Erotas

A young woman encounters a God.

She recalled their first meeting with a swell in her chest, so much that she felt her bones could not contain the sensation. Thin, pale hands drew inward to her ribs and she breathed deeply, eyes falling shut. When the gentle spring breeze carried the scent of poppy flowers through her, she longed for him, and remembered fondly.

She had been fetching water from a well, small hands gripping rough rope and tugging with all her might. Usually it was her brother’s job, but he was out at the market that day and her mother needed it for the meal she was to prepare that night. Her brother could return with water in a matter of minutes, and she realized she had underestimated his strength now that she tried it for herself. Despite this, she was making good strides in bringing the full pail to the top of the well. When it was close enough, she grabbed the handle and hoisted it to the edge of the well with a small grunt. She sighed as she wiped a delicate wrist over her forehead, clearing the thin sheen of perspiration that had gathered with the effort.

“Girl.”

She blinked at the sound of a voice and began to turn, but a sudden command startled her.

“Don’t move.” It said firmly, though not threatening. She placed her hands on the stone of the well and stood still, her mind began to race.

“You do not travel to the garden as you once did.” The male voice mused to her.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Do you not enjoy these flowers anymore?”

“I love them, sir.” She spoke with unease, trying to identify the source of the voice, but nothing about him sounded familiar. She was nervous, but unafraid.

“Then why?” He asked with a disappointed tremble in his words.

“My mother has just given birth, and I am to tend to both of their needs.” She explained. The male voice hummed.

“I suppose your mortal children do not grow with much swiftness or ease.”

She found this statement unusual. Mortal?

“What is your name, girl.” He then asked.

“Aella”

“Very well.” He said, and she wasn’t sure what he meant by that either.

“May I ask yours?” She asked, tilting her ear back a bit more so she could hear the answer clearly.

“You already know my name. I’m sure your mother has spoke of me, told stories about me. You know my mother as well.” He explained. For the life of Aella, she hadn’t the slightest clue who he was.

“Your sister prays daily at my mother’s temple out East.” He added, and Aella reeled suddenly, her mind moving faster. Her older sister had wed and left home some years ago where she became an unwavering disciple of Aphrodite after failing to bear a child in the first 2 years of her marriage.

That would mean that he was….

“Eros” She breathed his name as her heart sped up. He couldn’t be, someone was playing a very mean trick on her.

“I’m going to turn around.” She warned as she began angling her body slowly.

“Wait” He rushed and she paused.

“You cannot look upon me, for I would never be able to come back here if you did.”

“Why?” Aella asked.

“I am immortal, and you are not. The sight of me is too remarkable for your eyes. To look upon me should destroy you.”

Aella gripped the stone of the well, scrapping the tips of her fingers.

“Why do you come to me?”

She heard a rustle in the grass behind her, which sounded closer and closer. A warm breath lingered at the back of her neck and she shivered. The warmth of his body, even though it did not touch her skin, was unlike any warmth she’d ever felt.

“I’ve returned to your garden for 2 and a half springs now. I chanced upon you sitting in the field of red poppies, singing softly. I’ve grown accustomed to your voice.”

Aella closed her eyes once more and breathed in both the scent of the flowers and the strange dew-like fragrance that emanated from his form.  She felt light-headed, a weakness over-taking her insides, crippling her heart momentarily.

“I watched and listened, you still hummed your melody even in the rain. Never has such a frail and human thing enchanted me such as this.”

His voice was so much closer, just outside the shell of her ear yet still no physical contact was made between them.

“Yet, early this spring, your presence lessened. I returned to the fields and heard no trace of your voice in the winds. “

“Surely there were other songs to be heard, songs much greater than mine.” She offered, laying a hand to her chest as she spoke.

“As I’ve said, my ears have grown fond of your echo.”

Aella felt a different kind of warmth, which started at the base of her neck and rose through her face, resting rose-colored on the apples of her cheeks.

“Your mother is concerned with your absence.” He said abruptly, drawing away from her. Aella suddenly feels cold.

“I will return if you continue to sing.” He said, and Aella could feel the air thin-out as the heavy flapping of feathered wings swooshed through the air, and then she knew he was gone.

She had returned with the pail of water, not mentioning her encounter to anyone but feeling lost in her head and distracted for days thereafter.  She tried every chance she got to wander into the poppy field, and her voice was strained and nervous when she tried to sing. This went on for 2 weeks before anything happened again.

She was under a tree, finally getting lost more naturally into her song when a familiar bird-like noise of wings made her sit up and gasp softly. She felt the urge to jerk her head back around the tree, but quickly stopped herself when she remembered his words.

“Ah, so you do return.” She said breathlessly, not even an attempt in hiding the awestruck tone of her voice.

“It is with great misfortune that I was born a God with many duties.” He explained.

“I understand.” And truly, she did not fault him for his absence.

Suddenly from around the tree, her vision was blocked as a soft fabric covered her eyes and just her eyes. He tied it securely around her head, but not too tight.

