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The sounds of spring filled the air around her.
Twittering birds excited for the rising sun and approaching hours filtered through the open window of her bedroom. The breeze brought in the scents of spring – rows of fresh flowers and piney trees – and fluttered the thin white sheets meant to shade the large windows above her alcove.
She blinked her tired eyes, adjusting to the early lights of the day, and listened to the rustling sounds of linen dragging and pulling on what she, by memory, can guess to be the curtains on the throw pillows stacked on the windowsill.
Memories of the night before slowly flittered through her mind’s eye as she remembered the deep raspy voice telling her – more like informing if she was being honest – that the throw pillows and pretty much everything about the room they were in were remodeled after they’d left home. Krista remembers the way the rough callouses ran along her arms and over the thin tee shirt she’d shrugged on that morning in her haste and how much warmer the room felt as she listened to the stories.
Her cheeks reddened in the early light as she remembered the wispy puffs of air that had scattered the tiny baby hairs around her ears and along the back of her neck
Krista lets the hand not hidden under the thin sheets roam over the cool fabrics chilled by the morning air. Lithe fingers glide easily against the linen as her muscles contract and expand unwillingly. Sleep still lingers at the back of her eyes and although her body naturally stretches against the thin mattress and plump pillows surrounding her, the sounds around her slowly ebb into her peripheral hearing and she finds herself blinking further into the daylight.
The sounds – unfamiliar for a second – grow louder as Krista loiters in bed until a thought finally clicks in her head and an unconscious smile slowly slides onto her face. She can feel her cheeks reddening as the memories of the past few hours catch up to her and of the plans set forth for today. It makes her wiggle around under the sheets as she tries to relax her beating heart and thrumming veins.
There’s excitement in the air and Krista can already feel the airy atmosphere seeping in through the cracks under the doorway of the bedroom – only to intermingle with the bundles of nerves and elation inside.
Her hands slide further along the bed, reaching towards the space next to her, only to find the sheets smoothed down along the bed. She can feel the warmth that had once been pressed into the bed slowly cooling as the breeze makes its way through the room.
The curtains flutter and threaten to bring in the petals of nearby gardens as Krista pushes herself to sit up. As the sheets slip off of her nightgown to pool around her waist, Krista is left staring and smiling into the empty space next to her.
The cool breeze catches in the knotted hair on her head and Krista smiles as she turns to the window knowing exactly where the empty space next to her had gone to.
Fingers glide along the soft petals surrounding her. The solid vibrancy of marigolds lining the land as far as she can see and its scent fills Ymir with the warmth of a home she’d once sworn to never visit again.
She can’t help the way her heart swells as she recognizes the blue sky and the greenness of the land. It would normally overwhelm her – coming back after years of arguments across the phone, but a small smile threatens to explode into hideous giggles when she remembers the occasion that had brought her back here.
Her fingers skim across the flowers ready to be picked and threaded into garlands. She remembers being taught the technique of it (although reluctantly) and her stomach flutters nervously as she thinks back to days spent watching radiant smiles glow brighter as the flowers were lain across adorned chests and necklines after days spent lacing them together. The hours of hard work that somehow felt valid after watching the praises flow like a breeze through the air.
The wind now seems to pick up in the early morning’s light. The sun had barely risen above the horizon when Ymir had tiptoed her way past the few straggling ladies readying the ceremonies they’d be put through until the hour came.
She can hear the house a couple of yards down the path slowly waking up. The sounds of young children running and playing games through the maze of chairs and preparations lain out across the house. She can hear the older ladies handing out their directions to the men loitered around the outside of their patio, telling them to start constructing and put up the tents and tarps.
The scene is all the same – familiar – as she watches on from her distance. She watches the men grumble for two seconds before willingly trudging out in the morning dew to start work. She catches glimpses of the women inside the house running in circles or standing their ground consistently over the stoves and chopping boards doing god knows what and ordering the younger cousins and relatives around. The children skitter around the house. Many of them sprinting through the open doors to linger around their parents and being pushed away to play for a little while longer before it was time to get ready.
Ymir smiles.
