S O L E I L
The lanterns flickered softly in the fading daylight, their flame beginning to dance more vibrantly as darkness began to encroach upon the land. It had been another full day of festivities, brimming with various talents and acts unlike anything the golden girl had ever seen. Her heart had filled with a sense of longing at the sights and sounds, her own talents buried beneath the weight of vengeance. She could imagine it though, her artwork place on display here -- perhaps selling a piece or two for a decent coin. Her lips twitched ruefully, bitterness squeezing against every beat of her heart. It was barbed like thorns, a dig of guilt at every turn that it was she who had been saved -- and not those that she loved. Her beloved mother’s face still haunted her, that last sad smile before the darkness enveloped her.
It had taken years for her to find comfort in the darkness again, even the one that existed behind her eyelids. Sleep still evaded her on most nights, though they were becoming less and less with the passage of time. Her gaze shifted across the way, passing over the various merchants and their wares up towards the stage where a dark colored mare was dancing. She was beautiful, in an assortment of veils and coin -- perhaps a gypsy of some kind although Lei could not be sure.
She turned her back just as the woman finished her display, an ear turning back towards the applause, as she stands amidst the crowd. People from every race and faction linger in the festival grounds, conversations being murmured between couples or tea being shared among friends. Delumine is flourishing, blooming like the flowers in the meadow and for the briefest of moments -- the golden daughter can imagine what peace feels like again. She should like to bring this feeling back home, to Solterra, too.
She had been a refugee in this land for too long. Her heart ached for the scorching heat and glittering finery of her homeland, but fear of it had kept her away this long. Solterra was a shell of its former glory, and chaos still reigned despite a brief period of stabilization. Even now, whispers of the Davke’s coup had spread like poison -- and it made Soleil worried about her plans to return, to reclaim the glory of the Hajakha name.
She reached up to touch the golden butterfly pin, helping to hold the loose waves of her blonde hair in place. Someday She promised herself silently, absently reaching out to pluck up someone’s forgotten flower crown. Someday I will make it right again.
She admired the crown, a combination of greenery and some blue flowers that she’d never seen before. Her head twisted in both directions, sure that it’s owner would come to reclaim it -- such a pretty thing should have never been lost in the first place.
coding by Avis
