Several months pass with no word of his presence. No sign or hint of his voice, or the sight of his pale face and steady gaze. There was once a hope, a blind, maddening hope Nöelle had held on to. Supplying comfort, an unyielding strength fraying at the edges as the inhabitants of Terrastella prepared for the festival. A child’s hope waning in the dim light.
He would become a song, a patchwork of pieces eroding with the years. It scared her to think she might forget her father’s face – the low depth of his voice, the warmth it carried.
His smell.
She clawed her mind for recollections of bergamot and cedar wood, heavy metallic earth, and acrid coal. But could not pinpoint, with any degree of certainty, which of these in any combination might embody his shadow. No such cure to remedy the wound.
Anger prompted the delicate wreath in her possession. Held together by a base of thin, dead branches woven together. Wild flowers and late autumnal foliage decorated the exterior.
It was silly to think keeping busy would ease the unrest building behind her gaze. The work of procuring various makes of cloth, the gathering of materials, and the dying process took the majority of her time. At the end of the day leading up to the harvest, she sat under candlelight and worked on the wreath. Lost to the hour of the night, editing and adding various arrangements of flours and bramble. Attempting to create balance with the type of leaf and various stems of aging perennials and weeds.
That morning she stopped just short of the square. Locks of silver braided loosely – free strands lilting with the subtle push of air. As her eyes regarded the prized figurehead of Terrastellan worship, she released a tired sigh.
Not this again, she thought to herself. The people adored their god, Vespera. To show any dissent meant forfeiting a stake in the kingdom – or simply a home. She was confused by her arrival at the square, taking in the idol’s figure. Vespera’s jeweled eyes appeared sad from Noelle’s view. Though she thought she knew better, thinking, ‘Even gods burn.’
And their worlds died with them.
Despite her skepticism, she willed her limbs forward. Passing by the gaze of the guards nearby. It was early enough that the crowd was sparse. And perhaps, she could afford more time to observe this strange act of worship. Or perhaps this worship came about with confessions, or for hopes and dreams to be spat out and caught by some whirlwind – and heard, to some degree.
Or never heard.
Nöelle paused just ahead of the statue. She felt sick. The kind of soul sickness that burned your belly – that filled its edges with the uncertainty of the future. Or perhaps, it was the thick smell of scented oil bubbling up inside her head that made her feel dizzy.
She glanced briefly to those who had already placed objects at Vespera’s feet. Fresh fruit, homemade textiles, various bouquets strewn about… Whispers of their prayers made the air thick with expectations and perhaps – the harmony, shared by some.
She was still a strange here. A grain of sand carried from familiar deserts to strange beaches, surrounded by countless others who were somehow both vastly different and exactly the same as what she'd known all in the same moment. In the desert they had no gods or goddesses. In the desert they worshiped only to the whims of world around them. They didn't believe there was some great deity controlling the winds and the infrequent rains, it was merely the impulses of fate that determined if they'd have water to drink or grass to graze. That and their own ingenuity of course.
How did a stranger come to find herself amongst such a sacred festival, emerald eyes resting upon what would have to have been an actor of great importance? Have you ever had that nagging feeling that pulled at your consciousness, edging you in one direction ever so slightly for seemingly no reason at all? Be it intuition, or simply the draw of others in a thirst for companionship, or anything else you might call it, it was that feeling that had lead Regina to wander towards the courtyard.
She could see the gathering long before she could comprehend what it was. Black frame lingering along the sidelines to take in the picture presented before her. If she had chosen this to be her home, than that would make the others gathered there her herd wouldn't it? Some might say her family? She entertained the thought at the back of her mind as she slowly made her way closer, eyes finally being drawn towards the statue and the two guards flanking it.
"Hmm..." She wondered aloud as she began to approach the effigy. As she began to grow closer she realized she wasn't the only on approaching, or rather she appeared to be intruding upon some sort of pray by another mare. She tilted her head to the side as she noticed the offering being given. Quickly it was confirmed that this statue must represent someone of great importance, but the question was who was it?
Never one hold personal space in great regard Regina approached the other woman as she stood there muttering her request to save... someone. Space closed between them until she was all but touching the other women. Probably much too close for comfort, but she would need to be close if she wanted to ask what she was doing without the guards hearing her. Somehow she felt they would disapprove of her being there given her lack of knowledge. In a voice no louder than a whisper she shook her head up towards the visage of Vespera. "Psst... who's that?" It seemed if she was going to be crashing a festival in her honor, she might as well know who they were praying to.
@Noëlle, I hope you don't mind a newbie crashing your thread here ^.^
She fell silent. Lacking thought, or words – a poverty of feeling – while the rest of the world muddled in the background. She failed to notice the little black shadow sweeping beside her. Unawares of the moisture in a breath, or the warmth of the body next to her.
“Psst… who’s that?”
The voice is quiet, its proximity sharp and startling. It snaps Nöelle back to the courtyard, to sea green eyes and a delicate face. Nöelle nearly bumps her nose with the stranger.