Her head tilting up to look at birds that fly through the sky, she can see that it’s been a while since she’d left the warmth of her bed. It was still early in the morning but nothing started late on such a day and Ymir couldn’t help the way her cheeks ached and her lips tilted into a smile as she thought about what was probably transpiring in her old bedroom.
Krista linger in the bed for a little longer. She lets her body arch and arms stretch into the cool air surrounding her as she tries to get herself more coherent.
Her eyes linger and flicker to the open window on instinct. The thought of running out and finding that certain someone surrounded by the beauty of the morning light was too irresistible to pass over – even if all she was wearing was a thin nightgown.
Before she can think of a plan to get herself out of the house (the idea of jumping through the window wasn’t very appealing especially not with the growing sounds filtering through the house) the door to the bedroom slams itself open, the knob hitting roughly against the other side of the wall hard enough to make her wince in sympathy for whoever would be doing damage control.
She’s only given that second to ponder about the damage to the wall before she’s practically thrown back onto the bed with the force of many small children.
The room fills with the sounds of pattering feet and light voices projected in heavy accents intermingled with the sounds of age and wisdom shouting orders and requests in a language that’s foreign to Krista but somehow manages to make her feel welcomed. She can hear the pans and pots clanging together in the kitchen somewhere further down the hall as the sound of the radio buzzes through.
The heavy weight of the kids on top of her shifts to sit on top of the bed beside her and she lets the sounds of their excited chattering flow through one ear and out the other as the presence of older women linger at the door. Their age shows in the bags under their eyes and wrinkles lined across their foreheads and ruffled at the corners of their mouths. Their eyes lit by the sight of the young ones pulling along her arms and asking questions a mile a minute.
She doesn’t get a chance to decipher one question before another is shouted her way and Krista hopes one day that she can come back with a better grasp at how to answer everybody at once. Glancing at the women still huddled and conversing to themselves at the bedroom door, she hopes it won’t take too long. They’re intimidating – considering who they are – but she can see and appreciate the warmth they exude.
She sends them a warm smile and without a word the women shuffle into the room and pull her from the warmth of the sheets heated by her rested body and early sunrise. The sounds of singing and strung instruments fill the hallways as she’s pulled along with her own throng of followers just barely shorter than herself run alongside her.
Her thoughts flow into the sounds and lights and colors around her as she’s shuffled from room to room, thrown into rituals after unique rituals and fed to her hearts content with the warmth of people shuffling around her keeping her excited and thrumming. The music and shrill singing of the old women sitting around the room – their legs tucked under them – and the dancing of the young girls and children around her that sing along and play hand games keeps Krista distracted but she couldn’t help her thoughts from roaming to the way the breeze in the large room seemed to ruffle every fabric-covered surface as light streamed through the house and shined on the smiles around her.
She’s sent through the steps that had been vaguely described to her on the plane ride here just under a week ago. Lathered with coats on coats of the yellow paste of turmeric and rose water as women muttered and hovered over her body with cool hands, it wasn’t hard for Krista to keep her smile on her face. The sticky texture may not have been the best feeling in the world but as every woman that came up to her to smear a handful onto her to begin the process, Krista could see the way their eyes had glittered in the sunlight with mirth. The auspicious ritual performed with love and luck in mind.
Ymir had told her that when she’d made that nerve-wracking call home a few months ago, the reactions she’d received had been a mix of something that she’d never expected. Reconnecting had been a wary idea by itself but the nature of the call had left the two in nerves until Ymir had ended the call and sat in silence until Krista had pulled the words from her mouth.
They thanked her. For helping Ymir find something that made her excited. For giving their daughter courage. And even if Krista wasn’t the daughter that this house had been expecting to prepare on the auspicious occasion, she was still theirs now as much as she was Ymir’s in every way they could manage.
And that included the red that tinted her cheeks as the stuttered English of one of the ladies told her how she seemed to radiate in her seat. The room giggled with the sounds of the young girls around her as she blushed deeply and as she glanced a look up through her eyelashes she could see the smiles of the older generation as the young whispered into their ears.
She busies herself in thinking about something other than the joyous giggles and laughs around her. Her eyes focus instead on the way the children seem to dance with no cares in the world – their bodies moving along with the music and singing of the old village ladies until Ymir sees an older version of Ymir herself joining in and clapping along.
