate in distant, untouchable beauty. Never to be marred by knowledge of any other truth. ]
[Her gaze has drifted away from Mount Gyouten, down through the water of the sea below them, to the few village fires still burning this late, dotting the seabed — that is Kei itself — in between reflected stars.
She smiles softly at how many there are now, even if all she can see is Ei Province sleeping. The mountain palaces were always the least touched by the march of destruction — bureaucracy lived on between each ruler, after all — so if asked what is a more beautiful sight, it would be those living beneath the clouds. Her people.]
You're right. You have to change your point of view over and over to see the whole picture.
[Hyouki and Hankyo reach the area just below them and drift along, watching carefully over the scene, not interceding yet, though clearly poised to do so. They're too well-behaved to snarl at Calhir's little jab at their pride, and merely call out to Youko — "Your Majesty!" — in two refined, surprisingly human voices.
She is just starting to feel relaxed when Calhir rolls them. It hardly takes a moment, but her fingers dig into the plumage at the back of his neck as the world goes ass over tea kettle, and Youko swallows a scream, heart in her throat. She has gotten comfortable flying in the years since, but she fell into this world from the sky, and was baptized in the Void Sea. The fear that it could happen again doesn't live far from her other anxieties.
If Calhir intended to show her the stars, all he has regrettably succeeded at is getting her to cling to him, face buried against his chest.]
[ He's surprised, honestly. Despite the lows of their conversation earlier, she has always given him an impression of strength. Or, no... her ability to share her worries was, to someone like him, part of that impression. He's never thought of her as someone who would scare at the jolts of flight.
But then, he lives and breathes flight. Knows his own wings. Isn't relying on just the grip of two pairs of arms to keep him in the sky.
Surprised too at how good it feels. Warmer than it should. He remembers that when he was young the 'blessed', the winged ones, would do that kind of thing, doing stunts so attractive passengers would hold them tight, hearts pounding. The kind of thing that seems very stupid after just a few of those long, long years between adolescence and adulthood, but the years aren't quite so long that he doesn't still appreciate the result.
He rolls all the way over, onto his back, so that his chest is under her, and pats her back. It's a terrible way to fly, that even with all his excess of strength and stamina he can't keep up all that long, but it can serve for a moment. ]
[She doesn't need to apologize necessarily, but she can't stop herself. At least, it gives her something to do while trying to catch her rabbit-fast heartbeat and breathing, shoulders hunched up to her ears as her cheek rests against fine scales. The feeling of him patting her back is grounding, soothing.
With their combined efforts, she calms down enough to open her screwed shut eyes and pick her chin up. She meets Calhir's gaze with an embarrassed smile and a shaky laugh, the flush on her face a mixture of how rattled she was by the maneuver and the effects of the white liquor in her belly.]
[ He strokes her gently as he can while she calms, though the need to keep a hold on her makes the gesture a little more forceful than might be ideal. She feels small - or maybe it would be more accurate to say 'her real size', without the magnification of personality or title - like this.
He smiles back when she looks up, a slightly apologetic cast to his brow. And tamps down the little voice that says 'do it again' when he sees how flushed she is. ]
I will.
...this is what I love about them though. How quickly you can move when you catch the air. The ones who just float around like your servants may have most of the uses for it but they haven't half the joy.
[Though she feels a little like a house cat being pet too strongly, the feel of him stroking her back does help plenty. Her shoulders relax and Youko gently loosens her excessive hold on Calhir, apologizing as her fingers release the downy feeling feathers at the back of his neck, hoping she didn't dislodge any by the fistful.
She can only sort of imagine what he means as he talking about catching the air. She finds herself thinking of a lost feather drifting on the breeze, and how quickly it could shift directions when he makes his jab at Keiki's shirei. It startles her again, but pleasantly, making her laugh, and turns her smile a much less strained. That said —]
You didn't bring me up here just to show them up did you?
Abduct the empress just to start a race I know I'd win? Hardly.
