Post by Mehrunissa nó Eglantine on Dec 8, 2010 0:25:16 GMT -5
I knew I must have sat more than an hour that day, while the heavy curtains blocked only but a sliver of the sunlight that beckoned to me outside. It shone down through the two of us, Mother and I, and that was the exact way it was; like there was something between us that was unexplainable.
Father had told me a few months back what had happened to my older brother, the one who died before me and I knew then that I would never be her favorite.
And it killed me.
My fingers were bleeding, the red rich on the sand color of my skin, something out of a picture and while I bled on my old clothes, I was stitching my new ones made of dark emerald with shots of gold. You would think I were stitching a silk blanket the length of the fabric that rolled over my long thighs and down to the floor. But I would tell you no it is my clothes, my veil from the world.
“Mehrunissa, keep going,” The stern voice of my mother, always stern. There was never any care in her voice that I remembered, but I do not want to remember either. This recollection really is the only thing my mind will let me remember. Ah, the dramatics of a child. Mentally, I do not remember gazing off and out through the window on the other side of the narrow room and as my eyes pulled into focus, they watched the dust particles in the air float around in all their airy freedom. Taking a breath I sighed, pushing the air out forcefully through my nose and my mother heard it as well. Hearing her stand, I let loose my grip on my cloth, and I felt my mother pull it out of my hands. “Just go than. I know you, you have no patience.” She said to me again, rather a mumble than her really wanting me to hear. I was still young, but I knew when I was not wanted. Standing, I walked away. If that’s how it was, than fine.
Father was in the living room, writing in a thick ledger bound in black with gold leaf on the edges of the paper and when he saw me he paused, looked at the paper and considered something for a moment and than shut it softly, sliding it back into a ledge on his desk. “Your tutor comes soon, Light of Woman.”
Light of Woman.
That is what my name means, and whether it is true or not I still have to find out.
“Which one?” I responded, letting the gilded and embossed letters of all the books on the bookshelves run under the pads of my fingers, counting them in my head, putting a rhythm to the bumps and ridges. I looked at Father when he did not respond and knew that Mother would be leaving soon to go sell her flowers. Tucking my heels together, my back tall and neck long, I gave a plié, my knees bending to where if you looked at them over my shoulder, they were just over the edges of my toes.
That night was the largest fight I have ever heard from them. My tutor and I practiced all through the night because I begged her not to leave. She was a lovely girl from the Night House Eglantine, and a lovely dancer. The way she moved made the skin on my body prickle and my face flush, I wanted to be just like that. To cast that spell on someone and I tried with all my might.
Mother had come home early when she caught me at the barre, doing cloche grand battements my leg swinging like a large bell in the Temple of Elua. When I was on my eighth count, I saw the hate in her eyes, I was not a woman to her, but a ugly person. As was her culture for woman who do not stay under the veil. Sorry Mother, but I am who I am that is what I wanted to say to her but my tongue knows its place.
I still remember the sea salt on my lips from my tears and the ocean. The cold wind that snapped at my veil making it hug me from the side of my face down to my ankles, showing the world my hidden body. A body so in love with dance that this pain I was feeling only fueled my love for it. Elua help me when I say I hate her, for I know it is wrong. She was going back to the place she ran from, back to the horrible past she wanted to get away from so badly. Sorry mother, for I am not you son but a daughter who loves to create. Create clothes and dance.
Dancing was in my blood now. In my heart, Elua has gifted me with this so let me embrace it!
I took off my veil as I watched her leave, seeing her stare at me from the back of the ship that she was being carried away on. And I cried. Cried tears of hate as I threw that veil I made at her letting the wind catch it and snap it away towards the coast.
She had left me, and it was over the one thing I loved most..
Dance.
Father had told me a few months back what had happened to my older brother, the one who died before me and I knew then that I would never be her favorite.
And it killed me.
My fingers were bleeding, the red rich on the sand color of my skin, something out of a picture and while I bled on my old clothes, I was stitching my new ones made of dark emerald with shots of gold. You would think I were stitching a silk blanket the length of the fabric that rolled over my long thighs and down to the floor. But I would tell you no it is my clothes, my veil from the world.
“Mehrunissa, keep going,” The stern voice of my mother, always stern. There was never any care in her voice that I remembered, but I do not want to remember either. This recollection really is the only thing my mind will let me remember. Ah, the dramatics of a child. Mentally, I do not remember gazing off and out through the window on the other side of the narrow room and as my eyes pulled into focus, they watched the dust particles in the air float around in all their airy freedom. Taking a breath I sighed, pushing the air out forcefully through my nose and my mother heard it as well. Hearing her stand, I let loose my grip on my cloth, and I felt my mother pull it out of my hands. “Just go than. I know you, you have no patience.” She said to me again, rather a mumble than her really wanting me to hear. I was still young, but I knew when I was not wanted. Standing, I walked away. If that’s how it was, than fine.
Father was in the living room, writing in a thick ledger bound in black with gold leaf on the edges of the paper and when he saw me he paused, looked at the paper and considered something for a moment and than shut it softly, sliding it back into a ledge on his desk. “Your tutor comes soon, Light of Woman.”
Light of Woman.
That is what my name means, and whether it is true or not I still have to find out.
“Which one?” I responded, letting the gilded and embossed letters of all the books on the bookshelves run under the pads of my fingers, counting them in my head, putting a rhythm to the bumps and ridges. I looked at Father when he did not respond and knew that Mother would be leaving soon to go sell her flowers. Tucking my heels together, my back tall and neck long, I gave a plié, my knees bending to where if you looked at them over my shoulder, they were just over the edges of my toes.
That night was the largest fight I have ever heard from them. My tutor and I practiced all through the night because I begged her not to leave. She was a lovely girl from the Night House Eglantine, and a lovely dancer. The way she moved made the skin on my body prickle and my face flush, I wanted to be just like that. To cast that spell on someone and I tried with all my might.
Mother had come home early when she caught me at the barre, doing cloche grand battements my leg swinging like a large bell in the Temple of Elua. When I was on my eighth count, I saw the hate in her eyes, I was not a woman to her, but a ugly person. As was her culture for woman who do not stay under the veil. Sorry Mother, but I am who I am that is what I wanted to say to her but my tongue knows its place.
I still remember the sea salt on my lips from my tears and the ocean. The cold wind that snapped at my veil making it hug me from the side of my face down to my ankles, showing the world my hidden body. A body so in love with dance that this pain I was feeling only fueled my love for it. Elua help me when I say I hate her, for I know it is wrong. She was going back to the place she ran from, back to the horrible past she wanted to get away from so badly. Sorry mother, for I am not you son but a daughter who loves to create. Create clothes and dance.
Dancing was in my blood now. In my heart, Elua has gifted me with this so let me embrace it!
I took off my veil as I watched her leave, seeing her stare at me from the back of the ship that she was being carried away on. And I cried. Cried tears of hate as I threw that veil I made at her letting the wind catch it and snap it away towards the coast.
She had left me, and it was over the one thing I loved most..
Dance.