Krista smiles as she watches Ymir’s mother pull along the young girls into a circle and leading them in dances unfamiliar to Krista but all the more entertaining as she listens to the way anklets and bangles ring in the daylight. The smiles on their faces are infectious as the noise brings in the crowd from outside to watch the show. Other woman – woman Krista had been sparingly introduced to in break neck speed – join the circle until Krista can’t even make heads or tails of who’s trying to pull her up from where she’s seated.
She refuses the offer at first – waving her hand and repeatedly saying “no”, but it’s useless over the noise inside the house that thrums with the music and waves of pleasant air.
Krista lets herself be pulled into the rush of things. She joins the circle alongside the ladies for just the second until she’s tapped into the center by someone next to her. The children around her cheer and in the excitement she grabs the hand of one of them and pulls them into the circle with her. She giggles along with the little girl and Krista remembers her name being Priya and being told that she was more of the quiet types.
Watching as Priya’s eyes shift around the circle surrounding them, Krista takes both of her hands and pulls her up into her arms and sways along to the music as fast as she possibly can with the few feet she has over the small girl.
The mothers around her cheer in excitement as shrieks of joy escape Priya’s mouth and Krista revels in the sound of it all and lets her head fall back in a laugh as the other girls join her inside the circle.
The heavy pulse of the music surrounds her as she’s dragged into the club.
The clicking of sky-high heels is drowned under the bass of whatever electro-pop song their blasting through the small space. Chancing a glance down along the dark black tiles that cover the floor of the club, Krista can see the way ankles sway under the weight of their owners and the mixtures of various alcohols. Sneakers and dress shoes very rarely intermingle with the clusters of toned calves and strapped on death traps in the room but the few Krista catches at the peripherals of her vision stand out as a sour thumb against the lights reflecting off the floor.
It’s still early in the night but she can already feel the effects of the alcohol in her system. Her veins feel like they’re vibrating through her body as the thrum of the music continues to expose her head with every sip and slam she takes down. She feels like a live wire waiting to be put through the trials as she jitters impatiently for her friends.
The group of them were somewhere huddled around the seemingly spacious dancefloor or in the latrines. Krista doesn’t have a clue of one or the other. There’s too much liquor in her system from the bars before here to keep track of anything besides where her hands seem to linger and find their way back to the bar top every time her glass empties.
Of course she’s having the time of her life. Very few men have tried to pull the moves on her in the little time she’s spent at the bar and in every interaction they’d somehow caught on to her intentions.
Thank god for the modern days and the evolution of a person’s understanding that sometimes a girl doesn’t want “a man in her life” or whatever nonsense she barely remembers her mother telling her at the age of four.
She goes to take another sip with the buzz of the world around her and her inner thoughts trying to suffocate her.
Krista’s pulled out of her reverie with icy fingers chilled by glasses and the mug of one of her friends shoved into her face. She’s yelling something over the sound of the club’s DJ and even though Krista can barely catch the third word she gets the jist of it and launches out of her seat to follow behind her brunette friend.
Sasha pulls roughly but Krista knows she means well as she tugs and twirls her onto the floor.
Their heels scuff against the ground as they giggle trying to find their footing. A glance up from the spinning tiles beneath her and Krista finds familiar faces surrounding her – college roommates and groupmates seem to crowd around one another as they swing around along to the music. Pairs of groups of them hang off of each other and laugh loudly as they attempt whatever dance they see other people on the floor doing.
Most of the music is unfamiliar to Krista but Sasha and surprisingly Mina seem to fall into step quickly as they move together like they’ve been choreographing this night for weeks.
Krista laughs loudly and roughly – the sound finding its base deep in her chest and rumbling up to spill out of her lips. She can’t stop the way she titters on her feet trying not to fall over her heels from watching Sasha and Mina wiggle around on their own swaying balance.
She feels herself tipping before she notices the way her knees give out leaving her staring up towards the fall wall. Krista lets out a tiny squeak - her body waiting for the inevitable fall.
Instead she feels a sturdy wall against her back. Krista’s hands flail around and as she arches her body against whatever’s holding her up her hands land against the warmth of someone else.
