8/28/11

Vermilion
By Ron C. Nieto


The feeling of being observed nagged at the back of her head and she struggled to open her eyes, swimming towards consciousness, trying to focus on something through the remaining cobwebs of sleep that clouded her mind.

His chocolate eyes drew her disoriented gaze and held on to it.

He stood like a shadow in the doorway to the cabin with his arms crossed over his chest and he was grinning like a gentle, tame wolf. She had rarely seen such gesture gracing his features before and she found that, at first, she could not fit the smiling, energetic image into the grim and determined person she had known prior to their escapade.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty.”

She stirred and stood, stretching the cramps from her limbs, and sent him a drowsy smile in turn. She still needed to recover from the terrifying aftermath of the war and it was taking its toll on her, but still she padded the cabin and negotiated her way to the deck.

When she tripped over, he was right there to hold her steady and guide her upwards with a gentleness she would not have expected from his strong, capable hands.

Once up, she realized she must have napped for quite a while. The ship was already surrounded by liquid darkness and the sky overhead was black velvet, impossible to distinguish from the sea where they floated.

However, the shadows were far from absolute. Unable to trust her senses, she rubbed her eyes in a childish way that made him chuckle behind her and blinked a few times.

“I thought you’d like it.”

And she did.

The sea was as calm as a mirror, and no waves rose to rock the sailing vessel into their loving waltz. The heavens had long forgotten the brilliance of the sunset and no clouds hung afire anywhere. No stars littered the sky just yet.

Only a resplendent orb hung low, barely an inch above the horizon line, all-consuming in its solitude.

She could only stare in awe at the full, vermilion moon shattering the nothingness and bleeding into the silence that enveloped them. She did not feel him moving away from her because, for a few heartbeats that stretched eternal, she knew nothing but the view. She wished for a way to record the feeling of grandeur, of insignificance, of belonging that came unbidden to her core. She wished for anything to make that moment in time last forever.

But forever was much too long a time to ask for and she could just hug herself against the cold and loneliness of the night aboard.

As if sensing the chilling turn her thoughts had taken and refusing to allow her to wallow in them, he rejoined her and moved into view, calling her back to the present. He had two Styrofoam cups in his hands, the smell of hot cocoa sneaking into her head mixed with salt, cedar, and him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Ever seen it like this before?”

His expression did not change but she could hear the smile in his voice and see the twinkle in the depths of his dark eyes.

“It feels like it’s part of a fairytale,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the still air with her words.

He understood.

Not only the four inane words she uttered, but the many emotions it evoked, the longing and how grateful she was because he had shared that perfect moment, that perfect moon with her.

He handed her one of the cups, any other words unnecessary between them, and they sat overlooking the rising moon, side by side, with their backs resting against the quarter deck.

They began to talk when it turned a deep shade of amber, their eyes always riveted to the spectacle.

Little by little, as it crawled towards the zenith, the moon faded to gold and she dared to look at him.

He stared out at the endless sea while he spoke about his home, his father and his dream of the very ship they sailed. The stubble smoothed the plains and sharp angles in his face and the relaxed smile softened his otherwise harsh features. He was at ease in his reminiscing: for once, he didn’t give the impression of a powerful panther coiled tight to jump into deadly action without incitement, but that of a young man.

Nothing more, nothing less than that.

A man unknown to her, despite all the time they had spent together.

But no, she corrected herself, that one had been Captain Vareda whereas this other one was merely Logan. An unknown man with whom she felt no awkwardness.

She took a tentative sip from her Styrofoam cup. She was not tired anymore. She was not scared. She leaned her head to the side, resting her temple against his shoulder. She felt him reaching out and wrapping his arm around her. Protecting her.

She never noticed when the golden moon merged into silver.


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Ron C. Nieto is a fantasy and romance author who has been writing in her secluded fortress for the longest time. Recently, she had a talk with her cat and decided that she should share her creations, because it was selfish to hoard them all for herself.