S O L E I L
Solis give me the strength. And gods does the woman-child know that she needs it. Her eyes drift closed as she takes a slow breath, reaching out with her mind to feel the sensation of it. She used it to ground herself to the earth beneath her feet, rather than the swirls of madness that threatened to lift her off into the sky.
It was a practice she had learned from the sages, surprisingly enough. Perhaps that was why they seemed to carry such a strange patience, a peculiar stillness to them -- years of grounding themselves. Devout to their books, she could not see how they did it, the endless hours of silence. A discipline to marvel at, certainly.
Perhaps, if it were not for the crowds of expectant court-goers who had all gathered at the summit to await the outcome of this unforeseen summoning, the woman would have been surprised to find that she was not alone. Instead, the rumbling baritone of another merely causes a slender ear to flick in his direction, followed by a storm-colored gaze. What she is startled by is the color of his eyes, bright and pal all at once -- their color echoing the fading light of the silver moon overhead. She is not sure why her eyes avert quickly, choosing instead to look down at her feet for a moment -- but they do.
It is as though those eyes bring along with them a flash of memory, and she is not quite sure if it is a pleasant one. An awkward silence fills the air for just a second too long before she lifts her eyes again, letting a smile begin to quirk up on her features.
”That’s true.” She agreed quietly, noting his appearance. In dawn’s light, the man is bathed in hues of apricot and peach -- though she is not sure why she thinks of summer’s bearings in the throes of fall. He is dressed finely, a cloak of the richest shades of emerald and sun draped across him, the thick pelt of an animal at it’s collar. Rich, dark straps of leather hold a breast-plate and harness against his cognac skin. She could not help but wonder of his status, his affiliation, his loyalty.
”Do you expect the worst then?” She asked, the question flowing from her lips like liquid honey, smooth and golden. ”Or do you know something that the rest of us should be aware of?”
She keeps her place, no desire to come any closer, running her teke through her hair to assure herself of the butterfly pin’s place; a precious keepsake. And she found that she still could not meet his eyes again, hoping that the fact was hidden well enough from the stranger.
@Renwick
This was written in spurts over the course of a day, so hopefully it all reads ok c’x
This was written in spurts over the course of a day, so hopefully it all reads ok c’x