Krista blushes and quickly shifts her feet back under her to get herself standing again but she feels unknown hands grab her wrists to help her up and she lets it happen and relaxes for a second.
Someone – the stranger that saved her from a horrible fall – is saying something to her but the music's too loud and their words are too far from Krista for her to figure out what they’re saying. Her blue eyes shift down to stare at the ground as she strains to hear what the person still holding onto her wrist is trying to say.
Drunken gaze lands against heavy combat boots that look like they’ve seen better days and an unwelcome, very dazed, scowl finds its way up Krista’s normally smiling face. She can feel how tired she’s gotten over the course of the night and being held onto by someone hadn’t been on their itinerary.
She shifts around on her heels, teeth grinding as she tries to find the blue straps and dark jeans she remembers Sasha wearing. There’s a strange feeling in her chest as the hand around her wrist tightens and a worried tone reaches her ears over the din of the music.
Krista glances up through the bright colored lights reflecting off every surface there is in the club. The streaks of blues and whites catches her eyes and she has to squint to see the face looking down at her in earnest and for a second she feels dumbstruck. Her eyes widen as she takes in the person standing over her.
She’s pretty in a rather unconventional way.
The person in front of her stands many centimeters above Krista and even though her eyes and demeanor could make a man shit themselves, there’s a sense of wonder and warmth in them that leaves a hitch in Krista’s breathe. Dark skin littered with freckles and tiny scars look down in concern at Krista, their hair parted down the middle and falling over to frame her face.
She’s saying something to Krista and it takes a bit of shaking to get herself to focus on what’s in front of her but she manages a nod of her head and a small smile up to the person over her. They don’t say much to each other but the beat and sway of the environment around them is intoxicating and infectious and it isn’t long before Krista feels the pull inside her to move.
Krista takes hold of the wrist that’s already holding onto hers and pulls lightly against the leather sleeve that her fingers land upon.
There’s still enough alcohol in her veins and even though she knows it would be weird and awkward and totally out of the blue she can’t help the sway in her own hips as she follows the beat of the music. The other half of their pair seems to catch the point as a smirk flickers over their face and her hands release their hold on steadying Krista’s balance to sit heavily – comfortably – on Krista’s waist as her own finds their way up to loop against the somewhat sweat-slicked skin of the taller’s neck.
Through the haze she can tell that they’re both finding themselves closer and closer over the course of what feels like hours but was probably just the length of a song or two. Grips tighten over the other and breaths turn heavy with exertion that mingle with the slightly stale, warm air hovering over the dance floor and around the people around them as they move together.
Somewhere through the night and after feeling the few encouraging taps on the shoulder or back from her friends and giving a hum in return, Krista finds herself leaning against the weight of the other. Their foreheads thump together between them and they both chuckle – Krista’s giggle fits always finding their way to lasting minutes before settling – their smiles never leaving their faces even after the fact.
It takes a bit of a mental push and quelling of the strong urge to just sit and throw up the nerves fluttering in her chest, but after noticing the way the sun rises higher in the sky and the noises of preparation grows louder Ymir makes her way back to the house.
The side of the house is easy to see from where she’s strayed off in her own little world. Petals of marigolds brush against her knuckles and jeans as she shuffles through the narrow pathway; they tickle her wrists as she trudges through the drying morning dew.
The feeling of gentle touches has her pausing every couple yards to calm her racing heart and reddening cheeks. The last thing she needs is to show up back home with a tomato face and being subjected to a million questions about “how she feels”.
With quiet steps that contrast the heavy look of her boots on an overgrown meadow, Ymir rounds the corner of the house and comes face-to-face with the fruition of everyone’s work. She’d left the house early – not wanting to see or get forced into the set-up and arrangements of everything she’s hated since she was eight. But now it feels as though all her breath has left her three-feet vicinity and she’s forced to choke down recycled air that doesn’t do much but keep her from dizzy spells.
It’s all so much. The colors. The flower arrangements that look to cost hundreds but was probably worth more for how much love went into them by the old aunties in the neighborhood. The meadow surrounding the house lining the empty space around the focal point of everything seems to glow under the morning light. The cloths thrown in a way that looks haphazard but put-together all at the same time and so fitting. Even the chairs and tiny knick-knacks hung from their ends seem to stand out so bright.
