Myriam 004 - Blog Posts
zahra laughed, a full sound that cracked through the night like a spark, unexpected and honest. it spilled out of her without permission, the kind that bubbled up from somewhere deep in the ribs, where longing and relief sometimes collided. she ducked lower into the water, letting it rise to her chin, her knees bent and her arms drifting out like wings on the surface. it felt good to laugh. too good. dangerous, maybe. a little indulgent. but she didn’t stop. her eyes glittered in the moonlight as she looked at myriam, something soft blooming behind them. “you’re mad,” she said teasingly, tilting her head. “completely mad. and i’ve missed it.”
for a while, she simply floated, arms outstretched, staring up at the wide mouth of the sky. her hair spread out in slow waves around her head like ink in water. silence pressed around her, not heavy, not lonely. just present. the stars were watching as they began to peak through indigo skies, same as always. their light didn’t judge. it never had. she sighed, voice low when she finally spoke again. “you ever notice how it’s easier to tell the truth when you’re not looking at anyone?” her eyes stayed on the sky, the colors blurred slightly from the damp upon her lids. “maybe that’s why the stage never felt like a lie. i wasn’t with them. not really. i couldn’t see their faces, just the lights, the music. it was like… like i stepped into another world the moment the drums began.”
the words left her, and for a moment, the silence pressed in. her gaze lingered on the stars, but something else flickered behind her eyes. not regret, not quite. something older. something quieter.
she could have said it then. could have turned to myriam and told her the truth that had lived beneath her ribs since she was old enough to understand why she never asked too many questions. that they shared more than time, more than songs. that the woman who placed a baby in a basket to float down the greenblood, had mothered zahra too. but zahra didn’t speak. she couldn’t. instead, she took in a long breath, and when she turned her head, her smile was faint but real. “alright,” she said with mock solemnity, casting a sidelong glance. “but if i get scolded by some concerned reach lord, i’ll drag you down with me. fair?”
she swam in a lazy arc toward the stone ledge, fingers slicing the surface. myriam had pointed it out earlier, and now it called to her like something inevitable. her body moved with a dancer’s grace even in the water, deliberate and sure. she pulled herself up onto the stone, water clinging to her in rivulets. the air kissed her skin, cool and fleeting, as she stood there hugging her arms loosely around herself—not from cold, but from thought. her eyes drifted to the horizon, to where the mountains folded into shadow and the world felt far too wide for old griefs.
“jasveer’s name,” she said softly, almost to herself. “i’ve been carrying it like it’s a story i need to keep alive. but it’s mine too. i want it to be memory, not a weight.”
she bent her knees just a touch, toes curled at the edge, breath catching in her throat. she didn’t count to three. she didn’t shout his name. but she thought it, like a thread tied to her ankle, like a blessing, like a farewell.
then she jumped.
the splash was clean and sharp, and the water rose to meet her like an open mouth, swallowing her whole for a breathless moment. then she broke the surface, gasping and laughing, hair plastered to her face, eyes alight with something too wild to name. “gods,” she sputtered, wiping her brow, “that felt better than it should’ve. you win. but only this once.”
without warning, zahra surged forward and flung herself into myriam's arms, arms wrapping tight around the other's shoulders. it wasn’t a dive or a swim or anything graceful, just pure motion, unfiltered and reckless. she was laughing still, breathless, eyes bright as fireflies in the dark. “your turn,” she stated, nudging her shoulder gently against myriam’s. “no hiding.”
❂
myriam stayed still as zahra eased herself into the water, watching her friend with the kind of focus she reserved for dance or strategy or poetry written in someone else’s hand. there was reverence in her silence, not distance. she wanted to absorb zahra’s words as they came, one at a time, not risk misunderstanding them by rushing to fill the quiet. she’d always believed her friend’s voice was most beautiful when she didn’t try to make it so. when it stumbled a little, or paused too long between words. that was when it was real. her own silks were loosening slowly, methodically, beneath the moonlight.
the choli she’d worn earlier—a deep rust colour with fine threadwork down the spine—slid off first, caught briefly on her elbows before she tugged it away with a soft sigh.
the long skirts went next, peeled off like ripe fruit, careful not to wet the hem, and folded over the dry stone bench behind her. only the bindi remained, a dot of black on her forehead. “mmm,” she murmured in agreement, her first sound in some time, low and velvety as she stepped to the water’s edge. a quick, feline glance around the garden confirmed it—no children had wandered near, no stray courtiers, no highborn fools fumbling in hedges. they were alone, and she intended to keep it that way. and then she stepped in, as if the water owed her something. there was no hesitation. her foot slid down into the pool and then the rest of her followed—dark curls trailing behind her like seaweed, like shadow, her body gleaming and unapologetic beneath the moon.
she wore her nudity not like armour, but like inheritance: ancient, queenly, hers by right. the water surprised her—deeper than she expected—and she laughed softly as she began to tread, the movement making soft waves around zahra’s hips. “you were right not to strip the whole truth down,” she said, glancing over at her friend with a curl of amusement at her lips. “clarity’s overrated. blissful ignorance... that’s where the comfort is. if you don’t know it, you can’t ache for it. you can’t miss what never reached you.” she tilted her head back, letting the water creep along her collarbones, her dark hair floating like ink around her. “i used to think knowing everything was a kind of power. but lately...” her voice trailed off, the shrug more elegant than defeat.