[ For the first time he flashes real grin at her. The arrogance of youth, which he'd once had such a surfeit of, and now mostly shows itself for this topic alone. Nor does the flippant denial sound completely sincere. He would enjoy showing them up a little...
But he's here to show her a good time, honest, so no race is in the offing. ]
I did offer to take you for a swim in the sea of clouds, didn't I? Up for it?
[The grin is unexpected, cavalier and bright, an expression that she could never have imagined was in the offing. Youko finds herself looking at a Calhir she hasn't seen before, one she likes being shown up here where the only real witness to it at all can be her.
At the mention of a swim, she cranes her head to look down at the blue-black water of the sea and the dwindling village firelight. She finds herself glad to not be looking directly at her friend for a moment, a sentiment — and a warmth stretching out along her cheeks all the way to her ears — she'll blame on their drinking. She seems to be seriously considering the offer, but —]
[ He turns back over at last - a relief - as he dives for the water, a rushing fall on closed wings until they snap back open and fill with the air, bringing them into a skimming flight over the surface. He dips a claw in, raising a spray, and looks down at her. ]
It gives Youko the time she needs to ground herself before they dive down, and keep from getting alarmed by the feeling of her stomach plummeting out from under her. No silent screams this time, though her arms do tighten briefly at his neck.
She laughs as the cold spray he raises drifts in the wind, crashing against her alcohol-warm skin and making her flinch at the pinpricks of chill, a ticklish feeling. She lets go of him, trusting that he has a hold of her, lean towards the water, tipsily determined not to leave him with the impression she is afraid of flying.]
[ His voice is light, amusement reflecting her own laughter, and he makes to fulfill her request with a hint of that same boyish eagerness that's run through the flight. His arms hold her tight, read for her to shift her weight, as his wings cant and take them lower, lower until Youko is only a foot or so above the surface of the water, its darkness bright-edged in the moonlight as it flashes by beneath. ]
[And she wouldn't give the spendthrifts in her court the satisfaction of never seeing her well-worn travel shoes again plus fitting her for new, fancier shoes. No, it has to be the hands.
She lowers herself, letting her core help out with balancing and allowing her hands to fan through the water, setting off decently impressive splashes, some of her hair trailing after through the spray and the sea itself. She'll come away wet, but what does it matter when she is laughing so weightlessly, like she was sixteen again and had never killed anyone, anything?]
[ He smiles above, where she can't see. This is what he'd hoped for when he'd brought her up here, after all; to see the humor and sense of freedom that had shown in her scorn for the rules of the court, without the weight of that scorn, or of the greater impositions of her place that she couldn't dismiss. For her sake, but, he must admit now, also for his. There is joy in watching another be free, too. ]
Not if I slow down. Easy if you want to take a dip together, after...
[For a few moments, she is content to just hang back with her eyes shut and that grin on her face, content to let the water pull through her fingers like silk and feel the night's breeze on her face. It would be unfair to expect Calhir to sustain flight and her hanging off him, so she does come up before long.
Though, when Youko pulls herself back upright she comes with water cupped in her palms and a not remotely innocent grin on her face as she splashes it up over Calhir's head so they're both equally caught by the spray. The dangers of indulging a tipsy empress usually trapped with stodgy bureaucrats.]
[ A little spray is part of the fun of ocean flying, and he laughs, more at the surprise of it than anything. ]
Think you're safe just because my hands are full? Don't be so sure...
[ His wings beat, picking up a little altitude but mostly speed, and then he leans back to almost upright and stretches his long legs out to the surface, feet kicking up a spray in front of them that they then of course fly straight through. ]
[That maneuver gets a properly delighted squeal of "What? Nooo!" out her, Youko laughing with her hands thrown up in front of her face to try to block as much spray from her eyes as she can. It isn't particularly successful, but her forearms in their thick sleeves work better.]
