//------------------------------// // Together // Story: August Fifteenth // by Nicknack //------------------------------// I awoke, covered in sweat, in the middle of a muggy August night. The faint breeze from the window did nothing to abate the oppressive heat, so the air in my bedroom was still seasonably warm. In the past, I had always slept on top of my bed’s comforter during the summer months; it helped me stay as cool as possible.   Gilda, however, did not make that easy. Whether she did it in her sleep or as we fell asleep, she had a habit of clamping herself to me in a vice-like, four-limbed hug. I supposed that, in the summer, four limbs was something of a blessing; I didn’t want to imagine the added temperature that her wings would bring to the equation.   I preferred the winter months, at any rate.   For the time being, it was summer—the early hours of the fifteenth of August, according to the glowing hand of my alarm clock. I was hot, my mouth was rough with thirst, and Gilda had taken her usual position around me. I loved her and her feathery softness, even as they both held me captive; the only difficulty in the situation arose from how I needed a glass of water.   Actually, the bulk of the difficulty came from trying to get out of bed without waking her. I’d managed it enough times over the past two years that I had it down to a science—first, free my torso, then slip out from between her much-less-dexterous hind legs.   By my faint night-light, I could see a blurry outline of her feathers on the side of her head that wasn’t nestled into my shoulder. More importantly, I couldn’t see her eye reflecting any of the light, so I hadn’t woken her yet. That was as good a starting point as any, I decided, so I stretched my hoof back to my spine and began trying to free myself.   Part of Gilda’s embrace was that she somehow managed to interlock her fingers without putting her talons into my skin. That, I appreciated, though it raised the interesting observation that if she didn’t want to show her sharp parts, she was well-accustomed to keeping them in check.   I prodded her hands and hoped that, like some nights, it would be enough to get her to release her grip. After a few moments without any luck, I moved on to another tactic—tickling the back of her palms. That also proved ineffective, so with a quick sigh, I craned my neck behind me to see what I could as I manually tried to unclasp her fingers.   About two fingers in, I felt her head feathers brush against my chest. Still keeping my hoof on her hands, I turned to look down at her.   Gilda blinked twice up at me before whispering an annoyed, “What are you doing?”   I nosed her forehead before saying anything. Then, “I am thirsty.”   “Mm-hmm.” She nodded and opened her hands. “If you don’t want to sleep like this…”   “I told you I don’t mind, except for that I get thirsty.”   “And sweaty.” Gilda raised her eyebrows in a friendly glare.   I chuckled. “Well, yes. I love you, but you are like a furnace.”   “Oh, so that’s supposed to be a hammer…”   My eyebrow rose as I puzzled through her half-metaphor: “That… you wouldn’t put…”   “Whatever.” She used a hand and a hind leg to roll me away from her. “Go to the bathroom.”   I blinked at the ceiling before I finished rolling off my bed. Before I left the room, I offered to bring Gilda back something to drink, but she declined. I made my way down my L-shaped hallway and—after an admittedly necessary detour—I entered the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water.   The wells below Farrington were deep enough that our tap water was cool during the summer; after one and a half glasses of smooth, slightly metallic-tasting refreshment, my thirst was quenched.   After washing the glass and putting it back in the cupboard, I had one last thing I wanted to check before going back to bed.   I walked to the living room, noting the silhouettes of both of our Guard armors sitting on stands, side-by-side near the door. On the opposite wall, a few bookshelves were set into the wall, and that was where I had hidden something away. Gilda rarely concerned herself with my shelves full of history books, which made them a good hiding spot; still, I didn’t usually make it a habit to keep secrets from her.   Yet tonight, in the middle of the August two years after we’d first met, I felt that subterfuge helped calm my nerves. I pulled two small books out of their place, where they wouldn’t have sat flush with the tomes around them were it not for the space behind them.   In that space rested a small, wooden box.   The hardwood floors usually betrayed any footsteps, but I still looked over my shoulder and saw I was alone. That night, like I had for nearly every other night that month, I reached back and took the box from its resting space.   Just like every other night, I smiled when I opened it and looked at the bracelet inside.   The materials had been somewhat difficult to order, but that was mostly because of their origin. Specifically, it was difficult to avoid suspicion when ordering a thin wire of white gold from Elpithasus that was inset with tiny carvings of another tribe’s insignia. I had managed that easily enough through an old friend of my father’s from Manehattan.   Once I had the Elpithasan wire, it had been fairly straightforward to obtain a blued steel counterpart that was inset with Farrington insignias. Trickier had been to find a jeweler who could braid the two metals together and form a loop, but at the end of the project, I’d spent less than my Father had on his engagement ring.   I knew that because, when I looked through my parents’ possessions they’d left me, I found the receipt, not the ring. A visit to Maxie had confirmed that she didn’t have the ring, either, which almost made me want to reopen ties with my uncle just to vent and explain how he had no right to pilfer…   My head shook. That was the past, and I couldn’t do much to fix it   Instead, I looked one more time at what I hoped would be my future: Gold and iron, bound together. After the initial effort to get the piece made, I had to admit that its beauty was well worth the expense.   I smiled. We’d only been dating for two years, which wasn’t the longest I’d ever heard of, but after a happy and hug-filled round of advice from Starfall and Comet, I felt I was ready.   In my heart, I knew Gilda was, too.   Back in our bedroom— which, technically, Gilda still had her apartment that she spent about three nights out of every month in, but the lease was up in September, and she was “thinking” about taking me up on my offer to let her move into my home—Gilda was lying on her side with her back to the doorway. I climbed on top of the comforter and slid over to her.   Even though my eyes were closed as I nestled my head into her neck, I knew by her breathing that she was still awake.   “That took a while,” she mumbled.   I stroked her chest and stomach, careful to avoid where I knew her scars were. My excuse, like it had been every other time that I’d pondered my hidden jewelry, was: “I wanted to check something in a book first.”   “Nerd.”   I returned her chuckle and kept stroking. When I kissed the inside of her neck, she snuggled my head appreciatively.   “Lift your hoof a sec?”   Gilda sounded half-asleep, but I complied. If she was thinking about positioning...   Lighting-fast, she spun around and clamped onto me in a hug. She inched down my chest until she could put her head in her favorite spot—the crook of my right shoulder. As soon as we were together in our usual position, the only thing I could do was smile and slide a hoof under her wing.   “Mein” was all she whispered.   I bent my neck forward to kiss her good night. She let out a quiet, chirping sound of affection in response. Once again, the inner glow I felt in my chest told me that being “hers” was not a bad thing to be.