Blue Rose Arena: Scatterpetals

Me: What are your notions about the blue rose?
Andrei: Mysterious. Unpredictable. A journey. A goal. A dream. And something very real, even if it can’t be proven. And unconventional.

+ March 7th, 2017.

Wow, is it March 14th already? Hey that last post was just short of 2670 words, bite me. Uh, later. I’m still working on the public displays of affection (PDA) thing. Oh wait, you’re in rehearsals at a different university than mine, kekeke. ;P

Summer 2016; continued

I have a problem with keeping surprises hidden for long. I like the illusory sense of control I can have when I’m prepared. So while I nursed my partly blue thumbnail, I was sort of glaring at you because you still refused to spill anything. At least a dog would be involved. Yes. I do like large dogs. 🙂 Unsure how long we were out there, I can recall brief sporadic talk about the Musical InterDudes’ amazing portrayal of The Stalker Song.

Oy, April 28th. This birthday present sure is taking its sweet time, eh?

Arrived, was fed, smothered by this giant dog – the tallest Golden Retriever I’ve seen since great-grandmother’s Lion – and there I was, waiting for something to spill. It was almost amusing to observe how much of a nervous wreck you were being, almost, because you acting this way was a testament to how powerful this anxiety was.

Of Q4, you were initially the gentlest, even when cracking jokes with Chi. Yeah, I’m smirking at how she’d whip out her handheld fan or an umbrella, fold it into position, threatening to strike you (no abuse implied, lol, Q4 sure knew how to push conventional boundaries when it came to teasing) and you’d turn around saying, “Go right ahead, my ass is waiting.” Turtle would ensure I didn’t pass out from laughing so hard while adding his own sass. Chi either settled for smacking you elsewhere or crumple her expression into an attempt of seriousness despite also wanting to crack up, then withdraw, and we’d be back to whatever we were doing. Probably more cardfighting.

We crossed the river beds all etched in stone
And up the mighty mountains ever known
Beyond the valleys in the searing heat
Until we reached the caravanserai

I was concerned about your anxiety. Accustomed to how easygoing you preferred to be, I agreed to getting out tarot again. Again, the same messages from before, but more urgent. I was frightened when you threw up your hands in the air, sighing loudly. Couldn’t meet your eyes. Now I was the one as nervous as can be. Poised on a cliff’s edge, and the smallest gust would send me either to stability or a long, painful drop.

“Can’t hide this any longer. They’re giving me the go-ahead. I wasn’t supposed to reveal this until September. Chi, I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

My body started to close in on itself. I stole a glance at your face: Deep rapid breaths, a hard expression that went from anxiety to guardedness, but your gaze was vulnerable. I stared for a second. Did your eyes just turn golden again? Not another trick of the light! I inwardly groaned. Looking back to my knees, I realized I’d gone into sitting fetal position.

“Titania. Titania, look at me.”

Why the hell didn’t I go back to my dorm room for another night of crying, seriously? I tossed Haruka aside because I didn’t want to seduce Andrei and steal his abilities for her. It was disgusting for her to order those of me. I already went on so many limbs for her, but that? No. Fuck, NO. Yet, I paid for my decision. Again, again, always my fault. Couldn’t do anything right. My stupid pride that clung to life, why the hell was I still alive to be punished, over and over again, despite not intending bad things to happen?

“You’re Knight Queen.”

You said it so softly, my head snapped up to bark out a, “What?” I heard you the first time. Just was sure I wasn’t listening. No way. I had to have misinterpreted something. Anything.

“You’re my Night Queen.”

No. No no no no. Now I withdrew into myself, clutching at my limbs. Liar! I cried most terribly, your gentle expression contorted into pain and memories of sorrow. As much as I kept denying what you just confessed, the worst part was realizing that all those readings, visions, dreams, messages, feelings, and knowingness, confirmed in that moment. That entire time, I was describing myself when helping you and Chi sort though the situation. Those compositions you shared with Q4, were for me. I’d praised the emotional depth in them, sympathized – and yet I’d hold back from feeling too much. I would find myself reading and rereading, but refused to indulge too much. Kept distance, commented as a reader and not someone who could experience your words. No, more like someone who did experience those words.

My compassion overruled my desire to cloak my vulnerability. I turned my face to look at you, knowing you needed an acknowledgement of what I just heard. Pain dissipated from your visage, replaced by a tear-stained, softened smile as you picked your way around the square table between us, offering a hug. I was okay with that. I really wanted your hug. You’re a terrible husband, I remember thinking to myself, relaxing. Could’ve fallen asleep right there, honestly. Relaxing, but I was still crying hard enough to almost miss your murmur.

You were stroking my hair, deep enough to rake my scalp comfortably. A motion that calms me, as your thumb petted my cheek. Chanced to look at you again, now I saw relief and a hint of arrogance as you said, very quietly, “Found you.”

I chuckled at that declaration, tears flowing for gratitude and welcoming, return and remembrance, though hints of guilt weren’t far away. I angled my chin upwards, our lips met.

No fireworks, explosions, choirs of angels, none of that. Peace, calm, tranquility, remembrance, serenity. Fire, yes, but not a blaze due to die out quickly. This felt more like a hearth. Slow. Building. Gradual, but more powerful, because this endured. Not to consume, but to revive, restore, and remember.

I don’t recall how I ended up in your room, let alone your bed (that thing is huge and decked in dark blues), but I know that night was spent talking and … I guess “making out” would be correct? No intercourse or tearing off clothes. No clothes were shed. Just finding peace, beginning of reconciliation, and remembering. Some of the sharing was incredibly difficult, but it would become a skill we’d later be praised for by several mental health professionals. Our ability to communicate while retaining the other as mate and not enemy, this would be most valued in the months to come.

You did say before the unveiling, Hell could break loose because Heaven would be pissed off.

You were right.

In that moment, we didn’t care for consequences. You found me, and that recognition changes consequence into opportunity.


  • “Caravanserai” by Loreena McKennitt; on An Ancient Muse.