S O L S T I C E
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
They are as different as two could be – the girl a whimsical morning and the boy a thunderous storm. A wiser creature might have simply walked past the cross stallion, but Solstice had never known better. Instead, she is endeared by the curious stallion, patience masking a quiet chuckle as she watches him attempt to carve his statue just as awkwardly as she. It would seem that neither one was destined to be a sculptor, but she wouldn’t hold it against him. She does not attempt to help him, not sure of how she could even begin to make headway with such rough materials, instead focusing on deftly twisting her reeds until they began to form a circlet.
In their interwoven tangles, she threads bits of purple asters and fountain grass, looking up to find him watching her and meeting his gaze with a blush of shyness. “Here.” She offers his own words back to him, nudging a bundle of fall flora toward him with a spool of wire as she patiently helps him to form the base of a wreath.
“I spent hours in the gardens as a girl,” she offers easily as her touch caresses the materials. “Flowers have always reminded me of freedom.” It sounded silly, but having been captive for so long, Solstice had never truly explored her own desires or interests. Instead, she had relished in what little she saw of nature – blossoms and butterflies trapped between towering stone walls – a tiny slice of paradise in an otherwise bleak confinement.
In the garden, she had felt the warmth of the sun on her back and the caressing breeze which twined in her wings. She’d tasted the burst of sweetness from forbidden fruits, breathed the scent of summer rain on wet pavement, and whispered long into lazy afternoons with the geckos who climbed the temple walls and escaped to what lie beyond. Perhaps then, the tangle of plants on the table should instill resentment at her bittersweet memories… but it doesn’t. Instead, the array offered choice – something Solstice knew very little about. It offered hope for new beginnings.
On impulse, she reaches toward the winged stallion, deftly plaiting a single golden Chrysanthemum into his mane. “There,” Solstice smiles softly as she admires its sunny hues in the sea of his dark curls. “It suits you.”
As she finishes forming her wreath, Solstice carries it carefully to the rearing statue, placing it at his feet. “Who is he?” she murmurs to her companion. “He seems… conflicted.” As she stares at the lines in the marble face, a poem comes to mind – one which speaks of a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid. “…we must catch the winds of destiny, wherever they drive the boat…” She muses quietly, reflecting on the poem’s meaning for only a moment before she peeks once more to Andras.
He probably thought her mad as a loon.
“I’m sorry…” she flustered. “I didn’t even ask your name. Please, what should I call you?”
In their interwoven tangles, she threads bits of purple asters and fountain grass, looking up to find him watching her and meeting his gaze with a blush of shyness. “Here.” She offers his own words back to him, nudging a bundle of fall flora toward him with a spool of wire as she patiently helps him to form the base of a wreath.
“I spent hours in the gardens as a girl,” she offers easily as her touch caresses the materials. “Flowers have always reminded me of freedom.” It sounded silly, but having been captive for so long, Solstice had never truly explored her own desires or interests. Instead, she had relished in what little she saw of nature – blossoms and butterflies trapped between towering stone walls – a tiny slice of paradise in an otherwise bleak confinement.
In the garden, she had felt the warmth of the sun on her back and the caressing breeze which twined in her wings. She’d tasted the burst of sweetness from forbidden fruits, breathed the scent of summer rain on wet pavement, and whispered long into lazy afternoons with the geckos who climbed the temple walls and escaped to what lie beyond. Perhaps then, the tangle of plants on the table should instill resentment at her bittersweet memories… but it doesn’t. Instead, the array offered choice – something Solstice knew very little about. It offered hope for new beginnings.
On impulse, she reaches toward the winged stallion, deftly plaiting a single golden Chrysanthemum into his mane. “There,” Solstice smiles softly as she admires its sunny hues in the sea of his dark curls. “It suits you.”
As she finishes forming her wreath, Solstice carries it carefully to the rearing statue, placing it at his feet. “Who is he?” she murmurs to her companion. “He seems… conflicted.” As she stares at the lines in the marble face, a poem comes to mind – one which speaks of a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid. “…we must catch the winds of destiny, wherever they drive the boat…” She muses quietly, reflecting on the poem’s meaning for only a moment before she peeks once more to Andras.
He probably thought her mad as a loon.
“I’m sorry…” she flustered. “I didn’t even ask your name. Please, what should I call you?”
― @Andras