Everything seamless and perfect.
Everything Krista had always whispered about in the dead of night where neither felt like sleeping.
The place looked like it’d been meticulously done by Krista herself but for the few pieces that catches her eyes and makes her breath heavier in the growing heat of the summer air.
The red cloths thrown along the front of the venue familiar.
Memories flash through Ymir’s head of the time when her mother had led her into her room to tell her about how beautiful Ymir would look someday. The colors that would complement her dark skin tone but wouldn’t obscure the radiance a bride should always have.
Ymir had once scowled at the idea of becoming “someone’s bride” and thrown the idea of the red cloth away with the used plane ticket as soon as she’d landed across the ocean – miles away from her mother.
But now, she can’t help the heat that builds behind her eyes as her hand traces the back of the pearlescent white chairs while her eyes trace the embroidery of the sari hung up simply as a decorative piece.
There’s no way that her mother hadn’t put that thing up on purpose.
Ymir chuckles as she subtly tries to push away any straying wetness from her face.
Sentimentality wasn’t a good look on her and she’d be caught dead before being seen with tears running down her face over a dumb tradition.
Her hands run against the cool tinge of the chair’s rungs facing the alter as she turns to look over her shoulder for a stray pair of eyes. She doesn’t see anybody noteworthy but the glint of the sun on the window panes of the second story catches her eyes.
Her eyes flitter about the expanse of lawn. Brown eyes catch the familiar figures of those that had made the trip to see them off – their bodies hunched over in sleep in the soft morning lights. She would go over and jostle them around but instead she lets her eyes trail over the rest of her field of vision.
Memory says it’s her own bedroom but the flutter of butterflies reminds Ymir what’s hidden from view behind the pale curtains blowing through the open panes – something bigger than a room littered with few memorabilia of tired days.
The hours are coming up on their shoulders. Heavy from anticipation and worry about whether everything will go off without a hitch. There’s excitement in the air as Ymir catches the smiling faces of neighborhood children dancing to music muffled by the walls. The chatter of men is far more noticeable here than from the gardens in the distance or the depths of the house.
There’s a strong urge inside Ymir to run the other way as her eyes dart between the doings inside the house and the groups of men loitering the edges of the festivities. There’s anxiety in her veins mixed with the urge to vomit just thinking about the way the sun will shine against the ring on Krista’s hand. But she’s pulled from the options with a strong grip slammed onto her shoulder.
The stutter in her breathing and familiar leverage of a woman shorter than her makes it easier for Ymir to figure out that it’s her mother.
There goes the few minutes of peace before whatever hell…
Ymir turns to face her mother with a groan that’s quickly silenced as she takes in the smile stretched so wide and deep it makes Ymir’s breath hitch with something different in her chest.
He doesn’t know where to place the look her mother has but it’s caught between an ounce of pride she remembers seeing long ago during one of their flower runs and a handful of maternal feelings Ymir’s never really understood the meaning for but has taken with stride and a loose tongue.
Her voice leaves her as she listens to her mother raving and keeping the explicit details about how well and beautiful her other half is doing.
Ymir can’t help but look over the shorter woman’s shoulder – trying to chance a glance at whatever wears her mother and the aunties had put her into.
When Ymir had called back home months ago with Krista’s hands laced with hers, the words she’d been told over the sketchy landline had at first felt like time bombs – the silence like walking on landmines. It’d taken hours and maybe even weeks of hiatus before the solemn worries of her mother’s tone and hate she’d felt in her father’s held promises and excitement – joys of the possibilities with a celebration.
A celebration that her mother could go all out for her daughter.
Ymir smiles down at her mother now.
She hopes that Krista has been everything that her mother had been hoping to accomplish and then some with all that’s happened since the sun has risen.
She doesn’t resist as her mother’s words flow through her ear and out the other and she gets pulled by her hand by a tiny, round old Indian woman towards the other side of the house.
They pass by the second floor window and into one of the bedrooms downstairs open enough to fit just the two of them snugly.
They’d spoken over the phone thousands of miles away while Krista had been out of the apartment about what would be prepared for Ymir. And now it sits on the clean sheets of the bed pushed into the corner of the room. Ymir smiles at the deep colors and small embellishments and turns her face up to her mother’s.
