Against the Wind

7.2 || Amina

Mouth dry, Amina peered up at Zephyrine. Rising sunlight poured through the window's sandbrick-lined gap and doused her in glittering gold. The shadow she cast was faint, blurred at the edges by her dress's fibrous material, half glancing off the polished floorboards and half shading Amina's face. Curled into the chair, she couldn't help but feel small.

She made an effort to clear her throat. "Um, would you rather sit down instead?" The seat groaned as she leaned forward, toes touching the ground, prepared to launch her upright.

Zephyrine didn't take her eyes off the view outside. "I asked you to sit."

"Yes, but..." Amina's tongue traversed her mouth. "You tower over me. It feels awkward."

The tease of Zephyrine's laugh was strange. It danced, swaying from note to note above Amina's head in a chiming rhythm, but it didn't feel mocking. Deeper thought speckled its undertone. Not unpleasant, but eerie, somewhat. The back of her neck prickled.

"Awkward is an imaginary concept." Rubies gleaming amid her braids, Zephyrine turned to offer a smile. "We conjure it in great clouds within our minds and let it control us often, but it's never real."

A simple 'no' would have sufficed, but Amina nodded along, shoulders stiff. She wasn't used to being spoken to in riddles. Isra could dance around a point on occasion in an attempt to teach a lesson, but she would've despised this curvaceous, winding stroll of words. They often tended to make the speaker sound too smart and lose the listener partway through.

Graceful as flowing, blood-coloured water, Zephyrine moved around her, skirts rippling as she came to a stop behind Amina's seat. When Amina craned her neck to look up at her, gentle, bejewelled fingers captured her chin and repositioned it to angle her gaze towards the window. "Look out there. What do you see?"

With little other choice, Amina looked. Against a backdrop of azure sky that bled golden light, a maze of sandbrick stared back at her, heaped into the form of the neighbouring house and the terrace that stretched beyond. Loose sand skittered around the ankles of a passing worker, his cart wearing round-edged grooves into the path. The temple's triangular point poked the horizon somewhere off to the left. In the early morning, Tehazihbith shed its monochrome skin and twisted the sun and shadows into a fresh array of colours, the yellows and ambers so numerous she hardly cared that other colours existed.

A pretty view, but not one unfamiliar or particularly special. She fought a frown. "The... street?"

A soft chuckle drifted from above, and she gritted her teeth. She didn't like this guessing game.

"And what does that street belong to?" Zephyrine asked.

Amina shrugged. "Our city?"

"That's right." Much to her relief, the grip on her chin fell away as Zephyrine leaned against the chair's backrest, the long, loose end of her sleeve tickling Amina's arm. Her gaze reflected the golden view, painted anew by sparks of wonder. "Our city, so full of prosperity, basking in the sun's perfect glow." Her words fell soft and adventurous, echoes sprawling in their wake. Their dance had a romantic edge. "Do you believe Tehazihbith is perfect, Amina?"

If there was some kind of romance between Zephyrine and her own voice, Amina was playing third wheel. Frustration bubbled up her throat, and she could no longer resist a sigh. "Not to be rude, but is there going to be a point to all these questions?"

Amusement formed the shine of Zephyrine's glance. Unsure, Amina met her gaze, hoping her pursed lips didn't look like a pout. She expected to earn a scolding for speaking out of turn, but Zephyrine didn't look particularly annoyed.

A beat of silence lingered, punctuated only by that glinting stare, before her eyes turned back to the window. "I only invite you to think, Amina. Humour me, for the moment. Is it perfect?"