[The corners of her grin had been slowly relaxing into the quiet, contemplative expression she normally wears as the empress, but they tick back up. She leans back, arms securing her again, hanging onto his shoulders, smile warm and tone playful. Like a child who swears to never go to sleep.]
If we were to land on the roof in the rokushin, you could stargaze and when I get tired, I'd only be a few steps from my bed?
[ Calhir's smile back is a little rueful, as he contemplates the feeling of being invited almost-to-bed. Too excited for a 'we' that turned into an 'I'. But her tone comes off just a little too innocent for him to turn the exchange into a game of insinuation. ]
Rooftops are a fine place for it. Above the bustle, but not so lonely as the high mountains.
[It takes Youko, the definitive mistress of Kinpa Palace, more than a few minutes to find the rokushin and her own personal garden amongst all the buildings on the mountain. It would frustrate her normally — the empty waste of her home, and how little she truly knows it — but she is comfortable in the breeze, content to be held.
She does eventually spot it. Luckily, the pavilion is still lit by the lanterns she hung, and softly lighting up the rooftop she was looking for. Youko hangs a little off to point it out for Calhir.]
[She settles down on the tile of the roof carefully, making sure not to slip right down and cause her returned shadows more stress, knees drawn up to her chin. The rattle of roof tile when Calhir returns pulls her back from slipping over the edge into warm, wine-drunk sleep, and Youko smiles up at him, clearly content curled up as she is.]
I hope you didn't want an astronomy lesson. I don't know these constellations yet.
[ Calhir shares the smile and sets down next to her, crossing his legs for the sake if having somewhere to put the bottle that's slightly less likely to see it roll off the roof. ]
That would have been nice, but... no, I just wanted to close out the day seeing something beautiful with someone beside me.
[ He pours two cups from the last bottle of wine and, at last, sips at his instead of downing them in one gulp the way he had been earlier. ]
[She takes the offered cup with both hands, sipping at it without sitting up at all, too relaxed to bother being proper now. She tilts her head at him, eyes green eyes dark, heavily lidded by the wine and the hour.]
Like the skies you fly through aren't beautiful enough?
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[Incorrect, but she only realizes that as the speed of their ascent makes her lose her breath, a lightheadedness joining the warm haze of alcohol in her bloodstream. Youko clings on tighter, idly hoping she isn't pulling at any plumage with her hands by mistake while trying to refill her lungs with steady breaths.
The first thing her eyes see, adjusting to the dark void his wings are keeping them hung in, are the fast moving figures of Hyouki and Hankyo chasing up from the palace, her poor shadows as disarmed by Calhir's speed as she was. She tries to turn into the wind, angling her head so her hair on the breeze doesn't whip them both blind. Then the night on a wider stage becomes shades of blues and blacks she can parse, and she can see Mount Gyouten, smaller, dotted in miniature by pinpricks of lanterns and rooftops catching moonlight. It is something she may have seen when they first marched on the capital, not that she remembers much beyond the fighting. It is so small and fragile looking to her.]
That— yes, I can see it.
[She doesn't feel brave enough to lean back, but she relaxes her grip just a little.]
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[ Even if it makes her struggle, even if it fights her. ]
I don't think the distant view is a false one. There are things you can't see from afar, and things you can't see up close, but they're both views of the true thing.
[ He waggles his wingtips at the shadows as they draw closer, a salute of sorts... though perhaps there is a little mockery in it, for being forced to catch up. His life has delivered a few lessons in humility, some of them sharp and lodged close to the heart, but not so much that they've killed his pride entirely. Especially not when he flies.
Then he wings over - a stomach-turning maneuver for his passenger, most likely - and rolls, so that his body is between her and the palace with its earthly light. There's just the sea of clouds below and, where they're facing, the sea of stars above. ]
At night it's difficult not to favor the stars, though...
[ There is the ultimate in distant, untouchable beauty. Never to be marred by knowledge of any other truth. ]
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[Her gaze has drifted away from Mount Gyouten, down through the water of the sea below them, to the few village fires still burning this late, dotting the seabed — that is Kei itself — in between reflected stars.
