he is strangely considerate of her, more so even than her daee had been… but of course she is unused to any extra attention or interest that may be due to her beauty. she had been told of her fortunate looks, described by her daee as dark and light at the same time, white stockinged legs meeting the fire red dark of her body.. like blood had been spilled on the moon. her mane and tail dance with brighter firelight, tipped brilliantly orange in the warm season. they would not have chosen her as the yalma if she had been squat and ugly, with coarseness instead of refinement in her features, but she cannot see, and so, she had been somewhat sheltered from the notion of vanity. what good was beauty if it only encouraged your death? his breath is as warm as hers, pleasant and masculine, and she feels a flutter of nervousness in her heart and stomach at the thought of learning to please him. she had been taught ways of quiet devotion, of thoughtful prayer, but the prospect of close interaction with any one, anyone but her daee, was nervewracking… she could only hope that as they spent time together, she could learn to find comfort in him as she had her daee… he speaks to her of safety and seclusion, something she had been entrusted to her whole life, and she feels overwhelming thankfulness. she would mourn, she knew, for her daee and for her saamraaji, but she thought also, that eventually she might rejoice. fearful as she was for the future, at least Yama had not taken her into the watery depths. the mare grows more curious of her caretaker, of the First Wife he speaks of, and the role she might slowly learn to play in his world, but for now, she does not ask questions. she can only whisper a quiet, ”thank you…Rigel. I am grateful.” even anticipating his touch, as her curled ears twist with his nearing footsteps, the lean mare flinches at his touch, a shiver passing over her. she does not pull away though, relieved as she is. instead, she acquaints herself with the feeling of his warm strength beside her, the comfort of his scent and sturdiness of his figure, desensitizing her skin to the alien feeling of a male presence beside her. her head bobbles in thanks of the news he bears, regarding her faith. though she had forsaken them, she desperately hoped her devataon would not do the same to her. ”there is goodness in you for helping me, ek toot gaya. to please you, and your gods, i will be attentive to the ways of your faith as well as my own, as you say the First Wife does.” she speaks with soft clarity, acknowledging her disability in her own tongue. it feels wrong to offer such a promise, having been raised so deeply in the eternal way… it has been the sole focus of her life, in preparation as the offering…. but in her heart, she knows it is not a flippant offer. if such kindness existed in his gods, as to welcome and care for a stranger such as she, how could she turn away from them as they embrace her to the care of one of their own… ”i would follow you to this place if you make your steps loud and warn me of impediments. such was the way with my daee…” |