IP: 98.93.129.241
Posted on October 7, 2013 at 05:44:47 AM by ar.cadia
"So, you're saying that I was put on this list?" My confused look seems to have amused the guard, as he turns the list in his hands to mine to prove me to have been invited. How in the world would I have been invited to this party? And for what purpose? I just don't see it.
Starting in the middle of the story, however, gets us nowhere. The beginning, the beginning's where you'll find the more appropriate reasons for me to be standing where I am, a mask of crystalline teardrop shapes and soft sparkles dancing over my skin.
It was a few days ago, perhaps, and I was wandering over the ground, yet again in search of something for me in this place, and a paper drifted right in front of me on the wind. Interested, I picked it up, as it seemed to be an invitation of some nature, a black vellum sheet with scrolled writing in a hard to decipher hand. Thinking nothing of it, really, I pocketed the item. Upon looking up, however, a wispy-haired lady looked me in the face, a kind look in her eye and a smile on her face. Intrigued, when her eyes bequest I follow her, I did indeed, cautious yet curious of her intentions.
For the days, in the interim between that day and this, she had me sewing, cleaning, about anything she could bequest me to do that didn't seem inappropriate. She fed me from her own plate, and the generosity of her has most definitely astounded me, even now thinking back on it. In the entire time, however, she only spoke one thing to me. "You still long. For him?" At that, my eyes could only sprout a softly sorrowed look, harrowed by the one thing that I didn't realize was read out of my very mind and heart. Her intentions, however shady at first, seemed to be almost pure to me from that moment, and the day's end yesterday led to her presenting me with a parting present- this new gown, a peach accented in silver and ice-blue, and one last night upon her guest's bed before bidding me farewell. Piece by piece, a stunning masterpiece that I was surprised to be given, with the feel of satin and the lay of pure silk.
As I awoke this morning, the lady had once again prepared breakfast, and asked me in that lonesome glance of hers to spare her one last moment, one more favor that I might find her happiness entwined as the roses. I could not help but oblige her. She had asked me merely to gather a few flowers for her, and she seems to have grown rather attached to a certain flower that grows in the trees she directed me toward. Upon returning with the blossoms, she smiled graciously and hugged me close, quivering. And I could feel it. She had been lonely, had missed the company of her lost child, of whom she had been reminded when I walked past. Wrapping a matching cloak over my shoulders to cover the elegant dress, she gave me a soft look, whispering a few more words as a final goodbye. "I am glad I met you."
Curtsying to her, I then traveled from her meager home to the road once more, having bundled up my previous outfit to clean later. My mind was still on her as I passed through a privy little village, where a man gave me a look that I can only assume to be a little dumbstruck and handed me an apple out of nowhere. I could only accept it when I was whisked away, yet again pulled aside by a lady, this one with a blacksmith's apron and boisterously accented speech. "Where'you think YOU'RE goin' in that withou' nuthin' ter ware?" Startled, I allowed myself to be led to her workshop. Turns out, "blacksmith" wasn't quite the title she wore. Leathersmith, is more appropriate, as she shoved me into a chair with gusto and picked up my skirts to see my feet.
Understand, I've not lived in a place where I've had to have my own shoes made directly for me, so it was a new experience when the brunette madame measured my feet from all sides and went into the back of her little workshop. The sounds of a busied smith rang quietly through the stone-walled house, and I set the apple on the table without so much as eating it.
She came back, and I could tell she was about to ask me for payment, when the apple laid itself upon her vision. "Tha' fer these?" She held out the white shoes, and I could tell she put quite a bit of quality into her work. Nodding gently, she tossed the warm shoes my way and made to shove me out of the door, eyeing the apple with a greedy, hungry look. I find, I really don't want to question her motives. I really don't. So, I had, indeed, taken quite finely to her having tossed me right out of that shop. But, admittedly, I was antsy about so much as trying on the slippers for about an hour before a local priestess insisted that the leather smith, while she is indeed eccentric, would do naught to harm me through her creation. "She's got too much pride for that," 'twas told. Slipping them on over the slightly-dirtied bare feet of mine, this same priestess grasped the both of them out of my hands again and offered up a washcloth and a wink.
Having scrubbed the rocks and road from my soles and put the ingeniously made shoes on my feet (for so they truly are- magnificent, really, that not only can they keep my feet from feeling all bruised, even with a lot of walking, but they also retain both softness and strength of wear), I walked on. 'Round about noon-ish, I saw a traveling party, a man in finery riding on a black-ish horse who was beautifully and well groomed. His heavy cloak drifted to one side as he looked me over, seemed to consider something, then rode on in the same direction in which I padded softly. I walked, and though the road was obviously well traveled, I saw very few souls actually traversing the path today beyond him, merely a few lonely persons traversing in approvado.
Warm blues filled the sky as it started to grow toward evening set, and a few little spots of giggling light found their way in front of me. Following, I ended up... well, in front of the castle, here, or whatever this grand place is.
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Moving from where the baubles of light drifted into the night, something tugs silently at me from the greens of the growing even'. Tugged to and fore today, I don't suppose it'll be much more to follow this one, will it? Quietly drifting, the pulling seems to lead me around to expansive gardens, in amongst the trees. From a gentle, whispered step to a more accelerated allegro, along the winding, twisted paths. Into the darkened corner, where the lights just don't touch quite well enough to light up what lays in wait in the darkness.
Low, warm breaths on my face tell me exactly who was calling to me, and my heart skips a beat. Softly, leaves and brush rustling in the wake of my shining skirts, my hand touches softly to the warmed scales of his face as my glassy blue eyes meet his warm ones. A dragon, snorting softly into the diadem of gems about my forehead and brandishing his tail at me as a sort of sign of peace as I pet his scarlet-tinged snout. Softly eyeing him in his graceful beauty, my own body tenses up the moment his does, and he retreats more into the shadows as fey seem to come closer. They would surely use him, as would humans, as would any that did not understand. Just because one might understand, doesn't mean that they do. And that, making the difference in whether I followed my new sanguine consort into the darker reaches of the blue-tinted vines and evergreen branches, halted my feet. I can feel the sadness, but dragons are not imbecilic creatures. He knows I would follow if there was not reason to believe it would make the both of us all the more conspicuous here. Looking into his clear eyes, he knows I'll come back to him before the night's out. Because friends don't leave friends behind. Even if it seems a little like that's what it is.
My feet move closer to the sounds of motion, ocean orbs peering gently through the foliage for signs that I've been noticed.
a r c a d i a
Replies:
- each oath I swear, each shouldered care - By t r i s t a n October 11, 2013 at 03:10:06 AM
- her solid hand a steadying light touch - By ar.cadia December 13, 2013 at 10:13:39 PM
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