She’s met with the same warm smile she remembers from her childhood and nods in acknowledgement that everything was perfect.
The glitters and holographics reflect the sunlight through the bedroom window on every inch of her skin.
Krista had been rushed back up the stairs once the dancing felt outrun and the yellow paste had been washed away for the final time. Tiny whispered reassurances that there was still a few hours to go were sent her way as she was told to stand in the middle of the bedroom while a whirlwind of fabric and chiming jewels were thrown over her body.
The wind – now warmer from the rising sun – blew through the room and through a bit of twirling and scrunching from the ladies trying to wrap a heavy fabric around her waist, Krista was finally able to get a better view out of the open windows.
She couldn’t see much apart from the distant fields and the horizon dotted with trees as green as could be. Hopefully Ymir had found her way back home before her scrambled mother reprimanded her. The old woman had been in a frizzy trying to make sure everything around Krista had gone smoothly before practically flying through the door to go find her daughter.
Krista can’t help but giggle knowing full well that her mother had told Ymir to not wander off so close to the ceremony.
The noise catches the attention of one of the women tying the silk gown around her waist. She smiles up at Krista – crooked teeth gleaming white. Krista returns a small giggle and a jingle of her wrists laden with bangles almost to her elbows.
She’d been told that it was tradition and auspicious for the women to drown themselves with glitters and golds on such a day and Krista hadn’t had the heart to tell anyone that the gleam of jewelry was never much her thing. Ymir had been set to argue for her but the earnest look on her mother’s face and raised a warm hand to rest on her forearm. It was only for the day, anyway.
Growing up being told simplicity and the basics was where Krista always belonged, the culture shock of seeing the outfit and jewelry lain out on the bed had been overwhelming at first but the slow task of meticulously arranging each piece onto her body had slowly made it less terrifying. She’d soon gotten used to the heaviness of rhinestones and diamonds weighing her down.
She mentions the weight and pressure on her body in a whisper meant for herself but one of the young girls hears her through the chatter in the room. Krista can’t remember her name but she smiles wholly as she listens to the girl talk in an English lilt worthy of the Queen herself.
She filters through a million questions that must’ve been on the tops of everyone’s minds.
Where the two had met? Who proposed their future first? Where their first date was?
What did it feel like falling in love?
Krista’s flustered and turning a deep shade of red as the little girl relentlessly asks her questions. She doesn’t even know where to start and how much she can divulge with a tiny little nine year old. But the last question catches her attention and there isn’t a moment’s hesitation in her reply.
“Do you love my cousin?”
Krista nods her head furiously. She can’t help the way her vision starts to blur and the pressure behind her eyes builds with heat.
So much.
She loves her probably too much but Ymir’s what keeps her warm inside and out.
Krista tries to talk about how Ymir makes her feel without making the little girl uncomfortable with all the babbling and lovesicky words streaming out of her mouth.
There’s an airy sensation fluttering inside Krista’s chest from just saying her name. She feels like she’s floating on top of a thinly spread cloud and looking down at the world below, waiting for something to drop her back to earth but knowing that Ymir wouldn’t let that happen. She’d either reel her back in or go the extra mile and build a base high enough to reach her feet and keep her from slipping again.
She’d weave a million miles for Krista and Krista would do just the same for her.
She keeps this much to herself – resigning to herself and keeping her emotions in check before the kajol lining her eyes start to dribble down her cheeks.
She tells her that everyone has their own personal angel that they chose to love.
The wind was biting and rough against the planes of her face. The speed of the car they were in kept her from risking opening her eyes to an eye full of dust and roadside bugs. But a quick pat on the leg from her road trip partner calms her nerves and Krista slowly blinks against the rush of air.
She’s met with the sight of – absolutely nothing. They’d decided at the last minute that a celebration vacation was needed. The heavy weight on Krista’s finger convincing the two to get out of their tiny apartment and spend it together – breathing in the open air and letting everything around them soak into their bones.
