S O L S T I C E
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
Where have you come from?
With his question, the illusion is shattered – the illusion of safety and freedom. His query forces her to relive the impossibly tall walls in the temple gardens, the weight of chains around her feet in the warlord’s tent. She takes a steadying breath, her eyes finding his for a brief moment, blinking with pain as she fights to still her racing heart, her gaze dropping once more to the cheerful poppies which seem to encourage her to speak. As she stares at her feet, Solstice wonders – would he find her weak, a thing to be pitied?
Her breath becomes a sigh as she wonders where to begin. Around them, the world is still and bright – calming as the autumn breeze kisses her frame, gentle and warm. There is a stillness to the meadow, a quietness which brings her peace even as the sweet fragrance of the flowers clouds her senses, pushing away her fear as she begins.
“I was taken from my mother on the day of my birth – the day of the solstice – and given to the temple. What some saw as a place of worship and religion became my prison, for the priestesses kept me locked within its walls, away from the world. They told me it was for my own good – to keep away the things which would tarnish or tempt me.” She didn’t add why… for the why had never made much sense to her. By the simple virtue of her birth, she had been revered. Those who were superstitious and pious had treated her as an idol. She had been bathed in the holy waters, doused in incense, forced to stand on an altar of marble as they prayed at her feet.
“War came, and raiders ransacked the temple. They raped and murdered the priestesses, burned the altars, stole the relics.” She choked on the memory, breaking as a silver tear slid quietly down her cheek, falling on a waiting flower as Solstice fought to compose herself again. “I suppose it is lucky that their leader took a liking to me – the he too saw me as something of a fascination… otherwise he might have killed me too.”
There were nights when she’d lain awake wondering if death would have been kinder than her semi-charmed existence, chained on the furs in his tent. If anything, she supposed it was a fortunate thing that he’d protected her virtue – for at least locked in his tent, she was kept from the hunger of his soldiers. Still, she had to run – for living in captive was not truly living. Solstice had taken the leap of faith when it had presented itself, never looking back.
“I’m nothing special” she assures the king - her pleading eyes too wide, almost childlike as they seek his reassurance. “Just unlucky… for the solstice is my curse and my name – but nothing more. I just want to be invisible… I just want to be like the flowers, beautiful and free.” She worried a bit that it sounded foolish, but the impossible dream seemed closer than ever in this place of endless wild and peace.
With his question, the illusion is shattered – the illusion of safety and freedom. His query forces her to relive the impossibly tall walls in the temple gardens, the weight of chains around her feet in the warlord’s tent. She takes a steadying breath, her eyes finding his for a brief moment, blinking with pain as she fights to still her racing heart, her gaze dropping once more to the cheerful poppies which seem to encourage her to speak. As she stares at her feet, Solstice wonders – would he find her weak, a thing to be pitied?
Her breath becomes a sigh as she wonders where to begin. Around them, the world is still and bright – calming as the autumn breeze kisses her frame, gentle and warm. There is a stillness to the meadow, a quietness which brings her peace even as the sweet fragrance of the flowers clouds her senses, pushing away her fear as she begins.
“I was taken from my mother on the day of my birth – the day of the solstice – and given to the temple. What some saw as a place of worship and religion became my prison, for the priestesses kept me locked within its walls, away from the world. They told me it was for my own good – to keep away the things which would tarnish or tempt me.” She didn’t add why… for the why had never made much sense to her. By the simple virtue of her birth, she had been revered. Those who were superstitious and pious had treated her as an idol. She had been bathed in the holy waters, doused in incense, forced to stand on an altar of marble as they prayed at her feet.
“War came, and raiders ransacked the temple. They raped and murdered the priestesses, burned the altars, stole the relics.” She choked on the memory, breaking as a silver tear slid quietly down her cheek, falling on a waiting flower as Solstice fought to compose herself again. “I suppose it is lucky that their leader took a liking to me – the he too saw me as something of a fascination… otherwise he might have killed me too.”
There were nights when she’d lain awake wondering if death would have been kinder than her semi-charmed existence, chained on the furs in his tent. If anything, she supposed it was a fortunate thing that he’d protected her virtue – for at least locked in his tent, she was kept from the hunger of his soldiers. Still, she had to run – for living in captive was not truly living. Solstice had taken the leap of faith when it had presented itself, never looking back.
“I’m nothing special” she assures the king - her pleading eyes too wide, almost childlike as they seek his reassurance. “Just unlucky… for the solstice is my curse and my name – but nothing more. I just want to be invisible… I just want to be like the flowers, beautiful and free.” She worried a bit that it sounded foolish, but the impossible dream seemed closer than ever in this place of endless wild and peace.
― @Ipomoea
