Goddess Liv Savell (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

For one moment, the world held its breath. Alphonse held her breath too. Then the cock would crow, and the day would demand her attention, and she would go on with her chores. But in that moment, the new day was hopeful and still. Quiet. Peaceful. 

The crunch of hay behind her made Alphonse turn, not a glimmer of fear in her heart. Nothing would hurt her here. Even in the darkness, the figure was intimatelyfamiliar. Alphonse smiled.

“Hello.” Though Delyth had never seen her family’s farm, Alphonse thought the warrior looked as if she fit there. Maybe, wherever Alphonse belonged, so too did Delyth? The distance between them was too great, so Alphonse stepped closer, reaching her hand out for Delyth to take. 

As their fingers interlaced, Alphonse tugged Delyth closer. Out of the darkness and into the light of the sunrise. She came easily, her calloused palm relaxed, trusting. The warrior was more than willing to be led by her little bird. And yet, there were furrows between her brows so deep that they might have been put there by a horse and plow. Her eyes seemed to barely hold up the bags beneath them, shot with exhaustion-red around the blue. “I love you,” she said, and there was an urgency to her words that had no place in the peace of pre-dawn. It was the rooster call, reminding those who heard it of the day.

Alphonse wanted to respond, to tell Delyth that she loved her too, but the tension in the warrior’s face distracted her. What was wrong? Why was Delyth so downtrodden? “Delyth?” Confusion colored Alphonse’s voice, and she stepped closer, inspecting each line, each blemish. “What’s wrong?”

“I—it’s—” She didn’t seem to know how to answer, as though the question was too big to grasp in its entirety. She took a breath that came out like a sob and tugged her hand away to press her palms into her eyes. The muscles of her jaw bunched. Her bared teeth clenched together between quivering lips. 

Alarm painted Alphonse’s voice. “Delyth?” Stepping closer, she reached out to stroke Delyth’s shoulder or hold her hand. Only, it didn’t seem to be enough. She hesitated, useless until a memory bubbled to the surface of her mind. Long ago—a lifetime ago, Delyth had held her while Alphonse cried. She had smoothed her fingers through Alphonse’s hair and kept her close and safe. The echoes of acceptance and love warmed Alphonse’s soul, and she wrapped her arms about the warrior as tightly as she could. “It’s alright,” she murmured, letting her hands run up and down Delyth’s sides, “It’ll be alright.” 

The warrior crumbled around her, bending to enfold Alphonse in corded arms. Her wings sagged over her shoulders, tips folding in the straw. Her body shook with sobs. “I’m failing, Alphonse. I still don’t know how to save you. People are dying. Children—”

Understanding bloomed within Alphonse. Enyo. The real world. This wasn’t real. This was a dream or the realm before death. The sunrises, the farm. 

And she had no wisdom to give Delyth. She didn’t know the way out of the darkness. She didn’t know the answers Delyth sought. 

Alphonse pulled away from Delyth, brushing aside the beautiful woman’s tears. She cupped Delyth’s jaw, brought her lips to first the left cheek, then the right. And her brow. And her mouth. They kissed, and Alphonse did all that she could to convey her meaning with that kiss. No matter what, she was with Delyth. The terrible things that could and would happen, the unhappiness that seemed to stalk them both, the good and the bad. Alphonse would be there. 

“I love you, Delyth.” She smiled as she broke the kiss, tucking a stray lock of black hair behind the warrior’s ear. The feather braided there gleamed in the morning light. “I’ll love you always. Even if you don’t know what to do. Even if you never find a way to save me or stop Enyo. This world is a dark place, but—” Alphonse laid her hand against Delyth’s heart. “You are my light.” 

Delyth pressed her palms to either side of Alphonse’s face, her own expression twisted, equal parts aching and earnest. She studied Alphonse’s eyes as though to memorize them, every last vein or fleck of color. She stroked her thumbs over Alphonse’s cheekbones, ran her fingers through the smaller woman’s hair. “I’m yours. No matter the oaths I have sworn or the space between us. I was yours the day we met on a half-abandoned track, and I will be until the day I die. I will not stop trying to save you.”

She knew it was true. Delyth was an unstoppable force. She would meet her goals or die trying. But Alphonse didn’t want to think of Delyth dying. She didn’t want to think of the world beyond, cold and cruel. And so far away now. A dim, distant place. For Alphonse, at least. Slowly, she let her gaze slip from Delyth’s, to the farm around them. Her family home, or something like it. She and Delyth might never have a home together, a life together. 

But they could share this memory, at least. 

“This is where I grew up. In Ingola. Before I went to Moxous.” It suddenly seemed small and dull, and Alphonse felt her cheeks warming. “I could show you if you wanted?” 

༄

Once, Delyth had sat beneath a simple tent and told Alphonse that she wanted to know everything about the little healer. The memory made her smile, and the smile seemed to summon more tears from her eyes. She wanted to share something warm, to let go of the awful struggle that awaited her, if only for a time. “Yes, annwyl. Show me.”

Alphonse’s blush deepened at the pet name, but she slipped her fingers between Delyth’s, tugging on her hand to lead the way. The farm was stark in nature, not that different than Glynnford. There were fields of crops, a barn filled with hay