I’ve always loved fabrics. If at the time of my Fall, I couldn’t still connect with divine planes, I surely would have tried to earn a life as a dressmaker. But unfortunately, and I mean it especially for poor Marie Antoinette and dear Oscar, who would have been obsessed with my creations, a weird synapses mashup allowed me to make lots of money when invited to courts. Yes, I often risked my neck with all those witchcraft accusations. But in the end, I always got out of them alive – kinda. Nivahl would probably have a lot to say about this interior monologue of mine, as when we met she was the one who saved me from being killed. But that’s another story, for when I’ll have the time to walk through the paths of my memory without any hurry. I really don’t wanna be late this time too, considering the feathered aggression that Nivahl reserved for me yesterday night, in the Mediation room. Yes, I mean the heavy pillows that she threw on my face, thinking I was “as always” too high and drunk to get her custody. Luckily, I’ve been able to calm her down with the promise of a dinner and a rational explanation.

That’s why I’m now wrapping her present, the one I offer her at each regeneration: a dress made by the best designer in the City.

There are thin bones and strong ones. There are soft bodies and muscular ones. There are layers of muscles, complex systems of nerves and veins. There are organs, apparatus, hears. Humors, liquids, fluids. There are tiny hairs and skin, trembling with the wind or with emotions. There are bodies. Warm bodies, cold bodies. Bodies brushing one against the other, embracing each other, making love to each other, hurting each other. Naked or dressed. Small nails in the flesh, Hairs. Bodies that never cross paths. But always live parallel lives, on close roads. They look at each other, measuring distances, analyzing vicinities, smelling the perfumes on necks and napes and temples brushed by the wind. Bodies that will never touch again, except for the tired nights in which other sleep next to them but on the ceiling are dancing lunar shadows of lips. Is it better to crash with extreme urgency once and then forever being apart, or to never meet?

There are bodies, but they’re not always home to the same soul. Looking at Nivahl though, this doesn’t shine through. Her soft hands hold the pieces of silverware without trembling, her lips hide the white teeth with a pink heart that never shakes, her voice is the voice she’s always had – that’s not true, but it seems like it. When we met, her voice was deep and on fire, her body tall and strong, her long flaming hair was braided but danced around her hips. I remember the time in which she entered the banquet room, her hips swaying along the aisle enchanting the drunk nobles.

“And do you recall what I told you?” Nivahl laughs, biting a Teramia sprout marinated in gold, one of the most valuable vegetables in our galaxy. Obviously, the most expensive voice on the menu. Obviously, I’m paying.

I sip the wine, foretasting the sentence I can’t wait to repeat.

“You look like someone who knows how to have fun” I say, imitating that Nivahl’s voice.

“Well, that was a kind thing to say, considering what you were doing under the table…” she comments, making me spill some precious red liquid on the white tablecloth.

“You’re right. Although I must remind you that your comment alerted the Countess of Langdey regarding the fun times I was having with his husband, causing a riot and my chase through the castle. But of course, now you’ll say that you’ve been the one that saved me.”

“Exactly, my dear. If I didn’t get you out of there and let you ride with me, as you were positively drunk, your head would have surely rolled at dawn!”

I sigh, as the waiter fills our empty glasses.

“Good old times” I whisper “But now we can’t really waste time on the past. I’m in a serious mess, Nivahl.”

She looks at me with an arched brow.

“What?” I ask, nervously “I’m not… not ironic! I’m not talking about my common problems with drug dealers or rich aristocrats offended by my visions of sudden poverty. You really thought I would have been late and without body, for one of my parties gone wrong?”

Nivahl knocks back the whole glass.

“Tell me everything.”