Post by Shona Tertignan on Jun 29, 2011 11:19:39 GMT -5
There was sweat on my brow. We were bending, picking up, bundling, hoisting on the cart, and back again. Wheat. Wheat born of a harsh land, one of stones and wind, thanks to a year of effort and hard work. The peasants were smiling, singing, and so was I, truth be. I was in a dress that would have made any of my former colleagues at Bryony holler in horror. I didn't care – I felt, in fact, much truer as it was, than I'd been in the house of my foster years.
A hand snaked behind me, pinching my buttocks while I was looking up into the sun, a hand raised to protect my eyes. I turned, chuckled, swatted at him. “Not now, Antoine,” I said, and raised my pitchfork in mock menace. “Maybe later.”
Service or no, I was still Shona, still given to games, still given to sex. I felt less selfish, though, more able to give, if not to love. I'd left Bryony for a variety of reasons. Many were selfish. I wanted a new life – I felt that I'd been around the possibilities of my house ten times over, that there was a glass ceiling I could never cross. I could have opened my own salon, true. I'd felt little impetus for it.
Instead, I'd visited the temple of Anael, my scion, if I had one, and met with the priests. It had felt, to my surprise, like a homecoming. Perhaps it was that my father had been working a farming estate all his life, that my brothers knew all about such things as well. Perhaps it was, also, and simply, that I felt welcome and loved at the temple.
The rest had come easy, and I'd turned in my departure notice to Gaspard with little emotion. Best to leave, before I outstayed my welcome.
Priesthood, I found, gave me a peace I hadn't met before. So did working the fields, discovering the life of those we officiated for. I'd been raised to seek prosperity. Praying for it was only one thought away, the next logical step. I still believed in luck. I still gambled, sometimes, for fun. I still had lovers, at times. I chose better. Prosperity comes with giving, with numbers. That my lovers had me for free was oddly liberating.
On the morrow, I rode to the city to pledge myself once more. I'd been told there was a plague. I prayed those I knew, I'd known, were safe. Once my oath was taken, I would be bound to serve again, though I did not know where of yet. Part of me hoped it would be in the temple, and part of me hoped not. I'd developped an odd reluctance to go back to the city of Elua, which I only could explain by assuming it had to do with memories, more than with those who were in them.
Time could tell, and so would I. On the morrow, the carriage rode, and I atop it, hair in the wind, a return half feared and half-anticipated. We would stop by my father's house – a boon I'd begged of the higher orders. It was a goodly thing, for I longed to hug my brothers, my father. Mother might not like my choice, but love as thou willt! She knew well to take me as I was.
A hand snaked behind me, pinching my buttocks while I was looking up into the sun, a hand raised to protect my eyes. I turned, chuckled, swatted at him. “Not now, Antoine,” I said, and raised my pitchfork in mock menace. “Maybe later.”
Service or no, I was still Shona, still given to games, still given to sex. I felt less selfish, though, more able to give, if not to love. I'd left Bryony for a variety of reasons. Many were selfish. I wanted a new life – I felt that I'd been around the possibilities of my house ten times over, that there was a glass ceiling I could never cross. I could have opened my own salon, true. I'd felt little impetus for it.
Instead, I'd visited the temple of Anael, my scion, if I had one, and met with the priests. It had felt, to my surprise, like a homecoming. Perhaps it was that my father had been working a farming estate all his life, that my brothers knew all about such things as well. Perhaps it was, also, and simply, that I felt welcome and loved at the temple.
The rest had come easy, and I'd turned in my departure notice to Gaspard with little emotion. Best to leave, before I outstayed my welcome.
Priesthood, I found, gave me a peace I hadn't met before. So did working the fields, discovering the life of those we officiated for. I'd been raised to seek prosperity. Praying for it was only one thought away, the next logical step. I still believed in luck. I still gambled, sometimes, for fun. I still had lovers, at times. I chose better. Prosperity comes with giving, with numbers. That my lovers had me for free was oddly liberating.
On the morrow, I rode to the city to pledge myself once more. I'd been told there was a plague. I prayed those I knew, I'd known, were safe. Once my oath was taken, I would be bound to serve again, though I did not know where of yet. Part of me hoped it would be in the temple, and part of me hoped not. I'd developped an odd reluctance to go back to the city of Elua, which I only could explain by assuming it had to do with memories, more than with those who were in them.
Time could tell, and so would I. On the morrow, the carriage rode, and I atop it, hair in the wind, a return half feared and half-anticipated. We would stop by my father's house – a boon I'd begged of the higher orders. It was a goodly thing, for I longed to hug my brothers, my father. Mother might not like my choice, but love as thou willt! She knew well to take me as I was.