“some things are lighter when left untouched, doesn't it?”
she floated closer then, her arms cutting little crescent moons in the water. she was watching zahra carefully—not for signs of weakness, but for signs of depth, of things unsaid. “you know,” she said gently, as one would speak to something precious, something that glowed, something they could not believe was with them. “you’re carrying all of it so beautifully, my girl." she let her foot brush zahra’s beneath the surface—just a touch, a nudge. “and don’t let them make you feel like you owe anyone ease. not the court, not the dancers, not even jassie's memory. you’re allowed to feel heavy. you’re allowed to sink sometimes - just trust another will catch you.” myriam's arms were long and bare as she drifted closer, water coiling around her like silk spun from ink.
the pool held them gently—two constellations untethered from the sky, bobbing in its quiet cradle. she watched zahra with a soft patience, chin tipped just slightly as if she were listening to a song only her friend could sing.
her lashes were wet, casting faint shadows on her cheekbones, and her bindi remained stubbornly in place, a single black truth clinging above her brow. “come,” she said suddenly, voice low and filled with something half-playful, half-sincere. “we’re playing a game.” myriam was already backing a few paces through the water, treading slowly until she was at the deeper centre of the pool. moonlight lacquered her shoulders, made her seem otherworldly—like some forgotten goddess of fresh water and difficult truths. she lifted her arms, held them steady before her like an invitation wrapped in challenge.
"climb up there, let's yell something to no longer carry, and fall back on me. i won't let you hit the water wrong." and there it was—that grin again. the one myriam reserved only for those she truly loved, the one that twisted her usually composed face into something far more mischievous. for suddenly, she were six and ten in the shallow waters of the greenblood, wading throguh reeds and doing the same with dastan and hasaryn. she remembers shrieking with a mouthful of water as hasa pulled her under, or the time dastan emerged with a fish. she remembered the time she ran from a snapping stray baby turtle. “if you fall wrong on your own accord, i’ll scold your form like some bitter auntie at a debut dance,” she teased, “so do it properly, or suffer my commentary forever.”
the garden had stilled around them, as if even the ivy and jasmine were listening. only the faint music from the distant festival threaded through the hedges now, soft and broken, like a half-remembered song.
zahra stayed seated for a long moment, fingers smoothing over the fabric pooled in her lap. she heard the plunk of myriam’s jewelry being shed, the rustle of cloth loosened from skin, but she couldn’t move just yet. her eyes drifted over the courtyard, checking the slant of every shadow, the murmur of the leaves, the glimpse of stone paths winding into the dark.
still no one. at least, no one focused on anything but themselves. here, it was only them. only this small, secret moment.
slowly, her shawl slid from her shoulders in a whisper, pooling forgotten on the stone. she reached up and unclasped her bangles, one by one, the metal cool against her warmed skin. she set them beside her, neat and careful, then unpinned her delicate earrings. the night air whispered over her arms, bare now except for the sleeveless choli that clung to her ribs and shoulders, the deep burgundy silk catching the stray lantern light like a secret.
her skirt shimmered slightly when she shifted, the intricate embroidery swallowing the colors of the dusk. she hesitated again, her hands brushing the ties at the back of her choli, thoughtful. myriam had shrugged out of her own jewels so carelessly, laughing and half-ready to strip the night from her skin without a second thought. zahra almost followed her lead, the temptation of that wildness stirring, but she caught herself, fingers lingering a moment too long before she let the ties be, for now.
zahra stepped lightly to the water’s edge, pausing for a heartbeat to glance back through the gardens, a watchfulness she could not quite lay down. then, gently, she dipped one foot into the pool. the water was cool and clean, a sharp little kiss against her skin. a breath escaped her, more a sigh of relief than surprise.
"I have been quiet," zahra said, her voice a low murmur that barely stirred the air between them. she wiggled her toes in the water, sending shy ripples outward. "i think...at court.." she paused, choosing her words with care, "...it's heavier than i thought it would be. i’m grateful. i’m glad for the work, the music, the dance... i love it."
she looked up at myriam then, her expression open and unguarded, the way it rarely was anymore. "but sometimes," she continued, dipping her other foot in, skirts floating up like soft petals, "there are little things—voices, glances, songs half-heard, that remind me of things. of jasveer. of the volantese. the borders. other kingdoms, that perhaps i feel better if i didn't know."
zahra let herself sink until the coolness lapped just beneath her ribs, arms floating loosely at her sides, face tilted toward the ink-blue sky. the stars seemed closer here, reflected in the trembling surface around them.
she opened one eye, peeking over at myriam with a faint, crooked smile. "the water must be working already," she said, playful but warm. "i’m spilling secrets like wine at a wedding."
