JESSE CANNON
Many humans attributed storms to wrestling matches between cloud people— this was incredibly incorrect and a menial assumption. Hoku's eyes peered off into the distance where a cumulonimbus only grew. Grey darkened around the bottom as the chatter and clatter of other clouds dock onto the edges, tiny specks of people, draped in silks and weaves. Its volume could easily be the combined structure of dozens— if not hundreds— of other vessels.
By no means was it the largest gathering for a ball, it was decently sized by comparison to some pitiful 'morning showers'. The largest gathering ever was rumoured to have six ballrooms and fourteen orchestras, covering about two separate land countries. For three days, the people danced, sang and ate merrily, their collective joy causing a rainfall for the ages. But that was a long time ago, when she was but a little girl, tethered to her tiny cloud.
Now, Hoku sat at her desk quietly, scratching her arm until her tan skin grew bumpy and red, heat swelling on the area. It'd been quite some time since her last dance; perhaps she was not ready. Maybe Hoku would never be ready and she wouldn't be there like last time or the time before that…
A set of dampened footsteps approach from behind. 'Hoku? Shouldn't you be getting ready?'
Hoku turned her head only to see Marisol. Her friend's smile was bright as her feet tap danced around on the spot, barely containing her excitement. Glitter donned her cheeks that complemented her canary yellow satin dress with puffy sleeves.
She'd first met her a couple of weeks ago, their vessel had met within a grand altocumulus, when Marisol's cloud had strayed close. Marisol was a decent travelling companion for the most part and knew when to enjoy a comfortable bit of silence. But there was always the possibility that their clouds would separate and the two would never meet again. It was the nature of a cloud: to control it would mean finding a way to control the wind. But for now, it was infinitely better than travelling alone again.
Rooting through a drawer, Hoku pulled out her sextant and adjusted it accordingly to a set of stars above— vega and altair. She gently put the device back among the other navigational items. 'I'm just… contemplating what to wear," Hoku paused. 'We will be arriving at the dock soon.'
Marisol pouted, placing her hands on her hips, exasperated and shaking her head. 'Oh, come on. You're going to look great whether you're dancing or not.'
She grabbed Hoku's hand and guided them through the combined vessel— its walls glistening marble white blended with a frosted cream. Despite how the merge had changed the layout, something united and new, it only took less than a moment to get to the dressing room. Eagerly, Marisol opened up every wardrobe, rifling through the clothing hangers posthaste. Her method of madness was flipping her fingers through each hanger— like a card dealer flicking through a deck. A small pile of clothes began to grow on the nearby chair, as Marisol's collection of suitable choices increased.
'Perhaps,' Hoku spoke up, 'I should go with something simple?'
'Nonsense!' Another dress was thrown onto the chair. 'Tonight is a night of festivities and companionship. I expect you to enjoy it a little.'
Hoku fiddled with her hands, 'But what if it is for nothing?'
Marisol paused on a simple cotton white dress, one suitable for a lazy sunny morning. Her face softened as she held Hoku's hand in her own. 'Then you can spend the night with me and my friends.'
Hoku stood with her for a minute in relative silence, the orchestra of the ball warming up, their combined notes swelling together in the distance. She nodded reluctantly, 'Alright.'
With some negotiation, with Marisol's careful eye and Hoku's insistence that she didn't need an exuberant style, they had landed on a beautiful compromise. It was a dress Hoku had traded a tapestry for, years ago. The blue silk rippled as if made from the tides and waves of the ocean. Marisol insisted on a finishing touch of a coral head wrath; theme consistency was important for cohesion.
Marisol fiddled with Hoku's hair, allowing the wreath to fit and form around her dark brown curls before gushing to herself over how perfect they both looked. 'Ready?'
Grabbing a transparent sash and hooking it around the inside of her elbows, Hoku didn't nod until Marisol's hand was in her own. Only then were they ready to walk out onto the deck.
A pair of dock workers had already started the disembarking process for them. A small rainbow bridge materialised, the two ladies carefully walked off, and thanked the crew as they followed the rest of the crowd.
Inside of the cumulonimbus were dozens of ice sculptors, chipping and smoothing away every structure within. Pillars stood tall, many party-goers outfits refracted into vibrant shards of iridescence along the polished floor. A crystalline chandelier was in the midst of being installed, each faceted shard glowing warmly from within And to think this was only one floor! She stared in awe, the sheer fragility of it all— something so delicate set to only last for days, or mere hours. So much effort for a temporary reprieve.
Hoku studied the faces of the outfits around. Her eyes drifted over to a set of younger dancers at one of the far corners— the newcomers awkwardly shifted around, nerves on a fritz as they followed a dance instructor's moves like a gaggle of goslings.
Other people stood off to the side, chatting and catching up for the first time in decades. A couple of violinists and violists squabbling amongst each other trying to get in tune and— The music suddenly felt distant, her brain and eyes' catching just as much as Hoku's breath. Her skin was a shiny obsidian, its darkness only rivalled by her locs, twisted with shimmers of gold. Her face crinkled with a laugh— she herself was watching people— the collection of gemstones on her bodice twinkling as her chest rose and fell.
Hoku barely managed a muttered apology, before she was dashing across the ballroom. The air grew thinner, her breath more ragged with each step as the figure grew clearer into view. It has to be her, please. Please be her. Her shoes clicked against the marble floor, every step a determined chime that grew quicker in pace.
Then Hoku was in front of her.
The woman paused, mouth open in a quiet 'oh' and eyes wide, recognition hitting. She blinked, composing her face into something cheery, crow's feet wrinkling her eyes. 'Why, you look lovely, my dear,' she crooned as she glided towards Hoku, already settling up on her side, familiarity blooming.
