The girl’s eyes wandered in half circles, following lazily the dance in front of her. The bees themselves moved slowly, but with the natural grace of two sisters… or two lovers.
Her goddess symbol was the wasp and surely her grandmother, high priestess of Calistria, elven goddess of lust, trickery and vengeance, would chastise her if she found Jiriel contemplating these lesser creatures… still, there was something in the dance that mesmerized her.
Was it the dance or was it something else?
Unable to look away the thought came half-invited, half-forced by her own passions, her cheeks burning red as she thought of her, Jezebelle.
Many moons had passed since the last time they had seen each other. It was her fault, Jiriel knew, she had decided to follow her grandmother’s faith instead of her mother’s, who was not happy with the idea, but would never oppose her children’s search for Brightness, a mixture of destiny and calling; which in the elven culture drives one, but when found gives an infinite peace.
Jiriel knew she was doing the right thing, she could feel it in her blood. Yet Jiriel felt incomplete as she watched the dancing bees in front of her with a mixture of envy and delight. And she instinctively knew what was she lacking, maybe Jez felt it too. “Soon my other half, soon I will go back to you.”