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He was not given much freedom. Only allowed to wander one of the smaller gardens of the Jade Palace, guards waiting at every gate and spells woven all around it. Yellowtusk sighed, rolling his chains around his arms and legs to keep them from running over any of the flowers. At the very least, he would savor this time. It was not likely to be repeated.
He sat by the garden's sole small pond, the water perfectly still and reflective. Like a mirror, though it only reflected the sky. Yellowtusk could not see himself, even as he extended a hand to hover over it.
"It is strange, isn't it?" A familiar voice spoke up behind him. He withdrew his hand quickly.
The pond remained clear as he turned to look back. Seeing a familiar stout bird celestial, though this time she dressed in some finery, her armor donned away. The Lady Shrike. The jailkeeper of his new prison. Out of the low light of the prison, he could see her more clearly.
Her feathers were not a pure white as he'd thought, they were a light grey, fading to black at the edges of her wings. The black stripe across her eyes and beak shined, a slight silver shimmering there that made him aware there was some mystic arts in place there.
He hoped, vainly, that it was not something that shared her sight to another.
"Lady Shrike. I presume you are here to guard me as well?"
She smiled, lifting her red robes to sit beside him. "I wouldn't say that. In fact, I am meant to be having a leisure day. But I see my mistress's suggestion to this garden wasn't as kindly as I hoped."
Yellowtusk chuckled, keeping still as she leaned on his shoulder. "Indeed, it was not. But there was some kindness in such a request."
"Don't mistake her, she tolerates it, but there is a lesson in this. Despair is well-tasted when seasoned with hope."
"There is kindness here, because you are light. I imagine your mourning does not take long."
"I mourn publicly as required. My heart, however, heals." She sighed deeply as she looked out onto the pond. "I see them still. In all manners of life, in all forms. The cycle continues...And yet."
"-It rarely takes the same path." Yellowtusk finished for her. "You prefer that thought. I fear that your mind is too fixed on one teaching."
Even as he said so, he smiled. There were very few, truly, to be able to understand the depths and breadths of all teachings and roads. He would not even consider himself among them. His wisdom had been curried to a martial sense.
He liked how little they understood each other, it only made each meeting more interesting. They knew more and knew less. A perpetual game only they were privy to.
Her fingers lightly dragged on his arms, talons tracing the aged lines of his skin as Shrike hummed. "I would like to remind you to think on my Mistress' offer. The change you wish for, if you are willing, can be guided by a more stable hand."
Yellowtusk huffed, placing a gentle hand over her's. "It's a beautiful day, Shrike. Let's not think of it."
"I want you to."
"This is mercy enough." He traced the lines of her hand. Calloused and scarred. He knew the stories of the star-like cut in the middle of her palm and the ones where magic seared and colored her skin. He stopped short of her sleeve, where on her wrists the deep impressions of rope. Scars she kept from a previous life, a life that was saved by her mistress and elevated.
There is room for you. She told him once, In my Lady's guidance, she will clear the cloudiness of our hearts.
It is one prison for another and he wished he had the strength to tell her to free herself. But alas, another moment of selfishness. He could not betray himself, or his brothers. And she would not betray her lady for him. All was right in the world, and all was wrong.
"Yellowtusk." She looked up at him, dark, inquisitive eyes searching for something. Searching for anything in his face, in his manner, everything. It was why he could not hate her interrogations in the prison nor could he find fault in the way she eroded Azure's heart-filled speeches. "...Hm, never mind."
"Hm? It's not like you to be deceitful." He laughed softly, keeping hold of her hand before she could pull it away.
"It's not deceit. I'm hiding. I think I am entitled to my secrets. Remember, you are still a prisoner, and I, am the guard."
He leaned closer, shrinking his size to press his forehead to her's. "And if we were not?"
She hid a smile. "If we were not, we would not have met. You and I dream of different things, our fates would have only been tied by chance and strange circumstances. Your circumstances, I investigate. We should not have met in this life, if all was right in the world."
"If all was right in the world, perhaps we could have been friends."
"If all was right the way you wish it was." Shrike nipped at his trunk. "If all was right the way I wish it was, then you and I would have been more. Under my Lady's guidance."
"Hm, we both wish for a new order, the differences are only slight."
"The differences are what matter."
And beyond their dreams and thinking, their differences were many. Their forms differed, their manner of fighting, their eyes, their bodies, their immortality. But if she was any less of herself and he was any less of himself, then there would not be this.
He reached for her wings, pulling free a few flight feather with as much gentleness as he could. And Shrike pressed a talon onto the back of his neck, only deep enough to reopen an old scar.
She sighed softly and brought her talon to her beak to clean it free of blood. The remains of her feathers lodged in his hands as he pulled away.
Shrike laughed aloud. "...We have ruined an absolutely beautiful day. The guards are my friends, but I have felt their disgust even when they promised to have turned away."
"Hm. A shame. I have no doubt they will speak of it. Very loudly, while I am once again returned to my prison."
"Yes, yes they will. And they will also...neglect to remove your sense of hearing."
"If only to be so petty."
"They will inform your Lady."
"And they will ensure Azure won't hear the end of it...For perhaps an hour, perhaps two."
They looked at each other, then back down at the pond. Their reflections beginning to shimmer at the surface. Yellowtusk in his true size, a weary look on the reflections face. Shrike in her celestial armor, imposing as it gleamed like pure moonlight. Both were bloodied and scarred, yet they held one another. Spiked chains wrapping around their reflections' arms.
"Such pure clarity, this was not here in my time." Yellowtusk placed an arm around Shrike.
"Yes...I did not think they would place such a thing in one of the least visited gardens. But I suppose the intimacy of this place makes it perfect." Shrike hummed, leaning on Yellowtusk's side, her wing lifting to shade him.
"...Shrike."
"Yes, Yellowtusk?"
"If you could, if you feel so kind, could you sing for me?"
"Hm. My voice is not so lovely, but if you wish, I shall."
And he listened as she sang of old things. Of the Nuwa and the Chaos. Of the battles between celestials, demons, and humans. Of generals, soldiers, and the battlefields that twist home into the barren wastes.
Lastly, she sang of hope. Of the new growth. Of treasures kindly wrought. Of what persists and remains.
The elegy against the darkness.