S O L S T I C E
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
She does feel at peace, moreso than she had in forever. The flowers are warm against her – as warm as the stranger’s eyes watching her. He is gentle and kind, a combination she hadn’t experienced in her recollection, and Solstice finds herself impressed by his patience. She offers him a smile then, timid but hopeful, taking one step closer and drawing in his spicy scent. It was strange and foreign, but she can detect traces of Delumine on him.
The king smells of the wild forest and the dancing grass. She wonders if he can smell the fear on her, or the stench of her captor’s incense that had always seemed to cling in her mane. Shaking away the memory, she buries her face in the flowers, drawing in the peace of them once more.
“What is the Dawn Court?” she asks suddenly, eager to focus her energy toward something other than her own worries. He mentions it is a place of peace, and she believes it. She feels the peace as it settles around her, washing away the fear with each passing cloud and every singing bird. There is no one who follows her – or at least no one she’s noticed yet… but Solstice worried that in growing complacent, she might let them find her once more.
When she tries to picture a Dawn Court in her mind, she imagines a grand castle with its court… but she imagines too, a temple. While such an innocuous thing would simply be seen as a place of worship to most, for Solstice, it was a cage. She shivers thinking of it, wondering what cruel gods would allow their girls to be locked away – but then, she didn’t know the gods in this place or their rituals. Solstice could only hope things would be different here.
“I’m tired of running…” she whispers to the stranger, confiding in him her greatest fear and exposing her vulnerability. “Looking over your shoulder is not a way to live…
She doesn’t elaborate, but it’s clear to see that the mare was bruised (if not physically, then certainly emotionally). Her eyes betray the carefully banked fear, even through the wonder at the newness of this place. She wants – oh how she wants – to believe that she was safe now. Maybe in time, she would be.
“Do you think I could stay for a while? It would be nice to find something more familiar, and I do enjoy the meadow.” The thought of it was impossible but optimistic, as she begins to imagine a new way to live. Perhaps here, Solstice could create her own story.
But life without meaning is the torture of restlessness and vague desire…
She remembers the words in the poem, avowing to raise her sails and catch the winds of change.
The king smells of the wild forest and the dancing grass. She wonders if he can smell the fear on her, or the stench of her captor’s incense that had always seemed to cling in her mane. Shaking away the memory, she buries her face in the flowers, drawing in the peace of them once more.
“What is the Dawn Court?” she asks suddenly, eager to focus her energy toward something other than her own worries. He mentions it is a place of peace, and she believes it. She feels the peace as it settles around her, washing away the fear with each passing cloud and every singing bird. There is no one who follows her – or at least no one she’s noticed yet… but Solstice worried that in growing complacent, she might let them find her once more.
When she tries to picture a Dawn Court in her mind, she imagines a grand castle with its court… but she imagines too, a temple. While such an innocuous thing would simply be seen as a place of worship to most, for Solstice, it was a cage. She shivers thinking of it, wondering what cruel gods would allow their girls to be locked away – but then, she didn’t know the gods in this place or their rituals. Solstice could only hope things would be different here.
“I’m tired of running…” she whispers to the stranger, confiding in him her greatest fear and exposing her vulnerability. “Looking over your shoulder is not a way to live…
She doesn’t elaborate, but it’s clear to see that the mare was bruised (if not physically, then certainly emotionally). Her eyes betray the carefully banked fear, even through the wonder at the newness of this place. She wants – oh how she wants – to believe that she was safe now. Maybe in time, she would be.
“Do you think I could stay for a while? It would be nice to find something more familiar, and I do enjoy the meadow.” The thought of it was impossible but optimistic, as she begins to imagine a new way to live. Perhaps here, Solstice could create her own story.
But life without meaning is the torture of restlessness and vague desire…
She remembers the words in the poem, avowing to raise her sails and catch the winds of change.
― @Ipomoea