❂
myriam was holding her heels in one hand and a bruised plum in the other, and somehow neither seemed more dignified than the other. the stone was cool beneath her bare feet, but she liked it that way—it reminded her she was still warm. in her mind, she heard the sounds of quickened breath in the distance: the third set of lovers they had come across this night in these mazes. she quietly whistled as they walked by, still holding her heels but glancing at zahra, about to open her mouth to disrupt them but the whistle was more than enough.
"oh, he's found her button." she whispered to her best friend, giggling slightly in a way she usually did not - a hand resting over her lips as they continued to wak quicker, considering the whistle brought the couple to a sudden stop.
she had taken to walking barefoot through the mazes of highgarden this night after being on the dance floor, as if they belonged to her, weaving through whispering hedges and lingering jasmine with zahra at her side, the scent of wine still on her breath but her mind entirely lucid. she wasn’t drunk. she was in bloom. “clarity,” she said, repeating the word with a touch of disdain and mischief, the way one might say virtue at a brothel. “if i wanted clarity, i’d ask one of those no-lipped septas to shriek it at me from a pulpit, not come whispering for it at a pool.”
the water shimmered as if offended. myriam didn’t care. she was grinning. she wandered a little closer to zahra, her hips swaying lazily with each barefoot step, her long skirts brushing against her calves like whispers from an old lover. “you talk as though you think this pool knows you?” she said, voice curling low and affectionate, the sound of her anklets jingling as she walked with a spring in her step. “i’d like to see it try.” she stepped up onto the rim of the pool, arms stretched a little for balance. the surface reflected the bruised dusk above and the halo of torchlight around her limbs. the water trembled at her feet, a pale sliver between stillness and chaos.
“if this thing really grants clarity,” she continued, glancing down at zahra with a breathy laugh, “then gods help it. i’ve half a mind to dive in and make it mine.”
the wind stirred her thick cascade of hair, carrying with it the sweet, faintly fermented breath of fruit wine and garden blooms. she tilted her head as she looked down at her friend, her dark eyes narrowing with a sultry warmth that was not flirtation but devotion, of the sort only shared between women who had known each other long enough to see through most masks. zahra was thinking too much again. myriam could see it in the angle of her shoulders, in the way she folded herself like parchment—something once danced upon, now waiting for ink.
“you know,” she said softly, stepping down beside her, sinking gracefully onto the stone edge of the pool with legs folded like silk, “you’ve gone quiet lately. it’s not your silence—it’s what you aren’t saying in it.”
and still, as they spoke, myriam's hands moved to unclasp the jewelery from around her hips, shimmying out of it as well as what was around her neck. whilst she fancied a swim, she would not get her gold wet. she then moved to unclasp her blouse's halterneck style, half tempted to at least strip her top half bare if she were to go swimming. "come in with me? we can float and yap away."
setting: at the verdant concord, a hidden courtyard with a reflective pool said to grant “clarity of thought” to those who sit beside it at sunset ; @myriamas
the courtyard held its breath, the light fading into a soft, silvered hush. zahra moved at myriam’s side, her steps easy but slower than usual, her usual brightness dimmed into something quieter, more inward. her bangles shifted with her movements, the faint music of them delicate in the still air.
the memory pool stretched before them, darkening as the sky deepened above. zahra stood at its edge, gazing down without quite looking at her own reflection.
for a long moment, she said nothing, a silence that myriam would surely notice. she folded herself gracefully to sit by the water, resting her arms loosely over her knees, her fingers drawing idle patterns on the stone.
“they say it shows you clarity,” zahra said at last, her voice softer than usual, thoughtful rather than teasing. “not in the stars, not in signs… but here. close enough to touch.”
she let her words trail off, eyes fixed on the ripples where a falling leaf had touched the surface, her hand poking the surface softly in answer. zahra stilled her hand, watching the pool return to its perfect calm, as if it, too, was waiting for something. she felt the familiar tug of curiosity, the same pull that had guided her steps across a thousand desert nights, chasing stars and stories.
but this was different. this was not a distant constellation, not a path marked in the heavens. this was close. immediate. and maybe harder to run from.
“i’ve always read the skies for others,” she added after a beat, glancing at myriam with a small, almost self-mocking smile. “but maybe the water knows something about me that the stars won’t say.”
zahra didn’t sound afraid, only contemplative, as if weighing a question without rushing to answer it. she leaned forward slightly, her reflection meeting hers at last, blurred by the soft stirring of the water.
quiet settled again between them, a comfortable thing, as zahra stayed there by the pool, not turning away. just… waiting. wondering.