Icarus

Art by SuspiciousCleric.

a wonderful piece by a friend, Aidymouse <3

Icarus walked slowly through the marble hall, moving one step at a time. The wounds on her back ached with every movement that stretched the feathered hide. Wounds of passion. Wounds from the ignored. Icarus closed her eyes, attempting to shed those thoughts.

Icarus gazed at the candles standing by each of the thick engraved pillars. The dancing flames. The dripping wax hitting the dish below. Her gaze followed one drop as it pooled at the top until it's surface tension broke and it slid down the length of the candle, cooling and settling at the bottom. The wounds on her back stung.

"Icarus." The voice was soft. Fierce. It owned the space it inhabited, allowing Icarus as an intruder.
"Medusa." a courteous reply despite her shaking voice.
Icarus stayed still while Medusa approached. There was a fire behind her eyes. A fierce tempered anger.
"I- I need your help, Medusa."
The ridges above Medusa's eyes softened slightly.
"I cannot undo what has been done, Icarus."
"No, it isn't that." Icarus looked into Medusa's eyes before focusing her gaze on the floor.
A moment of silence. Medusa's calculating stare.
"Then what, Icarus?"
When Icarus did not answer, Medusa began to circle her, inspecting her wounds, her tail slithering across the floor.
"You were wounded some days ago Icarus, retribution has already found your suitors. What more do you desire?"
"I- I don't know. I've been thinking about it. All of it. About what I've done."
"And what have you done, Icarus?" Medusa's face had settled into a stone cold stare.
"A- about what I've been doing. I- Now that... they're gone... I can't help but think on all the people I've left behind. All the things I said and did - all the things I didn't. How much they must hate me. I-" Icarus choked on her words, her eyes began to swell with water.
"They do not hate you, Icarus. They love you. That is the problem."
"But... everything I did. Everything they did. Look what they've done to me!" The volume of her rising voice rang around the marble chamber.

"I know, Icarus. Their passion turned to anger. It was not right, but they had no other alternative."

"They treat me like dirt... like I treated them. There must be something wrong with me. What's wrong with me, Medusa?" Desperation masked Icarus' face. Medusa's gaze was still cold, but a stir of compassion cooled the fire in her eyes. Medusa stopped her pacing and faced Icarus front on. A slender claw brushed Icarus' chin, tilting her head upwards. Their eyes met.

"Guilt, Icarus. Guilt consumes you, yet there is no outward effect. No flowers to gawk at, no disfiguration upon your breast, simply a rottenness within yourself. It eats at you, and you want an escape, but you know there is no escape from that which you are unwilling to change."

"But I am willing to change!"
"And it has been forced upon you. Icarus, who had everything she wanted. Icarus, who's wings have been torn."
The momentary silence was broken only by Icarus' small sobs.
Medusa watched her form and a pity that had been growing suddenly gripped her. This creature of grace and splendor had been beaten down and broken and was begging for her help.

"There is something we could do."
A break in her tears. A wisp of hope.
"A statue, Icarus. Your statue. Your beauty frozen, the rotten core solidified in stone. Your self is damaged beyond repair, but your memory need not be. Allow everything to fade - everything you did, everything you said. Everything you went through."
Icarus looked back at Medusa, fear clear in her eyes.

"When you are ready, you will return. Until then I will watch over you. You will never be hurt again, Icarus. I promise."

Tears trickled down Icarus' muzzle as her head bowed into a nod.

Medusa moved forward and took her into a tight embrace, feeling the sorrow and despair slowly dissapear from the room, feeling her scales turn cold and hard. Medusa held her embrace long after the deed was done.

Icarus used to fly above them all, showering praise upon creatures she didn't see. When they grasped at her divinity, she would swat their hands away, but in her absence the hands became knives. Medusa could blunt those knives and turn them into chisels.

In time, Icarus' beauty could return.

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