Posted 12 December 2009 - 07:13 PM
Phen really didn't know what was so funny about her questions, but then she didn't know the people she'd asked about, did she? Or had she used the "gob" word in the wrong context? Well, whatever it was that had made Kiel so merry, she wasn't about to object. She liked his laugh. It made her feel more carefree, almost as if she didn't have to keep her distance from him, though she still clung to the habit of doing so.
Not that Kiel was allowing Euphenia's habits to get a firm hold. No sooner was she reminding herself as to why she had to be careful, there he was again, standing right by her and whispering. There was only a moment of panic. It fluttered in her stomach like a caged butterfly, but its wings stilled before her body could stiffen. It didn't make sense for her to be afraid in such a sacred place. Surely the Goddess wouldn't allow harm to befall her there. Besides, she found herself wanting to get to know Kiel. As long as she was cautious and took things slow, maybe, just maybe, she'd found a potential friend?
Perhaps she could have reacted with horror at Kiel calling Xanth "creepy", but the way he said it was so funny that Phen had to choke down a giggle instead. He didn't seem to have a mean bone in his body, so she felt free to presume that he hadn't meant anything by it.
She endured his commentary about the flower without further threat of laughter, but when he teased that he might have "copped a feel" she just couldn't help but be overcome by another giggle fit. Again, she owed her understanding to the gossip of The Birdcage's dancers. Xanth bless their chattering mouths! "K-Kiel ... I think She can ... h-hear you ... " she managed between giggles.
It took about a minute for Phen to work out the remainder of her pent up amusement, and she was back to subconciously rubbing at her sides. Then Kiel's asking about what she brought for the Goddess jogged her memory, and she went from rubbing to opening up her coat. Not that she intended to strip down to her slip this time. That just wouldn't be right, not when she was with company. No, instead she slipped a hand in to pull a keyless rosewood flute from a pocket sewn into the coat's lining. The flute was of simple design, though the wood shone from the numerous polishings she'd lavished upon it over the years. "I brought her a song."
She could have tried to show off, presented her instrument to the throne and said something flowery and perhaps a touch poetic, but instead she brought the flute to her lips and arranged her fingers atop its holes.
Her song was the tale of a single snowflake. She had come up with the original idea for it during her first winter with her grandparents. It was something that had developed over time, evolving into a story of how a thing that seemed so insignificant by itself took on new meaning when it joined others of its kind. She had poured her own sense of inadequency into the song's beginning. It swelled with how tiny she had felt, so very out of place in a new dark sky. She had no one familiar to cling to, and so the snowflake drifted alone and lonely, missing the cloud it had slipped from with an ache that permeated its entire being.
Then something miraculous happened. The snowflake slowed, then whipped about quickly as a blast of wind scooped it up and away. Tumbling end over end, the flake lost track of the distance, but soon noticed that it was no longer alone. There were others that looked much like it, caught up in the airy tunnel. Some brushed it as they spun past, and the longing that filled the flake was overwhelming. So it chased after them, navigating the wind, till it found itself shuffled along, crowded between a flurry of snowflakes. They were all beautiful and unique in their own way, and among them the flake felt as if it had, at long last, found where it belonged.
There was more to the song, but she didn't want to keep Kiel waiting any longer than need be. Phen ended it as smoothly as possible, leaving the snowflake dancing with its brethren, happy as could be. She dipped into a courteous little bow to the throne, then tucked away her flute.
"I promise that I will play the rest for you when I visit you next, my Lady." Phen clasped a hand over her chest, feeling her heartbeat against her palm. Then she looked up to offer Kiel a reassuring smile. "I believe She would want us to take one. Don't you?"
Instead of waiting for the 'vari's reply, Phen stepped forward and plucked up a gift. The box was long and narrow, and the wrapping paper reminded her of the snowflake who represented her younger self, a self that was still close to her seeking heart.