'Nadia,' she gasped, air escaping her lungs.
Nadia giggled, fitting her arm around and pressing close up against her. 'Do you know any other?'
She blinked, the corners of her mouth stretching all the way to her eyes. Nadia's actually here! Warmth settled alongside her now occupied arm, heart beating against her chest. It was like she had never left in the first place. 'Your dress is new,' Hoku blurted.
'Yes, well, I took a detour and happened upon some morganite.' Extracting her arm, she twirled, the dress spinning in such a fashion that the gems' pink hues reflected onto the floor. Hoku was already missing the touch. 'I hope it is to your standards?' her eyes gleamed.
'Mm, I don't know— maybe it could do with a bit more pink?"
Nadia laughed into her hand, contagious as ever. Oh, how Hoku wanted to bottle it up and keep it with her, close to her chest. It had been years since she had heard that delightful sound. 'I'm as pink as it gets! Besides the white was added for colour contrast, you should know this.'
The two laughed together before devolving into idle chatter of travels: plateaus, mountains, seas, meadows, and tundras to name a few. Nadia had apparently picked up some new hobbies — glass work for small chimes, even miniature flower sculptures. She had pressed Hoku on her travels, poking at her arm with a smile. Truthfully, Hoku only told of Marisol, the only exciting information of her own journey.
Loud bells rang out in the grand ballroom, echoing through the structure and further down to the other lower levels. The orchestra ensemble filtered through the stairs and onto the stage, adjusting their music sheet stands as the conductor tapped his little baton against his own.
Nadia bounced up and down on her feet, linking her arm once again. 'We should be in our positions, no?'
Hoku nodded, a hand leading her through the other couples finding their place on the floor. Even after all this time, she found herself stunned at how readily she followed— footsteps already in sync. How little Nadia had to do to make Hoku forget, for a moment, that they had been apart for so long. Countless nights of wondering and wandering, imagining seeing her again, each vision passionately whisking her away. Yet she was completely unprepared for the real thing, beside her, unbearably close, with Nadia's arm tucked through hers as though it had never belonged anywhere else.
When they finally settled, Nadia lifted her left hand and rested the other at Hoku’s waist. Hoku’s cheeks warmed as she mirrored the gesture, her palm settling against Nadia’s shoulder. There. So close. Close enough to waft her perfume, the distance non-existent, merging harmoniously to one beating rhythm of a heart.
Silence stretched across the room until the strings rushed to life, closely followed by the smooth, bright swell of trumpets and trombones. Nadia moved first, her feet sweeping across the floor as Hoku allowed herself to be guided. Every step, turn, twirl accounted for with dozens of other couples moving in perfect routine around them. The dance came back to Hoku, muscle memory settling into her bones. How to follow Nadia's lead. How to adjust their positioning with even the slightest shift in the flooring. When Nadia drew close, she would not let go.
Rain fell beneath their feet, the orchestra rising in crescendo with the claps of thunder and flashes of lightning. Nadia laughed, bright free, watching their skirts twirl, a match of colour and movement. The flutes whistled through the melody— the bassoons their accompaniment— gathering speed, rising and falling in rapid scales. A note rung out, final and succinct.
An uproar of applause filled the silence, the conductor bowing before settling the band into a slower rhythm. Nadia smiled to Hoku, breathless, as she huddled close to Hoku, gently swaying to the solo of a clarinet.
'Do you remember our first dance?' Nadia's fingers traced over Hoku's shoulder, the touch sending shivers along every hair. 'It felt like it was only yesterday…'
Without thought, Hoku cupped Nadia's face in her hand. There were thousands of small features Hoku had come to memorise of Nadia: a small mole hidden beneath her jawline, baby hairs that she fussed over meticulously to align with her hairline, or the way her eyes glowed in direct sunlight in a warm oak brown. And yet here she was, basking in her radiance and trying to find something new to commit to her heart all over again.
The bells from before chimed again, this time far more solemn.
Nadia's face dropped, eyebrows furrowing and pulling herself closer into Hoku's chest. 'Is it done already?' her voice came out distant, disbelief laced within each word.
'I'm sorry, Nadia,' Hoku whispered. 'I will wait for you.' Their paths would eventually collide once again, all in time.
'What if you forget me?' Nadia leaned in, whispering close to the ear.
Hoku could not breathe without thinking of her— she was the breeze from the sea, warmth from the sun, and the smell of wisteria and all meadows she passed. The world was Nadia in every waking moment, and she followed in her dreams thereafter.
'It would be hard to try.'
A series of shouts rang out, professional and firm, calling out for everybody to return to their vessels. Hoku spotted Marisol moving in the distance, nearing the exit. Nadia's fingers gripped Hoku, unable to let go.
Hoku gently lifted Nadia's hand, kissing it just on the knuckles. 'Until we meet again, my dear.'
Nadia squeezed her eyes shut before moving in closer, her lips pursed and staring down at Hoku's lips. Slowly, Nadia leaned in, kissing her with such gentleness that it made her ill and dizzy. 'Until we meet again, Hoku.'
The pair slowly unravelled from their embrace, Hoku looking off as Nadia glided away, slipping into the crowd until she blended amongst them into nothingness.
Hoku stood there for a moment longer, the floor under her feet starting to split apart from rays of sun. If the sky was merciful, and she hoped it was, perhaps at the beginning of the next storm, Hoku would see her light again.
Jesse Cannon is a part-time writer, part-time procrastinator— writing their short stories and novels for their own enjoyment. When not writing about queer people, they enjoy reading, drawing, hanging out with friends, playing video games and going into needless deep dives of unrelated topics to get information right.
