Paradise of Pleasure

[Armande]

Despite himself, Armande smiled at Rowan's energy as she hurried to the lake's edge. He looked at Valeriya and his smile widened. The two were a pair, he admitted. Not dressed in the slightest as if they were on a trek to find some sort of lost treasure. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Royals ready to command their subjects was more like it.

No, these two had dragged him from shop to shop, oogling and giggling like school girls, trying on dresses and baubles, chains and rings. The energy was...infectious, he admitted. Not that he wasn't bored after the 4th shop. Somehow, it seemed time slowed to a halt around 1pm. Each minute that passed seemed to take twice as long. He was never so exhausted in his life when he and Valeriya retired to their hired room for the evening. Or rather, he did. She stayed up with Rowan, doing whatever women did with clothing and jewels and hair.

Though he had to admit, when they finally came down to break their fast, it was if two queens appeared before him, Rowan in shades of white, Opaline eye making her seem other worldly and shining. Though six inches shorter, Valeriya was statuesque in emerald green, bedecked with jewels, eyes flashing, sharp teeth showing under luscious full lips. He couldn't help the smile even as he sighed to himself.

This was going to be a long trip. For some reason, his reaction felt forced.

And now, standing on a small beach of sand, rock overlook watching over them, the sky a brilliant blue, the azure lake rippling placidly under light breeze, extending far into the distance, there they all were.

Rowan's lifting of her dress drew his eye- not for the flash of ivory flesh, he hastened to add, but for the childlike innocence of it. She wanted to wade into the water, was all. And so she did. He looked at Vale and there was awe in her voice and tears in her eyes and his heart felt to bursting. He took her hand, squeezed lovingly. He was constantly seeing the world through new eyes, with her.

The naval of the world had called them to it and both seemed overwhelmed. The was no careful tying up of Valeriya's dress. Not at all. She doffed it and her jewelry quickly and Armande couldn't help but stare as her curved taut form ran across the grass and sand, naked as the day she was born, without a hint of self consciousness.

He felt a poweful carnal desire for her in that moment, enough that he wondered whether he should join her. She lived so freely and unapologetically. Courageous and uncaring of anything. It was a curious blend of battle hardened experience and childlike naivete. In bed, she often switched from one to the other, quicksilver, claws ready to rip out a throat, complete submission in that singular moment he lived for.

Idly he toyed with the top button of his cream linen shirt. It would be something to feel her next to him, naked and skin wet and silky smooth, as he taught her to swim.

His reverie was broken as both women seemed to convulse, both speaking at once. Yet again, he was presented with a vision that seemed to swallow him up. It was as if they, together, became windows, Eyes through which he could see beyond.

His heart froze and he stood transfixed at the pillar, at the faces. He knew them in an instant. Ezekiel 2 called them cherubs, winged creatures with four faces each, a man, a lion, an ox and an eagle, all standing alongside massive wheels within wheels, covered in eyes. Revelation 4 did not name them cherubs, but four living creatures, each having only one face, that of the lion, the eagle, the oxen and the man. These living creatures stood just below the throne of God surrounded by an emerald rainbow.

Early church fathers had linked each creature to one of the four gospel writers, imagining some quality of each reflected something of the face.

But the reality made such descriptions pale, a cartoon in the face of the truth. He felt fear shoot through his heart- fear and joy, as he recognized the people standing around the pillar, each in possession of some sort of object.

Valeriya. Rowan. Himself. And a fourth. A man he had not seen in nearly a year. Phillip. The Pope. He didn't understand.

And then both were screaming, Rowan flopping to her knees, Valeriya losing herself and slipping beneath the surface. He ran to her, walked right into he water, heedless of the wetness seeping through his clothes. He grabbed her, lifted her into the air without thought, and took her, choking and sputtering and trying to speak to lay her down in the grass.

Safe for the moment, he went to Rowan and lifted her to her feet, letting her lean against him until he too could set her down gently next to Valeriya. Then to the mobile home to get a a few towels and a blanket. The accomodations were rather nice and cozy. They would be cold.

Valeriya's words echoed in his mind but he banished them away. That was for later. Rowan was mostly dry but shaken up. Valeriya was naked and shivering and filled with hatred. For Phillip? It made no sense. Later, he told himself. Later.

He gently helped dry Valeriya, trying to calm her ferocious rage. He did alternate between looking at her and Rowan, unsure of what to make of it all. In a moment, he would go and retrieve something warmer and more comfortable for both of them. At least for the time being.