Krista, now hundreds of miles away from home and surrounded by nothing but the rushing air, opens her eyes to the expanse of the world around her. The endless sightline that seems as though the horizon could lead to the ends of the Earth. Desert land dry from the harsh rays of the sun but the few striving plants and cacti fighting the raging sun and thriving under the stress.
She sees the adaptability of everything living around her. Watching the world pass by as her upper body juts out of the sunroof of their tiny rental car. The rush of the wind around her and the speed of the car underneath the soles of her boots propped up on the center console ground her to this moment. The taps of Ymir’s fingers against her calf to the tune of the song playing over the car’s speakers reminding her how pristine and current her small life is. How different everything feels with someone to share it with.
Tears prickle the corners of her eyes and she lets it off as just a consequence of the dust clouds floating up in their wake but the thrumming from fingers along her bare legs striking cords through her veins fill her head and chest with a fuzzy feeling.
The wind whips around her body and Krista giggles at the way her top floats and flutters around her figure. The soft linens and buttons threatening to fly right off with the force of Ymir’s speeding tendencies. Krista lets their speed go – her altitude over the other making it easy to see there isn’t a person for miles down the road they’re on let alone a cop.
A thought runs through her mind and she quickly bends at the knee and starts flapping her arms around for what she’s looking for.
The second she’s wrapped her hands around the smooth silk and after letting Ymir have her chuckle over her antics, Krista shoots right back through the sunroof and pulls the long scarf with her.
Taking the ends into a tight grip and a breathe in anticipation, Krista raises her arms up over her head and lets the length of the silky white scarf gifted to her years ago flow in the breeze behind her. The length of it doesn’t surpass the end of the car but it’s long enough for Krista too feel the pull of gravity as the air tries to drag her back with the scarf but she holds on tight with a smile on her face.
She can feel the chanced glances Ymir is making up towards her over her eyes on the road. Her tiny taps of the leg now a comforting warmth as she rubs circles into her ankles and up to edge the hem of the skirt Krista is wearing. Krista feels herself blush and the brevity of those touches – her body shivering at those lingering moments. She doesn’t stop it. She could never live without knowing the rush Ymir created inside her chest. The buzz left in her blood and running through her veins too fast to keep her cheeks from pinking at the warmth she feels of having Ymir so close to her.
Ymir turns the speakers up as the song changes and a serene calm flows through the seconds that tick by. Her hands find their way back to running across Krista’s leg as Krista can’t help but pull in her arms and lean forward against the roof of the car.
She leans forward, her arms crossed in front of her as the scarf continues to flutter over her folded arms and behind her, to rest her waist against the rim of the sunroof with her eyes wide open. The sun warms her face and she tilts her neck up to let the rays shine down and counter the cool breeze of the gusts of dusty wind whipping her face.
The hum of the lyrics envelop the both of them as they soak in their isolation. Living without anything to bother them or stop them. Appreciating the calm as they race through the deserts towards a destination unknown. They’d planned to visit a town but now wasn’t the time to worry how far they were from their end goal. With gasoline in the tank and the music turned up, the two of them fly across the plains and towards the never-ending horizon.
Krista watches the breeze filter through the room around her and flutter the curtains again as her hands knot against the comforter on the bed. Anticipation threatens to release her small breakfast from her stomach and up onto the woven – expensive – fabrics and jewelry adorning her body. It had taken over an hour to arrange the jewels and ornaments into precision patterns on her tiny form. She tried not to move so much once the ladies had left the room, leaving her to wait for the ceremony. They’d told her it would be just the while and the few little girls that rushed into her room to update her on the happenings outside the large wooden door had let her know that everything looked beautiful.
They tried to explain to her the way the flowers looked fluffy and vibrant thrown over the grounds and how everyone was all dressed up and ready to eat the yummy food.
The nerves built up as they refused to answer any of her questions about Ymir. What did she decide to finally wear? Did she look nervous, as well? Do you think she’ll like the way I look right now?
The knock on the door rises her from her thoughts and she tries not to pull a thread as she tries to stand up from where she's sitting on the bed. The springs squeak and groan with the chimes of the bangles and glitters and gold as a background.