She smiles softly at how many there are now, even if all she can see is Ei Province sleeping. The mountain palaces were always the least touched by the march of destruction — bureaucracy lived on between each ruler, after all — so if asked what is a more beautiful sight, it would be those living beneath the clouds. Her people.]
You're right. You have to change your point of view over and over to see the whole picture.
[Hyouki and Hankyo reach the area just below them and drift along, watching carefully over the scene, not interceding yet, though clearly poised to do so. They're too well-behaved to snarl at Calhir's little jab at their pride, and merely call out to Youko — "Your Majesty!" — in two refined, surprisingly human voices.
She is just starting to feel relaxed when Calhir rolls them. It hardly takes a moment, but her fingers dig into the plumage at the back of his neck as the world goes ass over tea kettle, and Youko swallows a scream, heart in her throat. She has gotten comfortable flying in the years since, but she fell into this world from the sky, and was baptized in the Void Sea. The fear that it could happen again doesn't live far from her other anxieties.
If Calhir intended to show her the stars, all he has regrettably succeeded at is getting her to cling to him, face buried against his chest.]
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But then, he lives and breathes flight. Knows his own wings. Isn't relying on just the grip of two pairs of arms to keep him in the sky.
Surprised too at how good it feels. Warmer than it should. He remembers that when he was young the 'blessed', the winged ones, would do that kind of thing, doing stunts so attractive passengers would hold them tight, hearts pounding. The kind of thing that seems very stupid after just a few of those long, long years between adolescence and adulthood, but the years aren't quite so long that he doesn't still appreciate the result.
He rolls all the way over, onto his back, so that his chest is under her, and pats her back. It's a terrible way to fly, that even with all his excess of strength and stamina he can't keep up all that long, but it can serve for a moment. ]
You okay?
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[She doesn't need to apologize necessarily, but she can't stop herself. At least, it gives her something to do while trying to catch her rabbit-fast heartbeat and breathing, shoulders hunched up to her ears as her cheek rests against fine scales. The feeling of him patting her back is grounding, soothing.
With their combined efforts, she calms down enough to open her screwed shut eyes and pick her chin up. She meets Calhir's gaze with an embarrassed smile and a shaky laugh, the flush on her face a mixture of how rattled she was by the maneuver and the effects of the white liquor in her belly.]
Warn me. Please. I really don't have wings.
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[ He strokes her gently as he can while she calms, though the need to keep a hold on her makes the gesture a little more forceful than might be ideal. She feels small - or maybe it would be more accurate to say 'her real size', without the magnification of personality or title - like this.
He smiles back when she looks up, a slightly apologetic cast to his brow. And tamps down the little voice that says 'do it again' when he sees how flushed she is. ]
I will.
...this is what I love about them though. How quickly you can move when you catch the air. The ones who just float around like your servants may have most of the uses for it but they haven't half the joy.
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She can only sort of imagine what he means as he talking about catching the air. She finds herself thinking of a lost feather drifting on the breeze, and how quickly it could shift directions when he makes his jab at Keiki's shirei. It startles her again, but pleasantly, making her laugh, and turns her smile a much less strained. That said —]
You didn't bring me up here just to show them up did you?
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[ For the first time he flashes real grin at her. The arrogance of youth, which he'd once had such a surfeit of, and now mostly shows itself for this topic alone. Nor does the flippant denial sound completely sincere. He would enjoy showing them up a little...
But he's here to show her a good time, honest, so no race is in the offing. ]
I did offer to take you for a swim in the sea of clouds, didn't I? Up for it?
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At the mention of a swim, she cranes her head to look down at the blue-black water of the sea and the dwindling village firelight. She finds herself glad to not be looking directly at her friend for a moment, a sentiment — and a warmth stretching out along her cheeks all the way to her ears — she'll blame on their drinking. She seems to be seriously considering the offer, but —]
Won't it hurt your wings?