“How does that feel?” He asked, his hand idling to stroke her hair.

“Curious.” She answered, and he gave a small laugh.

“Do you mind it?”

She could then feel that he had moved in front of her, and drew in a sharp, anxious breath.

“No.” She answered simply. It disoriented her some, and made her even more so alert in her other senses, but if it allowed her this closeness to him, she did not mind it.

“Good.” He answered, and she felt she could detect the smile in his voice.

They sat in the field for what seemed like hours, wonderful hours. He asked her of her mortal life, the details of her short existence on earth. She questioned him about his Godly attributes and all that he had seen and done. They were equally fascinated with each other, eager to learn and to listen to the others voice. He regaled her with great tales and she could picture them more clearly with the blindfold secured. He was endlessly amused with the antics of mortals and how much time they seemed to waste with what little they were given.  They both did not wish for it to end, but Aella could feel the grass was cooling beneath her, and the crickets came out to chant their nightly cry.  He bid her farewell as he stroked his thumb softly over her covered eyes. When Aella removed the blindfold, she felt an aching in her chest at not seeing a single sign that he had ever been there.

He returned more regularly after that. His visits were sporadic, sometimes often and other times few and far between. She could hardly mask the disappointment that weighed down her body when he had not arrived, nor could she hide the excitement when she felt that smooth fabric embrace her vision.  

“I wish to touch you, if I may not see you.” She boldly asked him one early evening. He was silent for a long moment.

“You are a maiden.” He stated simply, and Aella blushed hot and was thankful he could not see the roaming of her eyes.

“You are a God of love, not chastity.” She reminded him. “And I only wish to stroke your face.”

Without speaking, he clasping her hand in his and she swallowed a gasp. He had never touched her skin before and he was as warm as she imagined him to be.

He took her hand and delicately placed it on the base of his jaw, before nuzzling her palm with his nose and taking in her unique scent.

“You are one with the flowers. “ He sighed against her. “You even smell as they do.”

Aella tucked her chin to her chest bashfully, and cupped the side of his face, her thumb trailing over his cheekbone. After a moment, he gently removed her hand.

“It would only be fair if you would grant me the same.” He said, and she had gotten used to knowing when he was grinning when he spoke.

She tipped her chin upward and his larger hand gently started at her neck, before trailing his fingertips over her jaw and then softly thumbing her lips. She pressed them, daringly, into the pad of the thumb and he paused there.

“You tempt me.” He stated in an entirely different voice, as his thumb continued its journey up and under her blindfold.

“Tempt you?” She asked naively. He laughed softly.

“To do only as your husband should do. I cannot. “He was shaking his head though she could not see.

“What if I were to not have a husband?” She asked suddenly. “What if I were to dedicate myself at your temple?” she offered. She knew that there were maidens, many of them in fact, to forgo the traditional life of family in favor of offering themselves as worshippers at the shrines of Gods and Goddesses.

She rose to her knees and blindly came closer to him, her hands rested at each side of his neck.

“I grant you my purity.”

She did not have time to be bashful or unsure, because her soul propelled her toward him, wanted only for him to consume her being.

“Do you know what you speak?” He asked with unsteady breath.

“I know enough.”

She was laid out on the spring grass amongst the poppies, only a gentle wind caused the soft blades to caress their skin.  Her dressing was lifted away from her flesh and she was left bare to the wild. His heat fully consumed her; the soft down of his wings stroked her sides as he paralleled himself to her. She could not see, and thus could not anticipate where his hands would roam to next. Quiet mewls were pressed out from between her reddened lips, and moisture gathered at the line center to her stomach, trailing down toward their unity. He grasped her face between his hands, his forehead to hers. Each joint, organ, vein, and muscle melded and matched together like planets and stars aligning. There was wholeness, both within his Godly soul and her mortal frame, until there was not much difference between the two of them.  His arms encircled her, brought her up and away from the ground and held her against his chest. She cried out, both of pleasure and the ache between her shoulder blades. Her back arched, pressing her furthermore to him, and he kept her in place. He was buried in her hair; unaware of the movement along her spine, or that she gripped his shoulders tight in fear of leaving the earth. Finally, with a burst of glowing warmth and white feathers, a new structure emerged from her bones and extended fully as her head fell back. He cradled her body, becoming limp with exhaustion and exertion. His hands stroked upward and his eyes opened to the sight and feel of her newly acquired wings.

She had dedicated herself not at his temple, but directly to his being and for this she was granted immortality. Not only did he possess her purity, but her very essence, and in return and without his knowledge, he had given that much of himself back to her.

She fell unconscious in his arms, the transformation taking its toll on her.  He smiled as he removed the blindfold from her sleeping eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead. She roused, and blinked slowly, her first vision in her new life being that of his face.  

They had consummated an endless union in the poppy field, and it did not matter how many centuries passed, as she was still made faint by the fragrance of the flowers, where they would return to each spring to frolic as young lovers for eternity