Alcina the Winged.
The female Icarus was unlike her male counterpart. Watching the sun and nothing else near, you might have said they were the same. But we made her different. She need not construct wings because we gave them to her. We gave them to her because we loved her, but with wings came arrogance. She thought herself different, superior. Albeit she was right on some level and when it came down to it, she could fly. She could count every star and every blemish on the moon and could count them off to you in sweet song understood only by birds. She was electricity. She was witchcraft. She was everything that could not yet be explained. She was the flat earth. She was Apollo dragging the sun into place each morning. She was our best guess, our best chance of finding perfect. But just as the sun will one day explode and the trees and flowers will wither and die, she was not perfect. She had no flock to fly with and stars make lousy conversation. She set herself aside in an unnamed category and lent herself to others as they entertained her. And she roamed until one day meeting Eros. And his wings enticed her. His manner was different. He was pure passion embodied in a creature unlike any other. He flew around inspiring love for all those that deserved it and if blessed by him the love would be a perfect love, timeless and pure. They fascinated each other and flew into darkness and light together as one. But soon Alcina rejected Eros and Eros saw through this bullheaded plea of false independence. He knew she was not everything she thought she was. He knew that when she and he became them that the implant he made was something she wouldn’t ignore. It called from her to him. Its proximity gave them peace. But he was frustrated, yes, when she refused its call. It enraged him to see her flying with the others who had false wings and flocked to her beauty without knowing its flaws. She was the only one with a part of him. He sat back with a jealous heart, and examined the jar of pieces of others he had collected but as always cast them aside. His heart was fractured and he sought not the return of the piece he had given her but for her to share in it with him. Eros was a lover but such pure love came with raw passion that would bleed from his chest and erupt in furious flame. And slowly in his presence and attempt to hold back the bird from flight’s departure, he would singe her feathers. They would singe and she would fly away once more. And this happened so often, the butting heads of love and independence and connection and freedom that soon Alcina noticed that she could not fly as high anymore. She noticed slowly her wings were faltering and desired not to see Eros again. And Eros lamented at her decision for as long as he could and one day sought he out. He only wanted the unity of their spirits. So Eros began to clip his feathers in a plea to her. He clipped and clipped to show her that he only wanted to fly as high as she would. But she wanted nothing more of him. She watched as he slowly lost every feather he had. And when finished he plea to her to cast off her wings but she could not accept the creature he had become. She flew off and the flame within Eros softened and extinguished and he became cold. He would see her fly by but never again have that piece of his heart. Alcina never again looked at him with love, only somber pity. From then on, Eros only inspired love that would know heartbreak. For that reason, to this day there is no unbreakable love. And some days when the sun is high it is possible to squint your eyes and see Alcina flying across the horizon. Flying still alone, but not without the piece of Eros’ heart.