“Uhm…” Her voice wavers. Avoiding the stranger’s snout by looking back on the statue. Shuffling her feet in an unsettled gesture. “Vespera. Goddess Vespera…,” Nöelle raises a brow at the strange mare – realizes she appears much younger than she initially thought. Beset with jewels on her forehead, earrings paired to inquisitive ears.
She forces a small smile at the edges of her lips. Finds her voice again, as it rises steady into the air, “It’s my first harvest, here in Terrastella… It’s a time of celebration, of – equilibrium and balance. Or so I’ve been told.” Her voice levels off, eyes trail back to the statue. Blinking and quiet for a time.
The mare suddenly opens the satchel attached to her side. Turns her head to the right - mechanical in her motions - searching its contents for something worthwhile. She pulls out a small wildflower that had fallen from the wreathe, prior to her arrival.
“People pray to her, offer gifts.” She shrugs as her smile dissolves. She fixates on the flower instead of the statue. Admiring the simple design of purple petals. The subtle scent reminds her of unyielding fields. The sky kissing the ground, the wind against her breast.
She dips her head closer to the youngster, whispering, “Here, take this if you want.”
Gestures to the floating flower between them.
There was the possibility Nöelle wanted to feel something, other than anger and wanting. To feel lighter in any way imaginable. Even if it meant trying this. Even if religion meant very little in the way of believing in some higher power. At least there was the power between people, of fellowship and communion - love.
She blinked only softly as the other mare's face nearly collided with hers, seemingly completely unfazed but the closeness and near contact with the face of a complete stranger. It was the way she shifted on her feet that first gave rise to concern that perhaps the was a bit uneasy with her sudden appearance. Meeting new people was hard though, she understood that. The fact that she had to force a smile onto her face was completely lost on the girl, and her momentary uncertainty of the situation vanished just as quickly has it had come.
Vespera. Goddess Vespera Her ears flickered, the golden hoops slightly entangled in a strand of her mane. She'd heard about goddesses, but she didn't realize they'd be made of stone. She focused her attention with great care, emerald gaze peering with a burning intensity. She was about to spout more questions at the poor target of her curiosity when Noelle spoke again. Harvest? She's heard about harvests, she'd seen places where large amounts of food grew all year during her travels. There most certainly had never been any harvest festival in the desert though. They had plenty of nights of celebrations and togetherness, but those were always spontaneous encounters with other bands of nomads, chances to catch up with old friends one only got to see from time to time. Nothing as bizarre as bringing presents to a stone goddess.
Speaking of gifts, much to her embarrassment she'd allowed her ignorance of the event prevent her from bringing such an offering. Nervously she eyed the guards on either side of the goddess, assuming they'd be more upset about her lack of tithe than the carving itself.
Here, take this if you want. She hadn't even seen the older woman dig out flower from her pouch. Such a small yet gorgeous token a welcome relief to her small wave of worry. Quickly she shifted excitedly from foot too foot, prancing in place for a moment as she accepted the flower every so gently. Extending her delicate neck she dipped forward to deposit the wildflower next to the wreath that had just been laid at Vespera's feet. "Thanks! I hope she thinks its as pretty as I do. I didn't realize we were supposed to bring gifts but I don't want to make a bad impression my first week here." She let out a small, nervous laugh. "You're wreath is gorgeous, did you make it?" Horses here seemed to be full of surprises, which meant she found it no surprise at all the woman was capable of making such a detailed and delicate work of art. "I'm Regina by the way, I haven't been here long. Thanks for filling me in." A stranger in a strange place, but luckily for the girl horses there had all been so nice thus far.
Nöelle has begun to find their proximity nearly comical. Between the mare’s shifting glances on the guards, and the excited prancing – she is both uncomfortable and bemused by their closeness. “People here seem to be quite understanding.” Her smile softens. “I think the gifts are… customary but not mandatory? Though I could be wrong,” she muses allowed.
“Your wreath is gorgeous, did you make it?”
She hums briefly with a small nod, staring up at the statue. Wondering if her figure might peel back stone for flesh, and jeweled orbs for real ones. “I did. For someone else,” the mare admits with a heavy breath, quiet.
Nöelle regards Regina, though – with as much comfort as she can muster. There isn’t much space to turn her head, and instead raises it to avoid bumping the youth. “Regina was it? It’s no bother to me, honestly. I could show you around town if you would like?” Eager to depart from Vespara’s listless gaze, the mare turns around. Moving along the edges of the courtyard, and avoiding the swelling of locals and travelers filling the area.
She glances back to see if her peculiar acquaintance has followed along. “Oh – I’m Nöelle. I’ve only been around Terrastella since the winter. You have the pleasure of seeing her ripe and joyful; while the weather holds.” A half grin sharpens the expression against her mug. Focusing back on the path ahead.
The air is sweet with the hint of baked goods and sweetened treats. The locals are merry, and the sound of music permeates the air. It is far from a ruined world, far from decay and death and the helpless.
“Where do you come from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
It wasn’t out of the ordinary to expect foreigners – especially now, with the harvest in full swing.
Souls from all four corners of Novus. Perhaps beyond.
