her body turns to stone, outwardly. each leg attaches firmly to the ground as if it were rooted as deeply as the banyan and her breath hitches in her slender throat as if it never existed and might never again. her curled ears have turned back, frozen by the sound of an approacher… inwardly, though, her heartbeat slams against her ribs and blood rushes her like a tidal wave. the breath she has drawn in resonates in her mind and her lungs, hung suspended waiting to be used. his voice is soft, surprisingly so, and far enough away that she feels he cannot strike her if he were to reach out, but she still feels terror. she had been safeguarded by her daee… surrounded by women only… and only on occasion spoken to by her sar ee, her father. she remembers once, as a child, a colt had spoken to her… she can almost hear the tenor of his young voice, such a sharp and kind contrast to her father’s… but he had been whisked away quickly and she had been scolded vehemently. her mind must be pure, always, so that she could serve as a true yajna. the perfect offering for the devataon. finally, after a moment that stretches into eternity, at least for her, varajakshi startles alive again, transforming from stone back into the living breathing creature she had been some heartbeats ago. she cannot refuse his help, as uncomfortable as it makes her. she must pray that the gentleness of his voice runs deeply throughout his character. her nostrils, pink shining through the sparkling white, flare as she makes use of the breath she had taken. he smells of some familiar things, sand and heat, salt water, and of things unknown to her. the musk of an adult male other than her pita jee… the scent of unfamiliar trees… of unfamiliar people…mujhe barbaad karane ke lie mera maargadarshan karane ke lie keval ek aadamee hoga. main us par bharosa kaise kar sakata hoon? her delicate head bobbles ever so slightly, the traditional thank you, before lowering submissively though she knows nothing of his body language toward her. her voice feels far away, desperately so, when she finally parts her lips, but she knows she must speak to him. ”i have never been without my daee, never alone…i am afraid.” she is truthful, admitting these things with quiet breathlessness…speaking them almost as much to herself as Rigel. she continues with sadness, knowing that she must beg, unworthy as she is. ”the devataon will look unfavorably upon me, for i have dishonored all… they may punish me, or you for your help… but i must ask, for without aid i will die… i will be indebted and serve you, if i can.” she offers her servitude bitterly, knowing she might well be useless to him. she had been pampered and preened upon her whole life, prepared as an offering to Kali. she had been tended and treasured as the sacrificial lamb, wanting for nothing. but she had brought this upon herself… just as the will to live had come to her, in the heavy thrashing waves of the sea, she was powerless to stifle it now. |