The Academy: been one in a million; been a million to one

Came a time when every star-fall brought you to tears again.

Helena let her obsidian eyes follow the bird this way and that, more engaged than she could ever appear. The only movement she allowed was to raise her head slightly, her velvet nostrils grazing the heated feathers of Caoimhe’s wings as she stared intently. Though her body remained quite still, her spirit chased the creature in a graceful dance, less of a predator and more of a partner. She longed to tame the phoenix as her own, and yet she could feel the inner bond that the fiery bird shared with the stallion.

”She is… intriguing.” For the first time she acknowledged the stranger, her eyes straying from Caoimhe to Nicodemus. She followed his muscles up and down, tracing every rise and fall carefully with her gaze. He was built like a warrior, his frame sturdy and willing to support expanses of toned muscles. Yet he did not sport such a skilled body; no doubt he was handsome, but beauty did not win battles. Helena almost longed for him to fill out his figure, to see him under a glorious cloak of muscles. She was similar in appearance, though smaller. She retained her mother’s grace while inheriting Dorian’s strong bone structure—how ironic, then, that she should follow the path of a scholar!

Her ears were equally as interested as her eyes, and they pricked as he shared his name. His accent was exotic and rich, a melody that she wished to hear more of. With a nod of her elegant head she let her dark lips part, her own words descending more hesitantly than his. ”I am Helena.” She paused, letting her misty feelings pool into words on the back of her tongue until there were enough of them to dribble forth into real speech. She tried to smile back at him, but her expression seemed permanently laced with sorrow—it was painted into her nature, to be depressed.

”Perhaps you can help me.” Her head drifted lazily away from him to Caoimhe, who had now taken rest upon his shoulders. She let her eyes burn hungrily away as she watched the bird; it was hard not to become overtaken by the heated feelings in her chest. She shook her head, the first uncalculated motion yet in Nicodemus’s presence. It almost seemed out of place, for her to act without careful planning. And, as quickly as she had become spontaneous, she was under control once more, her voice bringing her back to reality. ”To find my purpose.” He was nothing more than a stranger, and yet she was so at ease in his presence that he could have been a lifelong friend.

HELENA