She recalled the moment it had come into her possession, an envelope of crisp white with gilded golden designs. She had turned it over in her bare hand several times, ice blues laden with curiosity. The language written in it was known throughout the realm, spoken by her people and many others; though, it was not a tongue native to any one species. It had come about for matters of diplomacy and commerce so that many others could speak together without barrier.
The little red heart of wax and the smell of roses were easily noted and made it all the more curious. This was especially true because Calandra had spent the better part of the day exhausting herself listening to the troubles of others. Acting as Draco’s liaison, which was satisfactory because she was the temple’s high priestess, left her more worn today than ever before.
It would not do to go. She had too much to do. People expected her day after day to listen, to advise, to mend hearts, and heal broken bonds between others. Some part of her lamented at being so sought after, wishing for a moment to rest and forgo her giving smile. She adored her duty, but there were times when she wanted to sleep or to do something for herself. There was woe in being so kind all of the day. Her favorite ones, few as they were, left her tending the fields with others so that her tribe might have plenty to store for the winter. She did not have to worry about the plants expecting too much from her aside from watering and the picking of weeds, or, the occasional time she used her ability to heal and rejuvenate. Healing the greenery was less taxing than healing the mind, after all—than allowing others to see all that they needed to within themselves and without.
This is what she told herself once the decision was made. Though, when she left the temple that night to go home, to take the long walk under the stars and tree boughs, she had stopped in the path when the green door appeared. Something had shifted, and, she told herself that she wouldn’t be gone longer than an hour or so. No one would miss her during that time. Surely her mother would understand the need for a little time to herself.
The knob turned with ease, and something swallowed her in gaiety as the change overtook her. She felt something magical and swathing. A mask swept over her face and the emission of power receded.
She found herself looking at her reflection, reaching up and touching the white mask glittering with crystal white and blue rhinestones. Some dangled off the sides like earrings, little drops looking like icicle tears. Her cold blues seemed to pop behind it. Her silver-white hair, usually bound in a long braid to keep from trailing the ground beneath her, was half woven in a series of knots that cascaded down her back to the bend of her knees. There were jeweled pins it, some of them looking like Draco’s scales. The dress she donned felt comfortable; it was very a traditional festival gown made of the softest white gauze-like material she’d ever worn. It flowed off her body like a (what some would call) Grecian gown, but revealed more of her skin than her clothing beforehand. Some of it was blue, much of it was see-through. Her legs, sides, back, the conclave between her breasts and along the side of them, and her stomach went mostly uncovered, as was the summer tradition of her people. The elves would call it too immodest, as would the magai, but it had never been as such among her people.
Her feet were not bear, but instead tucked into sandals decorated in the same rhinestones on her mask. The gems hung from her ears, her neck, wrists, and rings with them also adorned her fingers. Some might have felt naked, but Calandra felt… invigorated and relaxed. The cool of winter had been closing in—fall had been upon them back home. More clothing had been required, and she always preferred the less encumbered attire of the summer.
Sandals clicked as she moved away from the mirror and stepped into the ballroom. The strips of fabric around her legs slipped and moved as she went, shades of soft blue and white morphing as a pale alabaster leg appeared and faded underneath, half seen beyond the material as going. She found her hand settling on a wall, watching the motion of the dancers quietly as she thought about what to do with her time.
The little red heart of wax and the smell of roses were easily noted and made it all the more curious. This was especially true because Calandra had spent the better part of the day exhausting herself listening to the troubles of others. Acting as Draco’s liaison, which was satisfactory because she was the temple’s high priestess, left her more worn today than ever before.
It would not do to go. She had too much to do. People expected her day after day to listen, to advise, to mend hearts, and heal broken bonds between others. Some part of her lamented at being so sought after, wishing for a moment to rest and forgo her giving smile. She adored her duty, but there were times when she wanted to sleep or to do something for herself. There was woe in being so kind all of the day. Her favorite ones, few as they were, left her tending the fields with others so that her tribe might have plenty to store for the winter. She did not have to worry about the plants expecting too much from her aside from watering and the picking of weeds, or, the occasional time she used her ability to heal and rejuvenate. Healing the greenery was less taxing than healing the mind, after all—than allowing others to see all that they needed to within themselves and without.
This is what she told herself once the decision was made. Though, when she left the temple that night to go home, to take the long walk under the stars and tree boughs, she had stopped in the path when the green door appeared. Something had shifted, and, she told herself that she wouldn’t be gone longer than an hour or so. No one would miss her during that time. Surely her mother would understand the need for a little time to herself.
The knob turned with ease, and something swallowed her in gaiety as the change overtook her. She felt something magical and swathing. A mask swept over her face and the emission of power receded.
She found herself looking at her reflection, reaching up and touching the white mask glittering with crystal white and blue rhinestones. Some dangled off the sides like earrings, little drops looking like icicle tears. Her cold blues seemed to pop behind it. Her silver-white hair, usually bound in a long braid to keep from trailing the ground beneath her, was half woven in a series of knots that cascaded down her back to the bend of her knees. There were jeweled pins it, some of them looking like Draco’s scales. The dress she donned felt comfortable; it was very a traditional festival gown made of the softest white gauze-like material she’d ever worn. It flowed off her body like a (what some would call) Grecian gown, but revealed more of her skin than her clothing beforehand. Some of it was blue, much of it was see-through. Her legs, sides, back, the conclave between her breasts and along the side of them, and her stomach went mostly uncovered, as was the summer tradition of her people. The elves would call it too immodest, as would the magai, but it had never been as such among her people.
Her feet were not bear, but instead tucked into sandals decorated in the same rhinestones on her mask. The gems hung from her ears, her neck, wrists, and rings with them also adorned her fingers. Some might have felt naked, but Calandra felt… invigorated and relaxed. The cool of winter had been closing in—fall had been upon them back home. More clothing had been required, and she always preferred the less encumbered attire of the summer.
Sandals clicked as she moved away from the mirror and stepped into the ballroom. The strips of fabric around her legs slipped and moved as she went, shades of soft blue and white morphing as a pale alabaster leg appeared and faded underneath, half seen beyond the material as going. She found her hand settling on a wall, watching the motion of the dancers quietly as she thought about what to do with her time.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
The following 1 user Likes Blade's post: Tindome
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