It’s one of the older ladies accompanied by an excited girl Krista’s seen during the day running around the rooms with her friends and cousins. The girl, who she believes to be one of Ymir’s cousins, is giggling quietly as she clings to the lady’s skirt of her sari. She’s adorned the same way – jewelry spilling from the center part of her hair and an outfit catching the sunlight and jingling with the excitement of her movements.
Her eyes train on the ground as a blush erupts on her cheeks when the woman tells her they’re ready and Ymir’s waiting. She follows the person down the stairs and through the house – her eyes never leaving the ground underneath her – just to make sure she doesn't fall over the heavy weight of her clothes. The skirt drags behind her and she tries her best to keep it lifted above her ankles adorned with anklets and rings to keep it from getting dirty and tripping her down the steps.
They make their way towards the rear entrance of the house. Krista had been kept from peeking glances at the arrangements made for the occasion but the decorations that she had a hand in making and creating clued her into what she could expect past the doorway.
The door remains closed but she can hear through the cracks the sounds of people whispering and the grass rustling. There’s chattering going on from the women and men that had been invited and she hears the sounds of familiar voices. She smiles to herself as she recognizes the sounds of a peeved Jean chastising someone – probably Sasha – for trying to snatch food through the kitchen windows.
Ymir had told her of the surprises she’d planned for the day but the appearance of their friends wasn’t something that she expected and it brings back the prickly feeling of caught dust at the corners of her eyes. She tries to blink away the sting to avoid ruining any of the hard work put on her face and she smiles through it as she hears the creak of footsteps reach her from behind.
She can't get herself to look up until she hears the "ready?" from a familiar voice. Her eyes flash up in surprise to find the similar strands of blond hair and an open, warming smile looking down at her. He’s barely taller than herself but Armin had always been closer to her enough for the two to treat each other as if they were siblings.
Krista definitely can’t help the tears that whelm her eyes as she takes a hold of Armin’s hand. He gives her a reassuring squeeze and a whispered promise that she’s going to love what’s on the other side of the door before they tear their gazes from each other and eye the creaking door opening to let in the warm rays of the countryside sunlight.
She tilts her head down as she tries to rein in the flood of emotions making her eyes wet but once she’s gathered herself, Krista's eyes slowly trail their way up.
Her eyes landing on white sheets draped over chairs arranged in rows to the tiny glass jars she'd made over the past few weeks with little help from Ymir’s resistance to touch a hot glue gun to the trail of the runner carpet littered with red petals that rivaled the colors and vibrancy of her own gown. Her eyes finally landing on the pale creams and emboldened maroons of a wedding suit draped smoothly over dark skin littered with freckles.
Krista’s eyes flicker just for the second to the beautiful arches and colorful fabrics that create the atmosphere behind Ymir before they slide back over to Ymir.
Krista can't help but think about how the traditional colors and deep, rich colors are so far from the suit Ymir had adamantly wanted to wear. She smiles to herself thinking back to Ymir adamantly refusing to even go near an Indian store to look at potential wears they could send pictures of to her mother. But now, it’s as though her breath’s been drawn out of her as she soaks in the colors and how finding how fitting Ymir looks in something rather simplistic to her mother’s taste but perfect for the person themselves.
She couldn’t help but revel in how amazing she looked stood just meters away, Ymir’s fingers fidgeting and thrumming her thigh as a blush spread to her ears. Krista’s breath hitches in her chest as she focuses on the concentrated look directed her way. Warm brown eyes never leaving her blues other than to chance a glance down at the garments draped over Krista.
The sari feels like nothing now as she takes easy steps accompanied by Armin at her side to where Ymir stands waiting for her. She makes her way down the aisle, the sound of her anklets and bangles ringing as she feels the eyes following her but all she can see is how Ymir's biting her lip trying not to let on how much she's smiling. The steps are easy to take and with every ringing of tinny bells and chime of bangles and gold-plated necklaces, Krista feels the anxiety of the day slip away. She can feel the warmth of the sun and the people around her pushing her to the end of the aisle and she happily lets it lead her.
The sounds of the afternoon simmer into the rustling of the grass and the sounds of the birds ready to lay down but the sunlight around them stays lit as Krista finally reaches Ymir and takes her hand
She's led into the alter and even as they take their seat in front of the holy fire neither of them are willing to let go of their entwined hands – fingers laced together tightly.