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Let's go.
[ He turns back over at last - a relief - as he dives for the water, a rushing fall on closed wings until they snap back open and fill with the air, bringing them into a skimming flight over the surface. He dips a claw in, raising a spray, and looks down at her. ]
Want to dip a toe in?
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It gives Youko the time she needs to ground herself before they dive down, and keep from getting alarmed by the feeling of her stomach plummeting out from under her. No silent screams this time, though her arms do tighten briefly at his neck.
She laughs as the cold spray he raises drifts in the wind, crashing against her alcohol-warm skin and making her flinch at the pinpricks of chill, a ticklish feeling. She lets go of him, trusting that he has a hold of her, lean towards the water, tipsily determined not to leave him with the impression she is afraid of flying.]
I'd rather my hands, if you please?
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[ His voice is light, amusement reflecting her own laughter, and he makes to fulfill her request with a hint of that same boyish eagerness that's run through the flight. His arms hold her tight, read for her to shift her weight, as his wings cant and take them lower, lower until Youko is only a foot or so above the surface of the water, its darkness bright-edged in the moonlight as it flashes by beneath. ]
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[And she wouldn't give the spendthrifts in her court the satisfaction of never seeing her well-worn travel shoes again plus fitting her for new, fancier shoes. No, it has to be the hands.
She lowers herself, letting her core help out with balancing and allowing her hands to fan through the water, setting off decently impressive splashes, some of her hair trailing after through the spray and the sea itself. She'll come away wet, but what does it matter when she is laughing so weightlessly, like she was sixteen again and had never killed anyone, anything?]
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Not if I slow down. Easy if you want to take a dip together, after...
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Though, when Youko pulls herself back upright she comes with water cupped in her palms and a not remotely innocent grin on her face as she splashes it up over Calhir's head so they're both equally caught by the spray. The dangers of indulging a tipsy empress usually trapped with stodgy bureaucrats.]
Maybe not? I'm fine with just this.
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Think you're safe just because my hands are full? Don't be so sure...
[ His wings beat, picking up a little altitude but mostly speed, and then he leans back to almost upright and stretches his long legs out to the surface, feet kicking up a spray in front of them that they then of course fly straight through. ]
How's that?
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Fine, fine, I concede!
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[ He preens a little - figuratively! - and climbs again, beginning to circle back to the lights on the mountain. ]
You're ready to go back? I did want to stargaze. But I don't want to keep you from your bed too long.
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[The corners of her grin had been slowly relaxing into the quiet, contemplative expression she normally wears as the empress, but they tick back up. She leans back, arms securing her again, hanging onto his shoulders, smile warm and tone playful. Like a child who swears to never go to sleep.]
If we were to land on the roof in the rokushin, you could stargaze and when I get tired, I'd only be a few steps from my bed?
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Rooftops are a fine place for it. Above the bustle, but not so lonely as the high mountains.
Point me to where.
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[It takes Youko, the definitive mistress of Kinpa Palace, more than a few minutes to find the rokushin and her own personal garden amongst all the buildings on the mountain. It would frustrate her normally — the empty waste of her home, and how little she truly knows it — but she is comfortable in the breeze, content to be held.
She does eventually spot it. Luckily, the pavilion is still lit by the lanterns she hung, and softly lighting up the rooftop she was looking for. Youko hangs a little off to point it out for Calhir.]
There, see it?
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[ He angles towards the lit garden, following her finger to the right roof where he lets her down. ]
I'll go grab the wine.
[ So saying, he steps off the roof and drops down, leaving her to her devices for a few minutes before he returns with the refreshments in hand. ]
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I hope you didn't want an astronomy lesson. I don't know these constellations yet.
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That would have been nice, but... no, I just wanted to close out the day seeing something beautiful with someone beside me.
[ He pours two cups from the last bottle of wine and, at last, sips at his instead of downing them in one gulp the way he had been earlier. ]
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Like the skies you fly through aren't beautiful enough?
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