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Icarus stared in horror as Melinoe collapsed before him, her arm…just gone. Something must have gone terribly wrong with the incantation, and it was all his fault for asking her to undertake such. He took a faltering step forward, but couldn’t bring himself to touch her. What if he made it worse somehow? Spectral tears joined the ichor from Melinoe’s wounds as he ran to get help.
“– and these all work, I swear!” Icarus leapt into the air with a powerful beat of his artificial wings, silently cursing himself. He knew he shouldn’t have landed, but he’d wanted to see Melinoe so much. Not from afar, but close enough to touch, though he knew he could never take such liberty, not after everything. Still, to hear her voice again was almost like his own breath returned.
It was strange, returning to the Crossroads after…Icarus wasn’t actually sure how long it had been. Too long, and a lifetime ago. Possibly in truth; Icarus knew firsthand some could be quite short. But there was Meli–Her Grace–walking across the path towards him through the garden. He had the impulse to run and embrace her, but that short life had taught him not to be quite so rash again.
The croaking of the frogs echoed over the river as Melinoe and Icarus stood side by side on the pier. Here, with Meli, Icarus understood now what she’d said about just listening to the gentle lulling sound of the river and the surrounding life. It was strange to consider there was so much life around him, Meli most alive of all, but he didn’t feel apart from it just this moment. A part of him wanted to reach for her hand, but she looked so intent upon her fishing…best to leave things be and just enjoy.
While he’d had some inkling the Crossroads felt warmer, Icarus was wholly unprepared for the penetrating warmth of the hot spring. With Meli sitting just across from him in all her godly glory, he was sure the water was not entirely to blame. He wasn’t sure if he could blush as a shade, but hoped the rising steam might cover some of that awkwardness. As she leaned back, sighing deeply, Meli’s arm stretched across the stonework lining the spring, her hand was inches from his. All his thoughts collapsed to that infinitesimal, infinite distance, and how he wished he could bridge that divide.
Icarus determinedly steadied his hands as Melinoe reached out to hand him the Ectoplasmic Draught. Mesmerized as he was, he almost didn’t notice the sensation of her spectral hand touching his. He almost dropped the Draught in his shock; he could feel her hand. Not the cold echo of sensation that shades felt, but as though their hands both were whole and warm and alive. His words of thanks echoed in his mind as he carefully secured the bottle in one hand and took Meli’s in the other. Their eyes met, tears in both, but accompanied by beaming, incredulous smiles.